A Restless Night

She felt a strange sense of triumph as the name rolled off her tongue.

After all, if she couldn't save herself, she might as well also make him suffer in the process.

There would be nothing else that could batter the Northern King's inflated ego as his bride calling the name of his hated brother on their wedding night.

"Say that again."

Daphne couldn't tell if there was anger laced into that phrase or something else. He said it in such a flat unreadable tone that she felt a sudden draft in the room.

She bit the inner sides of her cheeks, suddenly realizing the weight of his body as she found that she couldn't move at all.

"Say it again."

He repeated coldly.

She was to die after all. She would not be a lamb that hopelessly waited for slaughter. If anything, she would go down as a ram gutting her captor as she waited for the chopping block.

"Aurin."

Looking up defiantly, all she saw were his amber orbs.

His body shifted, and she closed her eyes, anticipating the worst.

The sharp stab of pain never came.

Instead, the weight lifted off her body as he slid off her without warning.

"Your Highness, I swear, your careless words are going to get you killed someday." He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. "And if not, I'll make sure to see to it personally."

Daphne could only think that it was the sudden pang of consciousness that hit the Northern King. Perhaps the guilt of severing his own brother's life suddenly kicked in as he realized what evils he had performed in a single day.

"Don't mention that name in front of me again." He closed his eyes. "I don't know what I might do."

Then he was still.

Daphne didn't even dare to breathe, much less move, not knowing whether the man beside her would suddenly spring up at the smallest movement.

She didn't know how long she lay there, listening to her own drumming heartbeat and the otherwise silence.

Was he awake still? Daphne stifled her curiosity, not wanting to risk it. Although it had been already an eternity, she could still feel the lingering weight of his body against her chest and the feeling of his bare skin sliding across hers.

It was surprisingly quiet, and if the Northern King happened to be awake, he didn't even shift in his slumber.

If anything, it was like a dead man rested by Daphne's side.

Now would be the perfect time to strike and wrap her hands around his neck. Before he could even blink, his life would have left him.

Taking in a deep breath, Daphne shifted ever-so-slightly to her side.

He didn't respond.

Silently propping herself up from the bed, she leaned over.

She didn't know when the candles had all blown out. Perhaps it was the strange draft from before, but save for a single remaining flame, there was only darkness left in the tent. She could barely make out the rough silhouette from the coffin.

For the first time, she looked closely at his face.

He was so close to her and had been even closer earlier that day, but he seemed so distant. And despite how she had even kissed him previously, he seemed unreachable and untouchable.

His long eyelashes draped elegantly against his skin, the darkness contrasting with his pale complexion. His raven-colored hair rested against his forehead, stopping right by the tip of his ear.

Daphne had to admit that he seemed almost peaceful in his sleep. Without his harsh amber eyes drilling into her, he was almost beautiful. Especially, with the faint candlelight dancing against his face, he seemed much calmer and more like a person.

Every bit of his features was chiseled from the finest marble, whether it be his sloping nose or his thin lips. He was almost like a work of art, and as much as Daphne did not want to admit it, his face was too pretty to belong to a man like himself. If only he did not have the blood of her people stained onto his hands, he would have appeared more as a noble than a savage.

She stared for a moment longer, wondering how it was possible that any person could be so still in their sleep. Even more, she wondered what he was dreaming of at the given moment, whether it be a way to further torture her to a device to mutilate her people.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for his neck.

"If Your Highness has not had enough for the night and is expecting something a bit more, I will not hesitate to oblige your wishes."

His eyelids didn't even tremor. Instead, he rolled to his side and grabbed her body with one arm, forcing her to lay by his side. Nuzzling his chin against her shoulder, he let out a faint sigh.

She protested his unwelcome embrace by fidgeting, but he tightened his grasp in response.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

She continued her struggle.

"You call me a barbarian, so why aren't you scared that I will suddenly lose all of my self control..." His voice faded into a suggestive whisper. "You know I wouldn't hesitate to actually make you my wife if you insist so much, Your Highness."

Daphne's body suddenly locked itself, and she didn't dare to even move a muscle for the rest of the night. It was an initially uncomfortable position, and she couldn't fathom how she could ever go to sleep.

But somehow, when she opened her eyes again, sunlight greeted her. Temporarily blinded by the sunlight such that she couldn't tell whether yesterday was all just a bad dream.

She blinked, knowing she had a strange nightmare. Despite not being able to remember the details of the dream, all she could think of was how her life ahead of her would be so much worse.