Crown Prince

"You're sick." Daphne could no longer even mask her disgust for the Northern King. "You're simply sick on the inside."

His gage was unflinching. "So what if I am? Does Your Highness have a choice but to become entwined with this 'sick' person?"

He immediately answered for her, "No, Your Royal Highness of Eversun no longer has that luxury."

His hand reached for her pale cheeks, and although Daphne tried to squirm away from his touch, she was pinned against the altar. She couldn't even reach for the silver dagger from her clothes.

"Why did you do it?" At the same time that she wanted to distract him, Daphne was genuinely curious.

Although she couldn't quite visualize Aurin's face or anything else about him, she could remember that he was well-received by the Kingdom of Eversun. And for a few years, while he was crown prince, there was even talk about pausing the war and signing a peace treaty between the two kingdoms. Of course, during that time, her beloved Kingdom of Eversun had the upper hand in the war.

"Do what? Take the throne?" His amber eyes gleamed with an undecipherable shimmer.

Daphne nodded, attempting to wriggle free. One of his hands remained firmly clamped by her shoulder.

"I would be the better ruler. Plus, it belonged to me to begin with, so I was merely taking back what had been promised to be mine."

"But he was the crown prince."

Admittedly, Daphne did not know that much about the Northern court. Whatever knowledge she once had of it, after her parent's death, it was almost as if all of the understanding suddenly evaporated from her mind. Subsequently disgusted by the barbarians, she had always made a conscious effort to steer clear from them. Now, she was beginning to regret that she hadn't done any previous research.

"Not many crown princes ever ascend to the throne to become king." He clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on Daphne. His coarse fingers snaked down the sides of her slender neck, and although his touch wasn't rough, the calluses on his finger tickled her sensitive skin such that she squirmed in place. "In fact, out of the one we've had, since he's never ascended the throne, I would say that the probability of the crown prince triumphing and becoming king would be at a grand zero."

Daphne bit her lips to stop herself from crying out against his touch.

"Plus, you didn't even know his name. Or should I say, your former 'husband's' name? So why do you care?"

Husband. The idea of being a bride to a dead man was strange, and the word rang weirdly in the tent.

"But I suppose it doesn't matter since you're mine now anyway. Consider yourself now officially bound to me instead."

Daphne looked up in shock, unsure how she had just become wedded to two men in the period of less than an hour. Not to mention, one of them was dead, and the other had supposedly signed a deal with hell.

"Why do you hate him so much that you want to take everything from him?"

"Princess, why are you looking at me like that?" He leaned closer such that his lips hovered against her ears, and his cold breath sent shivers rippling down her body. "Do you not like the idea of being wedded to me?"

She only tried to break free, consoling herself by thinking of how she would soon drive the blade into his chest. The closer he came, the higher the chance that she would be able to kill him.

Biting back her tears, she reached out for his chest, running one hand over it to try to feel for any hidden blades. With every inch she moved, the disgust threatened to overflow from her mind, but she continued her exploration. Her heart thudded as she felt his chiseled muscle even from underneath the layers of fabric.

His amber eyes turned a dark shader. "Is Your Highness that eager for our wedding night?"

Slowly, she wrapped her other arm onto his arms, doing the same as she looked for any potential places for concealed weapons. His muscles tensed from her touch, somehow bulging even more as her nimble fingers glided over them.

"With the way Your Highness is touching me right now, would I be incorrect to say that you would rather me undress?"

That would indeed make it easier for her to check, so she held her tongue. But with the image of the Northern King fully bare surfacing in her mind, she couldn't stop her face from flushing from embarrassment. No, it was not that she was shy to see his bare body or anything, but the fact that she would have to be in such a situation to begin with made her uncomfortable.

Without any warning, he scooped her by the waist and lifted her into the air. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable then, shall we?"

Her suddenly airborne position forced her to grip onto his neck, and perhaps it was her imagination, but a small smile tugged upon the corners of his lips. She soon realized that her fear was unnecessary. As he carried her, his steps were steady such that it almost felt as if she was gliding through the air. However, worried that she would drop her dagger, she maintained her current position while resting her other hand against its hilt, feigning to be scared.

They exited the tent in such an uncomfortable embrace that everyone standing nearby could see them. It was dusk, and the sky was painted into an iridescent hue of fluffy pinks and dainty yellows, unfitting colors for the grim occasion.

Seeing the two of them, immediately, the crowd of gathered Northerners began to chant and holler. As they laughed and celebrated, the red and blue streaks of paint smeared across their foreheads danced triumphantly.

This was undoubtedly part of the Northern King's intentions, but with the eyes of all of the laughing men on her, Daphne had no choice but to turn her head toward the Northern King to hide from the soldiers' scrutinizing gazes. Her vision instead met the mocking gaze of her recent husband, and she spun her head back around.

She looked at the crowd with a set of burning eyes. If they wanted to look, then let them look. In a short amount of time, they would never see their king anymore, save for his cold corpse.

They made their way through the crowd, and the entire time, her body was pressed against his cold one. He was unnaturally cool, and apart from his tensing muscles, there seemed to not be any sense of life to him.

A familiar pair of eyes caught Daphne's attention.