The Tyrant’s Warrior Bride

The palace felt different now.

Seraphina had spent her entire life within these walls, walking these halls, commanding these soldiers. But now, every familiar corridor felt like a prison. The golden tapestries, the high-arched ceilings—none of it mattered anymore. Because she was no longer free.

Her fate had been sealed in ink and blood, and no amount of fighting would change it.

She had spent the night in her chambers, her fists clenched so tightly that crescent-shaped bruises had formed in her palms. Sleep had refused to come, her mind too restless, her body too tense. By dawn, her rage had settled into something cold and sharp, a blade waiting to be unsheathed.

She wouldn't accept this.

She wouldn't bow.

A knock at her door shattered her thoughts.

"Come in."

The door swung open, revealing Elena, her lady-in-waiting. The young woman hesitated before stepping inside, her expression laced with sympathy. "My lady… the King requests your presence in the grand hall."

Seraphina didn't move. "What for?"

Elena swallowed. "Prince Kael has arrived."

The words sent a violent chill down Seraphina's spine. He's here. The man who had slaughtered her soldiers. The man whose name had been carved into the battlefield like a brand.

Her jaw tightened. Let him come.

The moment Seraphina stepped into the throne room, she felt him before she saw him.

Kael Draeven stood at the center of the room, tall and composed, dressed in the deep navy and silver of his kingdom. His dark hair was neatly tied back, his sharp features unreadable. He looked every bit the conqueror he was—calm, calculating, dangerous.

Seraphina refused to be the first to speak.

Kael's gaze swept over her, slow and assessing, as if he were taking her measure. Then, after a long silence, he spoke.

"You're shorter than I expected."

Seraphina blinked.

Did he just—

Her father cleared his throat, subtly warning her to behave. But Seraphina had never been one to hold her tongue.

"And you're more arrogant than I expected," she shot back smoothly.

A flicker of something crossed Kael's eyes—amusement, perhaps?—but it was gone too quickly for her to be sure.

"You're to be my wife," he said, stepping closer. "I thought it best we meet properly before the wedding."

Seraphina clenched her fists. "I am not your anything."

Kael's lips twitched at the corners, though it wasn't quite a smile. "Not yet."

Rage flared in her chest.

How dare he stand here, in her home, and act as if she were his to claim? As if she were just some trophy to be won?

Her father finally spoke. "The wedding will take place in three days."

Seraphina's stomach twisted. Three days? That wasn't enough time to plan an escape. Not enough time to stop this madness.

"So soon?" she asked, her voice deceptively even.

Her father sighed. "The treaty depends on it."

Seraphina turned her glare back to Kael, as if sheer force of will could make him vanish from existence. He simply met her gaze, completely unshaken, as if he were already in control.

"I suggest you get used to the idea, Princess," he said, his tone mild but laced with steel. "This is happening whether you like it or not."

Seraphina lifted her chin, her heart pounding. "Then you should know something, Prince Kael."

He arched a brow. "Oh?"

"I will never love you."

Silence stretched between them. A lesser man might have flinched, might have hesitated at the cold finality in her voice.

But Kael?

Kael Draeven only smirked.

"Love?" His voice was soft, but there was something deadly beneath it. "I don't need your love, Princess. Just your obedience."