The Tyrant’s Warrior Bride

The cheers still echoed in her ears, distant but relentless, like ghostly whispers taunting her.

Seraphina walked with measured steps, her gown trailing behind her as she was led away from the grand hall. Each step felt heavier, like she was sinking into the very fate she had fought to avoid.

Kael's grip on her hand was firm but not rough, his warmth seeping into her skin like an unwanted brand. The moment they passed through the towering corridor leading to the royal chambers, she ripped her hand away as if it burned.

"Don't touch me."

Kael stopped, turning to face her, his dulled.

"I had no intention of keeping my hands on something so eager to run."

His voice was calm, full of mockery, and that only made her anger boil hotter. He was unaffected. Unbothered.

"This marriage means nothing to me."

Kael tilted his head slightly. "And yet, you said 'I do.'"

She clenched her jaw. "Because you left me no choice."

"That doesn't change the fact that you're mine now." His words were not boastful, not cruel—just a simple, irrefutable fact.

Seraphina scoffed.

The halls were eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from the distant echoes of the wedding feast still raging behind them.

They were alone.

She wished she were anywhere else but there.

Then they reached a pair of massive double doors.

Her stomach twisted.

Kael pushed them open with ease, stepping aside as if expecting her to enter first. She hesitated.

The realization sank in like a stone—these were not just her chambers. They were theirs.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

Refusing to let him see an ounce of hesitation, she stepped inside.

The moment she crossed the threshold, she felt it.

The room was opulent—of course, it was. Everything in this cursed palace was built to showcase Draeven's wealth, Draeven's power.

The towering walls were adorned with navy and gold banners, the sigil of Draeven embroidered in silver thread. A massive fireplace crackled in the corner, casting shadows that flickered across the polished stone.

And at the center of the room was a four-poster bed, draped in the same royal colors. The very sight of it made her skin crawl.

She turned away from it immediately.

This was a prison wrapped in silk and gold.

Kael entered behind her, the doors shutting with a quiet but final click.

Her entire body went rigid.

He strode past her, making his way toward a nearby table. He unfastened the ceremonial cloak from his shoulders, setting it aside with a deliberate slowness.

"Relax, Princess." His tone was even, unshaken. "I'm not here to take what isn't freely given."

Her stomach twisted at his words.

"Good. Because you will never have it."

Kael smirked, his fingers working to unbuckle the bracers on his wrists. "We'll see."

She hated the confidence in his voice.

Hated that despite everything, he still believed he had the upper hand.

Seraphina turned away, exhaling sharply. The rage in her veins made her reckless.

"You may have forced me into this marriage," she said, voice laced with venom. "But don't mistake my silence for submission."

Kael stilled, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

Then, slowly, he turned to face her fully.

"I would never make that mistake, Princess."

The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine.

Not a warning. Not a threat.

A simple statement—one filled with certainty.

She didn't know whether that unsettled her more than if he had shouted at her.

Silence stretched between them. The weight of the day pressed down on her shoulders, exhaustion gnawing at the edges of her current position.

Then, Kael spoke again.

"Get some rest, Seraphina." His voice was quieter this time, almost… gentle. "We leave for Draeven at dawn."

The words slammed into her like a blade.

She froze.

"What?"

Kael met her gaze without hesitation. "This is not your home anymore. Draeven is."

Seraphina's breath caught.

She had known, deep down, that this moment would come. But she hadn't expected it to be so soon.

Her father had given her away to Draeven.

And now, Kael was taking her from Varelis altogether.

No.

She wouldn't allow it.

Her kingdom may have surrendered, but she would not be carted off like some trophy.

"You cannot force me to leave."

Kael arched a brow. "Can't I?"

His tone was not mocking, nor was it cruel—it was merely the truth.

That infuriated her even more.

Seraphina stormed forward, ignoring the distance she had been so careful to keep. "Varelis is my home. You have no right—"

"You are my wife now," he interrupted smoothly. "And my wife belongs at my side."

Her hands shook. "I belong to no one."

Kael studied her for a long moment.

Then, to her utter fury, he smiled.

Not a smirk. Not amusement.

A real smile.

As if her rebellion intrigued him.

"Then prove it."

Her breath hitched.

Kael took a step back, as if giving her space. "Fight me, if you must. Try to escape. Make my life hell, if that's what it takes for you to feel like you're still in control."

His eyes darkened.

"But understand this, Seraphina—no matter how many battles you start, you will still be my wife."

Her throat tightened.

She hated that he spoke as if this was a challenge he welcomed.

Hated that despite her fury, despite the fire roaring in her veins, he stood before her—unmoved.

Kael turned then, moving toward the adjoining room. Just before he disappeared through the doorway, he paused.

"Get some rest." His voice was softer this time. "Tomorrow, we begin a new war."

Then, he was gone.

Seraphina stood frozen, her heart pounding.

Tomorrow, she would be ripped from Varelis.

This realization made her breathless, she grabbed her chest as if something sharp was piercing through her heart.