I lifted a brow at her.
They said she gave up easily — that she was meek, manageable, the kind of girl who folded under pressure. But here she was, sitting across from me on her wedding night with a plan forming behind those green eyes.
"Think about it," she said. "We were put together because we were termed meek, right? So let's show them what the definition of meek really is."
I was utterly surprised. This idea — it wouldn't break this marriage. No. It would do something far greater. It would allow us to rule two great nations.
A smile surfaced on my face. A real one. The kind I hadn't worn in years.
"Then let's do it. What's our first agenda?"
I turned in her direction and realised she was already asleep.
I stood there for a moment just looking at her — this girl who had walked down the aisle in a painted, scissored gown without a trace of apology. I tucked the blanket over her quietly and settled onto the couch nearby.
Somewhere in the stillness of sleep she stretched her hand out toward me. I reached to hold it — but it kept going further. Drifting.
This dream again.
I gave up on sleep. It was still night but I couldn't lie there any longer. I'll just go out for fresh air, I thought.
The garden was quiet. The petals released their calming scent into the darkness, and for a moment I almost forgot where I was and why.
Then I heard them.
Voices. Low but careless — the kind people use when they believe they're alone.
"Now that they are married, we can do it. No matter what, I must sit on that throne. Poison the queens and kings. We meet tomorrow morning."
I stood completely still.
I blinked twice and realisation settled over me like cold water — slow, then all at once. So that's why the marriage took place. Tatiana's parents. Her kingdom. My family. All of it arranged not out of alliance but out of ambition. Someone wanted the thrones empty.
The first thing — the very first thing — was to keep her parents alive.
I went back inside. Let me tell you who I am, since it seems the world has forgotten.
Third Prince of Britain. Heir apparent to the throne — not because I wanted it, but because my two older brothers want nothing to do with it. For years I kept that facade on: sweet, easily controlled, simple to manage. I learned early that the ones who appear weak are the ones who survive. So I performed weakness like a second language.
But I guess it's time to be me.
I rushed back to the room.
She shot up the moment I entered, eyes wide and searching. "When did you leave? What happened?" She looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time. "Who are you?"
I laughed out loud. Genuinely. And I saw tears drying on her face — did she cry so often? Something about that made me quieter. I sat beside her and patted her back gently.
"We will work this out. Just hold on a bit longer." I paused. "I think we should save your parents first."
The warmth left her face immediately.
"What about them?" Her voice was flat. Controlled. "If they are to die, so be it."
"But you can't just let them—"
"Mr." The word was sharp. Final. "It's enough. They brought this upon themselves. Let them deal with it."
I stared at her. What had she been through? What kind of pain produces a person who can say that about their own parents and mean every syllable?
"You may never know," I said carefully. "She could have it worked out. Or it could just be a trap." I looked at her. "How did you find out what you're telling me?"
"I overheard it. They were loud."
"You see — they wanted you to hear them." I let that land. "Let's go back to sleep. And you don't have to sleep on the couch."
She looked at me for a long moment. Then nodded once.
Getting married to her, I thought as I settled back down, is sure of a rollercoaster I'll enjoy.
The dream came again.
"I'll always love you. Just take my hand."
I reached for it. It kept drifting — always just beyond my fingers, always disappearing before I could hold it.
"Ahhh — why the hell are you hugging me?!"
I jolted awake. I was on the floor. She was sitting up staring at me with an expression somewhere between alarm and amusement.
"I'm sorry," I said, gathering myself. "I thought I was in a dream. It's a strange one — I keep seeing a hand reaching out, asking me to take it. And she loves me. But it always drifts away."
Tatiana went very still.
"Really." It wasn't a question. "I have the same dream. Ever since my sixteenth birthday."
I looked at her.
"Ever since my sixteenth birthday," I said quietly.
We both chuckled at the same moment — and then our eyes locked and neither of us looked away. Something shifted in that silence. Something that had no name yet.
"I do believe we can make it," I said.
"Yeah." She nodded slowly. "That's just how life is. Once you fight, you may win."
I could see her resolve — steady and certain as stone. So I gathered mine. And I shed the last of my pretence. Quietly. Like putting down something I had carried for too long.
"Oh — I just remembered." I sat up straighter. "We travel to Ethiopia for our honeymoon."
"That's just a way to get us out of here," she said immediately. "Or better still — stage our deaths."
A mischievous glint flashed through my eyes before I could stop it. "I think it's better working in shadows. Let them stage it. We'll be the plague they can't get rid of."
She looked at me. Something new moved across her face — recognition, maybe. Like she was seeing the real version of me for the first time and finding it exactly what she expected.
"Ohhhh." A slow smile spread across her face. "I'm liking our new energy."