022 - Wife

022 - Wife
"Princess?" Mira's voice broke through my thoughts. "You've gone very quiet."

I shook my head, offering her a small smile. "Just thinking. Thank you, Mira. For everything."

"It's my pleasure." She moved toward the door. "I'll just go see if the General—"

A knock sounded before she could finish. Mira opened the door to reveal Zeirik standing in the hallway. He'd changed clothes—gone was the slightly wrinkled traveling shirt, replaced by a fresh tunic of deep blue that made his unnatural eyes seem even more striking. His golden hair was still damp, as if he too had bathed, and he'd tied it back at the nape of his neck.

His eyes found me immediately, and something flickered in their depths. His gaze traveled from my face down to the simple dress I wore, and I felt suddenly self-conscious under that intense stare.

"Thank you for your hospitality," I said, my voice coming out softer than intended.

"It's the least I can do for my future wife," he replied.

There it was again. That term. Future wife. It made my heart race in a way I couldn't quite name, leaving an ache that reminded me of Cassien and how our divorce was now finalized. Four years of marriage dissolved in a single piece of paper. Soon I would belong to someone else entirely.

The thought should have terrified me. Instead, standing here looking at Zeirik, I felt only a strange mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

Zeirik held out his hand. "Take a walk with me?"

I glanced at Mira, who was grinning at us both like she knew some secret we didn't. Then I placed my hand in Zeirik's. His palm was warm and rough with calluses, completely engulfing my smaller fingers.

"Thank you, Mira," he said over his shoulder as we moved toward the door.

She laughed and gave him a light smack on the shoulder. "You should be paying me more for all this."

"I pay you plenty," he shot back, but there was affection in his tone.

As we walked away from the room, I was struck by how different this felt. Zeirik didn't pull me along or dictate our pace. We walked side by side, his longer stride shortened to match mine as though he'd taken note of my scurrying the last time we'd walked.
The halls of his wing were cooler than the bedroom, and I felt the chill radiating off him—not from coldness but from his sheer presence. The scent of oranges surrounded him, heavy in the air, almost relaxing in its familiarity.

For several minutes, we walked in silence. I watched the way light from the high windows played across the stone floor, creating patterns that shifted as we moved.

"I'm currently setting things in place for a room to be prepared for you in this wing," Zeirik said finally, breaking the quiet. "And for our wedding."

I nearly stumbled. His hand tightened on mine, steadying me without comment. "Our wedding?" I managed. "Isn't it too soon?"

He glanced down at me, and there was something calculating in his expression. "Cassien will be married in a few days, if not less. He'll do it as retaliation, to show he's moved on and to diminish your influence." He paused, letting that sink in. "When that happens, your position becomes unstable. A divorced princess has some power. A replaced one has very little."

The logic was sound, but it still made my head spin. Everything was moving so fast.

"Also," Zeirik continued, his tone lighter now, "I'm eager to return to my actual home. Palace life is far too suffocating and restricting."

Despite everything, I found myself smiling. "You realize that being Alpha means you would have to reside in the palace?"

His beautiful mismatched eyes met mine and a smile quirked his lips. "Rules can be changed." The confidence in his voice was absolute, unshakeable. "Watch and see."

"We still have a long way to go," I said carefully. Then, trying to keep my voice neutral, "Do you want an extravagant wedding?"

"Under these circumstances, I'd advise against it."

My chest tightened. "Is it because I'm not pure? Because I used to belong to someone else?"

Zeirik stopped walking so abruptly that I stumbled again. He turned to face me fully, and the look on his face was one of genuine shock. For a long moment, he just stared at me, as if trying to understand how I could have even asked such a question.

Then he shook his head slowly. "No one is ever truly 'pure,' Yasmin. None of that matters to me." His voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. "I don't want our wedding to be a spectacle. That's all."

I nodded, unsure how to feel about his words. Relief, maybe? Or something more complicated?

We resumed walking, and I found my attention drawn to his hands. They were large, with long fingers that gestured slightly when he spoke. Scars crisscrossed his knuckles and the backs of his palms—small white lines and a few darker ones that looked deeper, more serious. And his index finger on his right hand was missing its nail entirely, the skin there smooth and slightly puckered.

Curiosity nearly drowned me. What battles had he fought? What had he survived? But I held back my questions, considering them unladylike and inappropriate. I shouldn't pry into such personal matters.

"Yasmin," Zeirik said, and I realized we'd stopped walking again. "Would you have lunch with me? Tomorrow, perhaps?"

Before I could answer, there was a commotion behind us. The sound of heavy boots on stone, multiple pairs moving quickly. Zeirik's entire demeanor changed in an instant. His hand tightened on mine, and he moved slightly in front of me, his body angling to shield.

Then Cassien rounded the corner, flanked by his personal guards. Their armor gleamed in the filtered sunlight, weapons at their sides. My former husband's face was a mask of barely contained rage, his eyes wild and fixed directly on me.

My breath caught in my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs.
Zeirik's grip on me tightened, as if to reassure me, but all I could see were those blue eyes, holding my gaze in a challenge.

"Hello, wife." Cassien breathed.