“Your Majesty honours me. I accept this charge, and the alliance it forges.”
“Felicitations, Lord Wulfbane,” Princess Adelise’s voice rang out, bright and warm against the disdain-filled hall. “I hope you and Princess JingYi will be happy together. Do bring her to court often, once she settles in her new home.”
Her sincerity caught him off guard. He bowed again, lower. “You honour us, Your Highness.”
Ferdinand began to clap. The sound echoed off the marble, and only then did the rest of the court follow. A smattering of palms, slow and obligatory, frigid as winter rain. Alexander knew better than to expect more. House Wulfbane had yet to claw its way back into favour. And this match—however royal—wasn’t enough to erase the past.
He had a long road ahead of him.
A silver-bearded man in red and black, Tremore’s colours, stepped forward. Alexander recognized him as the leader of the diplomatic envoy to Xûen-Sarai, sent to broker the marriage alliance. In his hands rested a black lacquered box. The imperial seal of the southern kingdom—a salamander surrounded by flames—gleamed beside Tremore’s royal crest.
Alexander stood straighter.
The envoy said, “Accept this as a token from the emperor. Inside, you will find a painting of his daughter, the Princess Xûen JingYi.”
Murmurs rippled through the court, but Alexander kept his face impassive.
Xûen-Sarai was a kingdom of locked gates, its royal daughter kept away from prying eyes. Unlike princesses of other noble houses, she didn’t visit foreign courts, didn’t even have her name spoken in public. But he’d heard the whispers: A fabled Omega princess who had captured the fascination of merchants and diplomats alike, a woman whose beauty made courtiers silent,with grace taught from the cradle. A woman who could captivate a room with one look, fit for a crown.
And she was to become . . . his wife.
The concept was so vast it felt abstract. He accepted the proffered box, the wood smooth and cool under his fingers. An instinctual ache to lift the lid, to see the face that matched the legend, tightened his grip. He forced his hand to relax. The court’s eyes were on him, hungry and waiting, but he wouldn’t give them the first look.
He pressed the box close to his chest and looked up at the envoy leader. “Was the princess pleased with the match?”
The man’s arched brow told him the question was absurd, but the thought refused to disappear. He could accept duty, politics, and the will of kings, but he wouldn’t accept being foisted upon a woman who didn’t want him.
“The princess’s feelings are a jewel guarded within the inner court, my lord,” the envoy replied. “It is not their custom to parade such treasures for public discussion. However, the Imperial Geomancers have endorsed the match. Princess JingYi was born in the Year of the Raven, and you in the Year of the Wolf. The four-year age difference between you is said to be a sign of harmony. A most auspicious pairing.”
Auspicious.
The match had been blessed by the stars, by the careful weaving of political necessity and divine foresight.
His shoulders finally relaxed.
It lasted only seconds, because King Ferdinand rose and motioned him to follow. “Walk with me.”
As he moved, Darion caught his eyes, something knowing flickering in that dark gaze. A reminder that the true discussion, the only one that mattered, might just be beginning.
They went to an antechamber where heavy tapestries muffled the world outside. There were tables and chairs, but Ferdinand didn’t sit.
“You understand this marriage’s importance, don’t you?” Ferdinand said, turning his head enough to look at him.
Alexander inclined his head.
“This alliance has been years in the making. Our kingdoms stand at opposite ends of Issoirea—Tremore in the north, Xûen-Sarai in the south. There were attempts before but never have we come so close to a true bond.”
The king clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze turning inward. “When ShunLi served in this court as a youth, we would dream of bridging our kingdoms. That bridge is finally being built. One day, he will be emperor, and when that day comes, we must be the first kingdom he turns to.”
Alexander remembered ShunLi back then—not yet a revered crown prince but a serious, observant youth in their halls. That long-ago familiarity was the fragile root of this entire alliance, and its purpose was clear: Tremore’s forests and limyerite made them strong in war, but not in bread.
Grain had always come from beyond their borders, yet trade was never certain. Terms changed, treaties rose and fell with every political tide. Now, Tremore stood at the edge of something new: a marriage alliance to the emperor’s daughter. A chance to shape the future of Issoirea’s only empire- and Tremore’s by securing long-term access to grain. If he carried out his role well, Tremore would no longer depend on fickle trade routes.
The king added, “In two months, the princess will arrive in Niewberg. Be ready.”
Alexander straightened. “I will be.”
Ferdinand’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Good.” He studied Alexander for a long moment. “The limyerite we’ve delivered is a heavy price, but the return on investment is beyond value.”