Updated Nov 20, 2025 • ~10 min read
The formal announcement was scheduled for noon.
Damien stood in his chambers, adjusting his military dress uniform for the third time. In less than an hour, he and Aria would appear before both courts to formally announce their engagement. The contracts had been drawn up. The alliance was official.
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned.
So why did his hands shake?
“Stop fussing,” Lucian said from the doorway. “You look fine. Extremely princely and official.”
“I look like I’m about to lead troops into battle.”
“Aren’t you? Just a different kind of battle.” Lucian entered fully, closing the door behind him. “How are you feeling?”
“Terrified.”
“Of the announcement?”
“Of everything.” Damien dropped into a chair. “A month ago, I was dreading this marriage. Now I’m falling in love with my arranged bride, and I’m terrified I’ll somehow ruin it.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that. What if she realizes I’m not the man from the garden? What if the reality of being married to me doesn’t match what she’s imagining?”
Lucian sat across from him. “Damien, you are the man from the garden. You’re also Prince of Astoria. You’re both. And from what I’ve seen, she’s falling for all of you, not just the parts you showed her that night.”
“My father doesn’t approve.”
“Your father doesn’t approve of anything that involves emotion. Shocking.”
It was true. King Stefan had been growing increasingly cold as he watched Damien and Aria spend time together. Yesterday, he’d cornered Damien after dinner.
“You’re getting attached,” Stefan had said, voice flat with disapproval. “This is a political arrangement. Start treating it as such.”
Damien had wanted to argue. To tell his father that the attachment made him stronger, not weaker. That having a partner he actually respected would make him a better king.
Instead, he’d nodded and said, “Yes, father.”
Always the obedient son. Always the perfect prince.
“I’m tired of pretending,” Damien said now. “With my father, with the court—I’m tired of wearing the mask.”
“Then don’t. The announcement is your chance to be real. To show everyone that this isn’t just a political transaction.” Lucian stood. “Be the man Aria is falling for. Let the court see that.”
It was good advice. If only Damien had the courage to follow it.
A knock sounded. “Your Highness? It’s time.”
This was it. The moment that would define the next phase of his life.
Damien straightened his uniform and headed to the throne room.
The chamber was packed. Both courts had assembled in full formal array—Valdorian nobles on one side, Astorian delegation on the other. The dual thrones sat at the far end, with a space cleared in the center for the formal announcement.
Damien took his position beside his father, who stood rigid and disapproving.
“Remember,” Stefan murmured. “This is about the alliance. Not about whatever foolish infatuation you’ve developed.”
Before Damien could respond, the herald announced: “Her Royal Highness, Princess Aria of Valdoria.”
The crowd parted. And there she was.
Aria wore a gown in Valdorian blue that made her look like royalty incarnate. Her hair was swept up in an elaborate style, a small tiara glittering among the dark waves. She looked every inch the perfect princess.
But it was her eyes that captured Damien. As she walked down the center aisle, her gaze found his, and in that look he saw everything: nervousness, determination, and underneath it all, affection.
She was doing this for him. For them. Putting on the performance while holding onto what was real underneath.
He could do the same.
Aria reached the center of the room and curtseyed to both kings. Then she turned to Damien, and for just a moment, her lips curved in a small, private smile.
His heart settled. They were in this together.
King Aldric stood. “Today, we formalize an alliance that will bring peace and prosperity to both our kingdoms. Prince Damien of Astoria and Princess Aria of Valdoria will be wed, uniting our houses and our peoples.”
The formal words washed over Damien as he moved to stand beside Aria. Protocol required them to join hands. When his fingers laced through hers, he felt her squeeze gently.
I’m here, the gesture said. We’re okay.
“Prince Damien,” Aldric said. “Do you accept this engagement freely and with full understanding of your duties?”
“I do, Your Majesty.” Damien’s voice rang clear through the chamber. Then, because he needed them to know it was more than duty, he added: “It is my honor to stand beside Princess Aria, whose wisdom and strength will make her an exceptional queen.”
Surprised murmurs rippled through the crowd. That wasn’t part of the formal script.
Aria’s eyes widened slightly, then warmed.
“Princess Aria,” Aldric continued. “Do you accept this engagement freely?”
“I do, father.” Aria’s voice was steady. She glanced at Damien, then back to the assembled courts. “Prince Damien has shown himself to be more than I expected. I look forward to building a partnership based on mutual respect and understanding.”
More murmurs. They were both deviating from the traditional formal responses.
Stefan’s jaw tightened. But there was nothing he could do. The engagement was formalized. The contracts signed.
“Then let it be known,” Aldric declared, “that Princess Aria of Valdoria and Prince Damien of Astoria are formally betrothed. The wedding will take place in six weeks’ time.”
Six weeks. Damien’s heart raced. Six weeks until Aria became his wife.
The thought no longer filled him with dread. Now, it felt like promise.
The formal ceremony concluded, and the court broke into celebration. Musicians began playing, servants circulated with wine and refreshments. Damien and Aria were immediately surrounded by well-wishers.
“You were brilliant,” Damien murmured when they had a brief moment alone.
“So were you. Though your father looked like he wanted to strangle you for going off-script.”
“He’ll survive. Besides, I meant every word.”
“I know.” She smiled. “That’s why it mattered.”
They were pulled apart again by the demands of the celebration. Damien found himself in conversation with various nobles and diplomats, all offering congratulations while obviously assessing the political implications.
Across the room, he could see Aria doing the same—graciously accepting compliments, making small talk, playing her part perfectly.
But every so often, their eyes would meet across the crowd. And in those moments, the performance fell away.
Hours later, after the formal celebration had wound down, Damien finally escaped to the balcony where they’d first met. The same one he’d fled to during the masquerade, seeking a few moments of peace.
He wasn’t alone long.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
He turned to see Aria slipping through the balcony doors, carefully checking that no one followed.
“Needed air,” he said.
“Me too. That was exhausting.” She moved to the railing beside him, and they stood in comfortable silence for a moment, looking out over the gardens. “Six weeks.”
“Nervous?”
“Terrified. You?”
“Same.” He turned to face her. “But also… hopeful. Is that strange?”
“No. I feel it too.” She leaned against the railing. “A month ago, I would have done anything to avoid this marriage. Now—”
“Now?”
“Now I’m starting to think I might be the luckiest princess in the world.”
Warmth flooded through him. “You have low standards.”
“Or you’ve exceeded expectations so dramatically that I can’t help but be impressed.”
They smiled at each other, and Damien was struck by how natural this felt. How right. Two people who should have been strangers, forced together by politics, somehow finding something real.
“Damien.” His father’s voice cut through the moment like ice.
Stefan stood in the balcony doorway, his expression hard. “A word. In private.”
Aria straightened immediately. “Of course. I should return to my chambers anyway.” She curtseyed to Stefan, then looked at Damien. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” he confirmed.
She left, and Damien braced himself for whatever coldness his father was about to deliver.
Stefan waited until Aria was gone before speaking. “You’re making a mistake.”
“I’m following through with the engagement you arranged.”
“I’m not talking about the engagement. I’m talking about your obvious attachment to the girl.” Stefan moved closer, voice low and hard. “You stood before the entire court and praised her. You looked at her like she matters beyond her political value. You’re showing weakness.”
“I’m showing partnership. There’s a difference.”
“Partnership is fine. Love is not. Love makes men foolish. It makes them put personal feelings above duty.”
“What if love and duty can coexist?” Damien met his father’s cold gaze. “What if caring about my future wife makes me a better king, not a weaker one?”
“Then you’re more naive than I thought.” Stefan turned away, looking out at the darkened gardens. “Your mother and I married for love. Did you know that?”
Damien stilled. His father never talked about his mother. She’d died when Damien was young, and Stefan had forbidden her name in the palace.
“No,” Damien said quietly. “I didn’t know.”
“We did. And it destroyed me when she died. The pain of losing her nearly cost me my kingdom. I couldn’t govern, couldn’t think, could barely function. That’s what love does, Damien. It makes you vulnerable.”
Understanding dawned. His father’s coldness wasn’t just who he was. It was armor. Protection against ever feeling that pain again.
“I’m sorry,” Damien said. “I didn’t know.”
“Now you do. So take my advice: marry the princess. Be kind to her. But don’t give her your heart. Because someday, she’ll break it—whether she means to or not. And you’ll be left ruling a kingdom while bleeding inside.”
Stefan left without waiting for a response.
Damien stood alone on the balcony, his father’s words echoing. He understood the warning. Understood the fear beneath it.
But he couldn’t live that way. Couldn’t build walls so high that nothing real could reach him.
His father had loved and lost and chose to never love again.
Damien wanted to be braver than that.
He returned to his chambers to find Lucian waiting.
“Your father looked murderous when he left,” Lucian observed. “What happened?”
“He warned me about falling in love with Aria.”
“Are you? Falling in love with her?”
Damien thought about the way she challenged him in the library. The way she smiled when she thought no one was watching. The way she fit against him when they rode together.
“Yes,” he said simply. “I think I am.”
“Good,” Lucian said. “Someone should.”
That night, Damien stood at his window, looking out at the palace grounds. In six weeks, he’d marry Aria. In six weeks, their political arrangement would become a permanent bond.
His father thought he was being foolish. Thought love was weakness.
But standing there in the darkness, thinking about the woman who’d challenged him and seen him and made him want to be better, Damien couldn’t agree.
Love wasn’t weakness.
Love was the bravest thing he’d ever done.
And he was all in.
Reader Reactions