BETROTHED TO THE ARROGANT PRINCE-HIS UNTAMED WARRIOR QUEEN

✷✷✷SILVARA✷✷⁠✷

"Absolutely not."

Princess Adrienne didn't bother looking up from the blade she was sharpening, the whetstone singing against steel in steady, furious strokes. The late afternoon sun slanted through the armory windows, catching on metal and dust motes, but she kept her focus on the sword. Anything to avoid looking at her father's face.

"Adrienne..."

"I said no." The blade gleamed as she lifted it, examining the edge with a critical eye. Perfect. Sharp enough to split a hair. Sharp enough to cut through whatever ridiculous notion her father had brought into her sanctuary this time. "I'm not attending another gods-damned ball, I'm not entertaining some visiting lord's son, and I'm certainly not..."

"You're getting married."

The words landed like a blade between her ribs.

Adrienne's hand stilled. Slowly...so slowly she lowered the sword and finally met her father's gaze. King Aldric stood in the doorway of the armory, looking every one of his sixty years. The afternoon light was unkind to him, highlighting the gray in his beard, the deep lines carved around his eyes, the slight tremor in his hands he thought she hadn't noticed.

He looked tired, he looked old and he certainly looked like a man who'd already made up his mind.

"Say that again." Her voice came out deadly quiet, the calm before a storm. "Because I'm quite certain I misheard you."

Aldric stepped further into the armory, his boots heavy on the stone floor. "You heard me perfectly well."

"Then you've lost your mind." Adrienne set the sword down with deliberate care, though every muscle in her body screamed to hurl it across the room. She stood, her leather trousers and simple tunic streaked with oil and sweat. No silks. No jewels. Nothing that marked her as anything but what she was, a knight. "I'm not some broodmare to be sold off."

"You're my daughter. My only child. My heir."

"Exactly." She crossed her arms, chin lifted. "Which means Silvara needs me here fighting and leading. Not locked away in some foreign castle playing the dutiful wife."

"Silvara needs you alive." Her father's voice cracked, just slightly, and she hated the sound of it. She hated the fear beneath his words.

"Three kingdoms have fallen in as many months, Adrienne. Kingdoms without strong alliances. Without heirs who can defend them."

"I can defend us..."

"Against how many armies?" Aldric's shout echoed off the stone walls, startling them both into silence. He took a breath, steadying himself. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. Resigned. "I'm old, my girl. I can't ride into battle anymore. I can't protect you and I won't watch you die like..."

"Don't." The word came out sharp as the blade at her side. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."

Her mother's ghost hung between them, unspoken but ever-present.

Aldric's shoulders sagged. "The betrothal is already arranged. Prince Orion of Camelot will...."

"Camelot?" 

Adrienne barked out a bitter laugh. "Of course. The mighty warrior kingdom. And what, this prince