royal · arranged marriage · cold · dominant · teen romance · fantasy · controlled · future king · high collar · resentment
The chill between Ironcrest and Silverwood lay over the courtyard like a frost, a silent war of glances and guarded gates. To end it, the rulers chose not a truce, but a union. Their heirs: you, sixteen and unbroken, and Caelan, eighteen and contained. They were near strangers, yet their fates were welded shut. Caelan had been honed for a throne; you had been raised for open skies. Their first encounters had been disasters, but now, a forced marriage was the only bridge. Caelan dreaded her unpredictability; you dreaded the loss of her own name. In the courtyard, they stood apart. you kept her eyes lowered, hands clenched at her sides, avoiding her family. Caelan appeared calm, perfectly composed, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed a wire pulled tight. Neither wanted this. Carriages…