Cyrus’s POV.

I left the bed at three in the morning. No doors slammed. No noise. I walked to the corridor. I sat at my desk staring at the betrothal contract. The parchment was older than our relationship. Every clause is detailed. Every expectation is outlined. My signature looked naive.

"Your Highness, the council meeting, "I'll be early," I said, already standing. Marcus gave me a look but stayed silent. The council chamber was blessedly tedious. The trade routes, tax disputes, and ...