TOO MUCH TALK, TOO LITTLE FEAR

"Is it too late to ask for a private room? Or at least a pillow that doesn't feel like it's stuffed with rocks?"

Sophia walked behind Darian through the fortress halls—although "walked" might not be the right word. "Chattered endlessly" was more accurate. Meanwhile, Darian ignored her and kept moving forward. Behind them, the guards barely hid their mix of amusement and horror.

"Also, since I'm already here against my will, can we talk about heating? I know Vladaryn is famous for its ice and snow, but have you ever considered… I don't know, fireplaces? Or something that doesn't make people freeze to death?"

Darian didn't respond. Either he had extraordinary patience, or he had developed the ability to tune out sounds he didn't like. But that didn't stop Sophia.

"One more thing—why is everything here so gloomy? I'm not saying you need pink curtains and floral wallpaper, but seriously, a little color wouldn't hurt. Maybe something in warmer tones? So it doesn't feel like we're trapped in a gothic nightmare?"

That was when Darian finally stopped. He turned to look at her, slowly, as if assessing whether she was joking or just insane.

"You don't like my castle?" he asked quietly.

Sophia pulled a face. "Well… I won't lie. I mean, it's functional. Secure. If you like a place that looks like no one's ever made it out alive."

The guards held their breath. No one—no one—had ever spoken to Darian like this. Most people trembled at the mere thought of him. But not Sophia. She talked as if she were critiquing decorative pillows in an ordinary home.

Darian stared at her longer than anyone would find comfortable. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and kept walking. "Your chambers are this way."

"Chambers? Oh, that sounds promising!" she said, cheerfully following. "Does it include a bathtub? Oh, and more importantly, does it have hot water? Because if not, I'm ready to start a revolution."

When she entered the room, Sophia came to an abrupt stop. She scanned the space carefully, then placed her hands on her hips.

"Okay… I have to admit, I was expecting a dungeon with chains and cobwebs, but this…" She glanced around. The room was enormous, with high ceilings and heavy, thick curtains. The bed was massive, covered in dark bedding. There was even a fireplace in the corner, and a candle flickered on the table. "…this is actually not bad."

Darian leaned against the doorframe. "Glad you approve."

"But I still need warmer water. And more light. And maybe some company that isn't a brooding king who looks at me like he's calculating whether I'll survive the week."

Darian crossed his arms. "If you keep talking at this pace, you might not even make it through the day."

Sophia laughed. "Was that a threat? Oh, fantastic! We're already making progress in our future, extremely happy marriage."

Darian sighed. "We are not—"

"—a real husband and wife, I know, I know," she interrupted. "But everyone expects us to be, don't they? So, technically, I have the right to demand some comfort in my new home."

He looked at her, his usual calm expression barely masking his mild irritation. She was the only person who didn't regard him with sheer terror. Everyone feared his coldness, his power. But her? She saw him as… just a man.

Interesting.

Not that he'd admit it.

"I've already given you a room. Don't ask for more."

Sophia folded her arms. "Fine, fine. I won't ask for more. For now. But… can you at least tell me what's expected of me here? So I don't accidentally start a war?"

Darian smirked slightly. "You are expected to listen."

"Oh, well, that's going to be a problem," she said brightly. "I'm not exactly known for being obedient."

Darian shook his head, then turned toward the door. "Rest. Tomorrow, your new life here begins."

Sophia sat on the bed, watching him leave.

Rest?

In a fortress full of secrets and a cold but oddly intriguing king?

Not a chance.