The candles burned low as the night deepened, their soft golden flames trembled with every faint movement of air, casting long shadows across the silk curtains and the scattered rose petals on the bed. Prince Rashad's fingers were still beneath my chin firm and possessive. "Look at me," he said quietly. I had no choice but to obey. I could see the fine details of his face more clearly than before. The sharp angle of his jaw, the slight curve of his lips, and the faint shadow beneath his eyes that made his grey gaze appear even colder.
His olive skin seemed warmer under the candlelight, but the warmth did not reach his expression. There was something unreadable in the way he looked at me not with cruelty, but not tenderness either, something more like… ownership. "You seem nervous," he said. "I have never been married before," I replied softly. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "I would hope not." He finally released my chin and stepped back.
The tension in my shoulders loosened slightly, though my heart continued to beat far too fast. Rashad moved toward the table near the window where a tray of wine and fruit had been prepared for us. The silver goblets gleamed under the candlelight as he poured dark red wine into both of them. "For courage," he said casually, offering one to me. I hesitated only briefly before accepting it. Refusing him would have been more awkward than drinking.
The wine was strong and slightly bitter when it touched my lips. Rashad watched me carefully as I swallowed. Then he drank from his own goblet. For several moments, the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Finally, he set the cup aside and approached me again. "You understand why this marriage was necessary," he said.
His tone sounded almost conversational now. "Yes. Two powerful kingdoms tied together by blood." I replied
He stopped a step away from me. "Peace is rarely built on affection." The words hung in the air between us. I nodded slowly. "I understand." His gaze softened slightly, though the expression still felt distant. "You will grow accustomed to Sahramir," he continued. "The palace there is larger than this one."
He glanced around the bridal chamber with mild disinterest. "This empire favors beauty." Then his eyes returned to me. "Our kingdom favors strength." Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten again. Before I could respond, he reached forward and gently took my hand, his touch was surprisingly warm. "Come," he said quietly.
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I cannot describe every moment of what followed. Only that the candles burned lower as the night passed. And when it was over, I lay quietly beneath the silk sheets, staring at the canopy above the bed while my breathing slowly returned to normal. Rashad had risen from the bed and was standing near the window.
The moonlight streamed through the open curtains, illuminating his tall figure against the darkness outside. His long dark hair hung loosely over his shoulders now, slightly disheveled, he looked thoughtful almost distracted. For a moment, I wondered what he was thinking. Then suddenly he staggered. It was subtle at first a slight shift in his posture. I sat up slowly.
"Your Highness?" Rashad placed a hand against the edge of the table as though steadying himself. His shoulders tensed.
Then he coughed once, twice the sound was harsh not normal. "Are you unwell?" I asked, climbing quickly from the bed wrapping the sheet around myself.
Before he could answer, he coughed again. This time something dark splattered against the polished floor. My heart stopped, blood.
Rashad stared down at the crimson droplets as if he did not understand what he was seeing. Then another violent cough tore through him more blood spilled from his lips.
"Guards!" I cried, panic flooding my voice. But Rashad suddenly grabbed my wrist. The strength of his grip shocked me, his grey eyes locked onto mine. For the first time since meeting him I saw genuine confusion there. "What…?" he rasped.
Another cough shook his body violently.
Blood stained the front of his dark coat, his fingers loosened. And then he collapsed.
His body hit the marble floor with a heavy, lifeless sound. For a moment I could not move, could not breathe. The world around me seemed to freeze, then the door burst open. Palace guards rushed into the room, followed by servants and attendants, gasps filled the chamber.
The captain of the guard rushed toward Rashad's body, kneeling beside him. But the moment he turned the prince over his face went pale. The room fell into a stunned silence, the Crown Prince of Sahramir lay motionless on the floor. Blood stained his lips, his grey eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
And in that terrible moment everyone in the room slowly turned to look at me. The only person who had been alone with him. My hands trembled violently. "I didn't…" I whispered. But the words felt small, powerless, because even before anyone spoke I could already see the accusation forming in their eyes. The Crown Prince was dead and I was the last person to see him alive.