The Alliance

War. It was inevitable. The one certainty both sides could agree on, no matter the cost. Destruction. Hatred. Ruin. These were the only terms the warring kingdoms had ever settled on.

Alora despised it—the way people became consumed by conflict, how the smallest dispute could ignite a war lasting centuries. And now, she was being thrown into the center of it.

Princess Alora of the Upperlands. The wealthiest lands in the kingdom. The most arrogant. She knew this because, as much as she loathed to admit it, she was arrogant too.

Gold and ivory adorned the halls as she walked, her footsteps echoing against the polished stone. She was walking toward her doom—her enemy. Her betrothed. This was how her parents sought to end the war: binding her to a loveless marriage in the hope of mending fractured political ties.

Politics. That was the only reason she was being forced into this union. Bound to a man she had never met. A man she knew only by reputation—nothing but human. He was cruel, heartless, and everything she had been raised to despise. And yet, here she was, about to meet him. In her palace. In her kingdom.

Absurd. Truly. But she accepted it—to some extent. She understood her father’s ruthless strategy… to some extent.

Her heels clicked against the stone floors, the golden afternoon sun pouring in through the high-arched windows. The light caught the strands of her chestnut hair, casting a warm glow around her as she moved with purpose. She didn’t know what to expect from this prince, but she wasn’t afraid.

Fear did not exist within her. Fear was not something she would create.

No—fear bowed to her. It knelt at her feet in quiet submission.

Taking a sharp left, the grand doors to the meeting chamber loomed ahead. Her heart grew heavier with each step. And then—they opened.

Her father, King Walsh, was already seated, his green eyes—the same shade as her own—locked onto her with a brief flicker of softness before his expression hardened once more. Across from him, his mother sat poised, her attention focused on the man beside her.

To an untrained eye, he might have been considered attractive.

The prince stood tall, his dark hair tousled in effortless waves of midnight, falling just above his ears. The sharp cut of his jaw was nearly too perfect, his features symmetrical in a way that felt almost unfair.

She hated him already.

“Alora.” Her father’s voice snapped her back to reality. His expression was unreadable, though there was a slight shift in his tone, as if urging her to remain composed. “I’d like you to meet your betrothed, Prince Kael. Or better known as Kaelith of the Groves.”

Her gaze flickered back to him.

Prince Kael.

His eyes—rich, deep brown, almost deceptively warm—were already on her, studying, assessing… marking.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alora.” His voice was smooth, practiced. A prince’s voice. He extended his hand toward her, waiting.

Alora hesitated, then slowly lifted her own, letting her palm meet his.

His skin was warm.

She had expected it to be cold—cold, like the heart she had been warned about. But it wasn’t, it was warm—like he too was more flustered, and nervous.

Alora cleared her throat, recovering from whatever this had been—political, strictly for political reasons. Right.

“I’m sure this alliance will…” What would it do? She had hardly let herself consider the outcome of this marriage, she barely even let her mind stray to it in general. “Strengthen both kingdoms,” she added with a smile, her hand still in his, and at the realization, she jerked back, icing the action over with another forced smile.

“Yes, it will,” her father now spoke, his own smile on his face, “This way we can prevent war. I’m sure your father will be pleased, Kael.” Her father pointed to him, gaze unwavering. In the corner, her mother sat still, processing the situation they were in. Recollecting herself, she too had been in an arrangement when she was Alora’s age—her father and her married for money, wealth never for love. She had birthed her father two heirs, in exchange for her hand and a place to stay.

“We will waste no time,” her father said boldly, “Wedding planning will begin immediately. Until then, feel free to learn more about each other.” He nodded, standing, taking Alora’s mother by the arm.

Soon, she was locked in a cage with a beast. Her breath hitched as she twirled around to the slight shuffling in the distance.

There were no windows in the room, only a blazing fire that illuminated the man leaning against it, the smooth curve of his jaw.

Something had changed—she swore in her mind. The mood was tense, the sounds more potent than before.

“I—” she began to speak, determined to stay true to her father’s word and try to get to know this odd prince, but his words cut through her like the sharpest of blades.

“Let’s cut to the point, princess,” he said, her title falling from his lips like a curse, like she was one of the witches that roamed around her kingdom at night. His words—so powerful she flinched. A slow smile curved on Kael’s face.

He had not wanted this, but he wanted power, ruling more than anything. This girl—this child—was nothing more than a wall that could be ignored to his liking. So he would.

“You don’t want this, neither do I,” Kael pushed off the fireplace, now resting against the desk her father had just occupied. “Let’s save us both the pity and make a deal.” Yes, a deal. Kael had thought long and hard about this from the start—about how he would take the reins of both kingdoms.

Alora’s gaze perked up, the sweet little princess unraveling into the witch he claimed her to be. “I’m listening.” Her gaze never left his as her hand rested on her hip. Kael’s gaze flickered to the curve of her form for a moment… only a moment before a sly smile slipped onto his face.

“Pleased to say we’re on the same page.” He murmured, “My request is simple: We marry, the obvious, then we stay away from each other. Simple. Efficient. And feeds both our egos.”

At that, Alora scoffed, a grimace on her face. “Clearly I’m not the one with the big ego here. What makes you so important that it’s a shame to be in my presence?”

Kael chuckled, his point proven without a word. He didn’t need to say it aloud. “You despise me, I’m assuming. Therefore, what would it be if you’re with me all the time? Spare us both the headaches.”

He had a point, and she knew it. She just didn’t want to admit it.

“What if we need to go to a political outing?” she asked. “Or, for some reason, make an appearance together?”

“Then we put on a show,” Kael’s response was simple—do what he had seen his parents do millions of times. Fake it until they made it.

“A show?” Alora’s voice was a pitch higher when she spoke. Kael was suggesting they lie to all her loyal subjects? “You want me to lie to my people? Look, Kael, I’m not sure how they run things over in the Grove, but let me tell you this.” She pinned him with a stare—a stare he had been transfixed on since the moment she walked in. Those eyes—Good Fates, those eyes had pulled him into her spell the moment she walked in—power and all.

Alora continued, “I will not—I refuse to lie to my people.”

Kael rolled his eyes, and she clenched her hands together more, the white of her knuckles revealed. “It’s just a little fib, not a huge lie. Besides, I’d rather come out of this marriage alive.”

She groaned again, and he smiled wider. “I’m not some deranged beast,” she quipped quicker than her own movements.

“This isn’t funny.” She sighed, and he admired her.

So effortlessly gorgeous. He would never tell her aloud, or else she might slap him, but it was the truth. When his father had told him he was to be married to Alora, he had been happy—he’d rather it be the most fair maiden in all of the lands than some other witch. Of all witches, he would choose her. Just as he had all those years ago. Alora wouldn’t remember, no one did. It had been a masked ball, she didn’t know who he was, but Kael knew exactly what he was doing when he slipped into her arms, and they danced away. Alora didn’t remember; she had been oblivious the whole time, having drunk the wine she stole from the royal table that night—it was all a blur to her, a blissful memory faded in the back of her mind.

“Oh, but it is.” Kael moved—when had Kael moved? He was closer now, in front of her, her back to the wall. She was flush against it. “Your reaction—it’s intriguing. You intrigue me. Perhaps I’ll make the deal this: You stay beside me every day,” he smirked, and Alora grimaced.

Just the thought of being next to a monster who had killed millions angered her—raging, hot anger.

“I’d rather fall in a well than stay with you.”

It wasn’t the response he wanted, he thought, but it was reasonable. A part of Kael deflated, deflected, wounded by the small dismissal.

“See? Now you understand why I made my proposal.”

Kael inched closer, and Alora backed into the wall more, his presence awakening something inside her, something she had felt before but wasn’t sure when.

She was only eighteen—how could she have experienced this feeling? This explicit, wonderful feeling while being cooped up in the palace?

Kael was moving before thinking. His hand twirled around her hair. He was touching her like he had a right to. And in his mind, he did.

Alora recoiled, disgusted by the interaction. “Why are you still here?” It had been longer than she intended, and definitely not how she believed it would follow through.

“I’m getting to know my fiancée,” was all he said, as he let go of her hair, his finger lightly hitting her cheek—the motion enough.

Suddenly, without warning, Alora kicked Kael—right there, where it would hurt. Kael gasped, the shock registering only briefly before he steadied himself. Alora’s gaze met his, fierce and unflinching.

Without a word, she turned and walked away. She wouldn’t be his pawn.