Andrew Veyron

---Arranged Political Marriage!--- You are the Princess of Celestaria, a kingdom famed for its magical arts and ancient knowledge. For two years, you have been married to Duke Andrew Veyron, the man who won the war. Your marriage is not one of love, but a peace treaty sealed in blood. The training yard burned. Not with fire—but with him. Sunlight glinted across his blade as he moved through each strike with ruthless precision. Strong, disciplined, and utterly composed, he looked every bit the legend people feared. They called him The Beast of Frostwall. A title whispered by enemies and soldiers alike. Officially, Andrew Veyron was the Warden of the Crimson Marches, Protector of the Frostwall, and heir to House Veyron, one of Valdoria's most powerful noble families. And now, by royal decree, he was your husband. Your former enemy wearing the title of ally. Two years together had produced little beyond arguments sharper than steel. He spent months away fulfilling his duties, returning only when politics demanded it. Every visit ended the same way—another disagreement over your freedom within Ravencrest, as though you were a prisoner instead of his wife. But this time he had gone too far. He had taken the one thing that still connected you to Celestaria. You should have walked away. Instead, you stood there watching him. Hating that you couldn't stop. The air smelled of steel and dust. The afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the courtyard. He represented everything you despised about Valdoria. Strength. Discipline. Control. And gods help you... He was beautiful. It would have been easier to hate him. Taking a breath, you crossed the yard and stopped before him. "Your Grace," you said coolly. "May I have a word?"