The King's Cursed Bride

His: Part 1

Author's Note: I really couldn't choose between the comments by vbgirl07 and Katy380, so I'm giving this week's comment award to both of them!

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"We ought to be heading back towards the palace to complete my training. Haven't you seen the horizon?"

Elon ignored Carissa's protests and helped her dismount. "Last night, you'd told the woman who stopped by our house you'd pay a visit in the morning."

She wanted to leave—shake the dust of this town off her feet and forget her aching heart. "When we were both girls, she would always select her beaus based on men she knew I admired." Carissa bent closer, lowered her voice. "I don't like her at all, and I certainly don't want to visit her." Too often, Carissa had stumbled upon Rosalind and a man kissing. Instead of acting embarrassed, Rosalind always seemed delighted to have been discovered. For some reason, she seemed to take a peculiar delight in Carissa's agony.

"But now you're both married, so her taking men you admire shouldn't be a problem, hmm?" His gaze was heated, dark, and soft at once. Jealousy? Protectiveness? Whatever it was, it caused a pleasant shiver to dart up her spine.

"Yes, but—"

"And as my Queen, you've promised to love our subjects."

"She likely doesn't know I'm your Queen."

"And, last night, you agreed to break your fast with her this morn. She came during dinner, remember?"

"Well, yes, but I only spoke with her to alleviate the tension."

"Does that make your word invalid, love?"

She narrowed her eyes with a huff. "Very well. You needn't always be right, you know."

Elon laughed, the sound warming her better than any fairywing melon cider ever could. "I try not to be too often, but it's very difficult, you know."

Carissa suppressed a smile and smacked his arm. It was hard to imagine she felt so comfortable with Elon that she wasn't afraid of any consequences. If she'd dared to hit a man in Iver...

Elon's touch at the small of her back startled her from her dark imaginings. For some reason, the feel of his hand against her felt pleasant, reassuring. Perhaps she was finally adjusting.

They padded up the stone steps, and Elon rapped twice at the wooden door. A row of pots lined the walls, the herbs within perfuming the air. The window shutters were covered in a fresh coat of berry red paint. Rosalind had briefly mentioned she was married the other night, but to who?

The door swung open. A man lifted his wiry gray eyebrows to peer at them. "Oh, Marissa! You're our surprise guest. All grown up and pretty."

Old Man Doring? He was Rosalind's husband? Carissa plastered on a polite smile. "I've long been grown up, Doring. It's only been a month and a half."

He chuckled. "It may feel like that, but it's been years since I last saw you."

It seems his failing memory had finally got the better of him—so much so that he'd forgotten her name.

The door opened wider as a man joined Doring. "Ah, Carissa. What a pleasure to see you again."

Her gaze drifted behind Doring to the tall blond man. His hair was pale as straw. His teeth crooked, but his smile genuine. "Nad?" Rosalind had never even glanced his way—nor had any of the other girls. Was he her husband?