Ash
I’m still somewhat numb with disbelief at the fact that the burly, dark-haired, and amazingly attractive blacksmith who came to my rescue is, in fact, King Andrew.
King fucking Andrew.
I can’t believe he managed to carry the weight of that entire carriage with his bare hands, and that he carried it in such a way that he avoided any strain or damage to his beautiful horse, Ness.
A gentle, blue-eyed, behemoth of a king.
And ¬shirtless.
I struggle not to side-eye him as we enter the castle, though I was unashamedly doing so for the entire walk here.
His chiseled jawline is covered in stubble—the dark brown hair almost long enough to be considered a beard. With the sun reflecting off the strands, I notice that there’s just a touch of copper to his hair, which makes the blue of his eyes pop.
My fucking god, he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen. There doesn’t seem to be an ounce of fat on him—his perfect abs still rippling from the physical exertion of carrying that carriage. And below his abs…
My eyes wander down the buttons of his trousers. Doubtless, his cock is as big as the rest of him. My insides light on fire by just thinking about it.
“Ash?” Andrew inquires politely, amusement curving his lips into the slightest of smiles.
It’s the kind of smile that implies he absolutely knows what I’m thinking about.
Panicking, I straighten up and avoid eye contact, running a hand through my long hair to stop my hands from wringing my skirt in embarrassment—a bad habit I’m desperate to be rid of.
“Yes, King Andrew?”
His smile grows gentle. “Drew. Call me Drew, Ash.”
I tentatively return the smile. “What is it, Drew?”
“Do you wish to greet King Fergus now, or wait until the wedding ceremony?”
Ugh, the wedding…I honestly had forgotten about it—so lost in thought about Drew.
“I’ll greet him now,” I say, though I seriously consider saying no.
Drew holds a large wooden door open for me.
I pass through an ornate stone archway into a beautifully decorated hall that looks as if it was carved from the bedrock itself. I can’t stop myself from gasping.
“You like my castle,” Drew chuckles.
“I love it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the man I am to marry in a few hours—King Fergus.
Fergus is as sleekly handsome as I remember him: expertly slicked back dark blonde hair, clean shaven with sharp green eyes that don’t miss a thing. Very well dressed.
I’d have considered him tall before I met Drew. Now, his stature seems far less impressive.
“Princess Aisling,” he announces cordially as he walks over, taking my hand and bringing it up to his lips.
Shaking Drew from my head, I give Fergus a smile.
“King Fergus, it’s been a while. Call me Ash,” I say in greeting.
There’s something off about his smile as he replies, “Ash. Of course.”
That odd smirk reminds me of the previous two occasions when I met Fergus. Both times, he seemed to be somewhat disdainful towards my country, though I was too young to understand why.
I hope that, whatever ill will he bears against my people, he’s grown out of it. He was the one who insisted on this marriage, after all. And had he not…
I glance at Andrew.
Could we have been married, instead? I had never met him before, having spent much of my late-teenage years studying abroad.
“I look forward to the ceremony this evening,” Fergus says, forcing me out of my head. “I’m assuming you wish to freshen up in the meantime, Ash.”
The way he says it seems to imply that he doesn’t think I’ll clean up if he hadn’t mentioned it, though I wonder if I’m reading too much into things because I’m currently crushing on Drew.
I give Fergus a glowing smile. “Of course. I’ll see you in a few hours. Until then.”
I incline my head respectfully towards him; Fergus does the same as he kisses my hand again.
I turn to look at Drew, who calls for a servant to show me to my room. There’s something closed off about his face, as if he’s schooling his expression to hide what he’s thinking. I hope to god he’s thinking about me.
Up in my room, I spend an hour having a luxurious bath—scrubbing, shaving, and moisturizing my skin until it’s the softest it’s ever been.
The dress I’m to wear is already hanging up in my room—a strapless, delicately beaded bodice with a floaty, almost weightless skirt. I know I’ll look amazing in it, with my willowy frame and long dark hair. I just wish it was for Andrew, not Fergus.
Sighing, I sit on the window frame and open the window, gazing out towards the stables.
I then notice Drew, tending to his stallion, Ness. He lovingly nuzzles his face against his horse, before brushing him down and topping up his hay. I even see him slip the beautiful creature a few sugar cubes.
Andrew is another man I know basically nothing about, but I’ll marry him in a heartbeat.
Fergus has nothing on Drew’s raw, primal masculinity, and yet it’s clear Drew is also exceedingly gentle and caring. I can only hope that Fergus can at least match that. But something tells me he won’t.
I’m surprised to hear a knock on my door. I check the time; there’s still at least an hour until the ceremony. It’s scheduled just before sunset on the edge of the apple orchard, where it meets the sandy western shore of Drew’s country.
At this time of year, it’s suppose be a breathtaking scenery, considering what I saw of the orchard in full bloom. I don’t doubt that it will be the perfect wedding ceremony—aside from who the groom will be, of course.
The knock grows more insistent, so I shake my head to clear it of any fanciful thoughts.
“Who is it?”
“Who else would it be right before your wedding, idiot?” comes an all-too-familiar, female voice.
I immediately perk up and run for the door.
“Gwen!” I cry out excitedly as I fling open the door and swallow the petite blonde in a giant hug.
Gwen laughs, then raises an eyebrow, before following me into my room.
“You should be in a wedding dress.”
I let out an embarrassed laugh as I take the dress in question off its hanger.
“Help me into this, then?”
Gwen happily laces me into the dress, then moves on to fixing my hair and make-up as we catch up.
Gwen is a princess too, though from a country far into the mainland. I studied in her country for two years, where the two of us quickly became friends. She recently got married to her childhood sweetheart, Edward, who’s now king of his own country, though I know they were both originally engaged to other people.
Merely thinking about how they managed it causes me to think about how I could get out of marrying Fergus in favor of Drew. But such decision could destroy the peace alliance, which my country simply cannot afford.
“…and so, anyway, Ignora was honestly the worst woman I’ve ever met. Like, I can’t believe Edward ever agreed to marry her in the first place, Ash,” Gwen says as she finishes my hair and make-up.
I make a face. “She can’t be that bad.”
Gwen laughs. “Wait until you have a few drinks at your wedding, and I’ll regale you with the whole story.”
I give her a wry smile.
Of course, it’ll be a great story—all of Gwen’s stories are.
“I look forward to it.”
Gwen checks the time and suddenly jumps to her feet, her perfectly curled, blonde hair bouncing against her shoulders.
“Ash, we’ve got to get going, or you’ll be late to your own wedding!”
“Not necessarily a bad thing,” I mutter under my breath as we make our way downstairs, where we are escorted down to the beach front.
“I thought we were supposed to travel by horse-drawn carriage,” Gwen mumbles in disappointment, to which I heartily laugh.
“The carriage is currently…indisposed. The wheel broke,” I explain when Gwen looks confused, “and Kind Andrew came to my rescue. Did you know he can carry a whole fucking carriage?!”
Gwen looks at me, amused. “Can he now? Maybe you’re marrying the wrong king.”
“Oh, don’t say that to me now, Gwen. Please.”
Seeing my face, Gwen clucks her tongue in sympathy, then holds my hand all the way to the ceremony.
“You’ll be okay, Ash. Fergus seems lovely. And this is all for the good of your country after all.”
I nod, not trusting my voice to agree.
When we get to the wedding, it is indeed a breathtaking scene. The apple blossom trees have been strung up with lights, twinkling between the petals and making them glow. The sun is at the perfect angle to reflect the glittering sea, painting the sandy shore in dark oranges and reds, as the low-tide waves crash against it.
I’ve never seen a place so beautiful. It seems as if elves created it.
Every inch of Fergus looks the perfect groom. The sun is turning his hair into a luxurious shade of gold. When he smiles and beckons for me to join him underneath a delicately woven, wooden archway, I think that perhaps it won’t be so bad being married to him.
But then, I see Drew, just to Fergus’ left, and he positively beams at me.
Oh god. I can’t marry Fergus. I can’t.
“Wait,” I say when I reach the altar.
Fergus raises a questioning eyebrow.
All around us, wedding guests murmur in surprise.
“What is it, Ash?” Fergus asks.
Behind him, I can see Drew staring at me with wide eyes, as if he knows what I’m about to do. But I can’t just cancel the wedding, or the peace treaty will be in tatters.
“I want to postpone the wedding,” I demand, much to everyone’s surprise.
Fergus’ eyes narrow in suspicion.
“Just for—just for a few days!” I scrabble to explain. “It’s just…Fergus, I don’t even know you. Might we spend a few days together, getting to know one another? Just…give me five days. That’s all.”
I know it’s risky, but I’m desperate.
The look on Fergus’ face suggests that he absolutely does not want to postpone our wedding; in fact, I’d go so far as to say that he looks mutinous. But then he schools his expression and smiles politely.
“A fair, reasonable request. I don’t see why we can’t do that. The ceremony was rather rushed, after all.”
Confused but ecstatic that I’ve gotten my way, I thank Fergus and kiss his cheek. For half a second, he almost seems to grimace, but then it’s gone.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me for a while, Ash,” he says. “I have some business to attend to, now that my schedule has changed.”
Ignoring how he described our wedding as part of his “schedule,” I wander over to a table laden with drinks and pour myself one as the wedding guests dissipate.
Gwen gives me a knowing look after glancing at Drew, leaning against an apple tree all by himself, before leaving.
Eventually, it’s just me and Drew.
I take a deep breath.
Please don’t let me have misread our mutual attraction.
I don’t want to risk the peace of my country on a hunch if it isn’t correct, after all.