Chapter 1

Andrew

I’m at the edge of my orchard chopping wood.

The trees have recently blossomed, and the entire air is full of delicate white-and-pink petals.

It was all very feminine and completely at odds with the sight of me—shirtless, all muscle and tightly-furled chest hair, deftly cutting a block of wood in half.

I like preparing the firewood for my own chambers; it keeps me grounded and human. I also like to do it when I’m nervous.

And if there were ever a day that I needed to calm my nerves, it’s today.

I’m hosting the wedding between the other two island nations close enough to be considered my country’s neighbors. There’s been strife between our three nations for decades now, and everyone is tired of it. This marriage is the first step towards a true, peaceful alliance.

So we can’t fuck it up.

No—I can’t fuck it up.

I had considered asking for the Princess Aisling’s hand in marriage a couple of years ago, but she was not yet of age and was studying abroad. And just when she returns to her country…

King Fergus insists on her hand in marriage. So insistent, in fact, that I’m convinced the two of them must already be lovers of some kind.

And who am I to interfere with true love?

But I must question Aisling’s taste in men, to be honest.

And the marriage works for the peace alliance in much the same way as if I had married Aisling herself, so it works out well for me without having to tie myself to a woman I’ve never met.

And yet…

I resist the urge to sigh. I like her nation and would rather have tied myself more officially to it.

I heft my axe through another thick block of wood, satisfied when I hear the resounding crack of wood as it splits in two.

I shall endeavor to be the perfect host. I’ll push my own wishes and misgivings aside for the sake of peace.

A low rumbling begins to grow louder on the path leading past the orchard. I look up; the horse-drawn carriage that I arranged to pick up Princess Aisling is gently rolling up the path, heading towards me. The horse leading the carriage is my personal favorite; a well-natured, spotlessly clean Lipizzaner stallion.

I straighten up before remembering I’m naked from the waist-up.

Oh, well. Guess the princess will get to see what a real, rugged man looks like before marrying the overly preened King Fergus.

I suppress a grin as I put my axe down.

Suddenly, there’s a loud crack, akin to wood-splitting. Which is odd, because I’m no longer chopping wood.

Realizing where the noise must have come from, I rush over to the carriage, just as one of the wheels gives way, and the whole thing begins to keen to the side.

I get there just in time, grabbing hold of the side of the carriage and keeping it straight and upright. I make gentle shushing sounds to calm my stallion, who had whinnied in surprise. To his credit, he calms almost immediately.

I’m forced to duck as the door of the carriage is flung open.

“Oh my god, oh my god—what happened?!” a female voice asks, panicked. “Is the horse okay?”

I know just from that one question that I’m going to like Princess Aisling even before I look at her. And then when I do…

I almost let go of the carriage.

She’s drop-dead gorgeous.

Aisling has long, raven hair left loose and carefree. Her gray eyes are bright with concern as she turns her head around to check on the horse before looking back at me. Her pale skin is flawless but for a spray of freckles over the bridge of her nose.

She blushes slightly as she very obviously looks me up and down.

I smile as I offer her a hand to get down from the carriage; her eyes widen in surprise when she realizes that I am now holding the weight of the carriage in one hand. With my help, she jumps out of the carriage to land nimbly by my side.

“Holy fuck, you’re strong,” she lets out, covering her mouth with a hand as she realizes that she’s just sworn to a stranger’s face.

I smirk, amused.

“I didn’t know the Princess Aisling had such a mouth on her.”

“Should we call for some help with the carriage?” she asks, bashfully smiling at my jibe when she realizes I’m not offended by her language.

I shake my head. “Ness and I can manage back to the castle, if you care to accompany us on foot, Princess Ais—”

“Ash. Just call me Ash. That’s what everyone calls me,” she interrupts. “And you are…?”

Oh, this is fun. She doesn’t know who I am.

“Just the blacksmith. I’m in charge of the stables, too.”

“What were you doing chopping wood, then?”

“Good exercise.”

Ash laughs; it’s a beautiful sound, like clear water running over pebbles.

We walk for a few minutes in silence, but I catch Ash watching me out of the corner of her eye as we trundle along the path. Ness patiently adjusts to the slower pace he’s now forced to take, with a damaged carriage and a human replacing the wheel.

“If chopping wood is what make you so strong, then please never stop,” Ash eventually says.

Now it’s my turn to laugh.

“I’ll be sure to abide just for you, Princess.”

“You’re just so…I don’t know. Manly. You look like you should be leading the charge into battle on top of Ness.”

I smile as she blushes once she’s realized what she’s just said. Ash’s candor and unfiltered speech is refreshing, especially after the complex peace talks.

“I’ll take the compliment gladly,” I reply. “Especially from such a beautiful young woman.”

Oh, if she was blushing before, then Ash is now positively scarlet. It’s a wonderful color on her, especially against her dark hair.

Looking properly at her full frame, I realize that she’s perhaps a little taller than most women, willowy and lithe, but still somewhat soft-looking, with perfectly shaped breasts.

I cough slightly to force myself back into the present. Ash looks at me curiously.

“I’d have thought King Andrew would have met me at the harbor.”

“The King was…otherwise indisposed,” I say, which isn’t a lie. “King Fergus and company arrived this morning, as did most of the guests, so the castle has been very busy. I’m glad most of the wedding preparations were completed yesterday, to be honest. Don’t think we’d have managed it all by late afternoon today.”

Ash makes a face as soon as I mention the wedding, which has me shocked.

“Are you not excited for your wedding, Princess?”

Ash twists her skirt in her hands as her eyebrows knit together. “Um, I’m not…I don’t think I should be talking about this.”

I smile gently for her. “It’s okay; you can tell me. I’m just a lowly blacksmith, after all.”

“I don’t think anyone is ‘lowly’,” she replies. “Everyone has value, no matter their station. Hierarchies are stupid.”

Why is it that, with every step closer to her wedding with King Fergus, Ash has become more and more my ideal woman? I feel a twinge of regret that I didn’t ask for her hand in marriage two years ago, even if she was abroad and not yet ready to marry.

“It’s not that I don’t like Fergus,” Ash explains, “it’s just that I don’t…know him. It’s hard to feel enthusiastic over marrying someone you don’t know.”

Huh. So they’re not in love.

But perhaps King Fergus’ love for Ash is one-sided, hence the insistence on the marriage. I guess it’s something I shall have to find out for myself.

“A peaceful alliance between the three island nations is worth a marriage to someone you don’t know, at least,” I say.

Ash nods her head.

“I know that. I’d never accept the proposal if it weren’t for the alliance. My people are sick of the fighting; we don’t have the resources to keep it up.”

That much is true; Prince Aisling’s nation is poor on the military front, and it lacks in fossil fuels, but their land is fertile and healthy, with the perfect climate for crop growing. Hers is a nation that would suffer the most from a war; it would be ravaged.

Impressed with her willingness to sacrifice herself for her people, I feel all the more wishful that she wasn’t marrying King Fergus.

When we reach the front gates, Ash releases Ness from his harness without me even having to ask. I gently place the carriage down onto the ground.

Even for me, carrying the carriage was hard-going. But it was worth it to talk to Ash.

I join her in patting Ness’ head, the stallion reveling in the attention, when one of my advisors comes through the gate.

“Princess Aisling! I see you arrived in one piece.” One glance at the broken carriage is all my advisor needs to know that the only way Ash arrived in one piece is because of me.

He smiles resignedly at me. “And King Andrew. We were wondering where you had run off to. King Fergus is requesting an audience.”

I hear Ash gasp, and I turn to her with an apologetic smile on my face.

“Y-you’re King Andrew?”

“Sorry, Princess. I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t mean to lie.”

“I swore to the face of King Andrew?”

“Indeed you fucking did, Ash,” I reply chidingly, finally dropping the ‘princess’ from her title.

She laughs, and I know in that precise moment that if anyone is marrying this woman, it’s going to be me.