Chloe.
The carriage wouldn't stop moving.
I could feel every turn of the wheels like it was counting down to something.
Kieran sat across from me, infuriatingly composed. Hands folded. Legs stretched slightly. Like we weren't speeding toward a kingdom that expected proof I'd done something I absolutely had not done.
"You're staring again," he said.
"I'm assessing."
"That's worse."
"You should be concerned."
"I'm not."
I scowled. "You're very calm."
"Yes."
"That's suspicious."
"Is it?"
"Yes. You just got married."
"So did you."
"I am aware."
"Then why do you look like you're heading to a council meeting instead of your wedding night?"
He tilted his head slightly. "Would you prefer I look nervous?"
"Yes."
"That can be arranged."
"It cannot be arranged on command."
A faint smirk. "Everything can be arranged on command."
I hated that that was attractive.
I crossed my arms and stared at the opposite wall. "This is ridiculous."
"What is?"
"The entire situation."
He waited.
I lasted five seconds.
"The consummation," I blurted. "That situation."
His gaze sharpened slightly. Not teasing now. Just attentive.
"Yes?"
"I've—" I stopped. Cleared my throat. "I've done things. Before."
"I assumed."
That made me glare at him. "Don't say it like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you have a file on me."
"I do not need a file."
I ignored that. "I've never actually— you know."
"Gone all the way?"
I looked at the ceiling. "Why do you insist on saying it so plainly?"
"Because it is plain."
"It is not plain. It is horrifying."
He didn't laugh this time.
He leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees. Focused.
"Chloe," he said evenly, "we will only consummate this marriage when you are ready."
I blinked.
"No pressure," he continued. "No expectation. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until you say so."
I stared at him.
"…That's it?"
"Yes."
"That's your grand reaction?"
"Yes."
Relief hit first.
Then, for some reason, something else crept in behind it.
He leaned back again, like that settled it.
Like it was simple.
Like I wasn't internally unraveling.
The carriage rolled on.
And my brain — traitor that it was — started whispering.
Why is he so calm?
Why is he so willing to wait?
Shouldn't he want this?
He's a prince. He's not shy. He's not inexperienced. He's not—
Unless he doesn't want you.
Unless he's relieved.
Unless he has someone else.
The thought landed hard in my chest.
Of course he would.
He's Kieran.
He probably has women in Caelorth who know exactly how to handle him. Who don't panic. Who don't overthink. Who don't squeak when they're nervous.
Maybe I'm just convenient.
A treaty in a dress.
The carriage felt smaller.
I went quiet.
Too quiet.
Kieran noticed immediately. "You're thinking again."
"No, I'm not."
"You are."
"It's fine."
"It is never fine when you say that."
I swallowed.
Don't ask.
Don't ask.
Don't—
"Do you have mistresses?"
The words came out sharp. Too sharp.
The carriage went silent except for the wheels.
He blinked once.
Then he laughed.
Actually laughed.
Not cruel. Not mocking. Just surprised.
My face went hot. "That was a reasonable question."
"Was it?"
"Yes."
"You look like you're about to fight someone."
"I am not."
"You are jealous."
"I am not jealous!"
"You asked about mistresses."
"That is a strategic inquiry!"
He was still smiling. Infuriating.
"No," he said finally.
"No… you don't currently have any?"
"No."
"None at all?"
"None."
I narrowed my eyes. "You expect me to believe that."
"Yes."
"You're a prince."
"And?"
"And princes have mistresses."
"Some do."
"And you don't?"
"No."
"Why?"
That came out quieter than I meant it to.
He held my gaze this time. No smirk. No teasing.
"Because," he said evenly, "I do not divide my attention."
Something in my chest shifted.
"And if I wanted someone else," he added calmly, "I would not have married you."
The car rolled forward.
Lights flickered faintly in the distance — Caelorth getting closer.
I looked away first.
Because somehow, that answer was more destabilizing than if he'd admitted to ten mistresses.
And now I had a whole new problem.
He didn't want anyone else.
Which meant...
Eventually...
He would want me.