Carlos POV

The reports arrived before dawn, carried by a messenger whose horse was still steaming from the ride. Carlos stood on the balcony overlooking the eastern courtyard, the cold Yakthung wind tugging at his dark hair as he broke the seal.

“Lady Irina will reach the capital by sundown.”

For a moment—just a heartbeat—something inside him lifted.

Warmth.

Hope.

Relief.

He exhaled faintly, and the breath came out softer than he intended.

Finally.

After months of negotiations, letters, and arrangements he barely cared about… she was finally coming. The woman he had agreed to marry—not out of duty, not out of politics, but because—

Because for the first time in his life, he had found someone whose presence didn’t suffocate him.

Someone who wrote with sincerity.

Someone who smiled in her letters.

Someone who seemed gentle but strong-hearted.

Someone he had quietly, stubbornly grown to cherish.

He hadn’t said a word of that to anyone.

Especially not to Kael.

“Your Highness?”

Kael’s startled voice came from behind him. His aide paused in the doorway, blinking as if he wasn’t sure he was seeing correctly.

“You’re… smiling.”

Carlos changed his expression instantly, jaw tightening back into its usual carved sharpness.

“I am not.”

“You are,” Kael insisted. “I’ve worked with you for eight years and I’ve never seen your face do that.”

“It is merely the wind.”

“There is no wind inside the palace, Your Highness.”

Carlos cut him a glare, but Kael only raised an eyebrow, clearly amused that the famously cold Crown Prince of Yakthung had been caught in a good mood.

Kael stepped closer, hesitating.

“Forgive me, but… aren’t you usually displeased about political marriages?”

“This one is different,” Carlos said before he could stop himself.

Kael froze.

Carlos rarely volunteered information—much less something personal. But he didn’t take the words back. He simply folded the letter and tucked it inside his coat.

Kael blinked, then blinked again.

“Different… how?”

Carlos looked away toward the horizon where the mist was lifting. The morning sun spread a faint glow across the distant roads—the road Irina’s carriage would be traveling.

“She has a kind heart,” he finally murmured, voice quiet, almost reluctant. “And a sharp mind. She is not like the daughters they’ve tried to push on me.”

Kael’s mouth fell open a little.

“So you like her.”

Carlos’s throat tightened at the bluntness. He turned sharply.

“I respect her,” he corrected, though his ears warmed slightly. “I’ve told you before. I won’t marry someone I despise.”

Kael crossed his arms. “Respect is not the look you had on your face—”

“Kael.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’ll shut up now.”

He didn’t.

He stared for another long moment, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“…You’re actually looking forward to this, aren’t you?”

Carlos didn’t answer.

Instead, he let his gaze drift back to the far horizon, heart beating steadier than usual. He imagined Irina’s carriage rolling through the mist. He wondered if she was nervous. If she was cold. If she was thinking of him.

He wondered if she would recognize him the moment she saw him.

Irina.

The name warmed him more than the sunlight.

Yes.

He was looking forward to it.

Even if no one else knew, even if he would never admit it aloud—

Carlos had already fallen for the woman he had meet when they were in academy.

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