Chapter 1
I was married off to Crown Prince Jamie Dawson by a draw of lots because out of six princes, he had the worst luck.
In the grand hall, the King tried to console him. "Endure it. A lifetime will pass before you know it."
The Second Prince Tommy Dawson smirked. "Jamie, that's fate."
The Fifth Prince Connor Dawson stifled a laugh. "Good thing it wasn't me."
Three months into the marriage, I had yet to set foot in the Crown Prince's chambers.
Then news arrived from the frontier. War reports flooded the court. Ministers fell to their knees, the entire hall in uproar.
And only then did Jamie realize the wife he had avoided like a plague carried in her hands three hundred thousand troops, the very force that could save his entire bloodline.
*****
My name was Michelle Gibson.
Today was the day I got married off to the Prince, Jamie Dawson.
No special reason—out of the six princes, he was just unlucky enough to pick the losing lot.
In the Sovereign Hall, all the ministers and military officers stood in two neat rows.
I was on my knees on the cold golden bricks, listening to the voices overhead, knowing they were deciding the course of my entire life.
The King sat on the throne, his voice tinged with resignation. "Jamie, it's settled now. Just go along with it."
Jamie, my future husband, stood tall and straight in his black python robe, his posture upright.
But the way his thin lips were pressed into a tight line gave away just how furious he was.
"Father, I can't accept this," Jamie said.
His voice was cold and brittle. His disgust was obvious, with no attempt to hide it.
The King let out a sigh. "I know you're not happy about it, but this is an old tradition handed down from our ancestors.
"To keep the royal bloodline strong and widespread, every generation, the Prince has to draw lots and pick his official wife from the daughters of our most loyal subjects.
"That's just how fate works for all six of you brothers—and for her, too."
The King's gaze landed on me, totally emotionless, like I was just another item on display, not a real person.
I kept my head down, but I could feel eyes on me from every direction.
Some looked sympathetic, some pitied me, but most were just enjoying the spectacle, taking pleasure in my misfortune.
The second prince, Tommy Dawson, stepped forward, unable to hide the glee on his face.
"Jamie, Father's right. That's fate for you. Just accept it," he said.
His mocking tone was like a needle, stabbing at Jamie's already wounded dignity.
The fifth prince, Connor Dawson, covered his mouth with his sleeve, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
"Thank goodness it wasn't me. Thank goodness it wasn't me," he snickered under his breath.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly through the entire hall.
A wave of stifled, low laughter rippled through the Sovereign Hall.
That laughter was a jab at Jamie, and for me, it was pure humiliation.
I was the only daughter of Alexander Gibson, the Duke of the North.
But to them, I was nothing but a jinx—someone everyone avoided like the plague, the kind of woman whose marriage was left up to the luck of the draw.
Jamie's face was sullen.
He spun around, his gaze sharp as a blade, stabbing straight at me.
There wasn't a shred of affection in his eyes—just cold hatred and misplaced anger.
To him, I was the biggest stain on his life.
The King seemed to realize he'd gone a bit too far and cleared his throat.
"Okay, that's enough," he said.
He looked at Jamie, his tone easing up, trying to calm him down.
"Hang in there, Jamie," he said. "It'll be over before you know it."
That was the final straw.
To the King, being stuck with me for a lifetime was nothing but a sentence he expected Jamie to just grit his teeth and endure.
Jamie closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, all the life had drained from his gaze.
He bowed deeply to the King seated on the throne.
"Yes, father," he said.
His words echoed through the hall, heavy and final.
With that, our relationship was sentenced to death.
The servant's shrill voice rang out. "Michelle Gibson, daughter of the Duke of the North, is virtuous and well-mannered, skilled in all proper etiquette.
"She is hereby granted in marriage to Jamie, Crown Prince, as his official consort. The wedding shall be held on an auspicious day."
I bowed low, my forehead touching the cold ground.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," I said.
My voice was steady, without a hint of emotion.
The air felt like the whole room was frozen in place.
Maybe they expected me to break down, cry, or throw a fit—as if my whole world had collapsed.
But I didn't.
I just waited until the official in charge of the ceremony gave me the signal to stand.
I got up and casually brushed off some nonexistent dust from my dress, as if nothing could touch me.
Then I turned and followed the maid out of the hall, my gaze unflinching and fixed straight ahead.
I could feel Jamie's eyes burning into my back, like he wanted to scorch a hole right through me.
He was probably thinking, 'How can this shameless woman keep her cool like nothing happened?'