1 Stolen

"Get your hands off of me! Where are you taking me?" Daphne struggled in the grips of her captors, shoving back against their hold. Unfortunately, her frail strength could not be compared to that of two fully grown men, who each held onto one of her elbows with an iron grip.

It was supposed to be her wedding day. She was prepared to suffer stiff muscles from sitting in a carriage for too long, ready to endure awkward conversations with her new, unfamiliar husband from a new, unfamiliar land. After all, as the only royal family member who could not wield magic, that was all that she was worth.

And the rest of the royal circle made sure she would never forget that.

Yet, she did not expect to be inelegantly snatched from her carriage and kidnapped to a land no one dared to set foot in. Vramid, with its numerous mountain ranges, frequent hailstorms, and deadly wildlife, was a death trap for the unprepared.

And now, the chilly winds and frightful storms outside the barren stone walls of the fortress reflected the scene exactly in Daphne's heart.

"Shut up!"

The guards promptly shoved her to the ground without further warning, causing her to cry out as her knees slammed against the hard marble floor. The skin on her hands burned as her palms slid across the floor from the strength of their throw.

"How dare you!"

The guards scoffed, unimpressed. They moved away without a single glance.

Daphne was a princess; she had never been treated so roughly in her life. The skin of her hands was now red with friction burns and her knees were bruised due to the impact. However, that was the least of her worries.

Right in her line of sight was a pair of polished boots. Daphne's eyes reluctantly trailed up, her goosebumps rising more and more by the second. A long pair of legs, a strong torso, a broad chest clothed in fine military wear― her heart stuttered as she registered a pair of dark amber eyes glaring down at her.

Even though his eyes were a warm color, the look he shot her was frosty. Her hair stood to its ends and her blood ran cold.

"Hello, princess," the man drawled in a deep voice, slow and sensual.

From where Daphne was, the man seemed to be towering over her, though she knew that wouldn't be far from the truth. He had a leg crossed over the other, the side of his head propped up by his knuckles as he smiled down at her.

His smile, paired with his dark cold eyes, caused Daphne to feel more threatened than if he were to immediately stab a sword through her heart. She heard rumors that the people of Vramid were ruthless, but this man seemed to be another brand of intelligently cruel, the sort that would give her a rope to hang herself with.

This was a man that liked to play with his prey.

"Hello," Daphne replied. She stood up shakily, trying to calm her racing heart. Her hand instinctively went to her opal necklace, preparing to shatter it to send out a signal for help once he was distracted.

"You seem to have me at an advantage. I do not know your name."

"Make an educated guess, princess. It's not that hard," he said mockingly. "According to the bards, the first princess of Reaweth was meant to be the wisest of all royalty. If you are the best they have to offer, your family must be as intelligent as a sack of rocks."

Daphne spluttered furiously, her fear was now accompanied by indignation at the insult to her family. If Daphne wasn't his prisoner, she would have given him an earful for his rudeness.

Instead, she could only settle for glaring hotly at him. She reminded herself to stall. She had the crystal, and her fiance would soon realize she hadn't arrived and send a search party out for her.

"Are you going to give me three guesses?"

"Do I look like an imp from a story, longing to steal your firstborn?" Now, there was amusement in his eyes. Daphne froze— this was a story read to children in Reaweth. She highly doubted it would spread all the way to Vramid.

How did this man know it? She eyed him carefully.

"I—"

Suddenly he stood up, towering over her. He was close enough that she could smell the scent of cedar and pine from his body. She instinctively tried to step back, but her legs couldn't move. It was as though they had been nailed to the floor with an unseen force.

"What are you doing?" Daphne wanted to scream, but the air was stolen from her lungs.

"Tsk, tsk. You're smart, Princess. I stand corrected. But not smart enough." The man's fingers gently stroked the soft skin of her cheek, before reaching for her chin, tilting it high enough that it was almost painful for her.

This close, she could see the gold flecks in his eyes. They were still terrifyingly cold, despite the amused smile on his face. He leaned closer, as though he aimed to kiss her.

"Don't—" Daphne frantically tried to push him away, but then she realized she made a fatal mistake.

The man's target wasn't her lips. It was her necklace.

Before she could grab it, he reached out and easily tugged the necklace loose from her neck. Daphne's neck burned from where the necklace was pulled free, staring helplessly as the crystal beads clattered loudly when it made contact with the cold marble floor.

"How…" Daphne's eyes widened in shock and fear. This necklace was a priceless gift from her sister, crafted with nothing but the best for royalty. It was supposed to be indestructible.

Yet… This man snatched it from her neck as though it was merely a cheap trinket from the market.

"This? This is nothing." He laughed, idly dangling the huge opal crystal in his hand right in front of Daphne's horrified face. "My apologies. Did you depend on this for rescue?"

"Give it back!"

"It was mine first." Before Daphne could figure out the meaning in his words, the man clenched his fist around the crystal and crushed it with his bare hands, seemingly delighted at Daphne's torment.

"You beast! Why have you brought me here," Daphne seethed, forcing the words out. Fear and raged war within her. Her eyes darted to the fallen shards of the crystal beads, now coated with a thin layer of the man's crimson blood.

"Well," he said with a lazy grin. Daphne watched as he leaned back into the throne. "To be my bride, of course."