A Man Lying Beside Her

The dressing table sat in the adjoining chamber, its darkwood surface polished to a rich gloss that caught the flickering light of the hearth. A clear mirror rested in the center, flanked by an intricately carved wooden casket.

Talia stood behind Oriana, her hands moving with unhurried care as she removed the heavy bridal pins. The long, dark strands cascaded over Oriana’s shoulders, catching the soft glow of the room.

"You look gorgeous, my lady," Talia said softly, a wistful note threading through her voice. "It is such a shame His Grace cannot open his eyes to see his bride tonight."

Oriana merely met her own gaze in the mirror. A faint, accepting smile touched her lips. "There is nothing to regret, Talia. Beautiful women are everywhere in this vast world. I am nothing special."

She meant it. She was only seventeen years old. Gideon was a decade older, a man whose legend stretched across the kingdom. In those ten extra years, he had marched through foreign lands and grand courts. He had likely seen countless stunning beauties—women far more alluring, bold, or radiant than she could ever claim to be. Her face, she reasoned practically, probably seemed rather ordinary compared to the women who had crossed his path.

Furthermore, the rumors whispered through the capital insisted the Duke of Grimwood’s heart already belonged to a mysterious woman. Oriana could not fathom what kind of breathtaking beauty commanded such devotion from a god of war, but she held no illusions about replacing her.

After washing away the lingering traces of the long day, Oriana slipped into a pale, moon-white nightgown. The servants withdrew with practiced discretion, leaving behind a profound, heavy silence.

Oriana approached the immense wedding bed. She climbed onto the mattress carefully, mindful of the large, motionless form occupying the center. The bed was wide enough to leave a safe distance between them, yet the moment she settled beneath the brocade quilt, she felt the sheer physical weight of his presence.

A steady, radiating warmth seeped across the sheets. Like her father and brothers, Gideon possessed the high, furnace-like body temperature of a man who trained year-round. Beneath the scent of sharp medicinal herbs, she caught the underlying scent of clean linen and warm skin.

She turned onto her side, propping herself up slightly.

Outside, the estate lay blanketed in the deep, still night. Inside the bridal chamber, the wedding candles burned steadily, filling the space with a warm, golden glow. Bathed in that flickering light, Oriana studied Gideon’s sharp profile.

His features were perfectly sculpted, harsh and unforgiving like mountain ridges carved by wind and time. Thick, dark lashes cast shadows over his cheekbones. His lips were pale from his prolonged unconsciousness, and a dark shadow of stubble traced the rigid line of his jaw. He looked less like a sleeping invalid and more like a slumbering beast.

Leaning in close, Oriana kept her voice to a low, genuine whisper.

"I am truly sorry." She paused, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. "I am sorry for declaring I would marry you while you were unconscious and unable to consent."

Across the room, a candle crackled, molten wax dripping down the silver stand.

Oriana smoothed a crease in the quilt near his hand. "But I promise you," she whispered, her tone solemn and clear. "I will take good care of you. I will flawlessly fulfill every one of my duties as the new Duchess of Grimwood."

***

Far from the warm, golden glow of the Grimwood estate, the Crown Prince's Wing at the royal palace suffocated beneath a heavy, lifeless atmosphere.

Trapped in an agonizing dream, Evander tossed relentlessly on his sweat-soaked bed. The sickness ravaging his body fed the twisted visions warring in his mind.

In the nightmare, he stood beneath a cold, torrential downpour. It was his wedding day. Rain slashed against his face, relentless and biting. His fine shoes and silk stockings were soaked through, weighed down by thick, dark mud. He dragged himself forward, shivering, wretched, and miserable, through the gloomy storm.

Then, he pushed open a heavy wooden door.

The gloom shattered. Radiant brightness flooded his vision. The brutal sound of the storm vanished, replaced by the crackle of a hearth.

Oriana waited for him on the edge of the bed.

She looked breathtaking. Her hair was swept up, crowned with a luxurious headpiece. She wore an ivory wedding gown, the heavy, finely woven silk shimmering with a soft sheen. Her cheeks bore a beautiful, nervous flush. She lowered her gaze, a restrained smile touching her lips, revealing the faint dimples that gave her an air of quiet, vibrant warmth.

Evander stared, paralyzed by the sheer beauty of the sight. The pounding of his own heart roared in his ears. He reached out—

He jolted awake.

Suffocating, silent darkness pressed down on him. The heavy bed canopy loomed overhead like a shroud. He gasped for air, his chest heaving, his body drenched in a cold, clammy sweat.

"Your Highness? Are you awake?"

An attendant hurried to the bedside, holding a small lantern.

Evander swallowed hard, his throat raw and dry. "What time is it?"

"It is nearly the end of the night watch, Your Highness. Her Majesty will soon return from Grimwood Manor."

Grimwood Manor.

The words struck him like a physical blow. Evander pushed himself up, gripping the edge of the mattress. "What day is it today?"

The attendant bowed his head. "The third day of the sixth month, Your Highness. Today is the day Oriana Thorne officially married the Duke of Grimwood."

A sharp, unrelenting pain carved through Evander's chest. The phantom image of Oriana in her ivory gown flashed before his eyes, mocking him. She was gone. She belonged to another man. The realization tore at his ribs, leaving him breathless and hollow.

"Her Majesty has arrived."

Footsteps echoed in the corridor. The Queen swept into the chamber, supported by her matron. A servant rushed forward to light the surrounding lamps, illuminating her face. For the first time in months, her demeanor looked visibly lighter. The rigid tension that usually pinched the corners of her eyes had vanished.

She approached the bed, noting Evander's pale, sweat-slicked face. "Evander, are you feeling any better?"

He managed a weak, distracted nod.

The Queen sat on the edge of the mattress, smoothing her skirts with a relaxed sigh. "Now that the Duke of Grimwood and Oriana's wedding is finally over and done with, I can breathe a little easier. We can put this behind us."

Evander flinched. The casual dismissal of the woman he loved twisted the knife in his chest. "Mother, I—"

"From now on, I only need to focus on your marriage," the Queen interrupted, her tone bright and eager. "You have already come of age. The court is watching. Once your health improves, I will arrange a proper, advantageous marriage for you. There are so many noble daughters in the capital. Graceful girls. Gentle, well-mannered girls. Every single one of them is better than Oriana."

"Stop," Evander whispered, his mind clouded with the radiant, smiling image of Oriana from his dream. "Please."

The Queen’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold sneer. She ruthlessly laid bare her deep disdain. "When you were young, you should have been studying statecraft. Yet she was always dragging you off to play, clinging to you like a burr. I wanted to drive her out of the palace years ago, but with Thorne Manor’s military might behind her, I had to stay my hand."

She leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "But look at them now. The powerful Thorne family men are dead. They are dust. Oriana is of no use to the crown at all. She brings no armies, no wealth, no influence. At least the girl had the sense to understand her place and not shamelessly insist on marrying you."

Evander stared at his mother, his lips trembling. He could not form the words to stop her.

"And Grimwood Manor?" The Queen scoffed openly, standing up. "Do you think she has found a safe haven? That manor is chaotic and fiercely divided. The Duke lies there like a corpse. His greedy, manipulative relatives are circling the estate like vultures. Oriana has no backing left. She will face immense hardship in that house. I predict nothing but doom for her."

Rendered mute by his mother's callous, gleeful satisfaction at Oriana's impending suffering, Evander slumped back against the pillows. He closed his eyes, doing the only thing he could do. He silently endured the agonizing torment tearing through his heart.

***

Before dawn broke the very next morning, the bridal chamber at Grimwood Manor remained steeped in shadows.

Oriana sat at her vanity, pressing her fingers against her temples. Her body ached in places she did not expect. She was unaccustomed to sharing a bed with a grown man, especially one whose formidable heat and sheer size dominated the mattress. Every time she had drifted off, the looming presence beside her had tugged her back to wakefulness.

Talia moved behind her, picking up the wooden comb. She glanced at Oriana’s pale reflection. "Did you not sleep well, Your Grace?"

Oriana blinked slowly, rubbing her tired eyelids. "I am just not used to the bed yet."

She picked up a small jar of face cream, preparing for her morning routine. She needed to look sharp today.

"Is the Duchess awake?"

An aged, insolent voice pierced the quiet morning air.

Oriana turned just as an older matron strode into the room. The woman wore respectable, dark-colored attire, but her posture screamed defiance. She stopped a few paces away and made no move to offer a proper bow. She merely lifted her chin, her eyes scanning Oriana with poorly concealed judgment.

"Lady Beatrix instructs that on this, the very first day after the wedding, the new Duchess is strictly required to go and present herself," the matron announced haughtily.

Oriana went still. She slowly lowered her hand, letting the jar of cream tap softly against the vanity.

She narrowed her eyes, studying the rude servant. She knew exactly what kind of brutal domestic warfare awaited her now.

Gideon and the current King were brothers. Their mother, Dowager Diana, had a younger brother who died saving Gideon’s life on the battlefield. Out of guilt and duty, Gideon had brought his uncle's widow, Lady Beatrix, into the manor. Because Gideon spent his life at war, Beatrix had eagerly volunteered to manage the estate.

Now, that ambitious widow tightly controlled the outer workings of Grimwood Manor. She treated the place as her own kingdom. More importantly, Oriana knew the bitter history. Beatrix had once attempted to marry her own daughter to the Duke, a proposal Gideon had coldly and publicly rejected.

And now, it was Oriana who had claimed the title instead.