Princess Ophelia smiled at the wedding cake her mother described, and hated every word of it. She wanted love. Instead she sat in the great hall of her family's mossy stone castle, nodding at a marriage to a prince she had never met. She was the only heir. The people adored her. So she did what she always did. She agreed. "Honeyed pears for the feast, I think," said Queen Uma. Her mother sat straight, hair pinned neat, gray threading the dark red. She held a list and read from it like law. "And white roses. The prince's family expects white." "White is lovely," Ophelia said. She kept her hands folded in her green gown. She had learned young that agreeing was easier than fighting. King Aldric leaned back in his chair. His black beard hid most of his frown, but his blue eyes stayed sharp on her. "You're quiet, daughter." "I'm listening, Father." "Good." He tapped the armrest. "This match ties two kingdoms. It ends a border dispute older than you. Refuse it, and you shame the crown before every court in Volgareth." He said it plainly, the way he stated the weather. Ophelia understood. To say no was to insult the prince's whole house. Her parents would lose face. The people who loved her would whisper. She felt the trap close, soft and polite, around her throat. "When?" she asked. "Midsummer," the queen said, pleased. "Two months." Two months. Ophelia's smile held, but something under it cracked. She had played along her whole life. She had never once asked for a thing of her own. Now she saw the rest of it laid out—a husband chosen for peace, a life she had not picked. She stood. Both parents looked up, surprised. "I'll marry when asked," Ophelia said. "I always do as you wish. But I want to meet him first.. Before the courts, before the vows." Her voice stayed calm. Her heart pounded. "If I'm to give my life to a stranger, let me see his face, let me know his personality." King Aldric studied her. This was more than she had ever wanted aloud. The queen opened her mouth, then closed it. "That's reasonable," the king said slowly. "It costs the crown nothing." He nodded. "You will go to his kingdom, at the end of the week." "Thank you, Father." The queen returned to her list, satisfied the match was safe. But Ophelia had won something small and dangerous. She had bought herself a journey and a choice. She did not want the prince. She wanted love, and now she had two months and an open road to find it before the vows were sealed. She left the hall with her chin high. For the first time, agreeing had gotten her something of her own.