My wedding veil came up, and my fiancé—the king—took a full step back in front of 600 guests. “No. Absolutely not.” He called me hideous. He called off the marriage in the middle of the cathedral….

The moment Lyndon lifted her veil, Jade knew. She saw it in his eyes before he even spoke—the recoil, the horror, the disbelief. Six hundred guests had come to see the bride no one had ever laid eyes on, and now they were all watching him take a full step back, his hand rising between them like a shield. “No,” he said.

“No. Absolutely not. ”

A woman gasped. A child asked loudly what was wrong with the bride and was hushed too late.

Jade stood frozen at the altar, her mother’s voice echoing in her head: “Whatever happens, keep your chin up. ” So she did. In the back room, the argument exploded. Her parents insisted the treaty required the marriage.

Lyndon sneered at them all. “If I’d known she looked like this, I would have broken the arrangement years ago. She’s hideous. ”

Jade flinched.

She caught her reflection in a mirror—gray-green skin, rough like bark, deep lines across her forehead, a heavy jaw, a flat nose. She’d seen this face every day for twenty-one years. But hearing it described like that, in front of everyone, cut deeper than she expected. “That’s enough,” Aldrin snarled.

The blue-eyed man who had caught her when she tripped in the aisle. Lyndon’s uncle. The late king’s brother. “You are insulting an allied kingdom and its rulers.

Worse, you are insulting your bride-to-be. ”

“She is not my bride-to-be. I said no. The wedding is void.

”

“Then the treaty is over,” Jade’s father said. Her mother pleaded. Her father clapped Lyndon on the back when he finally, grudgingly, agreed to go through with it. Nobody asked Jade what she wanted.

Nobody thought to wonder if she wanted a husband who had just called her hideous in front of both their families. Then Lyndon smiled. “Let it be known that I abdicate my crown. ”

Silence.

“You cannot be serious,” Aldrin said. “Oh, I’m very serious. My father is dead, which means the crown passes to—congratulations, Uncle. You’re the next king.

”

And with that, the former king walked out the door. They were married that afternoon. No cathedral, no feast, no six hundred guests. Just a small chapel and nine witnesses.

Aldrin didn’t look away during the ceremony. He looked right into her eyes with those bright blue ones and said, “I do,” and Jade counted that as a small win. But the curse was still there. The other half of it.

At the reception, Jade watched the sun sink toward the horizon with growing panic. She had to reach her room before nightfall. Melinda, her cousin, cornered her with cruel pleasantries while the light turned red on the walls behind her. Jade fled, nearly colliding with Aldrin in the doorway.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she gasped, and ran. She made it. The final rays died, and it started—bones swelling, knuckles grinding, jaw shifting, scalp crawling. Less than a minute, and it was done.

She was changed. Beautiful, the way she was at night. And utterly alone. When the maids came to prepare her for the wedding night, Jade hid behind a painted silk screen.

Aldrin entered. The attendants insisted it was custom for witnesses to observe the consummation. “Perhaps we could skip that particular tradition,” Aldrin said. “My wife has barely had time to adjust to any of this.

”

He dismissed them. Then he spoke to the screen. “My lady, you don’t have to be afraid. I will never force you.

”

“I’m not afraid. ”

“Then would you come out? ”

She couldn’t. He didn’t push.

They sat on either side of the screen, talking awkwardly, until he left. He was kind. She hadn’t expected that. Over the following weeks, they built a routine.

Every night, he came to her rooms. She stayed behind the screen. They talked—about the court, about his nephew, about nothing important. He never once asked to see her.

He never once made her feel like a monster. The night she overheard Lyndon and Melinda embracing in the library, kissing and laughing about their months-long affair, she walked straight into Aldrin in the hallway. She told him everything. He wasn’t surprised.

“Her family has been climbing for two generations. They’re good at it. ”

They talked into the night. He admitted he had never wanted the throne.

She admitted she had never wanted to be queen. And somehow, between the silks of that screen, they became something close to friends. Until the court started talking. No heir.

No consummation. The kingdom growing restless. Jade gathered her courage and went to his chambers. She offered herself to him, explained that an heir would secure his rule.

She watched his face—waiting for desire, for warmth. Instead, he looked uncomfortable. “I simply think we have time. There’s no pressure from me.

”

The rejection felt like a slap. She fled, mortified, and locked herself in her room. He didn’t want her. He would never want her.

The curse would never break. A week later, they attended Lyndon’s birthday celebration. Jade refused Aldrin’s arm, ignored his apologies, letting three days of hurt fester. When Melinda handed her a glass of wine with a sweet smile, Jade lifted it to her lips out of pure spite.

“Don’t drink that. ”

She drank anyway. Aldrin knocked the glass from her hand. The liquid splashed across his skin.

He looked down. His face changed. Then his knees folded, and he fell like a felled tree into the grass. Poison.

It had been meant for her. He had known—somehow, he had known—and he had taken it instead. For seven days, he burned with fever. Jade never left his side.

She fed him medicine, cooled his skin, begged him to stay alive. At night, she changed behind his back and sat with him in the darkness, holding his hand, watching his chest rise and fall. Once, near midnight, his eyes opened. He stared at her—her night form—with confusion.

“Where is my wife? ”

“She’s safe. I promise. ”

“Please,” he whispered.

“Check on Jade. ”

He didn’t recognize her. Even dying, he was worried about her. The fever broke on the seventh day.

But the poison had taken something. Aldrin could no longer walk. He could no longer shift. The healers didn’t know if he ever would again.

Lyndon suggested a retreat. Jade brought them to her family estate—the only place she had ever felt safe. She had a carpenter build a wheeled chair. She pushed him through the gardens, showed him the pond where she used to catch frogs, the oak tree she’d once gotten stuck in.

They picnicked under the trees. They talked as they never had before. And when their hands brushed, Jade felt something—warmth, gratitude, sorrow that wasn’t her own. “You are not a burden,” she told him one afternoon.

He looked at her, startled. She had answered something he’d never said aloud. “Sometimes when we touch, I feel something,” she admitted. “Like I can tell how you feel.

”

His expression went carefully blank. “But that’s—I didn’t think you would experience it. ”

“Experience what? ”

“Nothing.

Never mind. ”

But she pressed, and finally he told her about Lyndon’s letter. The investigation had identified the family responsible for the poisoning. Melinda’s family.

They had hoped that with Jade gone, Lyndon would retake the crown and marry Melinda, giving her family the throne they’d schemed for two generations. “Now that I’m like this,” Aldrin said bitterly, “Lyndon has enormous support. A kingdom can’t be ruled by a king in a chair. ”

“You are the king.

And I’m glad you are. Because it meant I got to marry you. ”

She took his hand. Through their joined fingers, she felt his emotions—warmth, longing, and beneath them, cutting guilt.

“Our marriage has not been consummated,” he said. “If Lyndon wanted his crown back, you could still return to him. You could remain queen. ”

“That is the last thing I want.

”

He tried to pull away. She tightened her grip. “Besides, Lyndon would not want me. He made that perfectly clear.

So you are stuck with me. ”

Through the connection, she felt his relief. Then more guilt. She couldn’t understand it.

“Do you want to divorce me? ” she asked. “No. ”

The certainty stilled her.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. She felt an answering flutter. But then she saw the sunset behind the window, and she ran, like always. That night, Jade stood in front of her mirror and stared at her night form.

Dark hair, fine bones, a face lit from within. Beautiful. She hated this face now, because she hated having to hide it from the one person she wanted to share everything with. She could show him.

Walk down the corridor and let him see. It would cost her the curse—if he saw her beautiful at night, he could never truly love her day form without knowing there was another. But she didn’t care anymore. If she could have him, even halfway, that was a life worth living.

She couldn’t sleep. But in the morning, she woke feeling light—and Kathy, the maid, stared at her like she was a stranger. Jade looked in the mirror. She looked like herself.

Her night self. Flawless skin, perfect features, dark hair in glossy waves. The sun was up. “He loves me,” she whispered.

Joy exploded through her chest. The curse had broken. Aldrin had fallen in love with her despite everything. She ran to his study, burst through the door, beaming.

“Aldrin! ”

He looked up, frowning. “Yes? ”

His tone was distant.

The tone one used with strangers. “It’s me! I was cursed, you see. How I looked before—it wasn’t really me.

But to break the curse, you had to fall in love with me despite my looks. And you did. You broke the curse. ”

He stared at her, disbelief on his face.

Then she saw his nostrils flare—scenting the air. Recognition. And then he paled. “You said a fairy cursed you,” he said slowly.

“You never said—you never told me what it did to you. ”

“I couldn’t. If I told you, if you knew I truly looked like this, then the ‘despite my looks’ part wouldn’t be sincere. You’d have known I didn’t really look that way.

”

He shook his head slowly. “You—but the words died in his throat. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It means you love me.

The curse broke. You do love me, right? ”

“Yes,” he said quietly. So quietly it made her heart sink.

Jade’s smile fell. “I thought you’d be happy. ”

He caught himself, visibly composing himself. “Forgive me.

Of course I’m—this is wonderful, Jade. I’m glad your curse is gone. ”

She beamed, relieved. She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him too.

“I think we should get a divorce,” Aldrin said. “What? ”

“We haven’t consummated the marriage. Which is for the best.

Because now you can cleanly marry Lyndon. ”

“Lyndon? ” Jade exclaimed. “I don’t want Lyndon.

I want you. ”

“I cannot walk, Jade. You can be queen. Lyndon will want you now—now that your curse is broken, you know he will.

”

“I don’t care what Lyndon wants. I choose you. ”

“You didn’t even choose this marriage. You were forced into it.

But you have a choice now. ”

“Right. Well, I choose you. ”

She stood before his chair, close enough to touch.

“I will not walk away from the man who wanted me when no one thought I was worth wanting. You don’t owe me anything, Aldrin. ”

“I know,” she said. “I choose you because I love you.

You are my husband. We took vows. My place is by your side. ”

And then she felt it.

The connection—the one that let her sense his emotions when they touched—flooded open without any physical contact at all. His disbelief. His guilt. His worthlessness.

And beneath it all, woven through everything, his love. “You do deserve it,” she whispered. She leaned down and kissed him. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move.

Then his hands came up to cup her face, gentle, reverent, and he kissed her back with everything he had. His emotions washed over her—love, longing, relief so intense it made her dizzy. When they broke apart, she breathed, “Can you feel it too? ”

He smiled.

The first real smile she’d seen from him since she’d burst into the room. “Yes. It’s the bond. A mating bond.

My wolf recognized you as my mate. It’s been forming for weeks, every time we touched. Now it’s complete. ”

“Then you can’t just push your mate away.

”

Aldrin laughed. “No. I suppose not. ”

They returned to court in the spring.

Lyndon was getting married. Aldrin stepped down from the carriage on his own two feet, unassisted—the healers had been wrong—and held out his hand to Jade. Every eye in the courtyard fixed on her. She was stunning.

No one recognized her. At the altar, Lyndon froze when he saw her. He crossed the hall, bowed deeply, and said, “My lady. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.

”

Aldrin’s hand settled over hers, warm and possessive. “You do know her. You’ve known her for months. ”

Jade smiled coolly.

“It’s me, Your Majesty. Jade. ”

The color drained from Lyndon’s face. The entire hall buzzed with shock.

He stood rooted to the spot, staring like she’d risen from the grave. “Congratulations on your wedding,” Jade said pleasantly. “Your bride is lovely. ”

Lyndon had his crown, his court, his throne.

But not the bride he’d been promised. Jade felt Aldrin’s thumb brush across her knuckles and felt the bond between them glow steady and warm. They’d each been no one’s first choice. But they’d chosen each other.

And that was everything.