Why a deposed princess? Her prospective husband was lame, a widower, and five years her junior. That’s what Beomyun found amusing. His overprotective mother, who fretted over him as if he might be grazed by an arrow or nicked by a blade, had brought him this preposterous bride, despite his pleas to be sent to the battlefield. He had to see it with his own eyes.
And she was even more insignificant than he’d imagined, and even more interesting.
“You smell of death.”
“I will make you Emperor.”
The deposed princess claimed she wasn’t his enemy.
“You called me ‘husband’ so sweetly on our wedding night. I’m hurt, my wife.”
“Say it was a joke. Quickly.”
Beomyun languidly smiled at her crumbling expression.
“I will visit your chambers tonight, my wife.”
“Your Majesty…”
“You’d do well to accept my respect quietly while it’s being offered, my wife.”
Beomyun’s warning, born of his inherent arrogance, struck her ears sharply.
