The 'bed' beneath her was firm yet cosy. Anna had never felt this comfortable in her life.
Even the soft, feather-filled mattress she once slept on in Ardel's castle did not compare. This warmth... this sense of safety.... was unfamiliar, yet soothing.
As she snuggled closer, a faint scent reached her senses. Musk and leather. It was strangely familiar.
The 'bed' shifted.
Disturbed, Anna frowned and tugged at it, unwilling to lose the comfort she had found.
Her delicate hands fumbled, and that was when she realised something was wrong.
This didn't feel like a bed.
It had shape. Solidity. Almost like a hardened, oversized pillow—or perhaps… a figure.
Her eyes fluttered open, and the sight that greeted her was astonishing.
Startled, she lifted her head and froze.
What she initially thought was a bed wasn't one at all. Instead, it was a man; broad, firm, and clearly alert, staring back at her as if he'd been expecting her.
"You're finally awake."
His raspy voice travelled straight to her ears.
Only then did she realise his strong arm was draped around her back, his hand resting at her waist, and moments ago, she had been sleeping against his chiselled chest.
"Aaaaaa!"
Anna's scream shattered the tense quiet of the tent. Her throat was parched, voice hoarse from panic. She jolted upright, only to realise she was completely unclothed.
And so was he...
The blanket had slipped down to their legs due to her rash movements. Instinctively, she snatched it back and clutched it to her chest, covering herself.
In her haste, she lost her balance and nearly tumbled from the bed until two large hands caught her swiftly by the waist.
Her body was pulled back into his arms, colliding with his warm and solid muscle, body against body.
"Let go of me!" she shouted, pushing him away.
He released her immediately; not a hint of restraint was imposed on her.
Anna scrambled backwards, retreating to the far end of the bed. She crouched there, clutching the blanket tightly, trembling.
"Who are you?" she yelled, staring at him with her wide, emerald eyes. "What have you done to me?!"
Her hands shook violently, chest heaving, as sensation returned all at once—the soreness, the aching, the dull pain spreading through her body.
"I'm Kyren," he said softly, pulling the bedsheets over himself.
The blanket was beyond reach, as it now seemed to 'belong' entirely to her.
"I brought you here. You were hurt and fainted last night."
Anna paused, trying to make sense of his words, but nothing surfaced.
The last thing she remembered was the slave trader forcing himself on her—then she ran… ran deep into the forest. Then there was a tall man with a face she couldn't remember… He saved her, and after that... darkness.
That was it. Nothing more.
But his voice... It felt familiar, as if she had heard him before.
"Then why are we like this?" she asked, bracing herself, as fear gripped her chest.
His voice remained steady. "Don't you remember anything from last night?"
She searched her mind again, frantic—but found nothing, just as before.
Kyren sighed as he watched her confusion. She looked like a trapped doe—frightened, distressed, and utterly vulnerable.
He had been waiting for her to wake up. After what they had gone through the night before, he had to tell her… to remind her of who he was to her now.
"I'm your husband," he said. "I married you last night."
Her eyes widened in shock.
"Hus—husband?" she stammered.
"Yes." A curt reply.
Her world tilted. Nothing of this made sense!
She shook her head vigorously.
"That can't be! I've never met you," she exclaimed.
"It's true," he replied quietly. "And we have consummated the marriage."
Her breath caught as she saw the evidence—the sheets were stained crimson, a tangible proof that he had taken her innocence.
The truth crashed down on her.
Anna covered her mouth, tears spilling freely. Kyren moved toward her, concern etched across his face.
"Don't be scared," he said gently, reaching for her. "You're safe now."
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, slapping his hand away. "You monster!"
He froze.
"What are you saying?"
"You r*ped me!" she shouted, fury and terror tangled together.
Kyren understood then. This bizarre act confirmed that she remembered nothing of last night, just as Rafe had warned.
"Listen to me," he said carefully. "I'm telling the truth. You'll remember soon—"
"Liar!" She lunged at him, fists pounding against his chest. The blows did nothing to the Knight Commander of Gerhard, but he endured them in silence.
"Stop," he said firmly. "You'll hurt yourself."
She screamed, hurling the worst names she could think of and striking repeatedly. He remained calm until her hand was raised high, almost to hit his face.
That was when he grabbed her wrist.
"Stop calling me that!" he snapped. "I am not a r*pist!"
She cried out in pain from his grip. Realising his hold was too tight, Kyren immediately released her and withdrew.
He got up from the bed, put on his robe hanging nearby, and wrapped himself in it.
"You're not ready. We'll talk," he said thoughtfully. "Once you've calmed down."
Then he turned and left the tent, without even glancing back.
***
Rafe had been pacing for a while when Kyren finally came out. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, showing he had been waiting all night.
"How is she?" he asked immediately.
No response was given except for the motion for him to follow.
The commander's strides were quick, leaving the healer no chance to ask about the discreet matter again until they stopped near a quiet makeshift stable.
"Thanks to you," Kyren snapped, "I now have a wife who thinks I r*ped her!"
Rafe blinked, then exhaled sharply in relief. "She's alive! Thank goodness!"
"That's all you care about?" the commander exclaimed.
"Don't blame me," Rafe said. "After what you told me last night, I was worried you wouldn't do it! You could have put all of us in jeopardy."
The memory was vivid—the formidable Knight Commander, pale and tense.
Who would have thought the fearsome Grand Duke of Gerhard was untouched… inexperienced… and utterly unprepared?
The inexperienced bachelor, Rafe, attempted to guide the anxious prince, but his knowledge of women was derived entirely from books and theoretical learning.
His hastily delivered fifteen-minute crash course left much to be desired, as it failed to address Kyren's greatest concern on how to consummate a marriage without injuring the bride.
In the end, salvation arrived in the form of Eric, the second-in-command knight, better known as the 'Love Coach.'
"Of course I did!" the commander muttered. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have to hear her rambling... cursing at me first thing in the morning! The reason I hesitated was that I didn't want to hurt her."
Rafe softened. "You saved her life. "
"And she calls me a monster afterwards. How wonderful that is!" Kyren rolled his eyes.
"Her memory still hasn't come back," Rafe said. "Be patient. It won't be much longer before they return. Talk to her again after this."
The commander grunted, pulling a long face.
Rafe's lips curved up. Beneath the gruff, stern exterior, he knew the Grand Duke possessed a far kinder heart—one shaped by compassion rather than coldness.
Not wishing to prolong the sour mood, he handed Kyren a small jar.
"Salve. Better for her skin. Apply it to her wound and bruises twice daily. It should help them heal faster."
"Why would I? I can't even reason with her now," the commander scoffed, planting his hands on his waist.
"You're her husband... or would you rather have me do it on your behalf?" Rafe teased.
The commander immediately snatched the small jar from him. The healer gave a knowing smile, turning his head aside as if to hide it. Kyren, however, was still seething.
"If she throws this at me—"
"She won't... not once she knows the truth."
"Fine! I'm doing this because I'm a Cassian man, not because I have much tolerance! Pray she doesn't continue her outrageous behaviour, or I'll ignore her for the rest of the day!" the commander grumbled.
Rafe gave a triumphant thumbs-up, his eyes sparkling. Convincing the stubborn Grand Duke had taken some effort—and a little bit of luck.
"Do you think she'll be all right by now? You know… I've never really dealt with a woman before." Kyren's tone softened as his gaze fell on the small jar in his hand.
Seeing it brought back memories of how badly Anna had been hurt, and the thought gnawed at his heart.
He might have faced her scorn and curses, but she has become his wife—a woman bound to him through marriage vows. That alone reminded him of his responsibilities towards her.
"She should be fine. You can handle her. Nothing to worry about," the healer said confidently.
"Who says I'm worried? I'm not! I just... haven't had much experience with women. That's a big difference! Of course I can handle her!" Kyren's grunt came out as he puffed out his chest.
"Forgive me. It just slipped out," Rafe said, bowing slightly, fighting back another grin.
The healer's heart was amused as he watched the grand duke become flustered and bicker, all because of his bride—it was almost too funny for a Knight Commander.
"Good," Kyren said, his face displaying pride and arrogance, fitting the traits of a demanding leader.
Managing a petite, fragile bride? Hardly a challenge for him… so he thought.
"Now, why don't you return to your tent?" the healer suggested, to conclude the discussion.
"Why? Tired of my rant?" the commander teased.
"No, I wouldn't mind listening, but you're not exactly dressed," Rafe said, eyes flicking around cautiously. "And the men are staring."
"So, what's the problem?" the Grand Duke asked, brow furrowed. Off duty, being undressed wasn't usually an issue at camp.
"They all know about your first night," Rafe said, attempting to keep a straight face. However, a blush escaped, and he looked away, clearing his throat. "The marks are, um… quite obvious."
Kyren's face burned crimson, embarrassed and mortified all at once.
He briefly closed his eyes and clenched his fists, finally realising why his subordinates shot him those mischievous glances as they walked past.
Some sported naughty grins, while others snickered with unmistakable meaning.
"D*mn it! Keep them at least forty feet away from my tent! No—make it fifty!" he bellowed in frustration, then spun on his heel and strode off.