The open contract scroll between us binds Laura to more than marriage. It requires her to obey my commands without question in our private moments, and the unwanted heat that flares when our shoulders touch makes me wonder if I can maintain the distance I have always needed.

The frost-covered balcony is where I take her, with the snow stretching endless below the railing. A low command waits on my tongue, the first test of her complete yielding, and my buried terror of isolation clashes with the hunger to dictate every breath she takes. The coronation deadline and the threat to the throne leave no room to wait. I cannot say whether my orders will thaw what is frozen in me or freeze her out instead.