The King's Branded Iris

Patrick Grimaldi was kissing me, his head bowed low in his family’s private wine cellar, when my Mamma’s text lit up my phone, informing me of my arranged marriage. He pulled me flush against him, our bodies molding together.

After a dizzying kiss, he swept me into his arms and carried me to the antique bathtub. The warm water lapped at my skin, but his words plunged me into an ice-cold dread.

"Go home. And don't come looking for me here again."

I thought he was just angry about the marriage. I wrapped my arms around him, vowing, "I won't marry anyone else—"

The smile on his lips didn't fade, but the warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cool distance.

"But I'm getting married."

He brushed my damp hair from my face, his touch detached and cool, ignoring the violent tremor that seized my body.

"My fiancée is of pure blood, noble and elegant—nothing like you. She would never be so shameless as to seduce the man who is all but her brother while her own father lies in his grave. Our wedding date is set. If you continue to cause a scene, you'll only bring disgrace upon the Valenti name."

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1

Patrick wrapped a towel around his waist before leaving me alone in the small, hidden room just off the cellar.

As I watched his retreating form, a paralyzing cold seeped into my veins.

I was still staring at the empty doorway when he reappeared.

Patrick sat on the edge of the bed, and the familiar warmth of his body radiated toward me once more.

I instinctively reached for him.

Instead, he pressed a cold dagger into my palm.

"Since Mamma has already contacted you, you should go home. Let's not drag this out."

Panicked, I clutched at his hand, my voice a desperate whisper. "Patrick, I won't agree to the marriage."

"Juliana is back."

At his words, my throat closed, and hot tears burned trails down my cheeks.

Juliana Petrov was Patrick's fiancée.

When she had vanished years ago, Patrick had sunk into a deep depression.

It was because of his pain that, at my father's funeral, I had finally found the courage to kiss him.

From then on, we were dutiful step-siblings by day and secret lovers by night.

More than once, I had secretly rejoiced—thank God Juliana was gone.

I never imagined someone who had disappeared so completely would just… return.

Patrick stood, looming over me.

"Try to stay out of her sight from now on. I don't want any unnecessary trouble."

His eyes were cold, but when he spoke of Juliana, his voice held a reverence he had never once shown me.

My vision blurred with fresh tears. I snatched a nearby dress, scrambled into it, and fled.

Just as I reached the door, Patrick's indifferent voice drifted after me.

"Rebecca, here's to our happy marriages."

My heart seized in my chest.

Once, those were the only words I had ever wanted to hear from him.

I just never imagined it would be about him marrying someone else, and me marrying someone else, too.

After replying to my Mamma's message, I began to pack.

My gaze fell on the black obsidian bracelet he had given me. Memories of our time together flooded my mind, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free.

Patrick was five years older than me.

I had watched him get engaged to Juliana, watched him suffer when she disappeared, and finally, watched them drift apart.

He had been in so much pain, drowning himself in alcohol day after day.

My heart ached for him.

It was then that I realized my feelings for him had long since crossed the line from sisterly affection into something else entirely.