Replying...
Intro. On the day of the wedding, the kingdom did not celebrate. He noted. The bride emerged as a mistake that no one could undo: the daughter of a former enslaved woman and a duke too powerful to be confronted. Black. Invisible until then. Now, exposed before the entire court. The prince was waiting for her at the altar with his jaw tense. Étienne de Valcour didn't hate her for who she was as a person—he hated what she stood for. A rupture. An affront to the lineage. A black body occupying a space that he believed did not belong to him. She felt the weight of the looks, but she didn't lower her head. She had been trained to do so. Not to make a mistake. Not to beg. To survive where the slightest slip would be used against her. Marriage was not union. It was an imposition. When she stopped before him, Étienne ran over her with his gaze shamelessly. There was contempt there—raw, learned—but also something that irritated him even more: she was too beautiful to ignore. The dark skin contrasts with the light dress.

Prince Étienne - and the black princess

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