A Contract Without a Heart

When Isabella simply stared back at him without so much as a flicker of reaction, Damon chewed the declaration over again in a voice steeped with venom.

"The man climbed to that rank on nothing but monsters — so why not let the monsters bring him down? That ought to cure him of acting so high and mighty."

At that, Isabella's deep green eyes flew wide open. Damon savored the sight, certain she was finally shocked —

Pfft-hahahaha! Isabella doubled over, laughing. The laughter tearing up from the depths of her lungs refused to stop, and Damon's satisfaction curdled into displeasure.

"What's gotten into you all of a sudden, Bella? Has the fear finally driven you mad?"

"No. I've just had a proper realization."

"Which is?"

"That this is a transaction."

Damon gave a slight nod, as though she'd stated something self-evident.

"Every marriage is a transaction. If it took you this long to figure that out, the Grand Duke must have raised you badly. So that's what all that hysterics was about?"

"Better I learn it now than never."

With that, Isabella drew a document from inside her coat and laid it on the table before him.

"Very well. I accept Your Highness's proposal. On certain conditions."

"Such as?"

"If this is a transaction, then it should be written like one."

Damon expelled a hollow laugh at that.

There was no trace of displeasure in him as he looked over the papers. In truth, he found her terms quite reasonable. He smirked and read the first clause aloud.

"'The engagement shall be maintained for a minimum of three months.'"

"A long courtship on paper doesn't mean we ever actually courted. It's the bare minimum needed to untangle ourselves."

"Fine. A ceremony takes that long to prepare anyway. 'No objection shall be raised to her dealings with the Grand Duke after the engagement' — isn't this rather too abstract?"

"If you want it written in specifics, you'll have to supply the information to write."

"Information?"

"As you well know, I'm not a party to your affairs. I know nothing."

Damon looked at her over the top of the papers. Isabella did not look away.

"There may be problems I haven't yet uncovered beyond the crown funds, no?"

"Your faith in your father is abysmal."

"Likewise, I'm sure."

At Isabella's pointed observation — your own footing with the Emperor isn't exactly warm either — Damon threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"Fine. I'll add a few clauses."

Isabella waited until his pen went still before asking, "May I add some of my own?"

"Didn't you already write in everything you wanted?"

Smiling, Isabella gently eased the pen out of Damon's hand. He had added exactly as many clauses as she had listed.

The first dance of every banquet, to be danced together? Why on earth would he write in a condition like that.

Brow furrowed, Isabella added one clause of her own beneath it.

It was the single most important clause in the contract, and Isabella wrote it deliberately, right before Damon's eyes.

She turned the contract around to show him. His lips twisted.

"And you'll still stand there and claim you feel nothing for that man?"

"Our marriage is nothing but a transaction — why would my heart matter? Or does Your Highness include hearts among the terms?"

Isabella tilted her head with an expression of perfect, guileless innocence.

"I'm sorry, but if so, this contract cannot go through. I don't sell my heart."

"Ha!"

Damon burst into a savage laugh, then snatched the pen back from her hand. The characters he scrawled across the contract were so violent they looked ready to tear straight through the paper.

Isabella glared at him. Damon shrugged, as if to ask what she intended to do about it. She knew perfectly well this was the furthest he would bend. However much he coveted Belois, the throne came first. Isabella seized the pen once more.

Damon glared at the words on the page. Arms crossed, Isabella tipped her chin toward him. If he refused, she would tear the contract to ribbons then and there.

"Fine."

As if he'd read the thought straight out of her head, Damon ground his teeth and scrawled his signature at the bottom. Torn between relief and disappointment, Isabella gazed quietly at the contract returned to her side of the table — then lifted her head.

"Before I sign, there's something I'd like to ask."

?

"You knew my father was embezzling from the crown funds. Why didn't you stop him?"

Damon laughed as if she'd asked something delightful. He leaned in closer over the table until his knee pressed against its edge; he didn't seem to care. Bracing one arm against the table, the Crown Prince reached out his free hand, closed it around a fistful of Isabella's golden hair, and smiled, lazy and insolent.

"I bought the Duke of Belois for pocket change."

"Pocket change doesn't usually run to that figure."

Damon shrugged.

"Compared to Belois, it still is."

Over the past five years, the late Duke of Belois had siphoned away sums amounting to sixty percent of the crown funds. That was precisely why Isabella had been certain Damon could not have known.

It was not a sum a man could knowingly overlook. If he had looked the other way anyway, there was only one possible reason.

Pocket change, measured against the worth of Belois? Isabella didn't buy it. Damon had simply had no choice but to let it pass — because he was a party to the crime himself.

Damon studied her enigmatic smile, and for a moment his brow creased faintly.

"Well, the money hardly matters. What I want to know is why you changed your mind so suddenly."

"It's a marriage I have to make regardless. I simply saw no reason to earn Your Highness's enmity for nothing and put my house in jeopardy."

Damon's eyes narrowed, weighing the truth of her words. She held his gaze without flinching.

"Belois needs an heir to carry on the name."

At the words, dressed up in perfect indifference, the suspicion finally drained from Damon's face. A satisfied smile settled at the corner of his mouth.

Damon pressed a light kiss to Isabella's cheek — the same hollow gesture he'd performed a few times before, purely for an audience.

Even against lips that landed and lifted like a feather's brush, Isabella had to fight to keep her brow smooth. Fortunately, Damon noticed nothing.

"Then we'll need two. Bella, our children will be flawless. The first will be Emperor, and the second will be Duke of Belois."

"I suppose — if Your Highness has no children already."

For a heartbeat Damon wore a blank look, as though the words wouldn't parse. Then he burst out laughing.

"Pfft-ha! Ahahaha! Ah — children — AHAHAHAHA!"

When the last ripple of his exceedingly merry laughter died away, Damon added a single line to the contract.

With the sworn affirmation that he had no child of his own blood as the final clause, the two divided the contract between them, one copy each.

Isabella skimmed the pages absently.

"What, is there something else you want?"

"No. It's perfect. Though — don't I get an engagement gift?"

"Hoping for a ring, are you?"

"I have plenty of rings, thank you. How about lightening your fiancée's burdens instead?"

Damon's eyes went thin. At the look that demanded to know what game she was playing this time, Isabella smiled, her deep green eyes folding into crescents for an instant.

"An engagement, wedding preparations, and hosting the Imperial Hunting Festival on top of it all — I only have the one body."

"Ahh."

Damon snorted, amused. He saw at once what she was after.

"Hmm. Well. I could put the question to His Majesty for you."

"Do understand — I'd hate to burden His Majesty with so trivial a social affair."

"Dear me, Bella. I do want to help. But this will be the first Hunting Festival you host as Belois — and the last. It would be a shame to throw that away, no?"

Isabella's smile deepened. Damon smiled along with her.

"I'll see to the wedding preparations myself. You devote yourself to the festival."

"...How gracious of you."

"Anything for the fiancée I love."

With that, Damon bent down and pressed a kiss to Isabella's cheek.

It was the moment the engagement contract was sealed.