The Valdrian sun is relentless.
Part 1
The Valdrian sun is relentless.
It beats down on my ill-fitting iron armor like a blacksmith’s hammer.
My boots feel heavy as I stand rigidly in the back row of the royal guard formation.
Sweat trickles down my spine beneath the suffocating gambeson.
No one in this sun-drenched courtyard pays any attention to a lowly knight kept in the shadows.
Their eyes are entirely fixed on the gilded carriage rolling to a stop on the cobblestones.
Hundreds of nobles jostle for position along the viewing balconies.
The air hums with thick, violent anticipation.
A noblewoman standing a few feet ahead of me snaps her silk fan open.
“I heard she’s terribly unfortunate looking,” she murmurs behind the painted silk.
Her companion leans in closer, eyes gleaming with malicious delight.
“Twenty-four and never married tells you everything you need to know.”
An older lord chuckles darkly from the other side of the aisle.
“Poor King Craig, saddled with an ugly bride just to secure our borders.”
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper to keep from laughing aloud.
The traveling bards I bribed months ago earned every single gold coin.
The entire Valdrian court is bracing themselves for a monstrous beast to step out of that carriage.
I quietly adjust the iron gauntlets over my small hands.
My father died on the battlefield trying to protect our kingdom’s most sacred relic.
The Valdrian forces slaughtered him and locked our heritage away in their impenetrable vaults.
They demanded my hand in marriage as the final, humiliating term of our surrender.
I run a thumb over the stolen Valdrian crest on my breastplate.
A royal footman steps forward and pulls the heavy carriage door open.
Silence crashes over the crowded courtyard like a tidal wave.
A delicate, pale hand reaches out to accept the footman’s assistance.
Heavy silk skirts whisper softly against the wooden carriage steps.
But the bridal veil holds every single eye in the courtyard.
Layer upon layer of gossamer silk completely obscures the bride’s face from the world.
She reaches the bottom step and pauses.
The entire crowd seems to hold its collective breath.
Up on his elevated dais, King Craig finally moves.
He descends the stone steps with a slow, predatory grace.
“Princess Megan,” he projects his deep, rumbling voice across the silent courtyard.
“Welcome to the kingdom of Valdris.”
She curtsies low to the ground.
King Craig extends a large, calloused hand toward her.
“May I?”
She slowly places her gloved hand into his.
The crowd leans forward as a single organism.
They are completely shameless in their morbid curiosity.
“By the custom of your people, I am granted the honor of the unveiling,” he murmurs.
A tiny, submissive nod is her only response.
He reaches forward with both hands to grasp the edges of the veil.
The courtyard goes so deathly quiet I can hear the distant trickle of the garden fountain.
King Craig lifts the gossamer layers up and over her head.
He goes absolutely, entirely still.
Whatever monstrous face he expected to see, it wasn’t this.
The powerful Alpha King stares at his bride like she just stole the breath straight from his lungs.
Her face is finally revealed to the sunlit crowd.
A collective gasp shakes the stone walls of the castle.
She is not just pretty.
My maid, Brenda, is breathtakingly, devastatingly beautiful.
Rich chestnut hair catches the light like spun gold.
Clear, brilliant blue eyes look up at him through thick, dark lashes.
High, aristocratic cheekbones frame perfectly full, rosy lips.
It is the kind of face that starts wars and ruins empires.
“Gods above!” a man shouts from the viewing balcony.
“Look at her!” a woman gasps, dropping her expensive fan.
The mood in the courtyard shifts instantly from morbid pity to wild celebration.
Brenda smiles up at him, looking perfectly demure and lovely.
King Craig smiles back, his eyes still slightly glazed with shock.
“You are…” he starts, his deep voice faltering for the first time.
He catches himself and clears his throat.
“Welcome, Princess.”
She rises from another graceful curtsy.
His hand remains wrapped tightly around hers.
The crowd erupts into deafening, joyous cheers.
Brenda catches my eye through the sea of cheering nobles.
She gives me a barely perceptible nod.
Her flawless performance has bought me the time I need.
The legendary Alpha King stares in awe at the woman he believes is his royal bride.
His elite guards relax their postures, their attention entirely captivated by the new queen.
No one spares a single glance at the back row of the security detail.
I take a slow step backward into the deep shadows of the colonnade.
The cheering crowd easily swallows my silent movement.
I turn my back on the grand wedding ceremony and slip away into the castle corridors.
The path to the royal vault is finally unguarded.
And absolutely no one is going to stop me from taking back what is mine.
