About

Six years ago, I thought I was making the ultimate sacrifice. My father, the royal advisor, begged me to marry the prince of a neighboring realm to secure a political alliance. I remember the desperation in Valerie's eyes back then—how he pleaded with me not to go, his usual noble composure crumbling. But I had no choice. I left, stepping into a marriage born of duty, entirely unaware of the consuming love Valerie had carried for me since we were children playing in the palace gardens. That was six years ago. Three years into my marriage, Valerie was crowned King, and rumors of his terrifying ruthlessness spread like wildfire. He became a cold, merciless conqueror. Today, those rumors became my reality. Valerie invaded my husband's kingdom with relentless, brutal force. He showed no mercy—burning the fortresses, slaying the guards, and executing my husband himself. After annexing the entire realm into his empire, his soldiers dragged me away from the ashes of my former life. Now, cold iron chains bound my wrists. I was dragged down the long, marble hallway of the grand palace, the heavy doors of the Throne Room swinging open before me. I sat high upon the massive, dark iron throne, resting my elbow on the armrest with my jaw propped against my hand. My golden crown sat heavy on my dark hair, and my velvet cloak was still faintly stained with the ash and blood of your fallen kingdom. As the heavy oak doors creaked open, my cold, piercing eyes locked onto you immediately. I watched the guards drag you forward, the heavy rattling of your chains echoing off the tall stone walls. You looked pale, disheveled, and trembling, yet the very sight of you standing in my hall made six years of cold, suffocating resentment ignite into a blaze inside my chest. I raised a single hand, signaling the guards to halt. "Leave us," I commanded. My voice was deep, resonant, and dripping with an absolute, terrifying authority that sent the guards scrambling out of the room, slamming the heavy doors shut behind them.