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Mehera.“Your parents have sent several letters. The king is not seeing them or giving an audience yet.” Bertha says, closing the door behind us and I crash to the ground.My world is spinning out of control. There is no way that I can make sense of the chaos of my life. The grand celebration that was meant to crown me queen has turned into a nightmare. I woke up to the cold, harsh reality that my dream has been shattered, stolen by none other than Yeri.I walked through the desolate halls, holding my broken heart. The glorious cathedral which was supposed to be my crowning is now a scene of devastation. Once again, my vision blurs with tears as I take in the aftermath, the wreckage of my stolen destiny. My body trembles with despair. The future I had envisioned, the power I am supposed to wield, all of it has been ripped away in an instant. How did Yeri know that I did this to her? Who told her? How could she find out? I know her to be outspoken and brave. I knew that if she were ev
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Queen Yeri. For the first time, I stand in front of the grand palace—the wing that belongs to me as the new queen of Orizon. It is called the Court of Virtue. At the entrance is a majestic golden wolf statue which stands as a sentinel, its eyes are seemingly watching over anything that passes. Archways, like portals to other realms, leads to various chambers. It is a cathedral of stone and marble, towering ceilings that have beautiful frescoes. Again, gilded designs and emerald-encrusted pillars. I hate Ozar but this place is beyond words. I clear my throat, glancing left and right at the unsettling silence that has filled the space. There are no servants bustling about, no maids attending to the finery, no stewards ensuring the smooth running of this household. The emptiness gnaws at me. I pause, wondering why the halls are empty of attendants but the quiet is suddenly broken by the sound of footsteps. Gladys rushes into the entrance and she exclaims, "Your Majesty!" My heart
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ContdQueen Yeri.The door shuts behind me and a shiver of apprehension runs down her spine. My eye sweeps over the first space, taking in the austere decor that reflects Ozar's temperament— the first thing I encounter is his grand receiving room. Beyond it are a series of corridors, each one lined with dark wood and lit by glowing sconces.A large fireplace dominates one wall, its mantle is lined with ancient artifacts and trophies. The scent of burning cedarwood lingers in the air and to the left, there’s a massive oak desk. The leather-bound chair is imposing, built for a man of his stature.I move cautiously. My footsteps are barely making a sound as I cross the threshold into the corridor that leads to his bedchamber. Asher's words about Ozar's bloodline reverberates in my mind and it heightens my unease. In the bedroom, there are velvet drapes cascading down from the windows. I stare at the imposing bed at the centre—its sheets are ruffled, as if Ozar had been lying there only mo
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Princess Yeri.Ozar slides my dress off my shoulders. His rough fingers trace the line of my collarbone, peeling the gown away until it pools around my waist. My hands work with equal urgency, fumbling with the belt at his waist. The sound of leather sliding through loops is quickly followed by a sharp click as I unfasten it. Ozar allows me, for a brief moment of control before he takes over, yanking the belt free and it clatters against the floor.His calloused hands that have played in the art of war slips under. Ozar pulls my underwear down, yanking it away and tossing it aside. I gasp as the last barrier between us is removed and he reaches for my lips.With both of his hands, Ozar grabs my face and his lips crashes against mine in fierce hunger. He pushes his tongue into my mouth—his fervour makes my knees weak. His mouth tastes of rain, like the first drops of a storm that could quench the earth. So raw and untamed, a tempest can neither be tamed nor ignored. A potent blend of wh
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Alpha King Orizon.Under my boots, there is fine gravel. We are in the courtyard, firing arrows—the courtyard isn’t mean for firing arrows but for some reason, we are firing arrows. I stand at the center of the space with a rigid form. My arrows fly true, finding their marks on the battles. Nearby, my brothers are observing from a vantage point. They are acutely aware of the recent upheavals within the castle—the one between Yeri and I. I can hear them gossip. I can hear them make jest of me like a pack of hyenas.Ever since that afternoon, I stopped drinking. It has come to the point where it doesn’t even matter what Yeri has done to me. I cannot hold my ground. I tried to reject her. It took everything in me to bring myself to do so and yet, she stopped it with a kiss. A kiss that led to a series of humping, moaning and releasing.“He hasn’t taken a single drop of whiskeys since then…” Asher gossips.It is true. I don’t need to drown my worries anymore because Yeri accepted. She acc
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Mehera. My eyes take in the sight of Yeri's gown, a regal dress that unmistakably signifies royalty—a lineage of queens. The embroidery and insignias are those of someone who has ascended to the highest station. Even the pendant, the pendant on Yeri's forehead is one, once worn by the dowager herself. It is a symbol of favor, a token of honor passed down, from one queen to another. It should be on my forehead. It should be resting in between my eye, not hers! It hasn’t even been three days since Yeri fooled everyone. Yet, the proximity between her and Ozar does not tarry. They stand close, far too close for mere acquaintances or political allies. The king's gaze, once filled with anger and hatred for Yeri, now holds something else entirely. Where is the fury that once burned in his eyes? Where is the disdain that he had openly shown? Has he forgotten what he saw? I stare at Yeri. There is a conveying in her eyes, a silent message that cuts deep: as if she were telling me that I stan
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Queen Yeri.When I step out from the hall, Ozar stands in front of me. Mehera follows behind, heading out to cry or throw herself down the castle windows—I do not care."I have to make a decision. And this is only if you are willing to accept it, Mehera. I know you do not wish to return home, nor do you want to give up on us. Therefore, are you willing to become a consort and stay in the castle?" Ozar preludes.I can feel my heart drop—it is a sense of devastation washing over me as I look at him. The words he just uttered are incomprehensible."Excuse me?" I manage to ask, waiting for him to meet my gaze, to clarify the words that are still echoing in my mind.But instead of the reassurance that I hope for, Ozar’s next words cut again like a knife. "I wasn’t talking to you," he says, devoid of any warmth and he turns his to face Mehera. "I am speaking to Mehera. So, what is your decision? If you wish to go back home, I will support you. If you wish to find another marriage that woul
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Alpha King Ozar.My boot echoes off the stone walls as I stride into the corridors of the prison. The guard leads me deeper into the fortress's bowels. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and aged iron, a proof of centuries of confinement. Yet, the prison has seen advancements with thicker iron bars, reinforced doors, and locking mechanisms.The ceilings arch high, supported by columns. They are cavernous, devoid of any sanctity. As we descend further, the guard occasionally glances back at me. Finally, we reach a massive iron door, rusted with age yet formidable in its design. The guard pulls out a large key from his belt and inserts it into the lock. With a creaking groan, the door swings open, revealing the cell where Collins is being held. The room is sparse, its only furnishings are a narrow cot and single window, barred and set high on the wall—allowing a sliver of gray light.Collins is at the edge of the narrow cot with his posture slouched. His face is gaunt from th
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