Cassie_Berry_9014

Living as the fifth daughter of a noble family, Amira found herself adrift in the fog of her home, neglected and overlooked by those she once called her own. Her days were spent in the solitude of the attic, a hidden oasis away from the bustling world outside.

 However, when the tumult of war erupts and she is thrust into the role of a truce offering between two formidable nations, she grapples with the uncertainty of surviving in a new kingdom known for its icy demeanor and ruthless nature. 

Will she navigate this foreign terrain and carve out a new existence she never fathomed?

(Excerpt)


  "Clean it," Zyran commanded.

"Yes, your Highness," the servant acknowledged with a respectful bow, ready to fetch the cleaning supplies.

"Not you," Zyran interjected, causing the servant to freeze in confusion.

"Her," he added, nodding in the direction of Anastasia, whose eyes widened in disbelief.

Anastasia blinked rapidly, trying to process the situation. "Pardon?" she asked.

"Clean the mess on the floor," Zyran instructed. The crowd started murmuring and Anastasia shifted uncomfortably on her knees.

"That's the servant's job, not mine. Why should I? I don't think I understand what you are trying to say Prince Zyran. My father will never approve of this," Anastasia began only to be abruptly cut off by Zyran.

"Don't make me repeat myself. I'm sure you wouldn't like it if I interfered with your task," Zyran warned.

Anastasia's lips trembled as she fought to hold back her words. She knew Zyran's reputation for being ruthless, and she didn't want to make her situation any worse than it already was.

"Get me the cleaning supplies," she instructed the servant, who was prepared to follow her command until Zyran interjected.

"No one will help you," he declared.

Anastasia's chest heaved with anger as she locked eyes with Amira, who was standing behind Zyran.

She rose to her knees, intending to fetch the cleaning supplies herself, but Zyran stopped her once again.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

"To bring the bucket," she replied with a hint of annoyance, but she quickly reminded herself to remain composed.

"I never asked you to stand up," Zyran stated.

"Then how am I supposed to clean the floor?" she inquired.

"Use your dress," Zyran replied.

The onlookers in the crowd were visibly shocked, exchanging bewildered glances and murmurs as they witnessed the unfolding scene. Anastasia's cheeks turned crimson with embarrassment.

SCULPTURED DESIRE

As they started walking towards their carriage, the crowd suddenly swelled, making it nearly impossible to navigate. In the chaos, Amira lost sight of Freya.

"Freya!" she called out, struggling to push through the crowd. Her breath quickened, and tears clouded her vision as she tried to clear her eyes.

Her ears filled with a deafening ringing, drowning out the terrifying screams and the haunting memories of the past. She frantically searched for an escape route, but the air felt thick, making it increasingly difficult to breathe.

As she teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, she felt a sudden pull, and she was swiftly drawn away from the bustling crowd.

"Breathe, it's not real," a soothing voice murmured close to her face.

She struggled to focus through her blurred vision as she followed the motion of a hand moving in front of her. It was difficult to discern who it was.

Good News