_saintrose

A woman from Hull was never meant to wear a crown. And yet, today, they would place one on her head.

Verona Falkenrath has spent her life among the wild forests and untamed lands of Hull, a province scorned by the noble courts of Praylor. To them, she and her people are nothing more than barbarians. Useful for their resources but unworthy of standing among kings. When she is forced into an arranged marriage with Prince Lucian Velthorne, Verona knows what is expected of her: be silent, be obedient, and be grateful.

But Verona has never known how to kneel.

Lucian never wanted a wife, especially not one from Hull. Cold, calculating, and bred for power, he sees their union as nothing more than a political necessity. She is a means to an end, a bridge to keep Hull under Praylor’s control. But from the moment Verona enters his court, she defies him at every turn. Fierce, untamed, and impossible to ignore.

Yet behind the whispers of their unlikely marriage, something far more dangerous is brewing. A neighboring country has begun sowing rebellion in Hull’s shadows, promising freedom from Praylor’s rule. When Verona uncovers the plot, she faces an impossible choice: stay loyal to her homeland, or betray those who would see it burn.

But Lucian has his own doubts. When the rebellion reaches its peak, can he truly trust the woman he once swore was his enemy?

Bound by duty, divided by war, and drawn together by something neither of them expected, Verona and Lucian must decide. Is their marriage just another political game, or the beginning of a love that could reshape kingdoms?

To Love a Crowned Enemy

<p>The morning of the wedding arrived with a sky heavy with the weight of looming clouds, as if the heavens themselves were uncertain of the union about to take place. The palace hummed with activity. Servants rushing through the halls, nobles dressing in their finest, guards standing at attention, their expressions carefully blank. But beneath the grandeur, the air was thick with something unspoken.</p>

<p>I sat before the ornate mirror in my chambers as the attendants fastened the final clasps on my gown. The silver and blue silk draped over me like a second skin, but it was the crimson cloak that held my attention. A silent declaration of my heritage. A reminder that I was not just a bride being led to an altar. I was a Falkenrath of Hull. And I would not be forgotten.</p>

Chapter 13