_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

The grand ballroom of Velthorne Keep never ceased to amaze me. Chandeliers are dripping with golden light, illuminating the silks and jewels of the nobility who moved through the space like predators in a gilded cage. The scent of honeyed wine, wax, and perfumed oils clung to the air, mingling with the faint metallic bite of polished silver and armor.

I stood near the edge of the room, my fingers curled lightly around the stem of a goblet filled with wine I had no intention of drinking. The weight of my crimson sash was heavy on my shoulders, a reminder that though I was dressed in Praylor's colors, I had not been entirely swallowed by them. The fabric itched at my skin—a small, persistent discomfort that mirrored the scrutiny pressing down on me.

Tonight, the court was watching. Testing. Again.

Chapter 16