_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 silence that followed the ambush was almost more unnerving than the attack itself. The rustling of the wind through the trees, the distant hoot of an owl, sounds that should have been mundane now carried the weight of danger, of unseen eyes watching from the depths of the forest.

Lucian dismounted first, his boots crunching against the bloodied earth as he scanned the treeline. The guards who had survived were regrouping, tending to the wounded, retrieving what little remained of the fallen. There was no time to bury the dead. The north did not afford such luxuries.

I slid from my horse, my muscles aching from the tension of the battle. My dagger was still slick with blood, my hands steady despite the carnage we had just endured. The scent of iron clung to the damp air, mixing with the faint burn of smoke from the remnants of the fight.

Chapter 29