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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 gates of the northern stronghold groaned shut behind us, the sound reverberating through the stone courtyard like the closing of a cell. The air here was different, thicker, colder, and charged with unspoken hostility. The northern warriors who lined the walls did not cheer, nor did they bow. They only watched, their expressions unreadable beneath fur-lined cloaks and weather-worn armor.

Lucian walked ahead, his posture composed but wary. I followed at his side, every step calculated, every breath measured. The weight of expectation pressed down on me, not just from the Praylor guards who had survived the journey, but from the northerners who saw me as something else entirely.

A traitor. A usurper. A daughter of the wrong warlord.

Chapter 31