_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 tension in the war tent was thick enough to cut. My father's gaze bore into me, sharp as a drawn blade, as if searching for a weakness I had long since learned to hide.

Lucian stood beside me, his presence a steady force against the weight of my father's disapproval. Aedric leaned against the war table, arms crossed, watching the exchange with the quiet calculation of a man who knew exactly how much danger we were all in. The northern winds rattled the canvas above us, a warning from the gods themselves.

"I will hear your terms, Verona," my father said at last, his voice low and measured. "But do not mistake my patience for indulgence."

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. I had always known this moment would come, the moment where I would have to prove that I was still his daughter, still worthy of the name Falkenrath, even as I wore the colors of Praylor.

Chapter 35