_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 morning after my victory in the fighting pit, the war camp was already stirring with movement. Word had spread fast, Verona Falkenrath had proven herself, and a council would be called.

My father wasted no time in preparing for our departure. If Hull was to decide its future, then we would meet its warlords in the heart of our lands.

Lucian and I stood at the edge of the camp, horses saddled, the crisp northern air biting at our skin. The towering pines loomed over us, their branches dusted with frost.

Aedric adjusted the straps of his gauntlet, watching me with a mixture of curiosity and something unreadable.

"So," he mused, "the prodigal daughter returns home with Praylor's prince at her side. The warlords will love that."

I shot him a sharp look. "They'll love it even more if you keep running your mouth."

Chapter 37