_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 fire crackled softly, filling the tent with a flickering glow as the scent of burning wood mixed with the faint tang of dried blood. Outside, the night pressed in, thick with the weight of unanswered questions.

We had won the battle, but the fight was far from over.

I sat on the edge of a wooden bench, rolling my shoulder as the ache from the ambush settled deep in my bones. My tunic was torn at the sleeve, exposing a fresh gash along my upper arm where a blade had skimmed too close. It was shallow but burned like hell.

Lucian stood near the table, his hands braced against the rough wood, his back to me. The tension in his shoulders hadn't eased since we had returned. His cloak was discarded, his dark tunic streaked with dried blood. Some his, some not.

He hadn't said much since the ambush. Since we discovered the truth.

"Sit," I said finally, breaking the silence.

Chapter 42