SapphirePeter


Winters upon winters have drifted by, and still, the North remains without its destined sovereign. One by one, pretenders have fallen, claimed by the death that guards the empty throne. 
As despair consumes the realm - people dying, their purpose withering - a whispered prophecy stirs the ashes — the one they seek walks among the South.

While the Heavens remain without the offer of an heir to the North, a Southern Princess drinks to excess at a Royal Event and exposes royal rot.
She is ordered to be killed, steel drawn... when a certain Prince Commander claims her to be his wife.
Marriage was never her fate. Certainly not to him,  but desperation writes its own vows. There were no promises, no expectations, but love came, slow and certain. 
It seemed the sun had broken through the clouds, but something superiorly vital is then taken from this Princess, and she is sent to the worst of dungeons when her husband is at war. He returns, thinking she left him, and he falls into the deepest of despair.


The Princess’s heart is heavily marked in this strange new world where unfamiliar souls shape her. They teach her, harden her, and rebirth her into something nearly unrecognizable.
She flees with them as a circumstance exposes her to be the ruler they have been in search of.
Through hardship and pain, she ascends—not only to lead the North but to stir the balance of the universe itself.
But at what price? What must be given?
Follow her odyssey - a journey of life, of love, betrayal, revenge, of war and transformation, and of staggering power that shakes worlds.
Her name is Nadezhda. 
Nadezhda means hope. She is our hope.




QUEEN OF THE NORTH (THE WILL OF THE HEAVENS)

I am not a queen because I rule, I rule because I am THE QUEEN. 


Birthed in my heart. Alive in my veins… 


The one she had pined and sought for was in the company of ‘someone else.’ 


His back lay flush against furs, his body bare to the waist and astride him, a very naked woman sat, moving with an intimate rhythm. 


A thin sheet veiled their lower halves, but their bare torsos gleamed in the low light. 


Her movement, the breathless sounds that couldn’t be restrained from her, left no space for illusion. 


Their eyes were shut- lost to their environment, lost to the rest of the world- until the woman’s lids parted and her gaze shifted, slow, hooded, and languid, to where Nadezhda stood close to the threshold. 


A smile swept her lips, and her palms pressed firmly to Zorgan’s chest, surely and possessively, and though his eyes remained closed, Zorgan’s hands, in turn, tightened around her waist, drawing her closer, deeper. 


MOTHER WANTS YOU