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 perfection of trickery in one of its most beautiful forms… 


Camille pulled a dumbfounded Aida to stand beside herself and Astrid. 


‘‘What of our Lady?’’ Camille asked. It was obvious it was a rhetorical question. 


The soldier reached to get a hold of one of them but the three of them were furious. They accepted to be fools but they knew going with these men was even more foolish. 


Aida was the first to move. She lunged for his hair, tearing at it with both hands, an angry cry on her tongue. 


Camille leaped, clamping around him like a bear would a tree, her teeth finding the unguarded flesh on his neck where the upper part of his armor couldn’t reach. 


The soldier cried as he tried to hit Camille to get off him, but Astrid took his hand and, with both hands, tried to twist it behind him. 


BATTERED