There were nights that Charlotte lay awake.
The castle would be hushed, except for the sound of ivy brushing against the windows and the quiet, muffled tread of the night watch. Eldian would be sleeping in the nursery, curled around his teddy lion, and the corridors would stretch endlessly—like the spine of some enormous, sleeping creature.
Those were the nights she would sit beside the fire, gaze through the glass into the stars, and think.
This wasn't in the book.
She remembered it all too vividly—the way the novel had mocked her. A shallow romance, littered with wilting heroines, cruel stepmothers, and cardboard court intrigue. In that book, she—Charlotte—had been forgettable. A petty, jealous daughter of the villainous queen, banished or killed halfway through.
There had been no prophecy.No secret heir.No cryptic, silk-stitched crest.No Elias, with his storm-hued eyes, looking at her like she was more than a girl with ambition.
And definitely no Mira, her silent sister in all but name.
So what was this, then?
Had she taken hold of fate's wheel and driven it off the road?
Or had fate simply been waiting… for someone bold enough to seize it?
Tangled Threads
Her connections had grown in ways she hadn't predicted. Mira, once a quiet servant girl, had become her closest confidante—the only one who knew everything. From Charlotte's fears about the prophecy to the truth that sometimes, still, she dreamed through the lens of her past life.
Mira would say nothing. She'd just reach out and hold her hand.And sometimes, that was enough.
Elias, though… he was more complicated.
He had grown tall, and quiet, and sharp-edged. Bound by duty. Loyal to the bone.And yet, his eyes lingered—not with a knight's gaze, but with something far more dangerous.
He never spoke of it. Neither did she.
It was better that way.
Still, he shielded her with his body when the crowds surged too close.Still, he rode beside her to orphanages and hospitals, never resting.Still, he kept her secrets—the laws she bent, the kitchens she snuck into, the rules she shattered like porcelain.
But Charlotte felt it.
In the way his fingers brushed hers and then paused—as if torn between loyalty and rebellion.
She dreaded it.She cherished it.
Because deep in her guarded heart, she knew:If the heir ever returned and the kingdom turned against her… Elias would choose her. Not the crown.
And that truth—that dangerous, beautiful truth—frightened her more than the prophecy ever could.
The Prophecy Grows Louder
The whispers began to rise like mist in the halls.
Ancient bloodlines.A child with golden eyes.A dying wolf healed in the marshes.A voice that would speak forgotten truths.
None of it was confirmed. But it didn't matter.
Rumors were enough to unseat kings.
Charlotte found herself watching shadows more closely.Girls who looked too much like her.Commoners with strange crests embroidered on worn cloaks.Strangers who looked at her not with awe—but with challenge.
And each time, her heart stammered.
What if she's real?What if she's alive?What if she's… better than me?
The Secret Charlotte Couldn't Say
She never confessed it. Not even to Mira.
But some nights—when the moon was high and the stars didn't blink—Charlotte found herself wishing the firstborn heir had never existed.
Wishing the prophecy had been just another old wives' tale.
Because she had fought her way out of oblivion.She had built her name into something legendary.She had ruled with a balance of mercy and fire.
What had the heir done?
And yet… another thought always followed. A whisper of uncertainty.
What if she doesn't want the throne?What if she's not an enemy… but an ally?
That was the curse: the not knowing.
Charlotte wore a crown of duty, but also a crown of questions.
She felt it approaching—the shifting of fate's gears, the trembling silence before a collision. A day was coming. A moment when light and shadow would meet—and neither would leave unchanged.
And when it came…Charlotte would not flee.She would not yield.
She would either defend her throne…or redefine it.