Chapter 1: Chains Beneath the Throne
The dungeon beneath the palace was no ordinary prison. It was ancient, carved into the stone centuries ago by kings who feared the disloyalty of their own blood. The air was damp and stung of iron, and the only light came from a flickering torch that burned far down the hall.
Wiliam Riveras sat against the wall, his wrists bound by enchanted manacles that drained his strength with every heartbeat. His once-proud silver armor had been stripped away—replaced by a tattered tunic stained with blood, mud, and humiliation. But worse than the pain… was the silence.
No news.
No word from Elise.
No trial.
Only waiting.
He had memorized the cracks in the stone, counted the hours by the dripping of water, and relived that night in the rose garden a hundred times. He could still feel her fingers trembling in his, still hear her whisper, "There will be war."
Let it come, he thought grimly.
But war required allies—and Wiliam had none.
Until the night the cell door creaked open.
A hooded figure stepped into the torchlight. Not a guard. Not a noble. Her face was half-covered by a dark scarf, but her voice was unmistakable.
"Still alive, Wiliam?"
His heart skipped. "Rivenna?"
The girl removed her hood. Her raven-black hair was shorter now, tied back in a braid. She looked older than he remembered—but her eyes still burned with that same dangerous fire.
"I thought you were dead," Wiliam said.
"You're not the only one the crown tries to bury," she replied, kneeling beside him. "You swore you'd never fall for royalty."
"I didn't fall," he said bitterly. "I jumped."
Rivenna smirked. "Well, you fell hard. The whole palace is hunting your shadow."
"Why are you here?"
"I came to give you a choice. Rot in this cell for love, or stand and fight for it."
Wiliam stared at her, hope and pain warring in his eyes. "What are you planning?"
She glanced around, then leaned closer. "Something dangerous. Something that could burn Evarra to its roots."
Meanwhile, in the Tower of the Rose
Elise stood before a mirror, her ceremonial gown heavy with golden thread and silent shame. The Queen's attendants fussed around her, preparing her for the engagement ceremony to Prince Raynard.
But Elise felt numb.
The crown on her head felt like a shackle.
The roses in her hair reminded her of the garden she had lost.
"Do you love him?" her younger sister asked innocently from the doorway.
Elise turned slowly. "No."
"Then why are you marrying him?"
"…Because I was born with a crown, not a choice."
But as her attendants left, Elise reached beneath the folds of her gown—and pulled out a small hidden letter. Its seal was broken. Its ink had faded from time and fear.
"If this love is forbidden by the crown, then let the crown fall in its name."
She closed her eyes, and for the first time in weeks, her heart whispered rebellion.