An ordinary girl. Worse—a commoner. With nothing but dirt beneath her nails and dust in her blood.
How dare she touch what is mine?
A shameless little creature like her is nothing but an eyesore to the kingdom. A stain to be scrubbed away.
I am the one meant to be queen—looked upon with reverence, not looked down upon because of her filthy existence.
What would my father say then?
I slapped her.
Hard.
Her body trembled. She whimpered and began to cry.
And for a fleeting moment… a part of me cried with her.
But who cares about that?
Certainly not my father.
"CARMELINE THEODORA DUSKVEIL!"
There it is—the roar of a man I know all too well.
The voice of the one who is to rule.
The crown prince of this land.
The very cause of all this mess.
Nikolai Redricoz Vendergard. The beloved one. The future king.
The man who was meant to be my shelter in this disgusting world—yet failed at even that, dragging in this wretched girl like she was something worthy.
I turned to face him, unbothered. Annoyed.
His crimson eyes—famed across the realms for seeing through veils of fate—glared at me with venom.
Eyes that claim to see the future of this "holy" land.
If only they knew how much I doubt those eyes… they'd burn me alive.
"What have you done?"
"Made things right. Unlike you, my prince."
If my father were here, I would not dare speak like this.
But he isn't.
And I am tired.
Let the golden boy scowl and fume. Let him flash his divine wrath.
the Chosen One.
He has it all:
The legendary bloodline.
The sacred Vendergard' eyes that only appear once in a millennium.
The strength of a thousand mages—kingdoms have bowed to it. Renork fell and was buried by its own soil when he raised his hand.
And then, of course, there is his face.
A beauty that defies reason.
Silver-moon hair that falls like silk past his shoulders. Flawless skin. A face so perfectly balanced between masculine and feminine it makes my blood boil.
Even his lashes mock me.
How can a man be blessed with such beauty?
It is not fair.
"What did you say?" he growled.
His voice darker now.
Men like him—exalted and adored—loathe when the weak strike at their pride.
"With all due respect," I said sweetly, "I did what had to be done. I was educating this lowborn girl. Clearly, no one ever taught her etiquette. Or her place."
He stepped closer.
His eyes were locked on me like a curse.
"And what did she do wrong?"
"She touched what's mine."
"What, exactly, did she touch?"
I look at him angrily.
"You, Your Grace. You are mine. She should've known that."
His eyes darkened even more.
Crimson and cold.
I could die under that gaze.
"Bold of you."
"I only speak the truth. The oath has been taken. I will become queen. And by placing her between us, you have insulted my house and violated the sacred vow. You know our kind does not take betrayal lightly."
And he… laughed.
He laughed.
"It's funny," he said, those sharp eyes cutting through me. "The way you say it. As if you actually care about that oath."
"When the truth is, you're just a coward. Chained by your own selfishness."
The nerve he struck…
I wanted to scream.
I glared, fire in my throat.
He had no right to judge me.
He had everything handed to him.
"As your future queen," I hissed, "I did what was necessary. No matter what your assumptions are. For the good of the realm. After all, I do not want this land ruled by a weak man, easily swayed by a woman's skirt."
I bowed mockingly.
"Have a pleasant evening, Your Grace."
And I left.
Coward I may be, but I left with my head held high and words that would burn behind me.