The history of our kingdom, Khazaria, was written in blood and shadow. Long ago, when it was nothing more than a cluster of small villages, a strange figure emerged from the earth, claiming to be a god. The naive villagers believed him. In exchange for their worship, he granted them power—the ability to manipulate the world around them.
But greed is a hungry thing. One by one, the villagers fell prey to the figure's true nature. By the time they realized he wasn't a god but an ancient evil, it was too late.
The people prayed for salvation until the heavens finally answered. A child of God was sent to the House of Ellington. Her name was Roxana. After a brutal war that brought her to the verge of death, she used the last of her life force to seal the evil away.
But the darkness didn't vanish completely. Dark magic remained in the shadows, a forbidden power capable of controlling minds, killing in silence, and—at its most horrific—bringing back the dead. The gods had warned us: if the kingdom ever let another Priestess die a painful death, as the last one did, no more would be sent. Khazaria would be left to rot.
I was pulled from these grim thoughts by the sound of a fist hitting flesh.
Richt had lunged forward, punching Ceres squarely in the face. He didn't stop there; he looked ready to tear his brother's throat out. I stepped in, grabbing Richt's arm. "Your Highness, stop this at once."
He actually stopped. It was a good thing, too—I was seconds away from kicking him. Was he trying to get us all executed by murdering the Crown Prince in broad daylight?
Isabella rushed to Ceres's side, fussing over him as she helped him up. Richt, meanwhile, turned his burning gaze on me.
"I'll stop," he murmured, a dark glint in his eyes. "Only if you give me a kiss."
I stared at him. Had I heard him correctly? How could he be so utterly shameless? "I think Your Highness has truly lost his mind."
"Pati... I'm not in the mood for your sass," he countered.
He was serious. God, give me strength. If only I were stronger than him, I would have tossed him into the training pond. Instead, I grabbed his face and pressed a rough, aggressive kiss against his cheek, leaving a bright smudge of my lipstick behind like a brand.
To my irritation, he looked pleased. The murderous tension in his shoulders vanished instantly.
But the peace didn't last. A royal guard hurried toward Dion, whispering something urgently into the Commander's ear. Dion listened, his expression unchanging, before giving a single, sharp nod to Richt. A silent communication passed between them—one that felt heavy with consequence.
"Is something the matter?" I asked, my instincts on high alert.
"No," Richt said, a slight, predatory smirk tugging at his lips. "It is just that the date for our engagement has been finalized. It is to take place on the same day as Ceres and Lady Isabella's ceremony."
My heart skipped a beat, and not in a pleasant way. I had been so focused on surviving the kidnapping that I had forgotten.
I was officially being tied to the Psycho Prince. And I was going to have to share the stage with Isabella.