Elara's POV
The wine glass slips from my hand.
It shatters on the dining room floor, red liquid spreading like blood across the marble. But nobody moves to clean it. Nobody even looks at it.
They're all staring at me.
What did you just say? My voice comes out as a whisper. Father doesn't even have the courage to meet my eyes. The Crown Selection begins tomorrow. Your name has been entered.
The room spins. The Crown Selection. The ritual where one unlucky girl gets chosen to be magically chained to King Cassius the Butcher King himself. Bound to him forever, forced to give him her magic, her life force, until she dies.
The last girl lasted two years before they buried her.
No. I shake my head, backing away from the table. No, you can't. I'm getting married next week. Marcus and I
There is no wedding, Mother interrupts, her voice cold as ice.
I turn to Marcus, my fiancé, the boy I've loved since I was twelve. He's sitting perfectly still, not looking at me either.
Marcus? My voice breaks. Tell them. Tell them we're getting married. Finally, he looks up. The disgust in his eyes makes me want to throw up.
I can't marry you now, Elara. He says my name like it tastes bad. Everyone knows girls who enter the Selection become the king's property. His slave. He stands up, straightening his jacket. I have a reputation to think about. My sister Thalia rises from her seat, moving to stand beside Marcus. She's wearing my favorite dress the blue one I was saving for my engagement party. She links her arm through his and smiles at me.
That smile tells me everything.
This was you, I breathe, staring at her. You planned this.
Don't be dramatic, little sister. Thalia's voice is sweet like poisoned honey. Father needed money. Our family was drowning in debt. You always said you wanted to help the family, didn't you? Well, now you can.
They paid you? I look at Father, horror flooding through me. You sold me?
We received compensation for entering your name, yes. Father finally meets my eyes, and there's not a shred of guilt in them. Fifty thousand gold coins. Enough to save our house, pay our debts, and restore our family's reputation.
And I told Marcus he could marry me instead, Thalia adds, squeezing his arm. Since you'll be… busy.
The betrayal hits me like a physical blow. My own family. The boy I loved. My sister who I shared everything with.
They sold me to save themselves.
You can't do this, I say, but even I can hear how weak my voice sounds. I won't go. I'll run away, I'll Guards, Father calls.
Two palace guards step into the dining room. They were here the whole time, waiting behind the door.
Take her to her room, Father Orders. Make sure she doesn't leave.
I try to run, but the guards are faster. They grab my arms, their grip bruising.
Let me go! I scream, fighting against them. You can't do this! Please!
Nobody helps me. Father turns away. Mother sips her wine. Thalia laughs.
And Marcus just watches with those disgusted eyes, like I'm something dirty he stepped in.
The guards drag me out of the dining room and up the stairs. I kick and scream the whole way, but they're too strong. They throw me into my bedroom and slam the door shut.
I hear the lock click.
I pound on the door until my fists hurt. Let me out! Please! Somebody help me! Nothing.
I slide down to the floor, my back against the door, tears streaming down my face. This can't be happening. Tomorrow, I'll be taken to the palace. The crown will choose one girl to bind to the king. And once you're chosen, there's no escape.
You belong to him until you die. Hours pass. The house goes quiet. Through the door, I hear laughter floating up from downstairs. They're celebrating. Actually celebrating. I hear Father's voice: Fifty thousand coins! Can you believe it? And all we had to do was enter her name!
Mother's reply: We should have done this years ago. At least now she'll finally be useful. And then Thalia, giggling: Marcus, darling, let's discuss the wedding. Since Elara won't be needing hers...
Something inside me breaks.
Not my heart that broke when I saw Marcus's disgusted face. No, something deeper. Something that's been sleeping inside me my whole life.
Magic.
I've hidden it for years, terrified of what my family would do if they knew I had power. They always said magic was dangerous, that girls with magic were tools to be used.
Now I know why they were so afraid.
Heat builds in my chest, spreading through my arms to my fingertips. The air around me starts to shimmer. I press my hands against the locked door and feel the magic pulse through me.
The lock melts.
I stare at my hands in shock. I've never done anything like that before. I didn't even know I could. But before I can decide whether to run, I hear boots on the stairs. Heavy. Multiple sets.
Not house guards.
Palace guards.
They're here early. They're taking me now, in the middle of the night.
I back away from the door as it opens. Six guards in black armor fill the doorway. The leader holds up a scroll with an official seal.
Elara Ashwin, he announces. By order of the War Council, you are summoned to the palace for the Crown Selection ceremony. You will come with us. Now.
Please, I whisper. Please don't make me do this.
The guard's expression softens for just a moment. I'm sorry, miss. Orders are orders.
They move toward me.
And that's when I feel it a strange pulling sensation in my chest, like an invisible rope tugging at my heart. The guards feel it too. They all stop, looking confused.
What is that? One of them mutters.
The pulling gets stronger. Painful. Like something is calling me, demanding that I answer. The lead guard's eyes go wide with shock. Impossible, he breathes.
What? I gasp, clutching my chest. What's happening to me?
He stares at me like I'm a ghost. The crown. It's already calling to you. Before the ceremony even begins.
His words don't make sense. That's not possible. The crown only calls during the Selection Not unless it's already chosen, another guard whispers, his voice full of fear.
The pulling intensifies, so strong it drives me to my knees. Images flash through my mind a throne room, a crown floating in darkness, and eyes. Cold, dark eyes staring at me like they can see straight into my soul.
And a voice, deep and commanding, echoing inside my head:
Come to me.
I scream.
The guards rush forward to catch me as everything goes black.
The last thing I hear before I pass out is the lead guard's terrified voice: Get her to the palace immediately. The crown has made its choice. She belongs to the king now.