I don't know how long I've been trapped in this place—over a week at least, perhaps ten days of endless cloud-gazing and rune-lit isolation, days blurring into a haze of opulent captivity that made me feel like a princess locked in some cruel fairy-tale tower.
Rapunzel? Well, our hair colours are same.'
But I'm no delicate damsel waiting for a hero's kiss; I'm the Emperor of this sprawling empire, reduced to a hostage in my own realm by one of my own male leads.
Why did this have to happen to me? One moment pushing flood reforms against noble scowls, the next Darius breeding me like a bitch in the roses, then portalled here to rot under Elowen's smirking gaze.
Fixing messes, saving farmers—now this gilded purgatory? Why this has to happen to me?
The tower itself was breathtakingly beautiful, a soaring marvel of ancient elven craftsmanship piercing the endless clouds like a crystalline spear wreathed in eternal storm.
