THE CROWN BETWEEN US

The first time Eleanor Vale saw Prince Adrian Kingsley in three years, he was standing beside a coffin.

Not his father's. Not his mother's.

Her mother's.

Rain slid down the black umbrellas gathered outside St. Aurelia Cathedral. Cameras flashed behind the security barriers, hungry for the grief of a family that had spent generations teaching the world how not to show it.

Eleanor stood at the top of the steps in a black dress, her fingers wrapped around a pair of gloves she had forgotten to put on.

She had promised herself she would not cry.

Not here. Not in front of the people who had spent the last six months telling her that her mother's death was a tragic accident.

And definitely not in front of Adrian Kingsley.

He looked almost exactly as she remembered him. Tall, immaculate, dressed in a black suit that probably cost more than most people's monthly salaries. His dark hair was pushed back from his forehead, and his expression held the sort of calm that made you wonder whether he felt anything at all.

Then he looked up.

Their eyes met.

For one strange second, the noise of the crowd seemed to disappear.

Adrian's expression changed—not enough for the cameras to catch, but enough for Eleanor to notice.

Recognition.

Then something colder.

He walked towards her.

"Miss Vale."

"Your Highness."

His gaze moved briefly over her face. "You came back."

"My mother died. I thought that was generally considered a good reason."

A muscle moved in his jaw.

"You haven't changed."

"Neither have you. Still speaking as if every conversation is a business meeting."

"Most conversations are."

"How tragic for you."

For the first time, something almost resembling amusement touched his eyes.

Then it vanished.

"My condolences," he said.

Eleanor stared at him.

She had received hundreds of messages since her mother's death. Flowers from people who had never met her. Letters from politicians who had barely remembered her mother's name. A public statement from the palace that described the woman who had raised her as a dear family friend.

But Adrian's condolences felt different.

Not kinder.

More like an apology he wasn't allowed to make.

"Did you know?" she asked quietly.

His expression became unreadable. "Know what?"

"That she was going to die."

A camera flashed.

Adrian stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"Not here."

Then he walked away.

Eleanor watched him return to the coffin and made herself a promise.

Whatever he was hiding, she would find it.

Even if she had to marry him to do it.

Three days later, Eleanor was summoned to the royal palace.

The invitation arrived in a cream envelope with the royal seal pressed into dark red wax. No explanation. No signature. Just a time and an address she could have found in her sleep.

She nearly threw it into the fireplace.

Instead, she arrived ten minutes early.

The palace looked different from the last time she had visited. The gardens had been redesigned, the old fountain had been replaced with a glass installation, and security cameras watched every entrance.

Money had always been the royal family's favourite way of pretending nothing was broken.

A footman led her through the entrance hall and into a private sitting room.

Queen Victoria stood beside the windows, wearing a pale blue suit and a string of pearls. She looked as if she had never once woken up frightened in the middle of the night.

"Eleanor, darling."

The endearment made Eleanor's skin prickle.

"Your Majesty."

Victoria kissed the air beside her cheek.

"You've become a beautiful young woman."

"I was under the impression we were meeting to discuss something important."

The queen smiled.

"Your mother had that same habit. She always wanted to know the price of a conversation before she agreed to have it."

Eleanor went still.

"You knew my mother well?"

"Better than you might imagine."

Before Eleanor could ask what that meant, the doors opened.

Adrian walked in, carrying a thin black folder.

He glanced at Eleanor, then placed the folder on the table.

"Shall we begin?"

The queen took her seat.

"Your return has been discussed extensively by the royal council. Given the current political climate, we believe a formal union between our families would be beneficial."

Eleanor blinked.

"I'm sorry. A what?"

"A marriage," Adrian said.

He sounded as if he were announcing the weather.

Eleanor looked at the queen. Then at Adrian. Then back at the queen.

For a moment, she genuinely wondered whether grief had finally made her lose her mind.

"You're proposing that I marry him?"

"An engagement first, naturally," Victoria replied. "The announcement can be made next week."

Eleanor laughed once.

Neither of them joined in.

"That's a joke."

"It isn't," Adrian said.

She turned to him. "Have we met in some alternate universe where I agreed to this?"

"No."

"Then why would you possibly think—"

"Because your family needs the protection, and mine needs the alliance."

There it was.

Not love. Not even affection.

A transaction.

Eleanor picked up the folder and opened it.

Inside were financial statements from Vale Holdings, her family's company. Several pages had been marked in red. At the back was a document outlining the proposed engagement, its public conditions, and a date for the announcement.

Her fingers tightened around the papers.

"How did you get these?"

"That is not relevant," Adrian replied.

"It becomes relevant when you're using my family's finances to force me into a marriage."

"We aren't forcing you."

The queen's smile was almost sympathetic.

"Of course not, darling. You are free to refuse."

Eleanor looked down at the final page.

There was a list of Vale Holdings' outstanding debts, including a loan that had somehow become due in fourteen days.

If the company failed to repay it, control would pass to an investment group she had never heard of.

A group registered through a company in the capital.

A company with royal connections.

She slowly closed the folder.

"You arranged this."

Adrian didn't deny it.

"Your company is vulnerable. My family can stabilise it."

"And in exchange, you get a bride who will smile beside you at charity dinners."

"In exchange, we get an alliance that benefits both families."

"You really are a romantic."

"I've never claimed to be."

Eleanor wanted to hate him.

It would have been easier if he had looked pleased with himself. Instead, he watched her with a strange, almost weary patience, as though he had been expecting this exact conversation for a very long time.

She stood.

"No."

The queen's smile faded slightly.

"Eleanor, I would advise you to consider—"

"I have considered it. My answer is no."

She walked towards the door.

"Eleanor," Adrian called.

She stopped without turning around.

"Your mother's last request was that you never return to this palace."

The room went silent.

Eleanor slowly turned back.

"What did you just say?"

Adrian's face gave nothing away.

"She told my father the same thing."

"That's impossible. My mother barely knew your father."

The words escaped before Eleanor could stop them.

For the first time that afternoon, Adrian looked genuinely surprised.

Then he recovered.

"Perhaps you should ask yourself why she never told you the truth."

Eleanor stared at him, trying to understand how a conversation about a marriage had become a conversation about a dead woman.

"What did your father do to her?"

The queen rose sharply.

"That is enough."

But Eleanor was no longer looking at her.

She was looking at Adrian.

He said nothing.

And somehow, that was worse than any answer.

Eleanor left the palace without accepting the engagement.

By the time she reached her car, her hands were shaking.

She sat behind the wheel and stared at the palace gates until the driver behind her sounded his horn.

Then she remembered the letter.

It had arrived the morning after her mother's funeral, tucked between the sympathy cards and the bills. The envelope had been addressed in her mother's handwriting, but it contained no return address and no explanation.

Eleanor had been too afraid to open it.

Now she pulled it from her handbag.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

Six words.

Never trust the man you marry.

Beneath the sentence was a date.

October 14.

Eleanor checked her phone.

October 13.

Tomorrow.

A knock against her window made her jump.

Adrian stood outside the car, holding an umbrella over his head.

She lowered the window by a few inches.

"Do you make a habit of following women who reject you?"

"Only the interesting ones."

"Find another hobby."

He ignored that.

"Read the letter carefully."

Eleanor's heart stumbled.

"What?"

His eyes moved to the paper in her hand.

For the first time, the prince looked less like a man who controlled everything and more like someone who had just realised that a long-buried secret was about to surface.

"Whatever you think you know about your mother," he said, "you don't know enough."

"Then tell me."

"I can't."

"Or you won't?"

His silence answered her.

Eleanor rolled up the window.

Adrian stepped back as the car pulled away.

She watched him through the rain-streaked glass until the palace disappeared behind them.

Then her phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

One message.

If you want to know who killed your mother, accept the engagement.

A second message appeared before she could breathe.

And whatever you do, don't let Adrian find out that you remember October 14.

Eleanor read it twice.

She didn't remember October 14.

She had no idea what had happened on that date.

But someone out there believed she did.

And somewhere inside the palace, Prince Adrian Kingsley was already waiting for her answer.

For the first time in her life, Eleanor understood something terrifying.

She wasn't being invited into the royal family.

She was being led into a trap.

And she was going to walk straight into it.

End of Chapter One.