Chapter 1
Every kingdom has a history. Every throne has a secret. And every crown is built upon something its people were never meant to discover.
The princess was meant to die before dawn.
She simply had not been informed of it yet.
By midnight, the western wing of the royal palace had been reduced to a skeleton of blackened stone and smouldering timber. Flames devoured the ancient tapestries, crept along the carved oak ceilings and cast grotesque shadows against the marble corridors. The air reeked of smoke, blood and something far more sinister , the unmistakable scent of a kingdom collapsing from within.
Beyond the palace walls, the capital of Aurelia lay beneath a restless sky. Bells tolled across the city, their mournful cries carrying through the narrow streets and reaching even the distant villages beyond the royal grounds.
The king was dead.
And nobody knew who would be next.
Within the eastern chambers, Princess Seraphina Valerith stood before her dressing table, fastening the final clasp of her riding boots.
She had heard the screams. She had witnessed servants fleeing through the corridors and soldiers rushing towards the western courtyard. Yet she remained remarkably composed, as though the destruction unfolding beyond her doors were nothing more than an inconvenience.
Until her chamber doors flew open.
"Your Highness!"
Elowen, her personal attendant, stumbled inside. Her usually immaculate appearance was in disarray and a thin streak of blood marked the sleeve of her ivory gown.
Seraphina glanced at her through the mirror.
"If you've come to inform me that the palace is on fire, I believe the smoke has already made that abundantly clear."
"Your Highness, you must come with me."
"Why?"
Elowen hesitated.
The princess turned.
"Speak."
"The king has been murdered."
For several seconds, the room fell into absolute silence.
Seraphina's fingers, which had been reaching for her cloak, slowly came to rest against the dressing table.
"Repeat that."
"His Majesty is dead."
The words seemed to linger between them.
Her father was dead.
King Edmund Valerith, the man whose approval she had spent half her life attempting to earn, whose expectations had governed every decision she had ever made, was lying somewhere beneath the same roof she had called home since birth.
She ought to have fallen to her knees.
Instead, she felt an unsettling emptiness settle within her chest.
"Who did it?"
Elowen lowered her eyes.
"We do not know."
"Then find out."
"Your Highness—"
"Do not mistake my composure for indifference, Elowen."
Seraphina reached for her sword.
"Where is my brother?"
The attendant's silence was immediate.
And devastating.
Seraphina looked at her sharply.
"What happened to him?"
"We haven't been able to locate the prince."
The princess drew a slow breath.
"Then we shall find him."
She fastened her sword to her waist, gathered her cloak, and moved towards the door.
Behind her, Elowen whispered something that brought her to an abrupt halt.
"The king's own guards were responsible."
Seraphina turned.
"What?"
The men assigned to protect His Majesty. They were the ones who turned against him."
For the first time that evening, something resembling fear crossed the princess's features.
A betrayal from an enemy was expected.
A betrayal from within was something else entirely.
