Chapter 1
Chapter 1-
At long last, I was to return home—to the kingdom I had left behind six long years ago. My brother, now seated upon the throne, had summoned me back, though it was by his decree I had been sent away. When he first donned the mantle of king, he had resolved that I, though not of royal blood, should be groomed to bear the title of princess. His most trusted advisor was tasked with moulding me into a figure befitting the court, though my heart was not one of nobility.
I was no true daughter of the crown. My brother—though I hesitate to call him that, for we share no blood—took me in when I was but a wretched orphan. It was he, then the prince, who shielded me from his father’s wrath, clad me in silks, and proclaimed me his most beloved ward. Yet the late king harboured no affection for me. Nay, he loathed me with every fibre of his being, for I was an affront to his bloodline. Out of respect—or perhaps fear—my brother refrained from granting me the title of princess during the king’s reign. But when the old sovereign succumbed to illness, the crown weighed heavy on my brother’s brow, and with it came a decision that would alter my fate.
Without my consent, the title was thrust upon me. I became Princess of the Realm, a role I neither sought nor desired. I wore the crown not out of pride but out of duty, for I feared my brother’s disappointment more than the scorn of the court. I bore the title with a hollow smile, though inside I felt the weight of every whispered slight. The nobles were ruthless. How could the crown prince take in a foundling, a nobody, and bestow such an honour upon her? Their words cut deep, and I believed them, convinced I was unworthy of the station thrust upon me.
When my brother learned of the disdain I endured, he sought to shield me in his own way. His love was fierce, but his methods harsh. He forbade me from venturing beyond the palace walls, confining me to the vast, gilded halls. There, he decreed, I was to study the laws of the land, the protocols of the court, and the histories of the realm. He spoke of a future I dared not imagine—a time when I might ascend to the throne in his stead. I obeyed, for I knew no other way. I studied until my eyes burned and my heart ached, but the whispers of the people grew louder in my absence. Why was their princess so rarely seen? What secrets did the palace keep?
To quell the rumours, my brother sent me away to a secluded estate—a distant corner of the kingdom where only his advisor and a handful of servants knew of my presence. There, I was kept hidden, a prisoner cloaked in wealth and privilege. The walls that enclosed me became both my sanctuary and my cage.
And now, after years of isolation, he has summoned me back. The news filled me with a strange mixture of joy and trepidation. Why now? What had changed? Had the people forgotten me, or did they still scorn my name? I longed to see my brother again, to witness the man he had become as king. Was he well? Was the kingdom thriving under his rule? My heart swelled with questions, yet I dared not hope for answers.
As the carriage rumbled along the winding road toward the palace, I could not suppress the flicker of anticipation that stirred within me. Perhaps, at long last, my return would bring clarity—or perhaps it would bring only more shadows to haunt me.
I sighed, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing against my chest. I knew my brother well enough to trust that he had his reasons—reasons that demanded my presence, or perhaps even my aid. Yet, whatever his purpose, I doubted it would unfold smoothly. My return was unlikely to be a gentle reunion.
The carriage I occupied, his carriage, was a subtle yet unmistakable message. It bore the royal crest, a symbol of his authority, and was flanked by guards who rode with unwavering vigilance. Extra protection, no doubt, though whether it was for my safety or to ensure my compliance, I could not say. Either way, it was clear I travelled under his command, not by my own will.
With a soft flick of my wrist, I unfolded my fan, the painted silk unfurling like the wings of a delicate bird. I waved it lightly before my face, seeking a semblance of relief from the mounting heat. The day itself was temperate—cool, even—but within me churned a restless unease that left my skin flushed and damp. Nervousness, I supposed, though I loathed to admit it.
The rhythmic clatter of hooves and wheels against the cobbled road seemed to echo my turbulent thoughts. What awaited me upon my return? My brother’s summons carried the weight of urgency, but he had given no hint as to its nature. Was the kingdom in peril? Did he seek my counsel, or was this merely another trial he would thrust upon me to test my worthiness?
I glanced at the passing scenery—a blur of rolling hills and scattered cottages, familiar yet distant, like a half-remembered dream. My hand tightened around the fan, the cool lacquered handle grounding me.
“My lady,” came a soft voice from outside the carriage. It was a guard, perhaps, though I could not discern which. “We are approaching the castle.”
A smile tugged at my lips. “Thank you, sir,” I replied, my tone gentle yet formal.
Moments later, the carriage rolled to a halt. My heart quickened, anticipation coursing through me. I rose swiftly, excitement lending a lightness to my step as I prepared to see my brother. With practiced grace, I descended from the carriage, my fan raised delicately to shield my face from prying eyes.
The horses neighed and stamped as I took measured, elegant steps forward, but my eagerness faltered as I looked upon the figure waiting at the castle’s grand entrance. My brother was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the one who awaited me was a figure I had not hoped to encounter—General Nicolas.
He stood tall and imposing, his silver armour gleaming in the pale sunlight, the black fabric of his cloak lending an air of sombre authority. His stern expression betrayed no hint of welcome. If anything, his presence was a silent declaration of displeasure. He had fought hard to see me cast out of the kingdom, his whispers in court stirring dissent among the people. It was he who had sowed the seeds of my exile, rallying the common folk against me, branding me unworthy of the title I bore. And now, seeing me return draped in fine silks and alight with hope, he must feel the sting of his failure.
My steps slowed as I neared him, my composure unwavering despite the turmoil within. Bowing my head slightly in greeting, I kept the fan raised, concealing all but my eyes.
“Why,” I said softly, my voice laced with a quiet edge, “is the first face I see upon my return the very one that sought my exile?”
His jaw tightened, the faintest twitch betraying his discomfort. He avoided my gaze, his eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder, as if I were beneath his notice. “His Majesty commanded that I welcome you,” he said, his voice low and clipped, “and to… apologize.”
An apology? From him? My brother had ordered this? The thought almost made me laugh. How utterly humiliating for a man of his stature—a general who should be leading armies at the borders, not standing here, forced to offer hollow contrition.
I studied him, my fan still poised delicately in my hand. The stiffness in his posture, the taut line of his mouth—it was clear he felt no remorse. Not that I expected any. If I were the vengeful type, I might have been cruel, but truthfully, I bore no grudge. His hatred for me was a fire he stoked alone. If anything, I found the situation amusing. Despite his disdain, I admired his unyielding loyalty to my brother, even if that loyalty did not extend to me.
I allowed the silence to stretch, letting the tension settle over us like a shroud. At last, I cast him a sidelong glance, my eyes glimmering with quiet amusement. “Apology not accepted,” I said softly, my tone smooth and measured, the barest hint of a smile tugging at my lips.
With a graceful bow—more a gesture of formality than sincerity—I turned away, the soft rustle of my silks trailing behind me as I ascended the castle steps. The grandeur of the great hall loomed ahead, but I could still feel the weight of his glare on my back.
It did not bother me. Not today.
I stepped into the grand castle, its magnificence unchanged from my youth. Every corner gleamed with the opulence of my brother’s taste, a testament to his love for grandeur. Gold adorned nearly every surface—columns inlaid with intricate designs, chandeliers dripping with gilded embellishments, and tapestries woven with threads that seemed to shimmer like sunlight. The castle was his pride, his statement to all who entered: this was the seat of power.
But as much as he revelled in extravagance, I found little comfort in such splendour. My own tastes leaned toward simplicity. The silken garments I wore now, light and unadorned, suited me far better than the heavy, jewel-encrusted gowns favoured by the court. My personal spaces, when I had them, were modest and uncluttered—a quiet retreat from the overwhelming brilliance of royal life.
At the heart of the great hall, my brother sat among his court, a gathering of his most trusted confidants. Their serious expressions and low murmurs suggested a discussion of grave matters, likely concerning the borders or some new political intrigue. From where I stood, I could see the authority radiating from him, the easy command with which he directed these powerful figures. He had grown into his role as king with remarkable ease, yet watching him now, I could still glimpse traces of the boy I had once known.
I paused in the middle of the hall, letting the moment stretch as I observed him. Then, raising my voice just enough to cut through the room’s hushed tones, I began, “I wonder…”
The words drew his attention, his sharp gaze snapping to mine as I took a slow, deliberate step forward, my movements as graceful as ever. “Have I upset my dearest brother,” I continued, an amused lilt in my tone, “to warrant such a cold welcome after he went to the trouble of inviting me?”
The tension in the room shifted, the court falling silent as all eyes turned toward me. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, but then his smile broke through—broad and genuine, like sunlight piercing a cloudy sky.
“Thea,” he said warmly, his voice carrying across the hall with a note of unrestrained excitement.
He stepped around the table, his strides purposeful yet unhurried as he made his way toward me. The air of command he carried had only grown in my absence, but his smile remained as familiar as ever. I dipped into a low bow, the fan concealing my face save for my eyes, which flickered behind him briefly to the gathered confidants. Their faces were unfamiliar to me, though I made a mental note to commit them to memory before returning my full attention to him.
“Oh, how you’ve grown,” he said, his voice warm and filled with pride, as though marvelling at a long-lost treasure returned to him.
“Through your grace and teaching, my king,” I replied with an amused lilt, allowing a faint smile to play on my lips as I straightened.
The glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement, though he bore the title of king with all the dignity it demanded. Here before me stood not only my brother but the sovereign of the realm—a man who had shaped the kingdom as surely as he had shaped my life.
“The invitation doesn’t come without warning,” I said, my voice steady yet laced with suspicion. “What is it you want?” My eyes searched his, curious but guarded.
He smiled softly, his expression unreadable, and placed a firm yet gentle hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his touch was meant to reassure, but it only heightened my unease.
“There’s time enough for that,” he said, his tone calm and measured, the way one might address a skittish animal. “For now, reacquaint yourself with your old chambers. Rest, be comfortable. I shall visit you there soon.”
His words seemed to ease the tension in the room, but then he added, almost as an afterthought, “And meet your younger brother, Cole.”
The world seemed to tilt slightly, the air in the room growing thick and suffocating. What? The word echoed in my mind, loud and jarring. My gaze snapped to his, searching for some hint of jest, but his expression remained maddeningly calm.
My breath hitched as my thoughts spiralled. Had he already replaced me? Was my return merely a formality, a cruel jest to make my exile permanent?
My eyes widened despite myself, and though I tried to keep my composure, I felt a crack in the facade. The fan in my hand trembled slightly as I struggled to piece together what he had just said.
“A brother?” I echoed carefully, weighing the implications of his words.
“Yes,” he affirmed, a hint of eagerness in his tone. “He’s around your age, and I would love for you two to get along. It would please me to know you have someone besides me to lean on.”
I clenched my teeth at his naïveté. Someone to lean on, my ass. I recognized this for what it truly was—a way to tether me to one of his little spies, a watchful eye meant to monitor my every move and report back to him.
“Of course, brother,” I replied, forcing a smile as I bowed slightly. “I’d love to meet him.”
Meet him and kill him, I thought, the words simmering beneath my polite exterior.
