THE GIRL WHO WAS NEVER MEANT TO LOVE THE KING

# **THE GIRL WHO WAS NEVER MEANT TO LOVE THE KING**

*Genre: Fantasy Romance | Royal Drama | Mystery*

## **CHAPTER ONE**

# **The Letter from Aurelis**

The morning the royal messenger arrived, Elara Veyne was standing beneath an old apple tree, trying to convince herself that some things were better left forgotten.

The village of Briarwood was quiet at that hour. A thin veil of mist rested over the rooftops, and the first rays of sunlight slipped gently between the trees, painting the narrow streets in shades of gold. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster announced the beginning of another ordinary day.

It was a beautiful morning.

Perhaps that was why Elara disliked it.

Beautiful mornings had a cruel way of making the world appear innocent, even when it was not.

She held a small basket against her hip, her fingers brushing the green leaves of the herbs she had gathered. Her dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders, disturbed occasionally by the cool morning breeze.

At twenty-two, Elara had learned how to live quietly.

She knew which neighbours preferred silence and which ones enjoyed gossip. She knew how to stretch a little money across an entire week, how to mend a torn dress, and how to smile when someone asked about the family she had never known.

Most importantly, she had learned never to ask questions about the palace.

Not in front of Mara.

Especially not in front of Mara.

"You're going to ruin those herbs if you keep crushing them."

Elara looked up.

Mara stood at the cottage doorway, wiping her hands against a faded apron. Her silver-streaked hair was tied into a loose bun, and her expression carried the familiar mixture of affection and disapproval.

"I'm not crushing them," Elara replied.

"Then I suppose the leaves are falling apart out of fear."

Elara smiled.

Mara had raised her since she was a little girl. She was not Elara's mother, although she had never allowed Elara to feel the absence of one. She was the woman who had held her through nightmares, taught her to read, and stayed awake beside her whenever fever threatened to take her away.

There were many things Elara loved about Mara.

Her cooking was not one of them.

"Come inside," Mara said. "Breakfast is ready."

"Is it edible today?"

Mara gave her a look.

"One day, child, you will learn to appreciate a woman who has spent half her morning preparing food for you."

"One day, I might."

Mara shook her head, but Elara caught the small smile that followed.

For a moment, everything felt as it should.

Then the sound of approaching horses broke the morning's peace.

Elara turned towards the village road.

Two riders appeared through the mist.

Their horses were large, dark and beautifully groomed. The men wore polished silver armour over deep blue cloaks, and each carried a sword at his side. A golden emblem was embroidered across their chests.

A crown surrounded by seven stars.

Elara's smile disappeared.

She knew that symbol.

Everyone in Aveloria knew it.

The royal crest.

The riders slowed as they approached the cottage. One dismounted, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. He was a tall man with a neatly trimmed beard and a face that seemed trained never to reveal too much.

"Good morning," he greeted.

Mara had stepped outside.

Her expression changed the moment she saw the royal emblem.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

The man reached inside his cloak and produced a folded piece of parchment sealed with dark red wax.

"I am Captain Rowan of the Royal Guard. I have come under the authority of Her Majesty's household."

His gaze shifted towards Elara.

"Are you Elara Veyne?"

The basket slipped slightly in her hands.

She stared at him.

No one in Briarwood used her surname.

Not anymore.

"Who is asking?" she replied.

The captain did not appear offended.

"Someone who has travelled a considerable distance to find you."

"Then perhaps you should explain why."

He held out the parchment.

"By order of the royal household, you are required to present yourself at the Palace of Seven Towers in Aurelis."

Elara looked at the letter but did not take it.

"The palace?"

"Yes, my lady."

My lady.

The words sounded strange coming from his mouth.

"I believe you have mistaken me for someone else."

"I have not."

"I am a village girl. I have no business with the royal family."

Captain Rowan glanced briefly at Mara.

"Your identity has been confirmed."

Elara turned towards the older woman.

Mara had gone very still.

There was something in her eyes that Elara had never seen before. Not quite fear. Not quite surprise.

Recognition.

"Mara?"

The older woman said nothing.

Elara looked back at the captain.

"Why does the palace want me?"

"I have not been informed of the reason. I was instructed to deliver the summons and ensure that you arrive safely."

"Safely from what?"

The captain hesitated.

It was only a moment, but Elara noticed.

"That is not for me to say."

She let out a quiet, humourless laugh.

"How convenient."

"Elara," Mara whispered.

There was something in her voice that made Elara turn.

"Take the letter."

"Mara, I don't understand."

"Please."

Elara had heard many things from Mara over the years.

Warnings.

Advice.

Gentle reprimands.

But never that particular kind of pleading.

Slowly, she reached for the parchment.

The royal seal was cold beneath her fingertips.

For several seconds, she simply stared at it.

Then she broke the wax.

Inside was a single sheet of cream-coloured paper, its writing elegant and precise.

*To Miss Elara Veyne,*

*By the authority of the Royal Household of Aveloria, you are hereby summoned to the Palace of Seven Towers in Aurelis.*

*Your presence is requested without delay to discuss a matter concerning your family and the future of the kingdom.*

*You are to depart within three days of receiving this letter.*

*May the light guide your steps.*

*By order of Her Majesty's Household.*

Elara read the letter twice.

Then a third time.

A matter concerning your family.

Her family.

She had spent most of her life trying to understand what that meant.

When she was younger, she had asked Mara about her parents. The answers had always been brief and carefully chosen.

Her mother had been kind.

Her father had been a good man.

They were gone.

That was all.

As she grew older, the questions became more difficult to silence.

Why did Mara never keep photographs of them?

Why did she become uncomfortable whenever Elara mentioned the capital?

Why did the few people who remembered the name Veyne lower their voices whenever they spoke of it?

And why had Elara been taught never to travel towards Aurelis?

She slowly lowered the letter.

"What is this about?" she asked.

Mara looked away.

"Not here."

"Then where?"

"Inside."

"Mara—"

"Please, Elara."

The older woman's voice trembled.

That was enough to frighten her.

Captain Rowan stepped back towards his horse.

"I will return in three days. I trust you will be prepared."

Elara looked at him.

"Do I have a choice?"

His expression softened, although only slightly.

"Not one I have been authorised to offer."

He mounted his horse and signalled to the second guard.

Within moments, they were riding back along the road, their blue cloaks disappearing into the mist.

Elara remained where she was.

The royal letter felt impossibly heavy in her hands.

Behind her, Mara quietly closed the cottage door.

The kitchen had never felt so small.

Elara sat at the wooden table, the letter spread before her. A cup of tea rested untouched beside her elbow.

Mara stood near the fireplace, stirring a pot that had already begun to boil.

Neither woman had spoken for several minutes.

Finally, Elara broke the silence.

"You knew."

Mara stopped stirring.

"Knew what?"

"Don't do that."

The older woman turned slowly.

"Elara—"

"You knew they would come."

Mara placed the spoon down.

"I hoped they never would."

Elara's stomach tightened.

"What does that mean?"

Mara pulled out the chair opposite her and sat.

For the first time that morning, Elara noticed how tired she looked. The lines around her eyes seemed deeper, and her hands rested unsteadily on the table.

"Your parents," Mara began, "were not ordinary people."

Elara swallowed.

"You always said they were good people."

"They were."

"Then why have I spent my entire life knowing almost nothing about them?"

Mara looked down at her hands.

"Because knowing the truth would have placed you in danger."

The words settled between them.

Elara felt a strange coldness move through her chest.

"Danger from whom?"

Mara did not answer immediately.

Outside, the wind brushed against the cottage windows.

"From the same people who have just sent that letter."

Elara stared at her.

For years, she had imagined meeting her parents in dreams. Sometimes she saw a woman with warm hands and a gentle voice. Sometimes she heard a man's laughter, though she could never remember his face.

She had imagined that one day someone would explain why they had left her.

She had never imagined that the answer might be connected to the royal family.

"Who were they, Mara?"

Mara reached across the table and took her hand.

"Your mother was Lady Evelyne Veyne. Your father was Lord Alistair Veyne. They belonged to one of the oldest noble houses in Aveloria."

Elara's lips parted.

Noble.

The word seemed to belong to another world.

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Because House Veyne was destroyed."

Elara pulled her hand away.

"Destroyed?"

"Twenty-two years ago, your parents were accused of treason against the crown. They were arrested, tried and executed."

For a moment, Elara heard nothing.

Not the fire.

Not the wind.

Not even her own breathing.

Executed.

The word seemed too cruel to belong in the little kitchen where Mara had taught her to bake bread.

"My parents were traitors?"

"No."

The answer came too quickly.

Too firmly.

Elara looked up.

Mara's eyes were shining.

"They were not traitors, Elara. Whatever the royal court says, whatever history books claim, your parents did not betray their kingdom."

Elara struggled to speak.

"Then why were they killed?"

Mara closed her eyes.

"Because they knew something they were never supposed to discover."

"What?"

"I cannot tell you everything yet."

Elara rose from her chair.

"Yet?"

Mara looked at her.

"I know you have questions. I know you deserve answers. But there are things I have kept hidden because I wanted you to have a chance at a normal life."

"A normal life?" Elara repeated, her voice breaking. "You allowed me to grow up believing my parents were gone without ever telling me who they were."

"I was trying to protect you."

"From the truth?"

"From the people who buried it."

Silence returned.

Elara turned towards the window.

Beyond the glass, the village continued its ordinary morning. A woman carried a basket of laundry. A little boy chased a dog across the road. Somewhere, someone was laughing.

The world had not changed.

But hers had.

She had spent twenty-two years believing she was simply Elara, a girl from Briarwood with no inheritance, no title and no remarkable history.

Now the royal family wanted her.

The family that had taken her parents.

The family she had been taught never to trust.

"Why would they summon me now?" she whispered.

Mara stood.

"That is what frightens me."

Elara turned.

"What are you not telling me?"

Mara crossed the room and disappeared into her bedroom.

When she returned, she carried a small wooden box.

It was old, with darkened edges and a silver clasp. Elara had seen it before, years ago, tucked beneath Mara's bed. Whenever she asked about it, Mara had always found a reason to change the subject.

Now she placed it on the table.

"I promised your mother I would give this to you when the time came."

Elara stared at the box.

"What is inside?"

"Something she left for you."

Mara opened the clasp.

Inside lay a delicate silver pendant shaped like a seven-pointed star. Its surface was engraved with a symbol Elara had never seen before: seven small circles surrounding a single flame.

Beneath it was a folded piece of paper.

Elara reached for the pendant.

The moment her fingers touched the silver, a faint warmth travelled through her palm.

She drew back.

"What was that?"

Mara's face had gone pale.

"Nothing."

But Elara knew it was not nothing.

She picked up the folded paper and carefully opened it.

There were only three lines, written in a beautiful, familiar hand.

*To my dearest Elara,*

*If the crown ever comes looking for you, remember that blood is not always proof of loyalty, and a beautiful promise can hide a terrible lie.*

*Do not trust the first person who offers you a crown.*

Elara read the words again.

Then she looked at Mara.

"Who wrote this?"

Mara's voice was barely audible.

"Your mother."

A strange ache filled Elara's chest.

She pressed the paper against her heart.

For the first time in her life, her mother's words were no longer something she had to imagine.

They were real.

And they had been waiting for her.

That night, Elara could not sleep.

She lay beneath her thin blanket, staring at the wooden ceiling as the wind moved gently through the trees outside.

The pendant rested on the bedside table.

She had not been able to bring herself to put it away.

Her mind returned again and again to the royal letter.

A matter concerning your family and the future of the kingdom.

What did the royal family want from her?

And why now?

She turned onto her side.

Through the small window, she could see a few distant stars scattered across the dark sky.

Tomorrow, she would begin preparing for a journey she had never wanted to make.

In three days, she would leave Briarwood.

She would travel to Aurelis, enter the palace where her parents had once lived, and face the family responsible for their deaths.

She did not know what awaited her there.

She did not know that the man she would one day love was already part of the story that had destroyed her family.

And she certainly did not know that the royal summons was only the beginning of a much older promise.

Far away, beyond the forests and the winding roads, the Palace of Seven Towers stood beneath the moonlight.

In its highest chamber, a woman dressed in midnight blue stood before an open window.

A servant approached quietly.

"Your Majesty."

The woman did not turn.

"Has the girl received the letter?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. Captain Rowan confirmed delivery this morning."

"And her response?"

"She has agreed to come."

A faint smile touched the woman's lips.

"Good."

The servant hesitated.

"Shall I inform the prince?"

The woman's expression changed.

"No. Not yet."

She turned towards the enormous portrait hanging above the fireplace. It showed a noble family dressed in the fashion of another age.

A man.

A woman.

And a little girl with dark hair and warm brown eyes.

The woman in blue studied the child's face.

Then, very softly, she whispered:

"Welcome home, little Veyne."

**End of Chapter One.**