The Princess Secret Mate

Princess Isabella gazed out of the grand window of the royal palace, her hands resting lightly on the cold marble sill. The view was breathtaking-the lush, rolling hills of the kingdom stretched for miles, dotted with villages and sparkling rivers that flowed like veins through the land. Yet, despite the beauty of the landscape, a heavy sense of responsibility hung over her like a dark cloud.

Her father, King Reginald, had ruled with unwavering resolve for over two decades, but even the strongest monarchs eventually yielded to the complexities of politics. And now, it was Isabella's turn to play the role assigned to her by the tides of fate. Her marriage, the most important event of her life, was not to be based on love, but on duty-the duty to her kingdom, to her family, and to the future of both realms.

She sighed and turned from the window, the cool breeze still lingering in her mind. It was a habit of hers, to escape to this high tower when the weight of the royal crown became unbearable. But today, that escape was not enough. Today, everything seemed harder.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Your Highness," came the voice of her maid, Clara. "The royal dressmaker is here for your final fitting."

Isabella's shoulders tensed, the dread she had been trying to suppress rising once again. It had been weeks since the announcement of her engagement to Prince Caspian of the neighboring kingdom, and yet, the reality of it had still not sunk in. Her marriage to Caspian was a political alliance, nothing more. There was no romance, no flutter of excitement in her heart when she thought of him.

It had been arranged by her father to ensure peace between their kingdoms-a strategic decision that would bring prosperity and stability to both nations. Isabella's happiness was not a factor in the equation.

"Tell her to wait," Isabella murmured, her voice cold and distant.

Clara hesitated, sensing the tension in the air. "Your Highness, the fitting must be completed. The royal wedding is in less than a month."

Isabella's grip on the window sill tightened. The wedding. The thought of it made her stomach churn. Not because she disliked Prince Caspian-on the contrary, he was handsome and charming in his own way-but because she did not love him. How could she? Her heart had been given to freedom, to the idea of a life beyond the constraints of a royal title. A life where she could make her own decisions, choose her own path, and live for herself.

But none of that mattered now. Duty, family, and the kingdom came first.

"Fine," Isabella relented, her voice tinged with defeat. "Tell her I will be there in a moment."

Clara bowed and left, and Isabella's thoughts drifted back to her future husband. She had never met Prince Caspian in person, but they had exchanged letters, written through their advisors. From what she had gathered, he was the perfect match on paper-intelligent, respectful, and well-mannered. He was also the heir to a powerful kingdom, and the marriage would strengthen the alliance between their two realms.

But there was no passion between them. No spark of excitement. Isabella felt nothing but duty when she thought of him. And it was this hollow feeling that had begun to take root in her heart ever since the engagement was announced.

Her kingdom, Seraphia, was one of the most prosperous in the land. The people loved their royal family, and her father had long been a beloved monarch. But Isabella knew that peace and prosperity did not come easily. They were maintained through careful negotiations, alliances, and, most importantly, through the sacrifice of those who held power. She had learned this from a young age-her mother, Queen Margarethe, had always emphasized the importance of duty over personal desire.