"I was raised to be a queen. But I was sold to be a concubine." Lois Frazer was born a member of House Valtara and grew up believing the throne was her birthright. But on the day of her coronation, Steve Reynolds, a former childhood friend and avowed protector, turns brother with a bloodless coup. Instead of killing her, Steve holds Lois in the palace - but not as a queen. He demotes her status by calling her a concubine, a trophy to be bent to his will and make his claim. But Steve's perverse kind of devotion conceals a deeper, ambivalent hunger - he doesn't just want her throne; he wants her. Unwilling to give up, Lois engineers her own resurrection to power, forging flimsy alliances and using even her captor's affections against him. In a kingdom swirling with political turmoil, forbidden desires and shifting loyalties, will Lois win back the crown - or will she ruin herself and the man who betrayed her?
Chapter 1 The Weight of a Crown
Pale gold washed the high spires of Valtara at dawn, and slivers of light danced through the arched windows flanking my chamber. I stood before an immense mirror as my heart thumped in my chest, wondering if I really looked like a monarch primed for a coronation. My reflection was of a young woman with sleep-deprived eyes and dark hair grazing her shoulders. Richly woven tapestries portraying regal ancestors surrounded me on all sides, their woven gazes confident in a way I wished I could be.
My coronation robe hung over the back of a carved chair, crimson velvet glittering in golden thread. Its grandeur felt like a rebuke to the twinge of doubt bubbling inside me. Rumours flitted through the halls, each warning that a hidden power could overturn the ceremony. I tried to quell the disquiet, telling myself I was bred for this moment, raised for it from a young age." But a part of my mind would not be reassured.
I walked to the window, peering down into the courtyard. Beams of sunlight streaked through rows of attention-spearmen. The cool morning air was filled with the fragrance of blossoms from the royal gardens. This should have been a victorious morning, but my chest felt tight. There was a creeping dread that told me a victory might ring hollow if enemies already conspired against me.
My mother used to promise me that the throne would require both poise and resilience, caution and courage. Those lessons I had embraced faithfully. Now, I wondered whether anyone who professed to love me might have covert malevolence. The thought clenched my fingers into fists as I took a soothing breath.
A soft knock roused me from my reverie. My long-time companion and confidante, Wren Nightshade, pushed the door open. Her smooth brow knitted, her lips pursed. Dressed in a plain midnight blue gown, she moved with the purposeful grace of one who had negotiated life in a palace from a young age.
She paused, studying my face. "Lois, there is talk you need to hear."
That one sentence gave me chills all the way down my back. "Tell me."
Her voice trembled. "Servants whisper of a threat. A high-born lord, or perhaps closer. Word is they intend to sabotage your crowning."
My pulse kicked in alarm. "Someone influential?"
Wren nodded, eyes sombre. "No one's going to name names, but the whispers are getting louder. They're terrified."
My thoughts swirled, and silence hung between us. I'd half braced for such news, but hearing it spoken confirmed my worst fears. If there was any truth to the rumours, it all came down to my ability to hold firm under fire.
Wren stepped forward, her eyes fixed on me, serious and unflinching. "We need to act carefully."
My heart thudded. Suddenly, the morning light seemed very bright, as if there were threats only inches out of sight.
A steady rhythm of footfalls followed behind me as I stepped into the corridor with Wren right at my side. We walked marble corridors flanked by heraldries on colourful flags and woven murals, artefacts of Valtara's proud heritage. But an unsettling silence enveloped the palace, so every footfall echoed louder than it should have.
Miscellaneous servants scurried by, carrying bouquets, trays or scrolls listing final details for the coronation. Their furtive glances suggested repressed dread. I observed that nobody had the courage to talk to me civilly. Maybe they were afraid of being seen with the soon-to-be queen if dark rumours turned out to be accurate.
Wren's voice sliced through my thoughts. Lois, do you feel how thick the air is?
I swallowed and tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. "Yes. "There's this sense of anxiety as if everyone's kind of holding their breath waiting for something to go wrong."
She nodded grimly. "Silence can be scarier than public revolt. "If they're plotting, they're doing it quietly, in corners no one would dare shine a light on."
I glanced at the tapestries, which depicted past rulers victorious in battle, in feasts, in diplomacy. I had learned of their accomplishments, dreaming I could replicate their feats. Now, I had another chore: to reveal the true face of an enemy yet unknown.
We descended a few steps down to the grand foyer, where an elaborately carved balcony overlooked the main hall. Sunbeams filtered through stained-glass windows, scattering rainbow shades on the polished floor. Servants below scurried back and forth, tightening floral arrangements or directing minor lords arriving in advance of the ceremony.
Wren leaned closer. "Do you see how none of the lords does not pester you. They're normally flocking around, praising your lineage, begging for some sort of favour."
She was right. Rather than jostling to be near me, they appeared to steer clear of my straight line, peeking at me with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Even the sentries in front of each archway seemed uncomfortable as if caught between standing by tradition and obeying new orders given too quietly to be publicly defended.
My skin had crawled with the feeling of unseen watchers. Then, I heard a gaunt, muffled sound through a pillar. I held my breath, straining to hear the words. Wren stiffened, her hand gliding over the hilt of her dagger.
A rasping voice floated over the marble. "She won't rule for long."
My blood iced. I turned around and looked around. Wren dashed for a heavy curtain, pulling it back. The alcove behind it was empty, with nothing but grey stone walls and dust. Whoever made that threat had vanished, leaving a terrible certainty in their place: someone meant to do me harm, and they were bold enough to think they could whisper it here, in my space.
Wren's stare turned fierce. "We have to be on guard."
I nodded, jaw clenched, pulse erratic. There was danger, and it had a voice I couldn't yet name.
And by late afternoon, it was the weight of those whispered threats that was eating away at my composure. I couldn't take looking at so many anxious faces any longer, so I ladled myself off the main corridors and found a quiet corner to collect my thoughts. The maze of backlogged thoroughfares called patchworks of flickering torchlight creates treacherous shapes upon the stones.
Finally, I came to a halt outside an unremarkable door, ajar. A dim light spilt into the hallway, along with low, urgent voices. My heart raced, curiosity and dread fighting each other in my gut. Was I running into the very conspirators who sought to upend my coronation?
Silently, I inched closer. I pressed the palm of my hand against the cool surface and peered through the gap. Two figures loomed around a small table, lit only by the flicker of a single torch. My breath hitched as I realized it was Steve Reynolds's lean form - a man I'd once trusted blindly. Across from him, Captain Kellan Thorn towered with that calm, cool confidence he always wore when prepping the troops. The profiles were tight, their words staccato.
Steve's voice emerged first. "We cannot allow her to take the throne. It'll bring ruin."
My nails bit into my palm. He spoke about me. Anger and grief rolled around inside, but I made myself not burst in. I needed to know the depth of this betrayal.
Kellan exhaled heavily. "We must proceed carefully. If the wrong people start to think we're the same, it all collapses."
My eyes blurred in disbelief. Kellan was held in high esteem for discipline and honesty. Now he conspired against me? Even the citadel's walls seemed to cave in, threatening to bury me in betrayal.
"We give her stop her now," Steve went on, voice taut, "or we watch Valtara collapse under her incompetence."
Pain lanced my chest. Had he always had such a deep lack of faith in me, or was he driven by some manipulative agenda? My head was spinning, remembering some of the times we'd exchanged great ideas for the kingdom's future. That trust had been a sham, or perhaps a chance for him to collect leverage.
Kellan tapped his fingers on the table. "It has to be done quietly. If word spreads-"
He froze midsentence. Torch darted over his grim face as he looked sharply in the direction of the door. Panic tightened me, my heart banging like a war drum. If they discovered me eavesdropping, I might not only fail in my coronation - I could find myself imprisoned, or worse."
I stepped back so I wouldn't rustle my gown. The turbulence of rage and betrayal roiled beneath my skin. Then I turned, boots scratching lightly on the stone. I turned and fled down the dim passage as quietly as I could, ears ringing with their treacherous vows. In the back of my mind, their rigid stances burning in, a grim portent of what the morning might bring.
Other books by Ruby Meskill
More