His Forbidden Princess (Obsessed #3)

Chapter 1

one

. . .

Lirien

I pace my chambers like a caged animal, each step marking another second of my life ticking away behind these gilded walls. Twenty-three years old and I've never felt the rush of true freedom—just the hollow echo of my footsteps in rooms too large and too empty. My fingers trace the silk curtains framing windows that might as well be painted scenes, for all I'm allowed to engage with the world beyond them.

The crown sits heavy on my dressing table—not the actual crown, but its weight, its inevitability. Crown Princess Lirien Vellara, heir to a throne I never asked for, trapped in a life I never chose.

"Your Highness?" My lady's maid enters with a soft knock, her eyes downcast in practiced deference. "The council awaits your attendance."

"Tell them I'm ill." The lie slips easily from my tongue, practiced from years of small rebellions.

"Your father specifically requested?—"

"I said I'm ill." My voice hardens, and I immediately regret it. It's not her fault I'm suffocating. "Forgive me. Tell them I'll be there shortly."

She bows and retreats, leaving me alone with my reflection. My auburn hair has been tamed into an elaborate updo, emerald pins holding captive the strands that would rather run wild. My eyes—the same green as the pins—stare back at me, bright with a defiance I rarely voice aloud.

How many more hours must I spend listening to ancient men debate grain tariffs and marriage alliances while my youth withers away? How many more nights must I lie awake, imagining streets I've never walked, conversations I've never had, kisses I've never...

I press my fingers to my lips, banishing the thought. Princesses don't daydream about kisses from nameless, faceless men. They accept the husband chosen for them and bear heirs for the kingdom. The same tired story, generation after generation.

But not today. Today, I'll ask for something different.

I adjust my formal dress, smoothing the emerald silk that matches my eyes. If I'm to convince Father, I must look every inch the responsible heir.

The palace corridors stretch before me like the inside of a jeweled serpent—beautiful, cold, and winding. Guards stand at attention as I pass, their faces impassive. All except one.

Dain.

His eyes follow me from his post near the council chamber, a storm brewing in those blue depths. My personal shadow for years now, the man who saved my life when I was sixteen and has rarely spoken more than ten words to me since. Yet sometimes, when he thinks I'm not looking, I catch him watching me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

Like now.

I straighten my spine and lift my chin, refusing to acknowledge the heat that floods my cheeks under his gaze. He's nearly twice my age, worn by battles I can only imagine, scarred both visibly and invisibly. And he is forbidden—not just by the vast gulf of our stations, but by something deeper, something that makes the air between us crackle with unspoken tension.

I force myself to look away and continue toward Father's private study. This is not the time to dwell on my peculiar relationship with my silent protector.

Two guards flank the massive oak doors to Father's sanctuary. They bow and announce my arrival, then swing the doors open to reveal the King hunched over maps and correspondence, his crown discarded carelessly beside a half-eaten meal.

"Father." I curtsy out of habit, though we're alone.

"Lirien." He looks up, his face softening slightly. For all his strictness, I know he loves me. Which makes what I'm about to ask all the more difficult. "I expected you in council."

"I needed to speak with you privately." I approach his desk, forcing my hands to remain still at my sides rather than fidgeting with my dress. "I have a request."

His eyebrow rises. "Proceed."

I take a deep breath. "I wish to travel beyond the palace walls. To see our kingdom—not from a carriage window during ceremonial processions, but truly see it. The villages, the countryside. I want to understand the people I will one day rule."

Silence stretches between us. His fingers drum against the polished wood, a nervous habit he's never managed to break despite years of royal advisors urging him to appear more decisive.

"Absolutely not." His voice is firm, but not angry.

"Father, I'm twenty-three years old. How can I possibly be expected to lead a kingdom I've never truly experienced?"

"You've attended every council meeting, received the finest education from the most esteemed tutors in the land. You know our kingdom through maps and reports and histories—the only way a ruler needs to know it."

My carefully constructed composure begins to crack. "Books and maps don't show me how our people live. They don't let me hear their concerns firsthand or?—"

"They also don't expose you to dangers you're not prepared for." He rises now, his height still imposing despite the gray creeping into his beard. "Have you forgotten how close we came to losing you seven years ago? If not for Vorex's quick thinking..."

"So I'm to remain a prisoner because one man once thought to harm me?" The words burst out before I can temper them.

Father's expression darkens. "You are not a prisoner, Lirien. You are a princess. There is a difference, though in your current mood you seem determined to ignore it."

"What difference? I cannot leave these walls without an armed escort. I cannot speak to anyone without their words being dissected for potential threats. I cannot even—" I stop myself before mentioning the marriage negotiations I know are underway. That battle is for another day.

"Enough." His palm slams against the desk, making me flinch. "You were born to privilege and responsibility. The sooner you accept both, the happier you will be."

"Happy?" The word tastes bitter. "Is that what you think I am? Happy to be dressed up like a doll and paraded before foreign dignitaries? Happy to have my life plotted out from birth to death without a single choice of my own?"

"Choices?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You think the common folk you so romanticize have choices? The farmer's daughter who must marry to secure her family's land? The widow who takes in washing to feed her children? Do not confuse freedom with hardship, daughter."

"At least they know who they are." My voice drops to barely above a whisper. "At least they've felt the rain on their faces without guards holding umbrellas. At least they've chosen who to love."

Something in his expression shifts—a flash of pain, quickly masked. "This discussion is over. You will attend council as expected, and you will not bring up this foolishness again. Do I make myself clear?"

I should curtsy. I should agree. I should retreat gracefully and plot a more strategic approach. Instead, I feel hot tears pricking my eyes and turn away before he can see them.

"Crystal clear, Your Majesty."

The corridor blurs as I hurry back to my chambers, ignoring the concerned looks from servants and guards. Only when I reach my rooms do I allow myself to collapse into a chair, breathing hard, willing the tears not to fall.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror—cheeks flushed, eyes bright with unshed tears, hair coming loose from its pins. I look wild, untamed. I look like someone I don't recognize.

And suddenly, I know what I have to do.

If Father won't grant me permission to leave, I'll take it myself. Just for one night. One taste of freedom before I'm shackled forever to duty and expectation.

I cross to my wardrobe and push aside silks and velvets until I find what I'm looking for—simple clothes I bribed a kitchen maid to bring me months ago, thinking someday I might find the courage to use them. Plain brown trousers, a loose linen shirt, a hooded cloak. Clothes that would let me blend into a crowd, become invisible in a way I've never experienced.

My hands shake as I pull them out and lay them on my bed. This is madness. If I'm caught, the consequences would be severe. Father would never trust me again. Dain would be furious...

Dain. For a moment, I picture his face when he discovers I've slipped away—those intense blue eyes darkening with anger, perhaps even hurt. He takes his duty to protect me with deadly seriousness.

But isn't that part of the problem? Everyone sees me as something to protect, to preserve, to control. No one sees me as simply Lirien—a woman with desires and dreams of her own.

I stroke the rough fabric of the cloak, already imagining how it will feel against my skin. Tonight, after the palace sleeps, I'll find my way out through the passages I've memorized from old architectural plans in the library. Just a few hours of freedom, of anonymity. A few hours to breathe air not filtered through the expectations of a kingdom.

And who knows? Perhaps once I've had my taste of freedom, I'll return content to fulfill my duties. Perhaps I'll find the outside world less appealing than I've imagined.

But I doubt it.

I tuck the clothes back into hiding, a secret promise to myself. Tonight, Princess Lirien Vellara will disappear, and in her place, just a woman will walk the streets of the kingdom she is destined to rule.

For the first time all day, I smile.

The waiting is the hardest part.