A Crown She Never Asked For

Chapter 1 – Rowan

ROWAN

“Are you afraid?”

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

I don’t answer, knowing my brother already sees through the lie, choosing to look out over the high tops of the forest trees instead, past the mountains to our east, to the iridescent crimson glow just beyond.

The dancing golden-red light of the morning sunrise, so similar to the glowing embers of a fire just before it dies.

Or awakens.

“I should ask you that,” I say finally. My eyes stay trained on the horizon; I’m well aware of the tension growing beside me.

“I’m not the one being sold off to Skye.”

Sold.

Not married.

I keep my gaze fixed on the sunrise, watching the first light bleed across the sky as resignation settles heavy in my chest. Absent-mindedly, I smooth a hand over my skirt, tracing the wrinkled rose embroidery after a night spent on the castle balcony beneath the stars.

I need to change before my morning lessons with Alita.

I am not in the mood to be reprimanded by the governess today. My head is pounding with the beat of my heart, and my stomach is questionable at best.

It’s an odd feeling: going from precious princess to prized broodmare within the span of a day.

I finally turn my head to look at my brother, dropping my gaze just as soon as our eyes meet—unable to handle the level of concern I see in his. I scan the cut high on his cheek. It’s swollen, evidence of a bruise forming, the cut red and angry. Like the sky.

“You should put some ice on that.”

“Rowan,” Riven growls, calling out my deflection.

“Riven,” I match. “I can’t believe you’re going to risk a scar on that pretty face of yours,” I tease lightly, attempting to shift the mood.

“I took a backhand because I objected to my sister being traded away like a piece of livestock,” he mutters, looking away. “Let it scar.”

Fury simmers beneath his skin, the sunrise breaking something for him too. I eye my brother, taking him in. He looks… tired. Dark circles rim his usually bright green eyes, though I’m sure they’re no better than mine.

Last night, after the news broke, we got drunk.

Snuck down to the castle wine cellar, stole a few choice bottles before drinking our way through various plots and plans, laughing while we schemed up an array of ways we could escape our fates.

The proposed plans only grew more and more outlandish by the hour.

It wasn’t until Riven proposed running off to Daekhar, the broken and wild kingdom to the south of Sitara, that I realized we were being delusional.

There is no escaping our fates. They were sealed at birth.

An heir, a spare, and a daughter to sell.

“I’m afraid for you,” I admit. Sure, I’m about to be married off to some prince I don’t know, sent to a kingdom I’ve never been to, in exchange for military aid, but Sitara is on the verge of war with Miselys.

As if that weren't enough, Riven is riding west to join Fel to deal with yet another conflict along the Kovaria-Sitara border.

“I’ll be fine,” my brother dismisses. “But to send you off—on your own—to Skye...” He clenches his fists, fury rising once again. “I hate him for this.”

I sigh. Our father. I want to hate him, too, but it’s hard to feel hate for someone you rarely ever see.

Lucky for me, Riven seems to carry enough fury for the both of us.

I wish I were angrier. I should be. Instead, a gray fog of indifference settles over me, thick enough to swallow both light and shadow.

Two weeks.

My gaze drifts over the marble-white stone of Rosecliff Castle.

Warm golden light illuminates the palace walls, dark rose vines twist around its spires and curling archways.

For a fleeting moment, I’m grateful for the early morning quiet, looking out over the impeccably manicured gardens sprawling across the grounds, listening to the soft chirps of the birds welcoming a new day.

It’s all I’ve ever known.

Home.

A home I’ll likely never see again.

Kane Belmore, Crown Prince of Skye—the Iron Kingdom. He's as beautiful as he is dangerous, with black hair, strikingly pale blue eyes, and a jawline as sharp as the iron-gray cliffs of his homeland.

I’ve met him.

Once.

A few years ago, my father held a ball in Aurielle, Sitara's capital. It was little more than a marketplace disguised as a celebration. With my hand clasped in his, I was paraded through Starlight Castle and presented to what felt like every eligible bachelor the continent had to offer.

Kane was there. Sure, he was handsome, though arrogant. Typical fae male if you ask me. Not much else stood out against his ruthless reputation. Cold and hard, like the Iron Army at his command.

And if the rumors are true, he would be king soon. Gossip about his father’s condition has had the Rose Court in a tizzy for weeks.

The King of Skye is dying. A ridiculous notion I’d initially dismissed as idle court gossip meant to stir fear and speculation.

Fae rulers didn’t die—not of illness or old age, anyway.

They could be killed, of course; no fae is invincible, but accidents were exceedingly rare. And yet, the whispers have persisted.

Reports claim King Silas no longer appears in public. Too weak, the rumors claim. Impossible. Or… it should be. The tethering had long since blessed the fae crowns with great power, and with it, incredibly long lifespans.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking. Skye is barely an ally.

Hells, last sun cycle, we were keeping a vigilant watch on that border.

” Riven runs a hand through his dark hair, mussing it up even more than it already was.

“Even with this new treaty, I still don’t trust them not to invade—and I especially don’t trust them with my sister. ”

I chew my bottom lip, staying quiet. He’s not wrong, but I refuse to go down that road. My newfound apathy is good for something at least. Fearing what’s to come won’t change any of it. My fate is my fate; there’s no escaping it.

It’s not like this is unexpected. I am a princess. An arranged marriage was inevitable, anticipated even, something my father began planning the day I was born. I just hadn’t expected the day would come so soon, and with so little notice or courting.

“You could still run.” Riven drops his voice, leaning in closer. “There’s always Daekhar…”

My stomach knots at the mention. “The untethered kingdom?” I hiss, my gaze pulling south.

Rosecliff sits on the very edge of the Sitara-Daekhar border, where the sunlit rolling hills and grassy meadows of the Sun Kingdom give way to the thick, dark forests of Daekhar.

“The kingdom of the lightless?” I scoff, wrinkling my nose in disapproval.

“I’d sooner walk into the Miselyian Sea than set foot inside that cursed kingdom.

They welcomed demons with open arms, and the gods punished them for it. ”

A harsh screech cuts through the early morning quiet, drawing my attention up.

Overhead, a massive black bird sits, perched atop a nearby turret. And the way it’s sitting there—so unnaturally still—it could easily be mistaken for a roof ornament meant to scare off the pigeons if I didn’t know better.

Riven’s talking, but his voice trails off on the wind. I’m unable to look away from the dark bird.

A crow… I think? Maybe? The creature’s feathers are as black as coal, absorbing the light of the rising sun, rather than reflecting it.

I tilt my head, studying it. Gods, that thing is enormous.

As if objecting to my attention, the creature releases yet another ear-splitting screech, forcing me to wince.

The bird finally stirs, ruffling and stretching its fine array of feathers, showing off an impressive wingspan before taking to the air.

I track it, and a sharp pang of jealousy rips through me as I watch it fly away, until it disappears into the thick forest below.

“Rowan,” Riven snaps. “Are you even listening?”

“No,” I reply with a sigh, only feeling a little guilty for ignoring him.

“But I’m not running to Daekhar,” I say, turning to face him.

“I’m not running at all. The treaty has been signed.

I will marry Kane. Our union will solidify the still fragile truce between Sitara and Skye.

” My jaw tightens as I recite the line my father fed me.

“It will strengthen the alliance, and protect our kingdom and our people.” I release a settling breath.

“Going through with it—” I swallow, “—is the right thing to do.”

The right thing, maybe, but the words feel wrong coming out of my mouth, and I let them hang between us. My brother’s answering frown says enough.

Rosecliff may be far removed from Sitara’s politics and chaos, but even here, practically banished to the kingdom’s outskirts, we feel it.

The wind has shifted. More news arrives every day with talk about another Kovarian raid, skirmishes on the borders, violence from Daekhar—a lawless kingdom—spilling over.

And the Miselyian Kingdom to our east? Don’t even get me started.

With enemies all around us, I don’t have to like it, but my duty as the Sitari princess is to Sitara—and its people. After we wed, Kane will provide warriors, weapons, food, and aid for the ravaged border villages that we so desperately need.

I grip the balcony railing a little tighter, staring out at the sun—the orange light of dawn fading away to bright golden rays before Riven sighs, the tension in his shoulders ebbing away as he makes a decision.

“Wanna go shoot?” Gold flashes in my twin’s eyes right before his lips curve up in an all-too-familiar mischievous grin.

And despite myself—and my mood—I feel the hint of a smile pull at the corner of my own. “You know that question only ever has one answer.”

His answering grin is infectious, and I turn to check the height of the sun. “We have to be quick—and take the servants’ passages to avoid Alita.”

He nods, already halfway to the door. “Give me a minute. I’ll grab the bows and the quivers. We can take the passage from my room—maybe steal a muffin from the kitchen on the way out.” He winks and I laugh, already feeling lighter as I watch him disappear.

Stealth is necessary. With the sun fully risen, Alita is sure to be awake, likely taking her morning tea. And my governess would certainly not approve nor allow such unprincesslike activities. Gods forbid a princess learn to defend herself.

“That’s what princes are for…”

I can’t help but roll my eyes just thinking about it.

Light-blessed, that is what princes are for, and my two princely brothers made sure to train me well.

I sigh. Despite the grim future hanging over my head, it is a beautiful day.

I rest my arms lightly on the railing, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my skin, releasing a slow breath, centering myself.

The breeze carries the scent of roses from the gardens below—sweet, familiar; something in it settles me, my body finally relaxing.

I let my gaze drift past the gardens and the castle walls, to the tree line and further, to where the light doesn’t touch. Shadows dance and twist within the dark forest; the sight of it has me leaning closer.

Shadows, yes—but something about them seems… unnatural. I watch more intently, my heartbeat slowing to a crawl when they shift—all on their own. Darkness grows between the trees, spreading wide, even though the leaves above haven’t shifted, the wind still.

My arms slip from the railing and I take a step back, panic seizing my chest, instincts already screaming.

The darkness continues to spread between the trees, swallowing light; the shadows bend between the trees in ways they shouldn’t. As if—as if they were alive.

“No,” I whisper, taking more steps back before turning sharply and running for the door. I reach it in seconds, hauling it open, glancing back over my shoulders to find—

Nothing.

I freeze, breathing hard, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, looking out at the forest, at the light sprinkled through. That impossibly dark void gone.

My eyes dart back and forth, scanning the entire length of the forest, but there’s no trace of the fast-spreading shadow storm I thought I saw.

I grip the doorframe, feeling light-headed while questioning reality.

Light.

For a moment there— I shake my head, releasing a shaky breath. I need sleep, because even with the sun shining high above, my daydreams are no longer safe from the dark.