Lila slipped through the open window, her breath hitching as the cool night air wrapped around her like an omen. The scent of damp earth and distant rain clung to the wind, but she barely noticed. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out every other sound. The moment her feet hit the ground, a sharp jolt ran up her legs, but she had no time to care.She gathered the heavy skirts of her wedding gown, the delicate lace catching on the rough stone as she stumbled forward. The cumbersome fabric clung to her, dragging against her every move, but she refused to let it slow her down. She ran.Each step was a fight—her satin-clad feet slipping against the uneven cobblestone, her heeled shoes threatening to twist her ankles with every hurried stride. The sharp clack of her heels against the ground echoed in the quiet courtyard, far too loud in the silence of the night. She winced but didn't stop.Every second counted.If she hesitated, even for a moment, they would find her.She didn’t want

"Where was she?"Marylin’s voice was cold, sharp as a blade slicing through the tension in the air. Her grip tightened around the powder puff, her knuckles paling with the force of her anger. Her eyes—steely and unforgiving—cut through the gathered attendants, daring one of them to speak.One of the maids, a trembling young woman with wide, fearful eyes, stepped forward. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her apron as if trying to steady herself."She went to the military barracks, My Lady."For a moment, silence.Then, Marylin’s head snapped toward the maid, her face twisting in barely contained fury."What did you just say?" she hissed, her voice dangerously low.The air in the room grew thick, suffocating. No one dared to breathe too loudly. The maid visibly shrank under Marylin’s glare, but there was no escaping now."L-Lady Lila ran to the barracks…" she stammered. "She sought out Calen Storm."Marylin’s breath hitched. Her nostrils flared, her perfectly painted lips pres

The grand hall was still alight with the warm glow of chandeliers as Evan Drake escorted his bride through the towering doors of their new home. The evening air carried the remnants of laughter and murmured conversations, the noble guests still lingering outside, their eyes ever watchful.Evan smiled—effortlessly, charmingly—acknowledging the well-wishers with a graceful nod. His grip on Lila’s waist was firm, possessive, as if silently reminding everyone that she belonged to him now. The perfect groom, exuding confidence and control, even as the whispers from earlier still hung in the air."What a long wait that was…""Did she hesitate?""Perhaps she was reconsidering?"Evan didn’t let it show. He responded to each remark with his usual ease, exchanging pleasantries, shaking hands, even laughing lightly at a jest thrown his way. To the world, he was unfazed, a man triumphant in securing a valuable union. But Lila, standing rigid at his side, knew better. She felt the tension in his h

The tavern was warm, a stark contrast to the crisp evening air outside. The scent of roasted meat and stale ale hung in the air, mingling with the low murmur of conversation from scattered patrons. Lanterns flickered overhead, casting shifting shadows against the wooden walls. Calen sat with his back straight, posture casual yet alert, his fingers lightly curled around the ceramic cup before him.The voices from the next table were low, but not secretive—merely travelers exchanging news and rumors over their meal."Ardenfell is insatiable," one of them muttered, his voice carrying a note of resentment. "King Ryan Ashford has already swallowed up smaller nations, and now they say he has his eyes on Vynoria."Calen kept his expression neutral, though his pulse quickened."Queen Elara Wynn won’t stand for it," another man responded. "She’s no fool, and neither are her people. Anyone from Ardenfell is under heavy scrutiny now. The Queen is ruthless, and so are her advisors. Beautiful as a

The sun had begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue over Rivermoore’s bustling market. The streets were alive with the chatter of merchants peddling their wares, the clinking of coins exchanging hands, and the occasional burst of laughter from a satisfied customer. Vibrant banners fluttered in the warm breeze, their silken fabrics rippling like waves, mirroring the energy of the city itself. Amidst the chaos, Calen and Garrick worked their stall with practiced ease, blending seamlessly into the lively marketplace.Their stall, laden with exquisite Ardenfell textiles, quickly drew the attention of passing nobles and wealthy merchants. Bolts of deep sapphire and emerald cloth caught the light, shimmering under the sun’s glow. The intricate embroidery, painstakingly woven with golden thread, depicted scenes of legendary battles and ancient tales. Calen, with his keen eye for business, handled transactions smoothly—his fingers expertly weighing silver coins, his voice steady as he ha