Page 1 of The Rivaled Crown (The Veiled Kingdom #3)

CHAPTER 1

VERENA

A sharp, biting cold enveloped my body, stealing away every last bit of warmth. I shivered, my skin pressing against damp stone, my muscles stiff from the unforgiving surface beneath me. Every inch of the dimly lit room felt coated in a bitter chill, seeping into my bones until they ached. Even the chains that bound my wrists seemed to hold on to the cold, leeching the heat from my skin until my fingers had gone numb.

I blinked slowly, willing my eyes to focus. The space felt both vast and suffocating, its shadows looming and shifting with the faint beam of daylight that seeped through a small, barred window high above. The musty stench of iron and wet stone clung to my tongue, thick and stale.

I shifted slightly and the rattle of my chains sent a sharp clang reverberating through the silence. A lance of pain shot up my arms, the rough bindings digging into my raw skin. My shoulders screamed from the constant strain of being bound for what felt like an eternity, though it could have been only hours or even days.

A shudder ran down my spine as I struggled to push myself upright, my back scraping against the rough stone wall. Every part of me rebelled, stiff with pain, but I gritted my teeth and willed myself to keep going. Even the pain was better than the paralyzing sense of powerlessness that threatened to consume me.

The iron door loomed ahead, its surface streaked with rust as if it had been guarding secrets for centuries. The room remained eerily stagnant, the only movement coming from flickers of dust drifting through the taunting sliver of sunlight. I tilted my head, my gaze locking onto the narrow window. Even if I could stand, even if my legs would hold me, it was impossibly high. Another prison within a prison.

Despair threatened to settle in, curling around me like a vise.

“You’re wasting my time, Verena.” My father’s voice echoed in my memory. “Show me your power or you’ll wish for death.”

His voice was always a weapon, sharper than any blade, cutting through my defenses with ease. He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. The calm in his voice as he tore me down was more terrifying than his rage.

He wanted me to break.

A thick blanket of silence smothered the air, pressing against my ears, allowing my thoughts to spiral, faster and louder, until they tangled into an oppressive snare.

“You are worthless.”

“A powerless heir.”

Doubt slithered in like a whispering snake, its venomous words seeping into my mind and poisoning my resolve.

I closed my eyes and reached for something, someone, anything to ground me.

Dacre.

His face came to me easily, as though my mind had carved every detail into my memory. His dark, unruly hair, the sharp angles of his jaw, the quiet, simmering intensity in his eyes. The way he looked at me, like he saw every part of me, the pieces I hid from the world.

I imagined his touch, rough but careful, the way his calloused fingers would trail down my spine, soothing and firm. I could almost hear his voice, deep and steady,grounding me in a way nothing else could. My pulse kicked up, warmth trying to push past the ice that had settled in my chest.

He would come for me.

He had to.

But doubt was like a shadow, hauntingly clinging to my every thought and refusing to let me find solace in the words I desperately held onto.

I forced away the memory of himon the docks, his hands outstretched, his face twisted in rage and desperation. The sound of my name torn from his lips, raw and broken, as the guards dragged me away from the ship that was meant for the two of us.

An agonizing ache swelled in my chest, thick and unbearable.

Where had they taken him? What cruel fate awaited him at the hands of those sailors? What had my father paid them in exchange for the betrayal? What reward would he offer for them to ensure I never saw Dacre again.

My mind raced with frantic images, each one more terrifying than the last, but I knew that wherever he was, he was far safer than if he had been here with me.

My father ruled through fear and fire. I had seen what happened to those who defied him.

And Dacre had done far worse than defy him.

He had helped me escape. I had been his enemy. I represented the thing he hated most. I was a threat to everything he stood for.

And still, he had chosen me.

Even after the betrayal, after learning my true identity, after every reason I had given him to turn away, he had protected me.

He had given me the most dangerous weapon of all.

Hope.

It flickered inside me, fragile and desperate. A single ember in the darkness.

My throat constricted. Panic clawed at the edges of my mind, but I clung to that ember like a drowning girl clung to driftwood.

Dacre would come, I told myself over and over again, the words becoming a desperate mantra as fear pulsed through me.

My thoughts were a raging battlefield, my mind and heart being pulled in opposite directions until I was on the brink of breaking apart. Clinging to the hope that he would come for me, I also whispered pleas to the gods that he would stay away.

For if he dared come for me, my father would never allow him to escape with his life. He would wield Dacre as a tool, subjecting him to relentless torment while I was forced to watch. And it would break me, bending my will until I gave in completely, molding me into the very thing he desperately wanted me to become.

A sudden sound shattered the silence.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Purposeful.

Coming closer.

My heart pounded so hard I could feel it slamming against my ribs, as if trying to break out of its cage. Every muscle in my body tensed as I forced my spine straight, squaring my shoulders despite the sharp tug of my bindings.

The iron door let out a haunting groan, its rusted hinges screaming as it swung open.

Two figures entered.

Tall, hooded, their faces hidden in the shadows cast by the dim light.

My father followed them, his presence smothering the room like smoke and draining the air from my lungs.

One of the hooded figures stepped forward. “Is this her?”

The voice was smooth. Female. Calculating.

She crouched, drawing back her hood.

She was beautiful. Strikingly so. White hair framed her sharp cheekbones, her features precise, as if sculpted from marble.

But it was the scar running jagged along her jaw that caught my attention.

Old. Healed poorly. A wound that had once been deep.

Her eyes were milky white and flicked from the right to the left as if she weren’t seeing me at all.

She was a sight .

I quickly shifted my gaze, taking in the other hooded figure, the one enveloped entirely in a cloak of deep black with my father’s crest intricately embroidered on their chest in gleaming thread. They stood, unmoving, but I could sense their eyes fixed on me.

My father moved closer to the woman, his hand resting on the hilt of a dagger. “Yes. She’s resistant. A flaw she inherited from her mother.”

The woman’s gaze flickered toward my father before settling back on me, but I glared at him, anger flaring in my chest.

“Interesting,” she purred, and I looked back at her just in time to watch her gaze scan over every part of me. “She seems to have quite a bit more fight in her than you alluded.”

She reached out, and I jerked back on instinct.

Her fingers brushed my skin, and a sharp jolt of magic surged through me, cold and invasive, prying into my mind like talons digging into flesh.

My back bowed involuntarily, a gasp escaping before I could stop it.

“She’s shielding herself,” she murmured, almost impressed. “Strongly, too.”

“Try harder,” my father snapped.

The woman pressed her fingertips against my temple, her brow furrowing in concentration. I gritted my teeth, summoning every ounce of strength I had left.

Dacre’s voice whispered through my mind. His touch. His promises. His presence. I clung to the memories, wrapped myself in them like armor.

A moment later, the woman swore under her breath and withdrew her hand, rubbing at her forehead. “This shielding is strong. I can’t break through it.”

Sweat beaded on her forehead as I stared into her eyes.

My father’s jaw clenched. “Leave us.”

The woman hesitated as she stood. “Your methods aren’t working. You’re weakening her body, but her power…”

“How much power can the girl have?” My father began rolling up his sleeves, and the tiniest whimper slipped past my lips. “She’s been powerless most of her life, and she will remain powerless when I’m through with her.”

The woman stood and retreated with the other who had accompanied her, but she hesitated near the door. “Allow me time with her, Your Majesty. I don’t know what she was before, but she’s not powerless now. I can’t use my sight if you…”

“We do not have time for your gentleness,” my father growled. His hand shot out, tangling in the back of my hair, yanking my head back so hard a strangled cry tore from my throat. My arms strained against the chains that bound me, pulling at my joints with a relentless pressure.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my skin. “You think you’ve won some small victory,” he murmured, his tone deceptively soft, deadly. “But you haven’t. You’re weak, Verena. Just like your mother.”

My heart raced as I stared into my father’s cold eyes, searching for any hint of the man I once believed him to be. But all that remained was a cold, calculating ruler consumed by greed and bitterness.

“My mother wasn’t weak,” I managed to say through gritted teeth, my voice trembling with anger.

His sneer deepened, twisting his features. “She couldn’t handle the demands of being queen, nor could she provide me a suitable heir for our kingdom.”

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. “And the new queen?” I forced the words past the lump in my throat. “Was it the demands of being your wife that killed her as well?”

His hand cracked across my face before I saw it coming. The force sent me reeling, my vision blurring, and the metallic taste of blood flooding my mouth.

“You insolent fool,” he seethed. The words dripped from his lips like venom, curling around me with suffocating intent. “It will be my demands that will seal your fate as well if you don’t give me what I want.”

He stepped back, exhaling sharply. His fingers traced the sharp edges of his jaw, a calculated movement, as though restraining himself from further violence.

“I don’t know how to give you what you want,” I lied, my voice breaking despite my best efforts. We both knew the truth. He could taste it in the air between us, thick with unspoken defiance.

His eyes darkened, a storm gathering inside them just before his fist collided with my temple.

Pain exploded behind my eyes. The hit sent me crashing to the cold stone floor, my bound wrists twisting painfully beneath me. The impact sent shock waves through my already bruised body, agony sparking every nerve.

Through the ringing in my ears, I could barely make out the voice of the woman who still stood at the back of my cell. “Your Majesty…” Her voice trembled, a hint of fear and concern laced within her words.

My father barely spared her a glance, his dark eyes locked on to me as he circled around me, his footsteps echoing menacingly in the confined space. “What?”

“I won’t be able to detect her magic if she’s barely alive.”

His shadow loomed over me, stretching long and ominous in the dim candlelight.

“You have two days.” His hand trembled as he wiped his hand over his mouth, leaving a trail of crimson on his skin. Whether it was his own blood from his split knuckles or mine, I couldn’t tell.

“But for now, you leave her,” he continued, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and disappointment.

His gaze dropped to where I lay, a broken thing at his feet. I prayed he wouldn’t see the silent tears slipping down my cheeks.

“My heir would rather die with her mouth full of those rebels’ secrets than kneel to the king who has spent his life shielding her from the cruelties of this world.” He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as though shaking off the weight of what I’d done. “She needs time to reflect on her choices and the consequences that come with them.”

He turned away, his boots clicking against the stone.

A heavy slam echoed through the chamber as the door sealed shut.

I lay motionless, breath shallow, waiting for the ache in my ribs to dull. The pain was a living thing, clawing at my insides, demanding surrender.

I squeezed my eyes shut, lips moving in a silent prayer to the gods I had long abandoned.

The chamber swallowed time, its silence stretching, suffocating.

Darkness crept in, its icy fingers wrapping around my ribs. Each breath came slower, more labored.

Then, a whisper of movement.

A shift in the air.

My eyes snapped open.

The door stood slightly ajar, the flickering torchlight casting strange shadows against the wall.

I tensed. Someone was here.

My fingers curled into fists. “Who’s there?” My voice came out hoarse, fractured.

No answer.

I scanned the corners of the room, my pulse hammering against my chest.

“Show yourself,” I demanded, though my body was too weak to do anything if they meant me harm.

Another flicker of movement.

A shadow detached itself from the darkness.

I stiffened, instinct screaming at me to retreat, but there was nowhere to go.

Then, a familiar voice.

The figure that was still cloaked in all black moved toward me slowly, their cloak concealing their form and features.

“You look worse than I expected.”

The hood fell back, revealing a face I had thought I’d never see again.

Warm brown eyes met mine, gentle and filled with something I couldn’t name.

A sob clawed up my throat, thick and unbearable.

“What are you doing here?” I pleaded, raw with disbelief.

“I’m here for you, Nyra,” he murmured the only name he had ever known me by.

Micah.