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

CHAPTER 3

VERENA

P ain pulsed through me like a living thing, clawing at the edges of my mind, tormenting me with its insistent presence and leaving no room for coherent thought. Even the rough stone floor beneath me seemed to conspire against me, its rutted edges digging into my bruised and battered body.

I tried to take a deep breath, but my ribs screamed in protest.

A dry, raspy cough tore from my throat, the sound echoing through the chamber, mocking my weakness. It had been days since they had given me water.

Days since Micah had visited my cell.

Days since I feared I had imagined my friend.

Every inhale was a struggle; each exhale tasted of iron.

He won’t break me.

I desperately repeated the words in my mind, clinging to them like my last thread of hope.

But even that thread was fraying.

Just like the edges of my father’s control.

I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against my knees, curling in on myself. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, twisting it into knots and making my vision blur.

I flinched as my father’s voice cut through the thick, hazy air.

“Still clinging to your defiance, I see.”

His heavy boots thudded against the floorboards, each step deliberate and precise. The room suddenly felt small, suffocating under his presence.

“I admire your resolve, Verena,” he sneered, his words dripping with disdain.

I refused to meet his gaze, knowing it would only fuel his anger. But I could feel his eyes boring into me, dissecting every ounce of weakness.

The air grew heavier as he loomed over me. I braced myself.

His fingers clamped around my chin, a cruel grip that forced my face upward.

Fractured shadows cast over his features.

“Do you know what I admire most about you, my dear daughter?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft. “It’s your unrelenting stubbornness.” His grip tightened, nails biting into my skin. “It’s almost…inspiring.”

Then, he shoved back, my head cracking against the wall. A sharp gasp tore from my lips as pain flared through my skull.

“But stubbornness without purpose is useless,” he continued, pacing like a predator. His voice turned cold, cruel. “You’re clinging to loyalty that will only lead to ruin. The hidden city?” He paused, waiting for me to look at him. “We’ve found it.”

My heart lurched in my chest, pounding with a sickening intensity. “You’re lying.”

He smirked. Slow. Calculated. He was enjoying this.

“Let me assure you, Verena. My army is thorough,” he said, mocking my fear. “Even that boy you were so desperate to protect couldn’t stop us.”

“No.” A chill rushed through my veins.

My father crouched, his eyes glittering with dark amusement.

“No?” He tilted his head, watching me. “Do you think I’m lying? Do you think they’re safe?”

My breath came in ragged gasps. He’s playing with you. He doesn’t know. He can’t know.

“Tell me, daughter,” he said, leaning closer, his voice almost tender. “What secrets are worth the lives of those you claim to care for?”

Dacre.

His face flashed in my mind, and I wasn’t sure if it was the doubt my father was trying to weave or my own desperation, but I could have sworn I could feel him through that invisible tether, a rush of his longing whispering through me.

“You don’t know where they are,” I whispered.

“Perhaps,” he said, straightening. “But are you willing to take that risk?”

The words sank into my skin like poison.

“Give me what I want, Verena.” His voice turned deathly quiet. “Reveal your magic. Tell me everything you know.”

The room tilted, the walls closing in as his threats wrapped around my throat like a snare. My breaths came faster, each one a shallow gasp as doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve.

“I won’t betray him.”

“You have no choice,” my father snarled, his hand wrapping around my throat.

I gasped, kicking, clawing, struggling.

“You’re already betraying them all.”

His fingers tightened, and my lungs burned, my vision spotted.

I clawed at his wrist, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Keep your secrets,” he sneered, “and they will die with you. Or embrace who you were always meant to be…” His grip squeezed, his breath hot against my ear. “And I will spare them.”

I writhed desperately. I reached for anything inside me, my magic, remnants of strength, but there was nothing.

“The rebellion they are fighting for is dead either way, Verena.”

My father’s low, menacing chuckle filled the room.

Then, as if I were nothing more than a discarded doll, he threw me to the ground.

Pain exploded across my ribs. My arms, still bound in chains, twisted beneath me, sending jolts of agony through my shoulders.

I choked on a sob, my body trembling as I curled in on myself.

“Don’t delude yourself into thinking you have any control here.” His boots scraped against the stone as he turned away. “The princess of Marmoris.” He tsked, but I didn’t turn around to look at him. “As pathetic as your mother.”

I bit down on my lip, tasting blood.

I wouldn’t break.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty.” There was a soft creak of the iron door before a guard stepped inside.

“What is it?” my father demanded, barely taking his eyes off me long enough to look at him.

“They have asked for you in the war room. It is urgent.”

I barely registered the words. I was still gasping for breath, still trembling.

Then the guard stepped into the light.

Micah.

The breath froze in my lungs.

He stood rigid, dressed in the crisp uniform of the King’s Guard, every crease and seam sharp and precise. The crest of my father’s rule was stitched into the breast of his jacket, gleaming like a brand against him.

It was wrong.

“The sight,” my father ordered, his voice impatient. “Bring her to see the heir at once. Time is of the essence.”

Micah nodded once. “We’ll fetch her immediately, Your Majesty.”

My father turned to leave, his eyes lingering on me before he disappeared out the door.

I didn’t breathe until his footsteps faded into silence. When I finally did, my lungs ached.

I looked back at Micah, searching for a trace of the friend I used to know, the boy I had once trusted. But all I could see was the crest on his chest. The weight of his betrayal.

“Why are you here?” My voice was hoarse, raw from screaming, from choking, from struggling.

Micah’s jaw tightened. He hesitated. Then, finally, he spoke. “I didn’t have a choice.”

The words were quiet, but heavy, like an anchor pulling him under.

“Your father…” He stopped. Looked away.

Something flickered behind his eyes, guilt, fear, regret.

Then he whispered something that sent ice through my veins.

“My sister.”

I had spent so many nights hearing him speak of her. The younger sister who had been ripped from his arms the night their parents had been killed. The only thing in the world he had ever wanted to protect.

“What did he do?” I barely recognized my own voice.

Micah shook his head and glanced back to the cell door.

My stomach churned, my heart slamming against my ribs.

“What do you want from me?”

Micah’s gaze flicked back to me before he did the last thing I expected. He dropped to his knees before me, his trembling hand moving over me but not touching.

“I want to help you.”

The words hung between us, fragile and uncertain.

I didn’t believe them.

Not when he kneeled before me in that uniform. Not when my father had made a weapon out of everyone he touched.

“Help me?” My voice was barely above a whisper. “How many of my father’s orders did you follow before deciding that?”

Micah flinched before pressing his lips into a thin line. “I never wanted this.”

My laugh was harsh, humorless. “And yet, here you are.”

Micah’s jaw locked. “You think this was a choice?”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t think that either of us would like my answer.

A long silence stretched between us. Then he sighed.

“I’ve been looking for you since the moment I heard you were arrested.”

I stilled.

“What?”

He ran a hand over his face, looking away. “I would never have let them take me alive if I hadn’t been looking…” He cut himself off, shaking his head.

Regret was carved into his features.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He looked at me then, his gaze flickering over my bruises, my chains. The damage.

“For what?” His voice was empty.

“For lying to you. For not telling you who I really was.” My voice was strained with guilt. The words felt like stones tumbling from my lips, each one heavier than the last. “You deserved the truth, Micah. About…everything.”

Micah’s gaze flickered back to the open door, as though expecting someone to burst in and drag him away. Then he looked back at me, and I saw it, the faint flicker of distrust in his eyes.

“I thought we were fighting for the same thing,” he said quietly. There was no malice in his tone, just a bone-deep weariness. “I thought I knew who you were.”

It was a simple statement, but it cut straight to my core.

“I couldn’t tell you.” My throat constricted at my confession. “I didn’t know who I could trust. I didn’t even trust myself.”

His shoulders stiffened, and I saw it, the weight he carried because of me.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he spat, his body seemed to be vibrating with tension. “None of it matters anymore.”

I flinched at the bitterness in his voice. “Micah…”

“No one’s coming for you, Verena.” His words were a cold blade, cutting through the haze of my hope. It was the first time he had ever called me by my real name. His eyes were like steel, piercing and unyielding as they met mine. “Not whoever you left behind. No one.”

His words twisted inside my chest.

“You don’t know him,” I managed to choke out, my voice trembling with the fear I couldn’t hide.”He’ll come for me.”

Micah’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes made my stomach churn.

“Maybe he will,” he murmured, “But will you still be here when he does?”

His hand lifted, fingers reaching toward my cheek. A touch I once trusted.

But my body reacted first.

I flinched back, pressing myself against the cold stone wall.

Micah froze then he stood, staring down at me for a long moment. Like he wanted to say something else. Like he was waiting.

But I couldn’t give him what he wanted.

Not forgiveness.

Not understanding.

Not when I was still choking on the betrayal.

He must have seen it in my face because his jaw tightened.

Then he turned away.

“I’ll be back,” he muttered over his shoulder, his voice hollow. “When I can.”

The door creaked. Micah gripped the handle, starting to pull it shut, and that same creeping panic began to set in.

I had once cared for Micah deeply, I had trusted him when I had no one left in this world to trust, and I used to allow myself to dream of a day when he and I could have escaped this kingdom together.

But we were back exactly where we started.

Trapped.

“You should run.”

The words escaped me before I could stop them.

Micah hesitated. His hand clenched around the iron bars. For a second, I thought he might listen, but when he looked back at me, something harder had settled behind his eyes.

“Running is no longer a choice.”

The door slammed shut.