Page 1 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

R ose gazed out the carriage window at a terrain as old and ancient as the dawn of the first sun.

The land had been forged eons ago by the elements of fire, sand, and sea, maintained and preserved by a powerful family who once rode dragons like horses, coexisting amid a flourishing wealth of magic and creatures long since forgotten.

Little proof of the remnants of that world remained, and Rose wasn’t sure if that was the truth.

How could anyone be so sure of history, so often biased to the schemes and ambitions of men.

But it was what the archives and books claimed—books that worshiped the sun.

The very sun that now streamed upon her olive skin through pure crystal glass.

“Rosalie Versalles,” her mother scolded across the carriage. “Please sit up. I don’t want your dress soiled before we arrive.” Leaning forward with a huff, her mother adjusted Rose’s floor-length skirt to prevent it from grazing the speck of dirt on the carriage floor.

Rose straightened her back and shoulders, tearing her gaze from the window, unaware of her lack of posture. “Sorry, Mum.” She fiddled with her fingers. “It’s just hard to believe we’re finally back… It’s like a dream.”

Her mother’s mouth lifted into a plotting smile. “If we play our cards right, it may be our permanent home.”

Home.

She peered back through the window, past the dirt road to the distant trees that stood centuries before human feet hit the soil—woods she’d played in as a child every summer since she was eight.

She’d always known her mother’s aspirations for her life emphasized more of a material value than sentimental.

Though her mother meant well, Rose wasn’t blind.

She was aware she’d plotted this arrangement since she was born, brought to the castle every summer to gain the favor of Henrik and, more importantly, one of his sons.

Her mother leaned back into her seat. “I do wish you’d take time for Xavier. You two used to be so close.”

Xavier. That was a name she hadn’t heard since…

She focused on familiar distant trees, her face void of emotion as she said, “I believe Xavier is fully content with himself for company these days.”

Without warning, the carriage swayed, forcing them to brace themselves. The driver, bless his soul, earned a good scolding from her mother. She would’ve preferred arriving on horseback if her mother had allowed it.

Fat chance of that.

A brief silence settled between them as her mother observed her before continuing as if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted. “Perhaps you’re still more keen for Tristan?”

Rose’s cheeks warmed, her eyes snapping to her mother.

Her mother gave her a knowing look. “We must be careful of our steps, Rose. Everything we’ve striven for comes to fruition tonight. This year, you’ll need to either take a husband or find one elsewhere, Tristan or not.”

Rose withheld a glare. She knew what was at stake.

She could fall off her horse, hit her head, suffer a major concussion, and it would still be the first thing she thought of when she woke.

Charged to bear the weight of her father’s transgressions, she must put rumors to rest, and regain their family’s good name.

She opted to stay silent, shadows running across her face. She’d need every personal reserve of energy she had for tonight. She’d learned long ago to choose her battles with her mother; this was not one of them.

“Ah! Finally, there it is! A year later, and this carriage ride still gives me a migraine,” her mother added with a mumbled complaint.

Rose scooted to the window, ignoring her mother’s scoldings. Her gaze lifted past the hills, over the outer wall, and landed on the towering structure rooted on the largest mound.

The enormous seaside castle had not gotten any less grand in their absence.

Its fortified walls and bridges were made up of thousands upon thousands of splendid hand-carved stones.

The high peaks held Cathan’s gold and red banners that waved proudly in the breeze, surrounded by acres and acres of gorgeous, well-manicured grounds.

The distant gardens were packed to the brim, bursting with color.

To the west, the grounds sloped down gradually to meet the pearl granules framing the Meridian Sea.

Nothing but a sapphire horizon lay beyond.

Rose raised her fingers to the warm window with reverence, her breath fogging the glass. The butterflies in her stomach multiplied as several imaginary scenarios surfaced, threatening to drag her into a hole that might not even exist.

Her anxious thoughts didn’t have the chance to escalate as the carriage approached the outer wall, its lofty solid-iron gates built as the castle’s first line of defense.

“His Majesty’s friend, Lady Evelyn, and her daughter, Lady Rosalie,” their driver announced from the coach to the guards above.

It took but a moment for the gate to unlock.

A great many clicks followed as the door creaked open before their carriage continued down the dirt path to the front courtyard.

The overflowing flower beds were scattered about, their green leaves and hedges all neatly trimmed and aligned—thriving, no doubt, from the queen’s attention.

Just ahead, familiar doors of iron waited for them.

“Keep your head held high. I want you on your best behavior tonight,” her mother reminded her.

As if she’d do anything else. She was half tempted to scream as soon as they got out of the carriage, just to see her mother’s horrified face.

She nearly smiled at the thought.

The carriage reached its destination as the door swung open. “My lady,” a servant greeted, holding out a hand to her mother.

Her mother acknowledged him with a curt nod, graciously taking his hand as she stepped out of the carriage, warm rays gleaming on her dirty-blonde hair.

She followed her mother’s steps out of the carriage.

The heat from the sun was a welcome blanket of warmth, but the cool coastal breeze swept in to claim it, leaving behind goose bumps on her arms. The weather was cooler here than in her home in Canteran, but soon, the full peak of summer would be upon them.

It wasn’t a moment too soon when the head butler, Hugh, approached. “Ah! If it isn’t two of the most beautiful women in Cathan.” He bowed before his superiors.

Her mother glowed, brushing her hair back as she lifted her chin higher. “Oh, come now, Hugh, you spoil us!”

“We welcome you back to the castle, my ladies.” Hugh caught sight of Rose. “My word, this cannot be our little Rose.” His awed gaze flitted to her mother, then back to Rose. “You’ve grown even more in beauty and poise.”

She gifted him a humble smile at the praise. “Thank you, Hugh. Your compliments are always appreciated.”

His crinkled smile widened. “Please.” He stepped aside, gesturing to the door. “You must be tired. Would you like to rest before you see His Highness?”

Her mother shook her head at once. “No. I dare say we’ve had enough of that in the carriage. We’d like to greet him first, if he’s available.”

Hugh bowed again. “Of course. I’ll send your things to your rooms—goodness, is this all you brought? You usually have another carriage just for your wardrobe.”

Rose glanced at the carriage. “Things” meant the mere two bags they’d brought—one for her mother, one for her. She cringed, shooting a nervous look at her mother.

Her mother didn’t miss a beat, letting out a light laugh.

“Oh, I restricted ourselves this go around. I like to travel light these days. Less likely for us to be targeted on the road.” Her mother lied like a trained politician.

Rose, on the other hand, had inherited no such trait.

A shame. It could be most helpful in times like this.

“Please have them unpacked for us by the time we come up; thank you, Hugh.”

Her mother led the way up the steps through the open iron doors into the front hall.

A wave of warmth greeted them from the fireplace crackling in the quiet foyer, relaxing her stiff frame; a year had changed nothing regarding the décor.

The same tapestries and fine paintings lined the walls, though Cathan’s flag was the main focal point.

It hung front and center from the tall ceiling, crimson red in color, aside from Cathan’s golden sun symbol in the middle, which presently reflected the light streaming in from the window.

It seemed fitting somehow, like a good omen for the future.

They continued in silence down the main corridor. Although the trek seemed like an eternity, it took mere minutes. Her body temperature rose alongside her heartbeat as they neared what she knew to be the king’s hall.

Another smaller set of double doors appeared. They stopped, waiting for an invitation inside.

Her mother made the final adjustments to her appearance. “Blast that wind.” She smoothed down Rose’s thick brown hair that had barely moved, half braided on the crown of her head, while the other half lay curled past her shoulder blades. “Don’t be nervous. Just be your charming self—and smile.”

Rose nodded, not trusting herself to speak for fear she might be sick. In her short twenty-four years of living, she’d never been so shaky.

The doors opened and they stepped through to the massive room. Pacing her steps, she walked atop a long, rectangular red rug sewn with Cathan’s golden sun, matching the flag they’d just passed. Monstrous pillars lined the room leading to the throne, holding up the high ceiling.