ASHES of the BROKEN QUEEN

Selene’s POV I should have known the crown would cut me before it ever touched my head. The first sign was the silence. Not the peaceful kind. Not the kind that comes before a blessing. This was the kind that pressed against the walls of the throne room like a warning, thick and heavy, as if even the candles were afraid to flicker too loudly. I stood at the center of the hall, my hands folded tightly in front of me, trying to keep my breathing steady. The marble floor was cold beneath my feet, and the golden light from the chandeliers only made everything look more unreal. My mother sat on the queen’s dais, her expression unreadable. My father stood beside her, rigid as stone. And in front of them, with a sealed parchment in his hand, stood the royal advisor. “Repeat it,” my father said. His voice did not echo. It didn’t need to. It was sharp enough to split glass. The advisor swallowed. “By decree of the High Council and at the request of King Alaric Valehart, Princess Selene Valehart is to be formally bound in marriage to Prince Cassian Rowe of the Eastern Dominion.” The words hit me like a blade. For one heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe. Then I laughed. It came out wrong, broken and too loud for the stillness of the room. “No.” The advisor lowered his eyes. “Princess—” “No,” I said again, louder this time, my voice trembling now. “You cannot be serious.” My father’s jaw tightened. “Selene.” That single word—my name in his cold, controlled voice—made something inside me snap. I turned to face him fully. “You promised me I would choose.” His expression did not change. “You are the daughter of a kingdom, not a village girl with the freedom to chase feelings.” “And I am still a person,” I shot back. The queen’s fingers tightened slightly on the armrest, but she said nothing. Of course she said nothing. She never did when it mattered. My gaze moved from my father to my mother, searching her face for any sign of protest, any sign that she would rise and say this was wrong. That she would call this cruel, humiliating, insane. But she only looked at me with those calm, distant eyes, as if I were already a memory she was trying not to lose. That hurt more than my father’s words. The doors at the far end of the throne room opened. A new wave of cold air swept in. I turned. And there he was. Prince Cassian Rowe. Tall. Beautiful in the way a knife was beautiful—polished, dangerous, impossible to trust. His dark coat was tailored to perfection, his expression smooth and unreadable, his gray eyes fixed on me with a look that made my skin prickle. He did not smile. He did not bow low enough to feel respectful. He simply studied me, as if I were a puzzle he had already decided he could solve. My anger sharpened into something hotter. “You knew,” I said. His gaze didn’t move. “I was informed.” “By who?” He glanced briefly toward my father. That was enough. Betrayal is a strange thing. Sometimes it arrives with shouting and tears and broken things. Sometimes it arrives dressed in silk, standing perfectly still in front of you while everyone you love pretends it is not happening. My throat tightened. My father stepped forward. “This union secures the northern border, strengthens alliances, and prevents war.” “By handing me over?” I asked. “By doing what is necessary.” I stared at him. I had always known he was distant. Stern. Difficult. A king first and a father second, if second at all. But this— This was something worse. This was surrendering me like a treaty seal. I took a step back before I could stop myself. The movement was small, but it felt like my body had made the decision my pride would not allow. Cassian’s eyes followed the motion. Something in them flickered. Not pity. Not regret. Interest. That unsettled me more than anger. “Do not look at me like that,” I snapped. His brow lifted slightly. “Like what?” “As if I belong to you.” A faint pause. Then, in a voice so calm it only made me more furious, he said, “I have not decided anything about you yet, Princess.” The words should have comforted me. They did not. They sounded worse. My pulse hammered hard against my throat. “Then decide this: I will not marry you.” The room went still again. My father’s voice came down like iron. “You will obey your king.” “I am your daughter!” “And you will do as you are told.” The words struck deeper than any slap. For one terrible moment, I could not speak. I could only stare at him, at the man who had raised me behind palace walls, who had taught me how to hold a blade, how to ride through the forest, how to keep my chin up when nobles judged me, how to never show fear. It was a cruel joke. He had taught me to stand tall only so I could be broken standing up. A strange pressure built behind my eyes, but I refused to let the tears fall. I would not give them that. Not here. Not in front of him. Not in front of that prince with his infuriatingly calm face. I laughed again, quieter this time. “So that is it. That is who I am to you.” My mother finally spoke, her voice soft and wounded. “Selene, please—” “No.” I turned to her, and for the first time my anger was not sharpened by fear. It was just pain. Raw and hot and old. “You knew.” She lowered her gaze. That was answer enough. My chest felt hollowed out. My fingers curled into fists. I could feel every eye in the room on me, every whisper waiting to begin, every servant and noble and guard memorizing the humiliation of the princess who had been sold in daylight. And still, even then, the worst part was not the marriage. It was him. Prince Cassian. Because he had not looked shocked. He had looked prepared. As if this had been arranged long before I was ever told. My heart pounded once, violently. Then I did something foolish. I lifted my chin, stepped toward him, and smiled. His eyes narrowed a fraction. “If this is meant to be a warning,” I said, my voice steady only by force, “then listen carefully, Prince Rowe.” The silence deepened. I looked directly into those cold gray eyes and let each word fall like a promise. “I will not be broken. I will not be owned. And if you think this marriage will make me obedient, you are far more ignorant than you appear.” For the first time, his expression changed. Not much. Just enough. A flicker of something dark and unreadable crossed his face, and my body reacted before my mind could stop it. Heat. Annoying, traitorous heat. I hated that. Hated him for causing it. His voice, when it came, was low. “That was not a wise threat.” “It was not a threat.” “Then what was it?” I took one slow breath. “A warning.” A faint, dangerous curve touched his mouth. Not a smile. Never a smile. Something worse. Something that looked far too much like interest. The room had not changed, but suddenly I felt trapped in it, caught between my father’s betrayal and the prince’s steady stare. I could hear my own heartbeat. Feel the pulse in my wrists. Sense every ounce of my fury pressing against my ribs, demanding to be let out. And because I was angry, humiliated, and too proud to beg for mercy, I made the only decision available to me. I turned and walked out. The guards moved instinctively, but one look from my father stopped them. Good. Let them watch me leave. Let them remember I did not kneel quietly. I did not look back until I reached the corridor outside the throne room, where the sound of my own footsteps swallowed everything else. The silence here was different. Thinner. Easier to breathe in. But not easier to survive. My hands were shaking. I pressed them against the cold stone wall and shut my eyes. How could they do this to me? How could my own parents stand there and hand over my future like it was nothing more than a signed treaty? A bitter laugh escaped me, small and broken. “Princess?” I opened my eyes. A maid stood a few steps away, pale-faced and worried. She looked like she wanted to speak but feared doing so. I recognized her immediately. Mira’s cousin. One of the girls who had always been kind to me in passing. “Leave me,” I said. She hesitated, then bowed and hurried away. I was alone. At least, I thought I was. Then I felt it. That strange sensation of being watched. My spine straightened. Slowly, I turned. At the far end of the corridor, half in shadow, stood Prince Cassian. He had followed me. Of course he had. My pulse jumped. “What do you want?” I demanded. He rested one shoulder against the stone archway, looking annoyingly calm for a man who had just watched the destruction of my life. “To make sure you do not do something reckless.” I stared at him. “You mean normal.” Something in his gaze darkened. “Selene,” he said, and the way he said my name made it sound dangerous, intimate, almost forbidden. I hated the way my breath caught. “I do not know what game this is,” I said, forcing steel into my voice, “but I want no part of it.” “There are games being played around you whether you want them or not.” “And you are involved.” His silence was answer enough. My fingers curled harder against the wall. “Why should I trust you?” For the first time since I had seen him, the prince looked almost honest. “Because,” he said, “if what I suspect is true, then your marriage is not the beginning of your punishment.” A chill moved through me. I searched his face, but his expression had gone unreadable again. “What are you talking about?” He pushed away from the wall and stepped closer. Not enough to touch me. Enough to make me aware of how tall he was, how still, how controlled. “If you want answers,” he said softly, “stop looking at this as a wedding.” My breath stopped. “Then what is it?” His gray eyes held mine. “A trap.” The word dropped between us like a stone into dark water. And deep inside me, beneath the shock, beneath the fury, beneath the humiliation, something new began to stir. Fear. Not of him. Of what he might be right about.