CHAPTER 1: THE DAY THE PRINCESS DIED
The square smelled of blood long before the blade ever fell.
Princess Alera stood on the execution platform with her wrists bound in iron chains so cold they burned her skin. The morning sun hung high above the capital, it was bright and unforgiving, it cast her disgrace in full view of the crowd gathered below.
They had come early and they always did.
Some watched with morbid curiosity while the others watched with hatred. Some with triumph.
And some—those who once bowed when she passed now spat curses and rotten fruit at her feet, this wasn't surprising because this is how humans are afterall, they hail you today and ask that you be crucified tomorrow.
Alera did not flinch.
Her white gown which was once embroidered with royal sigils was torn and stained, the fabric clinging to her like a mockery of innocence. Long strands of her dark hair fell loose around her face,so tangled from days in the dungeon. Yet her spine remained straight and Her chin lifted.
If this was how she would die, she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her break, she refused to be an object of sympathy.
“Princess Alera of Solaria,” the herald announced loudly with his voice echoing across the square. “You have been found guilty of treason and conspiracy against the crown, and the attempted assassination of His Highness the Crown Prince.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd and Alera’s lips curved into a faint bitter smile.
Treason.
For loving the wrong man.
For trusting the wrong blood.
She turned her head slowly and her gaze seeking the elevated balcony across the square.
The Crown Prince stood there, draped in gold and crimson, the symbol of justice resting easily in his hands. Lucien Valemont. The man she had once planned to marry. The man who had sworn to protect her.
The man who had signed her death warrant without hesitation.
Their eyes met.
Lucien did not look away.
Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his lips parting as if he were about to say something. Perhaps an apology. Perhaps a final lie.
Alera looked past him.
Beside the prince stood her stepsister, Elira, dressed in mourning black, her eyes red-rimmed as though she had cried all night. One gloved hand pressed delicately against her chest, it was the picture of grief.
Alera almost laughed.
You should have tried harder, she thought coldly, You look too pleased and it's so obvious you're so happy this thing is happening
Elira’s gaze flickered downward, meeting Alera’s. For a heartbeat, the mask slipped.
There it was,victory and joy.
Alera’s fingers curled tightly around the chains.
Everything had begun with that smile. With whispered rumors and with poisoned words slipped into attentive ears. She had been careful, probably way too careful. She had never imagined betrayal would come from the two people she trusted most.
The herald raised his hand. “Do you have any final words before judgment is carried out?”
Silence fell.
Alera inhaled slowly, the air burning her lungs. She scanned the crowd once more and then she saw him.
He stood at the edge of the square, half-shadowed by the tall stonepillar . He was tall and broad chested. Dressed in black armor etched with silver runes.
Kairo Evernight, The Northern king
The man in history would later name the Blood King.
He had not been invited. Everyone knew that. And yet no one dared challenge his presence. Even now, his very existence bent the atmosphere around him, a silent threat wrapped in human form.
His dark hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone and shadow. But his eyes
His eyes were fixed on her.
Not with pity and not with cruelty but with something far worse.
Indifference.
Alera’s heart clenched painfully.
In her past life; this life she had refused his hand in marriage. She had laughed off the proposal, believing love alone could protect her. She had chosen Lucien. Chosen wrong.
Kairo had never returned after that day.
Until now.
Their gazes locked and for a fleeting second, something shifted in his eyes—something dangerous and almost curious. Then it vanished, replaced once more by cold detachment.
He then turned away
That shattered her more than the chains and more than the crowd’s hatred.
“So this is how it ends,” Alera whispered.
The executioner stepped forward, lifting the massive blade. The metal glinted in the sunlight, reflecting her pale face back at her.
She closed her eyes.
If there is a next life, she thought bitterly, I will never be this foolish again.
The blade descended.
Pain exploded and then it vanished, darkness swallowed everything.
Alera gasped.
She jolted upright, her scream tearing from her throat as she clawed at her neck, at her wrists, at her chest.
No chains and no blade.
Her fingers sank into soft linen sheets instead and her breath came in sharp, panicked gasps as she scanned her surroundings.
Sunlight streamed through tall, familiar windows. Pale blue curtains stirred gently in the morning breeze. The scent of lavender filled the air.
Her bedroom.
Her childhood bedroom.
“No…” she whispered hoarsely.
Her gaze fell to her hands.
Unscarred. Unchained and young
Her heart pounded violently as memories flooded her mind, crashing into her like waves. The dungeon. The betrayal. The blade. The crowd. Kairo’s eyes.
She was alive.
But that wasn’t the most terrifying part.
On the vanity across the room, a polished silver mirror reflected her image.
Alera stared at her own face—smooth, unlined and untouched by grief.
She looked seventeen and her breath caught.
“This is impossible…”
Her eyes darted to the calendar hanging beside the door.
Year 743 of the Solarian Era.
Ten years, it was ten years before her execution.
Ten years before everything fell apart.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Your Highness?” a maid called gently. “You overslept. The council meeting will begin shortly.”
The same words and the same regular mornings.
The very day everything had begun.
Alera’s blood ran cold.
This wasn’t a dream.
This was fate—rewound.
And this time…
She smiled slowly and dangerously.
“This time,” she murmured, her voice steadying with resolve, “I won’t die so easily.”
