Crowned by betrayal

Chapter 7

Months passed, yet the halls of Whitecliff Castle remained draped in quiet mourning. Though the kingdom had resumed its rhythm, grief lingered like a ghost in every corridor, every silent chamber, and every portrait that still bore Queen Serena's gentle smile. She had given her life bringing the twin princes into the world, and no celebration could ever truly fill the emptiness she left behind.

It was during those sorrowful months that Isolde and Adrian Vance arrived at Whitecliff Castle.

They had been Queen Serena's closest friends, bound to her by years of unwavering loyalty and affection. Fate, however, had intertwined their families in an unexpected way. Only a few weeks after Serena's death, Isolde gave birth to a daughter—Celeste.

The Vances brought the infant to the castle, believing Whitecliff would always be her second home. None of them could have imagined the extraordinary bond that would blossom between the children.

From the very first day Baby Rowan and Baby Celeste were laid in neighboring cradles, they refused to be apart. If one began to cry, the other would wail just as fiercely until they were reunited. Yet the instant they were placed side by side, their tiny tears ceased, replaced by soft giggles and peaceful smiles that left even the palace servants whispering that the Moon Goddess herself must have blessed them.

Weeks became months, and months became years.

King Alaric loved both of his sons beyond measure. Marcus and Rowan shared everything—the same tutors, the same swordmasters, the same lessons in history, diplomacy, and leadership. Every triumph belonged to both of them, and every punishment was endured together.

Yet it was outside their lessons that the twins' bond truly flourished.

They were inseparable.

When Marcus climbed the tallest oak in the palace gardens, Rowan climbed beside him. When Rowan stumbled during sword practice, Marcus was always the first to help him back to his feet. They shared secrets beneath blankets long after bedtime, stole honey cakes from the royal kitchens, and covered for one another whenever mischief earned them the disapproval of their tutors.

If one prince was scolded, the other accepted the punishment without complaint.

If one was injured, the other refused to leave his side until he recovered.

Neither brother ever imagined a future without the other.

The castle often echoed with laughter as the twins raced through its corridors, wooden swords clashing while Celeste chased after them, insisting she belonged on whichever side Rowan happened to choose. To the servants, they seemed less like three noble children and more like three pieces of the same soul.

Watching them, King Alaric often believed Serena would have been proud.

But crowns did not care for love.

Nor did they honor brotherhood.

One autumn afternoon, when Rowan was barely ten years old, curiosity drew him into the throne room while King Alaric presided over matters of the kingdom. Before he had taken more than a few steps inside, the royal guards gently stopped him.

"My prince," one guard said with a respectful bow, "the throne room is no place for children while the future of the kingdom is being decided."

That evening, Rowan sought out his father.

"Father," he asked softly, "why couldn't I stay? One day I want to be king. I want to rule Whitecliff."

King Alaric smiled sadly before kneeling before his son.

"You will become a remarkable Alpha, Rowan. One the kingdom will always depend upon. But Marcus entered this world before you did. By bloodright, the crown belongs to him."

The words shattered something invisible inside the young prince.

That night, Rowan lay awake long after Marcus had fallen asleep in the bed beside his own. He stared into the darkness, hearing his father's words repeat endlessly in his mind.

The crown belongs to Marcus.

For the first time in his life, Rowan looked at his brother and saw not simply the boy who had shared every joy, every tear, and every dream with him...

...but the one person standing between him and everything he suddenly desired.

From that day onward, the brothers still laughed together.

They still sparred side by side.

Marcus still threw an arm around Rowan's shoulders without hesitation, believing nothing had changed.

And Rowan smiled back.

But the warmth behind those smiles had begun to fade.

Marcus never noticed the envy quietly taking root behind his brother's eyes.

No one did.

Not even Celeste.

Beneath Rowan's unwavering affection, ambition had planted its first seed, small, silent, and almost impossible to see.

Yet, like all poisonous things, it needed only time to grow.

If the crown will never be given to me...

Then I will take it.

And when that day came, there was only one person he believed worthy enough to sit beside him.