The cursed throne

Chapter one: A Bride in Chains

The golden chains around my wrists felt heavier than they should have, their weight pressing into my skin like a silent accusation. A symbol of duty, they said. A reminder of my worth, I thought. Not as a princess. Not as a leader. But as a sacrifice.

I stood tall in the grand hall of Valtoria, my back straight, my chin high, as though I hadn’t been betrayed by the very people who once swore to serve me. The air was thick with whispers, their voices mingling like poison, none daring to speak loud enough for me to hear. But I didn’t need to hear. I could feel it. Their fear, their cowardice, their relief that it was me being sent to Prince Kael’s cursed kingdom and not them.

The doors groaned open, and the hall fell silent. The envoys from Isolde entered, their black armor gleaming, their expressions carved from stone. I studied them as they approached, cataloging their every detail—the dark sigil of their prince emblazoned on their chests, the careful way they moved, like predators circling prey.

“A pretty bride,” one of them murmured, his gaze sweeping over me. I forced myself not to flinch, though my blood simmered with anger.

Another leaned closer, his voice a low hiss meant only for me. “Pray you survive the wedding night.”

I met his gaze and smiled coldly. “I’ll pray for your safety instead. You look like you’ll need it.”

The man stiffened, but he said nothing more.

As they bound the chains to the carriage outside, I glanced at the courtiers surrounding me, their faces a blur of complacency and guilt. My eyes finally landed on my mother. She stood at the palace steps, her once-vibrant frame reduced to frailty, her face pale and lined with regret. She didn’t speak, but her eyes met mine, brimming with an apology she would never voice.

I looked away. Her silence was as damning as the council’s treachery.

The carriage door swung open, and I climbed in without hesitation. If this was to be my fate, I would meet it head-on. There was no room for fear now. Only resolve.

The journey to Isolde was long and silent, the air growing colder with every passing mile. Outside the windows, the lush green of Valtoria gave way to barren trees and jagged cliffs, the sky darkening as if the sun itself dared not follow me into Kael’s domain.

Kael. The cursed prince. The stories about him were endless, whispered in the shadows of court and campfires alike. They said his touch was death, that no one who’d laid hands on him had ever lived to tell the tale. They said his kingdom thrived on dark magic, a realm of shadows and secrets.

I didn’t believe in curses. I didn’t believe in monsters. But I did believe in power. And Kael had enough of it to bring my kingdom to its knees.

The carriage shuddered to a halt. My breath hitched as I stepped out onto the frozen ground, my gaze lifting to the castle before me. Its jagged spires pierced the stormy sky, the walls dark and unyielding, as though carved from the shadows themselves.

The gates creaked open, revealing him.

Kael.

He stood at the top of the steps, tall and imposing, his black cloak billowing in the wind. His dark hair fell in untamed waves around a face carved from sharp angles, his black eyes gleaming with something unreadable. He looked at me as though he already owned me, and perhaps, in a way, he did.

“Welcome to Isolde, Princess,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a hint of mocking. “I trust you’ll find it… unforgettable.”

I met his gaze without flinching, my jaw tightening. “I trust you’ll find I’m not easily impressed.”

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “We’ll see.”