A taste of the throne

A Taste of the Throne The King Who Craved More Chapter One — The Arrow That Chose Her The first time she lost her life, it was because of a king. She just didn’t know it yet. Her smile was radiant as the award was placed into her hands. Applause filled the hall, loud and proud, echoing against polished walls. Years of hard work as a chef had led to this moment. Recognition. Respect. Victory. She bowed slightly, fingers tightening around the plaque. This was supposed to be the beginning of her future. By morning, it would no longer belong to her. When the ceremony ended, she wiped her hands on her apron out of habit and returned to her station. The scent of herbs and flame still clung to her skin. Everything felt normal. Safe. She excused herself quietly and slipped into the bathroom, heart still racing from excitement. Inside her bag lay an old book her father had insisted she take home. “I found it in storage,” he had said. “It feels important.” Important was not the word she would have chosen. The cover was worn, ancient, its surface etched with strange symbols she couldn’t understand. Curiosity pulled at her. She told herself she would only glance at it. She opened the first page. The air shifted. A strange pressure wrapped around her chest. The lights flickered. The symbols on the page seemed to move. Her vision blurred. Darkness swallowed her whole. ⸻ Cold wind struck her face. When she opened her eyes, she was no longer standing on tiled floors. She was trapped in a tree. Her fingers clutched rough bark. The ground below was terrifyingly far. Endless forest stretched around her in every direction. Her breath quickened. “This isn’t real,” she whispered. The sound of hooves shattered the silence. A man burst into the clearing below, riding with commanding ease. He wore dark hunting armor, a bow drawn tightly in his grip. Even from above, she could feel it— Authority. Power. Danger. He pursued a deer with ruthless focus. The string of his bow pulled back. Released. An arrow cut through the air. She barely had time to react before searing pain tore through her shoulder. Her scream echoed through the forest. Her grip slipped. She fell. The impact knocked the air from her lungs as she hit the ground. Leaves scattered around her. Pain throbbed through her body. The rider dismounted immediately. His boots crushed fallen branches as he approached. When he saw her clearly, he stopped. Shock flickered in his eyes. Then suspicion replaced it. “A witch,” he said coldly. “I’m not!” she gasped, clutching her bleeding shoulder. “You shot me!” Her clothing was foreign—modern fabric, strange stitching, nothing like what he had ever seen. To him, she did not belong. His gaze sharpened. “You appear from nowhere. You dress like no woman in my kingdom. And you expect me to believe you are human?” Kingdom? Before she could process the word, he raised his bow again. Fear flooded her veins. She scrambled to her feet and ran. Arrows sliced past her, one grazing her sleeve. She pushed through branches and thorns until the forest suddenly ended— A cliff. She skidded to a stop at the edge, chest heaving. There was nowhere left to go. He approached slowly this time. Controlled. Terrifying. “Please,” she whispered. “I don’t belong here.” “That much is obvious,” he replied. He aimed again. Desperation made her lunge forward, grabbing his arm. They struggled near the edge, boots slipping against loose stone. Then— Another arrow flew from the shadows. It struck him in the chest. His body jerked from the impact. An assassin. Before she could react, the force of his falling weight dragged her with him. The ground vanished beneath their feet. Cold water swallowed them whole. ⸻ Darkness. Silence. When she surfaced, coughing violently, she dragged herself onto wet stone. A few feet away, he lay unmoving, blood staining the river around him. For a moment, she considered leaving him. He had tried to kill her. But he had also taken an arrow meant to assassinate him. She tore fabric from her clothes and pressed it against his wound. Her hands shook as she worked to slow the bleeding. “Don’t die,” she muttered. “I didn’t even get answers.” His eyes snapped open. Sharp. Furious. Alive. He tried to sit up but groaned instead, noticing the fabric binding him in place. “What have you done?” he demanded. “Saved your life,” she shot back. “Untie me immediately.” “Not happening.” His jaw tightened. Even injured, his presence was overwhelming. “You will regret this insolence.” She laughed weakly. “You tried to kill me.” “I am the king.” The words were not shouted. They were stated. Certain. Unquestionable. She stared at him. Then she laughed again. “Of course you are.” His eyes darkened. “I rule this land. And when my guards find me, you will answer for binding your king.” For the first time since she arrived in this nightmare, doubt crept into her chest. What if he wasn’t lying? The forest remained silent around them. No guards. No rescue. Just the two of them. And the sound of distant movement in the trees. Not friendly movement. She looked at him. He looked back at her. Enemies. Strangers. Trapped in the same unknown danger. And somewhere beyond the forest— Someone had just tried to kill the king. ⸻