The forbidden wife: Bow to your Queen

The narrow stone tower stood far from the glimmering halls of the Solaris Citadel, hidden like a shameful secret. It was here that Princess Avalyn Eryss Lumora lived, her days blending into nights in a cycle of silence and loneliness. Avalyn was beautiful, with raven-black hair that flowed down her back like silk and eyes the color of storm clouds—an unnatural silver-gray that had always set her apart. Her beauty, however, was not enough to win her father’s favor. To King Eldric Lumora, the ruthless ruler of Lumora, beauty was meaningless without strength. Her pale skin was a canvas for the life she lived: a life of hunger, frailty, and confinement. Though she carried herself with a quiet dignity, her body betrayed her. She was too thin, her ribs pressing against the fabric of her gown, and her hands trembled from exhaustion. Her beauty was a curse, a constant reminder of what she could have been—a strong, proud princess fit to stand at her father’s side. Instead, she was a prisoner, locked away and forgotten. The days in the tower were endless. Avalyn sat by the narrow window, her black hair spilling over her shoulders as she gazed out at the golden city of Lumora below. The streets were alive with laughter and music, knights in golden armor patrolling the market squares. She pressed her hand against the cold iron bars, wishing she could feel the sunlight on her skin. It had been years since she had walked among her people, and most had likely forgotten she existed. To them, she was a rumor, a ghost in the castle. Her stomach growled loudly, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned to the small wooden tray on the floor, where a single piece of bread and a small cup of water sat untouched. It was all she had been given that day. The hunger was constant, gnawing at her insides like a living thing. She had grown used to it over the years, but there were moments when the pain became unbearable. “I’m not a princess,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “I’m a prisoner." Avalyn’s father visited the tower only rarely, and each visit was a reminder of how deeply he despised her. The last time she had seen him was two years ago, when she had fallen ill and nearly died. He had stood at the foot of her bed, his emerald-green eyes cold as he looked down at her. “You disgrace the royal bloodline,” he had said. “If you cannot even survive a simple fever, what use are you to me?” Those words haunted her. No matter how hard she tried to prove herself, it was never enough. Her siblings, Prince Arren and Princess Sylena, were everything Avalyn was not. Arren was a gifted warrior, leading armies into battle before he turned twenty. Sylena was a skilled mage, her golden hair and emerald eyes a mirror of their father’s. They were perfect heirs, embodiments of Lumora’s strength. Avalyn was a failure in comparison. One afternoon, the monotony of Avalyn’s life was shattered by the sound of boots echoing up the stone staircase. Her heart raced as the door to her chamber creaked open, revealing the stern figure of Matron Isolde, her father’s warden. “The king has summoned you,” Isolde said, her voice sharp. Avalyn blinked, startled. “Why?” Isolde didn’t answer. Instead, she dropped a clean gown onto the bed—a simple but elegant white dress that looked out of place in the dark, dreary room. “You’re to wear this,” Isolde said. “The king doesn’t want you embarrassing him in front of the court.” Avalyn’s hands trembled as she picked up the gown. “What does he want from me?” she asked softly. Isolde’s lips curled into a sneer. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now hurry. The king doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” The throne room of Solaris was a place of grandeur, with towering arches and golden mosaics that glittered in the sunlight. Avalyn’s black hair and pale skin stood out starkly against the warmth of the room as she entered, her steps hesitant. The nobles whispered as she passed, their voices low but loud enough for her to hear. “So, she still lives,” one murmured. “She looks like a ghost,” another said, their tone dripping with scorn. Avalyn kept her head down, her cheeks burning with humiliation. She hadn’t been in the throne room in years, and the weight of their judgment was suffocating. At the far end of the room sat King Eldric, his golden throne perched atop a raised dais. His emerald cloak shimmered like fire as he leaned forward, his piercing eyes fixed on his daughter. “Step forward,” he commanded. Avalyn obeyed, her hands clutching the sides of her gown to hide their trembling. She stopped at the base of the dais, too afraid to meet his gaze. “You’ve been given an opportunity,” Eldric said, his voice cold and formal. “An opportunity to finally be useful.” Avalyn frowned, confused. “What do you mean?” “The Kingdom of Vyrethane has endorsed you for marriage to Prince Kael of Umbrazar,” Eldric said. Avalyn’s heart sank at the mention of Umbrazar. The kingdom of shadows, ruled by the ruthless King Malgrin, had been Lumora’s enemy for decades. Its armies were known for their brutality, its lands shrouded in eternal twilight. “Why would Vyrethane endorse me?” she asked hesitantly. “Because they seek my favor,” Eldric replied. “Vyrethane’s trade routes depend on our protection. By offering their endorsement, they strengthen their alliance with Lumora while ensuring peace with Umbrazar. And you,” he added with a sneer, “are the key to it all.” Avalyn’s chest tightened. “So… you’re selling me off to the enemy?” “I’m securing the future of this kingdom,” Eldric said sharply. “You should be grateful you’re finally serving a purpose. Perhaps in Umbrazar, you’ll find the strength you’ve always lacked.”