A Crown of Woven Thorns

Chapter 2

ALEX

The morning sun was a liar.

It spilled golden and innocent over the palace gardens, painting the roses in cheerful hues, as if the world hadn't fundamentally broken overnight. I sat beneath the shade of an ancient oak, my borrowed silk skirts pooled around me, and tried very hard not to scream.

Jeremy—my assigned maid, a no-nonsense woman with biceps that could crush walnuts—stood a respectful distance away, pretending not to notice how I'd been poking leaves for the past twenty minutes as they might reveal the secrets of interdimensional travel.

Okay, Alex. Think.

Option 1: I was hallucinating. (Unlikely. My subconscious wasn't this creative.)

Option 2: This was an elaborate prank. (But even Mira wouldn't commit to historical accuracy this hard.)

Option 3: I'd somehow fallen into a—

A shadow blotted out the sun.

I looked up just as the dragon soared overhead.

Oh.

Oh no.

It was enormous—scales like polished obsidian, wings slicing the air with a sound like unfurling parchment. My body locked, torn between awe and abject terror. The dragon banked sharply, vanishing beind the palace spires.

Before I could think, I was running.

Alden.

No.

Not Alden.

The man standing beside the dragon wore all black, his fitted oat embroidered with silver thread that matched the beast's claws. Same sandy hair. Same sharp jawline. But where Alden's eyes were warm and perpetually sleep-deprived, this man's gaze cut like frost.

Prince Albert.

My fiance.

He didn't notice me at first, too busy murmuring to the dragon in a language that made my teeth ache. Then, as if sensing my stare, his head snapped up.

Our eyes met.

His lips parted—not in recognition, but in cold, calculating assessment.

The dragon growled.

And I, in a spectacular lapse of self-preservation, blurted out:

"You have a dragon?"

Albert's expression darkened. "And you," he said, voice like a blade dragged over stone, "are not where you're supposed to be."

My mouth was still open, half-formed words about dragons and physics and what the hell was happening dangling from my tongue—when Jeremy smoothly stepped forward, cutting me off with a deep curtsy.

"Your Highness," she said, her voice polished as the palace marble. "We shall inform Her Majesty the Queen of your return at once."

Albert's gaze flicked to her, then back to me, lingering on my grass-stained skirts and the leaves still tangled in my hair. Something unreadable passed behind his eyes before his expression hardened again. "Do that."

Then he turned away, murmuring something to the dragon in that strange, liquid language. The beast huffed, its hot breath stirring my skirts, before launching into the sky with a thunderous beat of its wings.

I stood frozen, staring at the spot where they'd been.

Jeremy's grip on my elbow was gentle but firm. "My lady," she said under her breath, "we should go."

Back in my chambers, I paced the length of th ridiculously ornate rug, my mind spinning.

Dragons. Magic. A prince who looks like Alden but acts like he's allergic to joy.

A sharp knock at the door stopped me mid-step.

Before I could answer, it swung open.

Albert stood at the threshold, his black coat replaced with a navy-blue doublet that made his eyes look even icier. He didn't enter, didn't even fully cross the threshold—just pinned me with that unnerving stare.

"You're curious about the dragon," he said, his voice low. It wasn't a question.

I swallowed. "It's not every day you see a giant flying lizard."

His jaw tightened. "It's also not every day my fiancé forgets basic decorum."

Ouch.

"I was surprised," I muttered.

"Surprise is a luxury you can't afford." He stepped closer, just enough that I had to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. "The court is watching. The kingdom is watching. Every misstep, every whisper—it reflects on the Crown."

There it was again—the flicker of something beneath the ice. Annoyance? Frustration?

Or is that just wishful thinking?

"Try not to embarrass us." he said, turning to leave.

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Why do you even care?"

Albert paused. For a heartbeat, I swore his shoulders tensed. Then, without looking back:

"Because unlike you, I don't have the privilege of playing the fool."

The door clicked shut behind him.

Suddenly, a strange, glowing device on my vanity buzzed to life withot warning, projecting a shimmering hologram of a with a sharp violet eyes and an even sharper smirk. Mia.

I nearly knocked over a bottle of perfume in surprise.

What kind of fantasy world has holograms?!

"Finally," Mia's voice crackled through the device, her image flickering slightly. "I was starting to think you'd drowned in your own drool over His Highness."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't play dumb, Alexandria. The whole court saw you gawking at the prince like a lovesick peasant during the solstice banquet."

My cheeks burned. That hadn't been me—it must've been the other Alexandria. But before I could defend myself, Mia leaned closer, her holographic face filling the space between us.

"Tell me you've changed your mind about the Academy," she said, her tone shifting. "Enrollment ends tomorrow, and you're still only ranked 9. Pathetic, really."

Something about her taunt sparked a competitive fire in me. Maybe it was the way she said Rank 9, as if it were a disease. Or maybe it was the fact that I had no idea what she was talking about—but I refused to back down.

"I never said I wasn't going," I shot back down.

Mia's smirk widened. "Good. Because I didn't claw my way to Rank 5 just to watch you waste your potential sighing over a prince who barely glances your way."

The call ended abruptly, her image dissolving into sparks.

I exhaled, staring at the now-dormant device. Academy? Ranks? This world kept throwing curveballs, and I was swinging blind.

Then—movement outside my window.

Curious, I drifted toward the glass—and froze.

There, in the secluded garden below, stood Albert. And he wasn't alone.

A noblewoman—tall, elegant, with cascading auburn hair—stood close to him, her fingers brushing his cheek. Albert's usual icy demeanor had melted into something tender, something real. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss so intimate it made my chest ache.

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

Albert wasn't just cold and distant—he was in love with someone else.

And now, as his fiancé, I was standing in their way.