Chapter One

In the ancient, remote kingdom of Morvathar, power and wealth ruled. Kings and queens of this strange land would stop at nothing to secure their control, and the traditions they upheld were as dark as they were brutal. Legends whispered that Morvathar was built by the devil himself, a kingdom meant for kings willing to rule with cruelty and ruthlessness. But that story had never been confirmed—at least, not until Aliya came into the picture.

Tonight, for one last evening, Aliya and the other girls could taste freedom. Tomorrow, that freedom would vanish. "A girl child of a commoner is a commoner," they said, condemning them to serve the nobility in ways they couldn't avoid or escape. The royals needed them, as did the wealthy families who upheld the kingdom's horrific traditions. But tonight, Aliya was determined to help the other girls forget that, if only briefly.

Going over her speech in her mind one last time, she felt her words growing more powerful with each repetition. The girls needed to feel brave, to know that, whatever happened tomorrow, they weren't alone.

"Aliya," her mother's voice broke through her thoughts. "Come out of your room. We need to talk."

Her stomach twisted. What could they possibly have to say? Was this their attempt to comfort her? An apology, perhaps, for following traditions that were sending her into the lion's den? Or maybe they wanted to remind her, again, why she had to obey and submit.

Reluctantly, she left her room, stepping into the small, cramped cottage she shared with her parents. There wasn't much to their home, but it was all they needed to be happy—or it had been, until this looming fate had cast its shadow over them.

Her father cleared his throat, his expression grim. "I know you're not happy about tomorrow, Aliya. No one is. But this has been the kingdom's way for as long as any of us can remember. We can't change it."

Aliya could feel her heart pounding in frustration, but she kept her face steady. "You don't need to remind me, Father," she replied. "They've been telling me this since I turned thirteen. I know what's expected of me."

Her father sighed, sadness filling his eyes. Her mother reached for his hand, gripping it tightly, a silent show of solidarity. They were terrified, just as she was, but they were helpless. The penalty for defying the king was death, in all its most horrific forms. Aliya's fate was sealed the moment she was born.

She excused herself, determined to spend her last night outside the cottage. In the dim moonlight, she swapped her worn clothes for something presentable, brushed her long, dark hair, and bade her parents farewell. She was headed to Mr. Henry's Tavern, the liveliest spot in town, where the music was loud, the food was good, and the drinks flowed without question. Tonight, she intended to revel in the noise and laughter one last time.

The path to the tavern followed the riverbank, and as Aliya walked, she noticed a dark figure near the water. She paused, heart pounding. She couldn't quite make out who it was, but something about the shadowed shape looked wrong.

She hesitated, torn between caution and curiosity. He could be dangerous, she thought. But what if he was hurt? Abandoned? Swallowing her fear, she stepped closer, curiosity outweighing caution until she recognized him: Prince Arthur, slumped by the river's edge, blood soaking his side.

A strangled cry escaped her. Aliya dropped to her knees beside him, torn between panic and the instinct to help. The prince had been stabbed, and he was losing blood fast.

With a glance around, she spotted his horse tied nearby. She could take him back to her family's cottage, where her mother's herbs and healing knowledge could save him. But helping him—helping a royal—felt wrong. The king and his sons saw girls like her as nothing more than objects for their amusement. Why should she save him?

A voice in her head urged her to leave him, to let him suffer the way his family made others suffer. But something deeper told her she couldn't. She had to help.

With great effort, she lifted him onto his horse and led them both back to her home. Her parents were horrified when she arrived with the bloodied prince, warning her that even coming into contact with a royal before the ceremony could lead to punishment. But there was no turning back now. She told them the truth—she'd found him by the river, injured and alone. They didn't seem to believe her, but they didn't press.

Her mother worked quickly, cleaning and dressing his wound, and soon Prince Arthur was resting on their small living room floor. Aliya's parents retired for the night, worried about what tomorrow would bring, but Aliya stayed by his side, her thoughts racing. Why had someone tried to kill him? And why, even now, was she so worried about him?

Sometime in the night, exhaustion finally overtook her.

The rooster's crow woke her at dawn, a reminder of the day ahead. She looked around and found the room empty—Prince Arthur had disappeared without a trace. There was no word of thanks, no explanation, nothing.

Her chest tightened with anger. He'd left without so much as a goodbye. She should have expected it, but it still stung. With a bitter resolve, she pushed him out of her mind. Today was the day her life as she knew it would end, and there was no point thinking about him any longer.

By noon, a castle carriage arrived to collect her. Aliya's heart pounded as the guard stepped down, his armor shining in the sunlight. He held a scroll, reading aloud with a voice of finality: "Lady Aliya Gardener, you are required to be at the castle for the Ceremony of Presentation at dusk. You are hereby required to follow us calmly to begin your preparation."

She glanced back at her parents one last time, her gaze meeting her mother's tear-filled eyes, her father's tightened jaw. She swallowed hard and stepped into the carriage. There was no running from this fate.

As the carriage climbed the winding road to the castle on the mountaintop, Aliya's mind flickered back to the prince she'd saved the night before. Something about his disappearance didn't sit right with her. She had a feeling that, whatever was happening in Morvathar, she was about to be drawn into the heart of it.