CHAPTER ONE - THE UNWANTED PRINCESS

The rain had been falling since dawn.

I stood beside the tall window of my chamber, watching the droplets race down the glass. Beyond the palace walls, the gardens were soaked, their flowers bending beneath the weight of the storm.

I had always liked the rain.

It was one of the few things that made the palace feel less suffocating.

A knock sounded.

"Come in."

The door opened, revealing one of my father's royal attendants.

"Princess Amara, His Majesty requests your presence in the throne room."

My heart tightened.

My father rarely summoned me.

And whenever he did, it was never because he missed me.

I followed the attendant through the long corridors until we reached the throne room.

The doors opened.

My father sat upon the throne, while my mother sat beside him. My older siblings stood nearby, dressed in beautiful clothes and laughing among themselves.

I stopped at the entrance.

Nobody smiled at me.

"Come closer," my father commanded.

I obeyed.

"You are seventeen now," he said.

I nodded. "Yes, Father."

"You are old enough to understand your responsibilities."

I glanced at my mother.

She wouldn't even look at me.

"What responsibilities?"

My father's expression remained cold.

"You are getting married."

For a moment, I thought I had heard him wrong.

"Married?"

"Yes."

My heart began beating faster.

"To whom?"

My father leaned back against his throne.

"Prince Cassian Ravelle."

The name immediately silenced the room.

My siblings stopped whispering.

Even my mother finally looked at me.

"Cassian Ravelle?" I whispered.

My older brother gave a quiet laugh.

"The seventh prince."

I knew exactly who he was.

Everyone did.

Prince Cassian Ravelle.

The Seventh Prince.

The Devil's Son.

Stories about him had travelled far beyond the borders of Ravaryn.

He had gone to war when he was only thirteen years old.

Not as a soldier.

As a commander.

Everyone had expected him to die.

Instead, he had returned victorious.

Since then, people had whispered that something about him was unnatural.

That he was merciless.

That darkness followed him.

That even his own brothers feared him.

I swallowed.

"Why me?"

My father's eyes narrowed.

"Because the marriage benefits our kingdom."

I stared at him.

Not once did he say he was happy for me.

Not once did my mother protest.

Not once did anyone ask whether I wanted this.

Then I understood.

They had chosen me because I was the daughter they could afford to lose.

"When is the wedding?" I asked quietly.

"In two weeks."

My chest tightened.

Two weeks.

I looked around the room at the family that had never truly felt like mine.

Then I looked back at my father.

"Do I have a choice?"

His answer came without hesitation.

"No."

I lowered my eyes.

"Then I will marry him."

I turned toward the doors.

Behind me, I heard my sister laugh softly.

"Poor Amara."

I stopped for a moment.

My hands curled into fists.

But I didn't turn around.

I continued walking.

I didn't cry.

Not yet.

But as the throne room doors closed behind me, one thought echoed through my mind.

I was being sent to marry the Devil's Son.

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