A Deadly Rivalry Begins

DRAVEN'S POV

"What did you say?" I demanded, my voice echoing off the stone pillars of the silent hall.

The girl standing before me didn't flinch. She held my gaze, her striking ocean-blue eyes locked on mine without a single trace of fear. "I am Princess Kaelia of Eldoria," she repeated, her tone steady and clear.

"But you are a man," one of the older council members blurted out from the sidelines.

I shot him a withering glare. Was the old fool blind? Anyone with functioning eyes could see past the dirt and the ragged clothes now.

The girl sighed, reaching up to her head. With a swift, practiced motion, she pulled off the boyish wig. Long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, tumbling down her back and framing a face that was undeniably feminine and dangerously beautiful. The masculine illusion vanished in a heartbeat, leaving the entire court staring at her.

A collective breath rushed through the throne room. The council erupted in hushed whispers, the rigid tension draining from their postures. They had been terrified I would be stuck with the hideous decoy standing next to her. Now, relief washed over their faces. They were getting a beautiful queen.

My own reaction was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Then why is this woman dressed as the princess?" Garrick asked, stepping forward and gesturing to the chubby decoy standing awkwardly to the side. "And why are you dressed as a peasant boy?"

Kaelia lifted her chin. "I was embarking on a dangerous journey. Traveling as a common boy was a necessary safety measure."

The logic was sound, but it didn't quench the fire burning in my chest. She had played me for a fool. She let me sit here in my own throne room, dreading the moment I would have to marry that clownish woman, while she stood safely disguised, mocking my misery. She could have changed her attire the moment she crossed into Drakenford. Instead, she chose to humiliate me.

I stared at her defiant, beautiful face. If she expected a warm welcome or a loving husband, she was sorely mistaken. For this little stunt, any warmth she might have received would be replaced by sheer misery.

KAELIA'S POV

I felt his eyes burning into me. King Draven sat on his throne, his handsome face tight with restrained fury. I met his glare head-on.

Drakenford was a revelation. During the long journey here, I expected to find a dark, creepy hellscape fit for a tyrant. Instead, the palace was a place of magical grandeur. Towering spires caught the sunlight, and the architecture hummed with an ancient, breathtaking beauty. It was five times the size of Eldoria, filled with lush courtyards and intricate stone carvings.

Despite the beauty of his kingdom, the King himself cast an arrogant shadow over the land. His own mother was a stark contrast. When we arrived at the palace gates earlier, Draven was nowhere to be found. Instead, Queen Eleanora had greeted us. She was surprisingly kind, wrapping me in a warm hug the moment I confided my true identity to her. She had smiled gently, apologizing for her son's lack of manners.

Now, standing in the grand throne room, I understood why she felt the need to apologize.

Moments ago, I had watched with pure delight as Draven’s perfect, angelic face twisted in raw disgust at Rowena. He had assumed the chubby, nervous woman was his bride. It was the perfect payback. Back in the forest, when those rogues attacked us, he could have ordered his soldiers to help. He chose to walk away. Seeing him suffer on that throne felt like a personal victory.

But as the murmurs of the council faded, my gaze drifted past the furious king. Among the crowd of nobles, I spotted a woman. She stood rigid, watching me with eyes full of pure, unadulterated hatred. I had never seen her before in my life, yet she glared at me like I had burned her village to the ground.

Draven leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. His lips curled into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Welcome to my nation, Princess Kaelia," he said, his tone laced with a dark promise.

I smirked right back at him. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

He stood up, his tall frame dominating the space. "A feast will be held tonight to welcome Princess Kaelia to Drakenford," he announced to the hall, before turning on his heel and striding away without another glance.

The tension broke as soon as the heavy doors closed behind him. Mirel and I were escorted toward our new chambers to prepare for the evening.

Jorik fell into step beside me in the grand hallway, a playful gleam in his eyes. "Princess Kaelia," he teased, dragging out the title. "I thought you said you were a man."

I let out a tired breath. "I'm sorry, Jorik. I didn't want to tell anyone. I was just trying to protect myself on the road."

He chuckled, waving off my apology. "It's fine. I understand. Though I already knew you were a girl since the forest."

I stopped walking and stared at him. "You did?"

"Yeah. Mirel called you 'princess' when you were captured," Jorik said, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "I put the pieces together."

I shot a murderous glare at Mirel, who shrank back with a guilty grimace. If Jorik hadn't been a decent person, her little slip-up could have gotten us both killed.

The welcoming feast took place in a massive banquet hall. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the long tables laden with roasted meats and sweet wines. Music drifted through the air, upbeat and lively, though the atmosphere at the high table was thick with tension.

Draven sat on his throne at the center of the room, looking like a bored god. He held a silver goblet, swirling his drink, showing zero interest in the celebration thrown in my honor.

"Princess," Mirel whispered, leaning close to my ear as we sat at the adjacent table. "I have to admit... King Draven is so handsome. His face looks like it was carved by angels."

I rolled my eyes, picking at the food on my plate. "He might look like an angel, Mirel, but I can only see the devil beneath the skin."

Mirel giggled, but her laughter was cut short by a shadow falling over our table.

"Princess Kaelia," a voice drawled from behind us.

I turned. It was the same woman from the throne room—the one who had glared at me with such intense hatred. She stepped into the light, wearing a rich, emerald gown that clung to her curves. An air of sheer arrogance surrounded her.

"I'm Odelia," she stated, her chin tilted high. "I am the daughter of the King's advisor."

I forced a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, Odelia."

"I would say the same," she muttered under her breath.

I blinked. She didn't think I would hear that, but I did. I wondered what her problem was.

Odelia crossed her arms, her tone dripping with condescension. "I am also the King's best friend and his favorite person. If you need to know anything about the King, just ask me. Because I know it all." She flashed a smirk that looked more like a threat.

Before I could formulate a diplomatic response, Mirel slammed her fork down.

"I'm sure the Princess will have enough time to get to know the King by herself," Mirel snapped back, her voice sharp. "You don't have to worry about helping her."

Odelia's eyes narrowed into tiny slits. She looked like she wanted to strike Mirel down where she sat. Instead, she forced a tight, fake smile. "Oh, sure. Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, I'll be right here."

She spun on her heel and strutted away, her dress swishing against the stone floor.

"She's such a bitch," Mirel muttered, glaring at Odelia's retreating back. "I already hate her."

I let out a soft chuckle. "You only just met her, Mirel. How could you hate her already?"

"I don't know, Princess, but I get a terrible vibe from her. Besides, you don't really know King Draven yet, but you hate him."

"That is different," I countered, keeping my voice low. "I've heard the stories about him. Plus, I saw how he acted in the forest. I know he's the devil."

"Are you talking about my brother?" a tiny, high-pitched voice piped up from right behind us.