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  True love exists.

  Also – Smash the Patriarchy!

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  Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 1

  E

  very person is devised of the atoms of stars that perished millions of years ago. When two hearts created from the atoms of the same star find each other, we call them soulmates. Two such souls were enjoying their time together in the afterlife. It had been a millennium since their last reincarnation, and one was becoming restless.

  “My love,” cooed Celeste, batting her eyelashes at her other half.

  Nova groaned, anticipating what was coming. They had this fight every thousand years like clockwork.

  “Just hear me out, Nova,” she pleaded.

  “No. I don’t want to go back. Let me enjoy my afterlife,” Nova huffed.

  Throughout each of their many lives, they inevitably found each other. Though they possessed no recollection of previous lives whilst amongst the living, their souls were always drawn together like atoms begging to collide.

  “Please, my love, it’s been a million—”

  “Thousand,” Nova mumbled.

  Celeste pretended she hadn’t heard. “—years. I miss the world. I miss the excitement. I miss getting to fall in love with you all over again. I miss people, and smells, and food! I miss food, even strawberries.” She pouted, making a face that she knew was hard for Nova to say no to. She played dirty, but this time he would be firm.

  “No, something bad always happens. And you hate strawberries.” Something bad did, in fact, always happen. Perhaps they were destined to live cursed lives. Perhaps the stars desired to have their atoms returned to their skies. Nova would not be the one to deny the stars’ longing. He was quite content to stay exactly where he was. Celeste? Not so much.

  “But we’ve had good times as well!” she argued.

  “No. That’s my final answer,” he stated firmly. His resolve was strong. He would not break.

  Celeste thinned her lips, her face becoming thoughtful. She knew she would need a different approach to overcome this battle.

  Nova feared what she would come up with. Last time, she threatened to find a way to attach herself to a different soul. Ha, as if.

  Suddenly, she grinned. The sight did not bode well for Nova.

  Celeste’s eyes glazed over as she began reminiscing aloud about their first life together.

  * * *

  Pomaria, 1632

  “Hear ye, hear ye! Her Majesty Roselyn of House Crane, Queen of Pomaria, shall host a betrothal tournament for the hand of the Princess. All men in the realm between the ages of seventeen summers and twenty-five winters will be eligible to compete.”

  * * *

  As she did most mornings, Rosalina woke to Margaret pulling back the curtains on her windows, letting in the sunshine, which hit her face. Margaret patiently waited for her to rouse, but she pretended to be still asleep. When Margaret realized what Rosalina was doing, she sighed in resignation. They went through this most mornings.

  “Time to rise, Rose,” Margaret urged.

  “Half a candlemark more,” Rosalina mumbled sleepily, burrowing further into her blankets.

  “No, your mother and father are expecting you to be prompt for the morrow meal. You know what your mother says, a princess—”

  “Must be punctual,” Rosalina groaned, completing the accursed phrase. “Very well, I shall rise if I must.” She sat up and stretched her arms above her head, opening her eyes for the first time that sunrise to Margaret smiling at her compliance. Margaret was Rosalina’s handmaiden. She was young, two summers older than Rosalina’s sixteen, and her best friend, though at times, she was more like a nagging elder sister.

  Margaret’s mother, Jacqueline, was the Queen’s royal advisor and closest confidante, so Margaret and Rosalina grew up side by side. Rosalina considered Margaret to be her closest confidante and decided at a young age that Margaret would be her royal advisor when she was crowned Queen.

  Once Margaret saw Rosalina’s eyes were open, she went to retrieve a dress for her from the wardrobe. As soon as her back turned, Rosalina flopped back onto the pillows and closed her eyes.

  “I think the lavender dress this morrow,” said Margaret, peering into the wardrobe.

  “Mm,” Rosalina hummed in reply.

  “What do you think?” she asked, still sifting through dresses.

  “Mm.” At this, Margaret spun around suspiciously.

  “Rose!” she cried out anxiously.

  Realizing she had been caught, Rosalina sat up again, this time swinging her legs out of bed and standing up. “My apologies, Daise.” Rosalina loved flowers and nicknamed her friend when they were children after marguerite daisies. “I could not resist,” she said sheepishly, joining Margaret in front of the wardrobe.

  “Nuisance is what you are,” Margaret grumbled, shaking her head at Rosalina’s antics. Anyone else would have interpreted her tone as aggravated, but Rosalina could hear the underlying fondness. She’d always been able to read Margaret.

  Rosalina combed through her wardrobe, pulling out dresses and discarding the ones she didn’t want on the floor. Margaret made exasperated noises as each one fell. She pulled out her lavender dress and held it up to her body. Perfect.

  “I think I will wear this one,” she informed Margaret. “What is your opinion?”

  “Oh, yes. Excellent choice,” said Margaret, hidden mirth in her eyes. She helped Rosalina dress, pulling strings tighter and lacing them together until she was a properly suffocated princess. Rosalina had learned to breathe through her unease at a young age. Pain is beauty, after all, and she was quite beautiful. Her skin was tan and flawless, long eyelashes adorned almond-shaped brown eyes, and her lips were full and pouty.

  Margaret picked up a brush and gently untangled Rosalina’s long, wavy black hair from the top of her head to where it stopped at her lower back. It was Rosalina’s favorite part of their morning routine; the repetitive motions lulled her into a state of pure relaxation.

  “There,” Margaret announced half a candlemark later, setting the brush down on a dresser. “You look marginally presentable.”

  Rosalina bumped Margaret’s shoulder playfully, used to her teasing. “My thanks, Daise. I shall see you anon.”

  Margaret bid her a good day and set about her duties for the morning, which included studying and shadowing her mother. Rosalina stretched
, yawning, and her stomach gave a most unladylike growl. She deemed that her cue to join her parents for the morrow meal.

  * * *

  As Rosalina expertly navigated the massive corridors and hallways of the palace, servants stopped to curtsy or bow their heads in respect. She smiled and nodded at each. The royal family was beloved. Queen Roselyn, Rosalina’s mother, usurped the throne from her tyrannical elder sister, Lucinda.

  Lucinda was cruel and greedy, and their people suffered terribly under her reign. Roselyn waged war on her sister with the support of six out of the seven seats of power, not including her own House. The seven seats were held by Houses Gaveren, Kent, Manton, Caliban, Vilela, Astor, and of course, the royal House Crane. But even with the numbers in Roselyn’s favor, Lucinda refused to surrender, and many lost their lives in battle, including Margaret’s father, Thomas. He was a good man but died not knowing his wife was with child.

  Roselyn could not bear the continued bloodshed and called for an honor duel, staking the outcome on the crown. A noble could not refuse an honor duel from someone else of noble standing. Even Lucinda’s crazed mind still held onto the traditions she’d been raised with. An honor duel was not usually to the death, but Lucinda did not survive the encounter. The Queen claimed it was an accident, though there were murmurs of foul play when Roselyn seized control of the kingdom. At first, the people were wary, but she earned their trust by ruling with a firm yet fair hand. She had the respect of her people and, more importantly, their loyalty.

  Rosalina’s parents were sitting at a table far too long for three in their enormous dining hall. Queen Roselyn, seated at the head of the table, was a woman who radiated power and commanded respect. She had a natural elegance and grace that was envied by many. King Consort Victor was a lighthearted, kind, and funny man. The perfect balance to her mother’s more serious temperament. His hair and beard, once jet black, were peppered with streaks of gray. By birth, he was the second child born to House Gaveren in Selon, where his elder sister Victoria reigned as the Marchioness.

  Her father smiled brightly as Rosalina sat down to his left, but her mother frowned. As Roselyn motioned for the staff to serve the meal, she asked, “Did Margaret not wake you on time?”

  Rosalina had the decency to blush. “No, Mother. She woke me on time. I was just slow to rise,” she explained.

  “What have I told you regarding the importance of being on time? A princess must be punctual.” Rosalina mouthed the phrase in time with her mother.

  Roselyn caught the action and pursed her lips in displeasure. “Rosalina, you must take this seriously. You are the future Queen; lateness is unacceptable,” she lectured.

  “Please accept my apologies, Mother,” said Rosalina, a bit unapologetically. Her response did not seem to satisfy the Queen, who opened her mouth to continue berating her daughter.

  “Furthermore, it is—”

  “Ah, Roselyn,” Victor interrupted, “leave her be. It is of little consequence to be occasionally late. In any case, who would scold a princess, besides her mother?” He winked at Rosalina, chuckling to himself.

  Roselyn made another face but did not continue her lecture. She privately thought her husband coddled their daughter far too much, but she did not often go against him, for he did not often voice his objections. She knew he was prone to letting Rosalina have her way because of the circumstances surrounding her birth.

  They had tried long and hard to conceive, and after Rosalina was born, the healers discovered the Queen would not be able to carry any more children. Roselyn and Victor were devastated; they wanted to have a large family. Though their parents arranged their marriage, they grew to love one another dearly. They found happiness in the fact that their only child was a daughter, and their pride at having a female heir radiated off of them in waves.

  Shortly after Rosalina's birth, Victor suggested hosting a betrothal tournament once she came of age. The competition would allow them to secure the finest spouse in the realm for their daughter and ensure the continuation of the royal bloodline.

  The servants carefully placed platters of food on the table. Rosalina helped herself to fluffy scrambled eggs with thickly sliced salted ham dripping in a rich maple glaze and bit into a warm, flaky roll.

  “Excited for your birthday ball, my flower?” Victor asked her. He had taken to calling her that after her love of flowers developed.

  “Very. I am to meet with the seamstress anon to try on my dress,” she responded.

  “A sunrise ahead of schedule,” said Roselyn approvingly. Rosalina rolled her eyes at her father when her mother wasn't looking, and he hid his smile behind his goblet.

  “Will Aunt Victoria be attending?” Rosalina asked.

  “She sends her regards and love but has taken ill, naught too serious, but she is unfit to travel,” Victor informed them.

  “Send her our best when you next write,” said Roselyn. They were all fond of the Marchioness, who was very similar in personality to her brother. Rosalina was disappointed her aunt would not be joining them and hoped she would be fit to visit next season.

  “Are you keener on the ball or seeing how Dmitri’s grown?” Victor asked Rosalina, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

  “Father!” Rosalina groaned, unsure whether to laugh or duck her head in embarrassment.

  “What? Can a father not ask these sorts of things?”

  “I should think not,” Rosalina huffed.

  “Charlotte wrote recently and said she is very proud of how hard he has been training,” said Roselyn in a pleased tone.

  Charlotte Banes, one of the Queen’s oldest friends, helped seize control of the kingdom and, according to Roselyn, saved her life in battle. When Roselyn was crowned, she repaid Charlotte’s loyalty by naming her Duchess of Venzor, instating House Banes into the seven seats. The previous Duchess, Lady of the former House Astor, lost her title and land by being on the opposite side of the war. After the Queen and King Consort decided to host a betrothal tournament for their daughter's hand, Roselyn wrote to her old friend, advising her to train her son, Dmitri, born a year before Rosalina. The Queen hoped he would win and combine their bloodlines. However, she would only accept the best for her family, and he would have to prove himself.

  Rosalina met Dmitri once when they were small children, and the Duchess visited the palace on official business. He gifted her a freesia that he picked from the gardens, and she had kept the wilted petals all this time. That freesia led to her fascination with flowers. She studied the different meanings they held and found joy tending to the gardens when she wasn't in lessons. Freesias symbolize innocence and thoughtfulness, which Rosalina thought fit the circumstances. She longed to marry the type of man who would bring her flowers for every occasion and at times without need for a reason.

  Although Rosalina had not seen Dmitri in many seasons, their mothers encouraged them to keep in contact, so they frequently wrote letters. Their correspondence was fairly platonic, but Rosalina harbored romantic notions, imagining he’d grown into a handsome man. She longed for the kind of romance she read about in books, often dreaming of a faceless man who would be crowned champion and declare his love for her. Dmitri was not very romantic in his letters, but maybe he would be different in person. She wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. He was to arrive in a fortnight for her birthday ball, which preceded the start of the tournament. The thought was both exciting and anxiety-inducing.

  What if he is defeated in the competition? What if a pompous cox-comb wins, and I must be tied to him for the rest of my life?

  Rosalina stamped down her negative thoughts. She knew she had to have faith that the right man would win the tournament—and her heart.

  “Have some strawberries,” Roselyn ordered in a nagging tone, placing the bowl of fruit in front of her daughter.

  Rosalina fought the urge to grimace. She loved her mother, but she could be overbearing at times. “No thank you, Mother,” she replied
politely.

  “Strawberries are nutritious and will keep you healthy,” Roselyn persisted.

  “I loathe strawberries.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since the moment of my conception,” said Rosalina sarcastically.

  Victor choked on his laughter, and Roselyn mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.

  When Jacqueline entered the hall, Roselyn immediately became serious in her disposition, transitioning into the Queen. “Ah, my favorite family of royals,” she greeted cheerily, inclining her head in respect. “I trust you have had a lovely morrow meal and are ready to be productive.”

  Rosalina gave her a bright smile. Jacqueline was like a second mother to her and treated her no differently than Margaret. She excelled in her role, and Roselyn was grateful to have her as an advisor.

  “I do not suppose we have much choice in the matter?” asked Victor in mock reluctance.

  “You suppose correctly,” replied Jacqueline, the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement.

  “If we must, so it must be.” Victor sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over his daughter’s shoulders. Rosalina enjoyed her father’s easy affection and soaked up the warmth he emitted.

  “What is on the agenda this sunrise, Jacqueline?” asked Roselyn, shaking her head slightly at her husband, who gave her a sheepish smile.

  “The General and guard Captain have requested a meeting to go over security measures for the tournament. The treasurer requests a meeting to account for the funds we have utilized for the ball. If I am not mistaken, Rosalina has a fitting for her dress and then refresher lessons on the nobility who will be attending.”

  “Victor will meet with the treasurer while I speak with the General and guard Captain.” Roselyn looked to her husband to see if he was agreeable to his assignment. He nodded in acceptance.

  “If I may speak freely?” Jacqueline requested.

  “Always,” Roselyn said, motioning with her hand for Jacqueline to continue.