Rival king ch 3

Rival king ch 3

Seraya’s POV

His wedding vows… I should burn it with him.

The flame licked at the edge, curling the words inward, blackening the line I used to believe in.

Until the breath in me fails.

Liar. You told me that you love me, sacrificed everything… ending up as an abandoned queen. I held the scrap too long. My fingers nearly blistered before I let it go.

Ash scattered across the desk.

It had been years since I opened that drawer. I hadn’t meant to—not really. I just… wandered. The queen’s wing felt too big. Too clean. I wanted to touch something that hadn’t been picked out for me.

I hadn’t expected to find that.

One line, torn from our vows. In his handwriting. Like the man who once stood in front of a kingdom and said I was all he needed.

And now? Now he raised a goblet to my replacement and didn’t even look at me.

“I hate you,” I whispered.

I wasn’t sure if I meant Princess Elowen. Or him. Or myself.

I sat down at the desk. My knees buckled halfway, and I didn’t try to stop them. I just let my weight fall. I stared at the scorch mark on the wood, where the flame had caught, and said it again.

“I hate you.”

But my voice cracked this time. My chest twisted too hard. And then I was crying. Messy. Real. The kind you don’t come back from clean. I covered my mouth. Curled forward. Let it happen. I had been holding everything in for too long. And I still couldn’t decide if I hated Princess Elowen more for taking my place, or for doing it so easily.

Before that—

Before I burned the vow and broke—

I remembered the weight of his voice that night. The way he looked at me after I silenced five men in a council meeting like it was nothing.

“You look like mine,” he said, standing over me. His hand slid around the back of my neck, thumb brushing the base of my throat. “You always do. But tonight…”

We didn’t make it to the bed.

I was halfway out of my gown, breathless, sitting on the edge of the couch with my knees parted and his fingers tracing the inside of my thigh like he belonged there.

“You’ll bruise me,” I whispered. I didn’t know if it was a warning or a dare.

“I’ll worship you,” he said, his voice rough, already unsteady. “Then I’ll ruin you.”

And gods, I wanted to be ruined. I wanted to be taken apart by the man who looked at me like I was fire and crown and something holy.

I pulled him down to me. I gave him everything—my throat, my body, the part of me that still believed love could be enough.

He took all of it.

His mouth moved down my chest, my stomach, every kiss deliberate—hungry, reverent, like I was a promise he planned to keep. He made me say his name more than once. I gave it willingly, again and again, until it was the only thing that felt real.

He whispered into my skin. Things I barely remember now, but I never forgot how they made me feel.

“I’ll never take another queen,” he told me. “Not while there’s breath in me.”

Now, standing alone in my chamber, surrounded by silence and ash, my skin still burned in the places he used to touch.

I gripped the edge of the desk.

“He lied,” I whispered.

I didn’t know if I meant the vow. The promises. Or the way he used to look at me like I was irreplaceable.

And even now… because of that marriage…

The palace halls had changed. The way people paused when I walked past. The way they whispered louder when Elowen entered a room. The way no one said Your Majesty without checking who else was listening.

I’d tried to walk normally. Stand tall. Pretend it was the same. I cried my heart out… until I fell asleep.

The scroll came the next morning. Tied in red. Royal wax seal. I already knew what it would say. But I opened it anyway.

Wedding rehearsal. Ceremonial lineup. Seating. Procession.

My name wasn’t with the royal family. It was lower. Under “Former Ceremonial Queens.” Like I had died, quietly, and no one bothered to inform me.

“Is there anything else?” I asked the servant who brought it.

She hesitated. “No, Your Majesty.”

She bowed. Quick. Nervous. I shut the door. Then I threw the scroll across the room. It hit the wall and fell flat, still tightly rolled. I stared at it for a long time.

He used to write to me. Little notes. Left under my teacup. Tucked into my books.

You’re the only one who makes this throne feel human.”

“Come to bed early tonight.”

I’ll be late to the council—speak for me until I arrive.

I still remember the first time he touched my hand in public. The way he looked at me, like I was untouchable. He used to believe in me. And I still don’t know when that stopped.

I stayed inside most of the day. I didn’t have the energy to face the eyes. But I couldn’t sit still either. So I walked to the temple garden near dusk.

It used to be peaceful.

The trees were starting to bloom again. Lavender and pale white. The blossoms drifted onto the stone path like falling breath.

I sat beneath the elm, hands clasped tightly in my lap. I stared straight ahead. Then I heard them.

Two women. Not servants. Not commoners. Their voices too smooth. They didn’t know I was there.

“She should’ve left years ago,” one said.

“I heard she cried after the announcement,” said the other.

“Princess Elowen looks more like a queen anyway.”

Rival king

Rival king

Status: Ongoing

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