Mag-log inOne girl. One chance. One royal destiny. When Everleigh is chosen in a mysterious lottery to attend the kingdom’s princess school, her life is thrown into a world of power, intrigue, and hidden agendas. Among rival candidates who will stop at nothing to see her fail, and a childhood friend who harbors a dangerous secret, Everleigh must navigate a web of secrets, ambition, and unexpected love. As the royal ball approaches and destinies are revealed, Everleigh will discover that some choices can change everything—and that the greatest gamble may be trusting her heart.
view moreEverleigh awoke to the soft golden light spilling through the tall windows of her room. The morning air carried a faint chill, and she shivered lightly as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The dream from the night before clung stubbornly to her mind, like mist refusing to lift. Masked dances, explosions, Krystal’s mocking laughter, Rowan’s pained gaze—they haunted her still.She rose slowly, her bare feet brushing against the cool stone floor. Today, like every day at the Academy, she would wear the assigned white dress—a gown identical to those worn by every other girl. The long, flowing sleeves brushed her wrists, the high neckline pressed gently against her collarbone, and the bodice was simple, unadorned, leaving little room for personal expression. Yet, as she smoothed the fabric over her shoulders, she reminded herself that poise and grace could speak where fabric could not.Her hair fell freely over her shoulders, unadorned and natural. She brushed it carefully, mind
Everleigh drifted into sleep with the lingering scent of honeysuckle clinging to her skin, her body still warm from the bath, her mind lulled by the quiet of the Academy. At first, her dream was gentle, soft, like a memory she had tucked away in a pocket of her heart. She found herself in a grand hall, its crystal chandeliers casting sparkling light across polished floors. Music swirled around her, lilting and sweet, and she felt a hand slide into hers.Looking up, her heart skipped a beat. The masked man from the lottery stood before her, dressed in elegant black attire with subtle gold embroidery. The mask covered his eyes and nose, lending him an air of mystery that drew her closer. “May I have this dance?” his voice was smooth, low, and reverent.Everleigh’s lips curved into a smile, and she allowed herself to be led. They danced gracefully, twirling across the floor in time with the music, their steps perfect and effortless. She felt light, almost weightless, as if the world had
The dining hall buzzed with subdued chatter as the girls gathered for supper. Everleigh moved carefully through the rows of long tables, balancing her tray with the simple meal that had been prepared for them. Compared to the modest fare she had been used to, this was luxurious—but far less than the rich, elaborate meals that Krystal and the other noble-born girls had grown accustomed to. Everleigh’s hand tightened around the edge of the tray as she caught Krystal complaining about the portions again, her voice shrill and dripping with disdain.Everleigh didn’t respond; she had learned already that words in the heat of irritation only gave the noble girls power. Instead, she focused on her meal, savoring each bite quietly, and allowed the room to hum around her as she finished. She noticed other girls sneaking glances at her, whispering to one another, and for a moment, a pang of unease stirred within her. But she reminded herself that she had survived worse attention at the lottery a
Rowan’s arm remained tight around Everleigh’s waist, a silent anchor in the storm of her pounding heart. His touch was firm but careful, like he knew she was on the verge of trembling apart. The knock came again, sharper this time, reverberating through the thick oak door of her chamber.“Everleigh?” a voice called. Female. One of the girls from her wing. “You’re taking forever—are you coming down for the afternoon rounds or not?”Panic seized her chest. She couldn’t let anyone find Rowan here. If he was discovered, it wouldn’t be him who paid the harshest price—it would be her. Expulsion. Humiliation. Perhaps worse.Rowan’s grip tightened, his fingers pressing into her side with the unspoken command to stay silent. His eyes burned into hers, warning and unwavering.“I—” Her throat felt dry as parchment. Forcing the tremor out of her voice, she called, “I’ll be down in a moment!”There was a pause. A sigh. Then the faint scuff of slippers retreating down the corridor.Everleigh slumpe






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