The Knight's Claimed Bride

Rebecca’s POV 

The festival lights glowed like stars strung across the city, glittering in ribbons of gold and crimson. Drums thundered through the streets, each strike rattling the cobblestones—and my ribs—with the force of a war march. The air was thick with roasted chestnuts and sweet spices, sweet enough to turn my stomach. 

I wished I were anywhere else. 

Maddie and I weaved through the crush of bodies filling the main square. Velvet banners snapped overhead in the wind, while children darted between legs, ribbons trailing like comet tails. 

Maddie elbowed me hard. “Gods, Becca, you look like someone just died. Would it kill you to smile?” 

I shot her a look. “I was in the middle of something, Maddie.” 

“Yeah—something boring. You've been buried in that shop for days. You’d rather count chamomile petals than see Rhys come home?” 

My stomach twisted. I shoved my hand deeper into the pocket sewn into my skirts, fingers brushing the tiny glass vial hidden there. “That shop is the only place that doesn’t make me want to crawl out of my skin,” I muttered. “This—this feels like a nightmare," 

“It’s a festival,” Maddie said, exasperated. “Not an execution," 

I glanced up at the crimson banners hanging above us, the Queen’s golden crest stitched into every one. Soldiers stood posted at each corner, spears gleaming under torchlight. 

“Looks the same to me,” I said. “Only difference is this time, the noose comes with music.” 

Maddie’s smile faltered. “Becca… it’s been ten years," 

I swallowed. “And ten years doesn’t change what I saw," 

Her face fell, and for a moment, the sound of drums faded, swallowed by the weight in my chest. 

Because how could she understand? 

How could anyone? 

She hadn’t stood in front of a burning building, screaming her lungs raw, while the Queen’s knights stood still as statues. She hadn’t watched flames crawl over the windows like fingers while her mother’s screams tore through the night—and no one lifted a hand. 

And afterward? 

The Queen called it an accident. A tragic fire. No further questions. 

But I remembered too much. 

My mother, Isabel Rosewyn, wasn’t just anyone. She was the most gifted potion maker in the city—the only one in three generations to brew a flawless love potion. A potion so powerful the Crown tried to erase it. Hide it. Keep it for themselves. 

She worked for the Queen. Trusted her. Brewed elixirs behind locked doors no one else was allowed to see. And then one night, the shop went up in flames. 

Five palace knights watched from across the street. 

They didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched. 

After that, I was dragged to the orphanage, half-burned and half-mute, with no one left in the world. That’s where I met Maddie Lyn—and eventually Rhys Ashford. 

I never learned who my father was. Just one more secret the fire swallowed whole. 

Maddie’s voice pulled me back. “Okay,” She said gently. “So why’d you really come tonight? Don’t tell me it was for roasted chestnuts," 

I hesitated, fingers tightening around the vial. 

“…Rhys," 

Maddie’s grin spread, slow and knowing. “Ah. There it is," 

“Don’t start," 

“I’m not judging! I’m just saying, the famously reclusive Rebecca Rosewyn willingly stepped into a crowd for one reason only—" 

I groaned. “He’s not just some soldier, Maddie. He’s Rhys," 

“Our Rhys,” Maddie said, nudging me. “The boy who gave you his bread roll and doomed himself forever," 

“I was starving,” I mumbled. 

“You were in love. And still are," 

I turned away, heart thudding. “He’s been gone a year. He’s probably changed," 

Maddie’s voice softened. “And so have you. That doesn’t mean he won’t still see you," 

That was the problem. 

I didn’t want him to see who I’d become—and decide there was nothing left of the girl he used to know. 

Maddie looped her arm through mine. “Come on. If you’re going to pine, you might as well get a front row seat.” 

The drums picked up again. Trumpets sounded from the palace steps. The crowd surged forward, voices rising in cheers. 

Knights rode into view, their armor flashing like lightning under the torches. Bannered lances lifted high, silk snapping in the air. 

“There,” Maddie breathed. “Look at him," 

I followed her gaze—and my heart stopped. 

Rhys Ashford. 

He looked different. Taller. Broader. Gone was the boyish softness I remembered; his features were sharper, older. His armor gleamed bronze-red in the firelight, and his gaze scanned the crowd— 

Until it landed on me. 

Rhys froze. Then he swung down from his horse, pushing through the sea of people like nothing else existed. 

“Becca!” 

Before I could move, Rhys caught me in his arms and spun me off the ground. 

I gasped. “Rhys! Put me down!” 

Rhys laughed, and it was warm and familiar and completely unfair. “Still too light,” He said. “Haven’t they been feeding you?” 

“Are you calling me scrawny?” 

“I’m calling you Becca,” Rhys set me down but didn’t step back. “I’ve imagined this moment a thousand times," 

A flush crept up my neck. “Well, I hope reality’s a disappointment.” 

Maddie folded her arms. “Look at him, all starry-eyed.” 

Rhys glanced at her. “Maddie. Missed you too. Sort of," 

“Sort of?” Maddie gasped. “Rude," 

Rhys laughed again, but when he turned back to me, his smile gentled. “How’s the shop?” 

I hesitated. “Quiet. Slow,” 

Maddie snorted. “Quiet because everyone’s too scared to walk in. Half the kingdom still thinks she’s cursed," 

“Maddie!” 

But Rhys’s smile vanished like a candle snuffed out. “Who’s been saying that?” 

I winced. “Don’t—” 

“Who?” His voice dropped. “Give me names," 

“It doesn’t matter," 

“Yes, it does.” 

There was steel in his eyes now, fierce and unflinching. 

Maddie raised her brows. “Been back five minutes and already picking fights," 

“They should be afraid to say it,” Rhys muttered. 

I nudged his arm. “I can fight my own battles," 

Rhys looked at me, softer now. “I know you can. Doesn’t mean I won’t stand beside you," 

A lump formed in my throat. 

He’d always done that—rushed in with his sword drawn before I even had time to unsheathe mine. 

Rhys took a breath. “There’s a banquet tonight. Come with me," 

“I don’t exactly blend in at palace events," 

“That’s the point," His smile tugged crooked. “You’re not like them. That’s why you should come. One dance," 

I hesitated. “Rhys…” 

“One,” Rhys coaxed. “Maybe two. Ten, if I’m lucky.” 

“I vote ten,” Maddie chimed in. 

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. One," 

“Deal,” Rhys looked back toward the palace. “I’ve got to go. Commander Malik is already glaring at me from here," 

My stomach turned at the name. 

Gideon Malik. The Queen’s Iron Wolf. 

Even his shadow could cut glass. 

“See you tonight?” Rhys said. 

I nodded, the words caught in my throat. “Yeah. See you," 

Rhys smiled—bright and crooked—and jogged back toward his horse. 

Maddie let out a low whistle. “Gods help you, Becca. You’re doomed," 

I shoved her lightly. “Shut up," 

But Maddie frowned. “Why are you gripping your pocket like that?” 

I froze. 

My fingers were curled tightly around the vial in my pocket. 

Her eyes widened. “Is that… what I think it is?” 

“It’s just a potion,” I said, too quickly. 

“A potion?” Her brows shot up. “In a red vial? Slightly sparkling? Becca—that’s love potion color," 

“It’s not what you think,” I hissed. 

“Then explain why you brought it. To a festival. Where Rhys is," 

“I didn’t mean to. I was working on it in the shop, testing one of my mother’s old formulas. You dragged me out before I could put it away," 

Maddie blinked. “So… you brewed a love potion. Accidentally," 

“Yes," 

“And you weren’t going to use it?” 

“No!” 

Maddie crossed her arms. “Maybe you should," 

I stiffened. “Maddie, no.” 

“Why not? You’ve loved him forever," 

I stared at the vial. “It wouldn’t be real. That’s not what my mother’s love potion does. You know that," 

“Remind me,” Maddie said gently. 

I swallowed hard. “If someone already loves you, the potion doesn’t change a thing. It’s like drinking water. But if there’s no love inside them… that’s when it works. It fills them up with fake feelings, makes them lovesick and all lovey-dovey. But none of it’s real—it’s just the potion talking," 

Maddie’s voice softened. “So if he drinks it… and nothing changes…” 

“Then I’ll know,” I whispered. “I’ll know if I ever mattered at all," 

Maddie touched my arm. “That’s not deception, Becca. That’s the truth," 

“But if I’m wrong—if the Queen finds out—she’ll hang me," 

“Then she’s already taken enough from you,” Maddie said fiercely. “Don’t let her keep stealing your heart. Your chances. Your answers," 

The vial trembled in my hand. 

“If I die,” I whispered. “I’m haunting you forever," 

Maddie grinned. “Fair enough,"