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Todos os capítulos de THE PRINCESS THEY RAISED AS A PRINCE : Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 17

17 Capítulos

chapter 11_Whispers in the Mist

Tarni The quiet inside my chambers wasn't the peaceful kind. It felt dense and heavy, like the stillness in the air right before a thunderstorm breaks across the valley.I paused with my hand resting flat against the thick oak door, the key still jammed sideways in the iron lock. My lungs burned with the thin, crisp air of the upper tower, but I held my breath, straining to hear over the steady thud of my own heart against my ribs.Nothing. No creak of floorboards. No rustle of heavy drapery. Just the distant, hollow whistle of the mountain wind snaking through the high stone battlements outside.Slowly, I eased the door inward. The iron hinges gave a faint, raspy groan that made the skin on the back of my neck prickle.On the surface, everything looked as I had left it when the morning bells rang for tactical drills. The narrow iron bed was tucked neatly into the far corner under the high arching window, its coarse wool blanket pulled taut. The washbasin sat silent on its pine

Última atualização : 2026-10-06

Chapter 12_The General's Rebuke

Tarni The Great Hall of the Northern Citadel smelled of roasted meat, spilled drinks, and the strong perfume of dozens of nobles trying to cover up the smell of the cold mountain air. I hated every square foot of it. I stood two paces behind the High Table, my hand resting stiffly on the pommel of my longsword, my shoulders locked in the broad, rigid posture I had spent months perfecting. To the lords sipping plum wine beneath the grand silk banners, I was Lord Kael Vane, a quiet, brooding young officer who knew his place at the edges of the high court. I wasn't a person to them. I was armor, velvet, and a noble surname. That suited me just fine. The less they looked at me, the less chance someone had of noticing that my throat lacked an Adam's apple, or that the leather doublets I wore were cut to hide the heavy cloth binding flattening my chest. To my left sat General Vance. He hadn't touched his roast, nor had he touched the heavy crystal goblet of dark mountain wi

Última atualização : 2026-10-07

Chapter 13_Fractured Mirror

TarniThe heavy iron bolt slid into the brass strike plate with a definitive, echoing , I leaned my entire weight against the thick mahogany door, pressing my forehead against the cool, dark wood.My lungs dragged in the steam-heavy air of General Vance’s private washroom in jagged, trembling gasps.For the first time in four hours, I was entirely alone. There were no calculating eyes tracking my movements. There were no drunken lords spilling wine across my boots. There was only the low, steady crackle of the hearth fire in the adjacent bedchamber and the rhythmic drip of hot water from the copper pipes feeding the massive, claw-footed bathing tub.I pushed myself away from the door, my legs feeling like they were made of hollowed-out lead. The front of my leather doublet was still cold and heavy, clinging to my chest where Lord Gerald’s southern wine had soaked straight through to the linen underneath. The sweet, fermented smell of the dark grapes turned my stomach, mingling wit

Última atualização : 2026-10-09

Chapter 14_The Archive Key

Tarni Dust floated slowly through the Great Lecture Hall, glowing in the slanted sunlight coming through the windows. The air was still, and the dust hung there like it had nowhere else to Up on the raised dais, Master Corvus was droning on about the tactical logistics of the Third Border Skirmish, his dry, cracking voice rising and falling with the agonizing monotony of a dripping faucet. Around me, sixty male cadets sat hunched over long oak benches, the heavy wool of their official academy tunics smelling faintly of damp horse blanket and ink. Some scratched notes onto parchment with spluttering quills. Others stared blankly out the high arched windows toward the grey, unforgiving peaks of the ridge. I sat in the fourth row, my posture straight enough to crack a rib, my fingers curled tightly around the shaft of my goose-feather quill. Every single morning in this hall was a slow execution. Sitting in a crowded room with sixty men, forced into close quarters where a su

Última atualização : 2026-10-14

Chapter 15_Scars and Smirks

The smell of dried blood, rusted iron, and stale sweat hung thick in the narrow armory alcove, so heavy it coated the back of my throat like grease. I sat on the edge of a splintered wooden bench, my head bowed, staring at the small pool of crimson forming between my leather boots. My right sleeve was ripped open from the shoulder down to the forearm, the dark, coarse wool shredded where the dull edge of an iron broadsword had caught me during the final drill. It wasn't a fatal wound. It wasn't even a deep one. But the skin was torn, revealing a clean, four-inch line of raw flesh that throbbed with a rhythmic, sickening heat every time my heart gave a heavy thud. "Hold still, pup," Banjo growled from above me. He didn't wait for my permission. His large, calloused hand clamped around my upper arm like a bronze clamp, squeezing just hard enough to make the bruised muscle underneath scream. He shoved me back against the cold stone wall, pinning my shoulder so firmly that I co

Última atualização : 2026-10-19

Chapter 16_Echoes of the Past

Tarni The descent into the third sub-level of the archives felt like climbing down the throat of a dead beast. There were no torches burning this deep beneath the academy. The air down here was utterly stagnant, heavy with the suffocating stench of dry rot, crumbling leather, and the sour metallic tang of ancient dust. I moved with agonizing slowness, my gloved hand dragging along the damp, moss-slicked stone of the spiral wall to keep my balance in the pitch black. Every step I took was a calculated risk. The leather soles of my boots were wrapped in torn strips of wool to muffle my footsteps, but in the crushing silence of the underground, even my own heartbeat sounded like a war drum echoing off the low vaulted ceilings. In my right pocket, the heavy iron key Locke had slipped me earlier burned like a hot coal against my thigh. I didn't trust him. Giving me this key was a treasonous offense, a direct violation of the High Inquisitor’s lockdown. If I was caught down he

Última atualização : 2026-10-24

Chapter 17_The Amber Trap

Tarni The iron door of the servant’s stairwell slammed shut behind me, the heavy latch clicking into place just as the furious shouts of the Inquisitor guards echoed from the corridor below. I collapsed against the cold metal, my lungs burning as I dragged in jagged, suffocating breaths of the stale upper-level air. My knees shook so violently I had to press my palms flat against the door to keep from sliding down to the flagstones. My mind was a chaotic, spinning void of ash and horror. I knew. Because my father was the one who signed the treasury ledger that paid for their deaths. Locke’s words replayed in my skull, a brutal, rhythmic hammer striking exactly where my heart used to be. When the Inquisitors had breached the vault, Locke had shoved me violently into the narrow chute of the old dumbwaiter, sealing the wooden panel just as the torchlight hit the aisle. He had stayed behind in the dark. He had offered himself to the guards to give me the three seconds I need

Última atualização : 2026-11-03

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