Novel & Cerita The King’s Chosen Bride

"Your brother will marry before the year is done. Your mother has chosen a bride — Clarisse Sairus." Bhavanit's brow rose, just slightly. "The albino?" "She is suitable," the King said. "No political entanglements. No ambition. She will keep him occupied and out of trouble." "And if he refuses?" The King's gaze hardened. "He won't. Not if he values what little freedom he has left." ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ Bhavanit's Perspective Later, in his own chambers, Bhavanit loosened the gold clasp of his shoulder mantle and stared out over the palace gardens.

She knew that she was the chosen one, how wonderful she must be feeling at that moment. She then looked to the front where the Queen and the prince were seated. Her gaze went towards the prince and he looked a bit sad for someone she was seeing for the first time up-close. Was he not happy with the ceremony? What was eating him up really? “It’s time for the prince to choose his bride. May all the ladies remain seated, the prince will take rounds and he will choose his bride by giving her his ring.”

" said the king . " What condition did he have daddy ?! " asked princess Kana . " He stood me that he would choose his bride on his own and not the one that we suggest . Such a beneficial condition being fulfilled in exchange for a small amount of goods to be transported for business to Spain . Of course, I agreed to it without hesitation ! " said the king with a pleased expression . " So........you are saying that he will choose his bride between the two of us ?! " said princess Kana with a pleased expression .

Her studies accelerated as the royal wedding loomed near, but Viktor's reassuring presence during rides through the countryside or quiet meals on the veranda sustained her. One late afternoon, Amy wandered into the palace library seeking new reading material. Rounding a corner, she stumbled onto Viktor seated stiffly across from an elegant silver-haired woman and imposing bearded man - his parents, the King and Queen Dowager. "This Anglo girl seems pleasant enough," the Queen was saying in a bored tone, "but surely we can find a more suitable bride of proper noble lineage now that the engagement mania has died down." "Mother, you gave your word to respect my choice of wife," Viktor bit out t

There would be a bride first before any other suitor would be allowed to choose a bride, out of respect for the most powerful kingdom around. I was certain it would be a serious competition of beauty, charisma, and, of course, potential. They needed the perfect woman because she wouldn't just be an ordinary bride; she would be the Queen of Gallantia, a great kingdom and the most powerful among us." "I knew that my chances of being chosen were very slim because I was not a princess and had no royal background. Although people respected me here in Castalina because of my father's position and influence on the king, it didn't change the fact that I was not of noble birth.

I followed his gaze to catch Kael staring at me strangely. “Come forward,” The king waved a hand to command Kael. Kael walked forward to the base of the throne then the King waved a hand at me. “Bow,” He gave a single command. I swallowed but got to my knees according to tradition and bowed before Kael. The hall was so silent, that you could hear a pin drop. “With all the gold, you're decked out with—I’m not surprised your brain is empty. These are the best kind of brides! Trained from birth to favor their husbands!”

But her sorrow was evident in the way she refused to look at her daughter. “Father,” Elinor greeted, lowering her head. “Come closer,” he ordered. She obeyed. The fire crackled sharply, as if celebrating what was about to happen. “You have been chosen,” Lord Avelaine said without preamble. “You will be taken to the palace as a candidate to become His Majesty King Edrion’s wife.” The world stopped. Elinor felt the air leave her lungs. For a moment, she thought she had misheard. “W-wife…?” she whispered.

He patted my hand gently and knelt beside me. The royal herald unrolled the parchment and read aloud, "By the grace and command of His Majesty the King. Whereas Crown Prince Charles Crane, heir to the throne, is a man of honor and valor; and whereas Catherine Lindon, daughter of the late General Lindon, is a woman of virtue and grace; the two being well matched in character and breeding, it is His Majesty's joyful command that they be joined in holy matrimony. Given under our hand this day. Long live the King."

And a single photograph — her, standing outside the chapel at the D'Cruz Estate, in a white dress she never wore to any wedding. My dearest Kourtney, If you are reading this, then my silence has failed to protect you. I’m sorry. I tried to keep you far from this legacy, but you are a flame born of two fires — the Saavedras, and the D'Cruz blood that still stains the soil it owns. I was promised to a man I did not love. Luciano Forger. He was cruel, calculating. The Forger empire is built not only on business, but on obedience — forced unions, political marriages, and ancient debts paid with love.

He walked past the noble daughters, past the princesses and priestesses, past the women who held their breath, hoping his eyes would meet theirs. But his gaze never wavered. He walked straight to the corner — to Freda. The tray trembled in her hands. “My king,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You shouldn’t—” Before she could finish, Zerach took her trembling hand and turned her gently toward the crowd. Gasps filled the air. “I have made my choice,” the king said clearly, his deep voice carrying across the hall. “My bride… stands before you.”