Page 1 of Uncrowned

Prologue

VAUGHN

No one understood what it took to be king.

The people of the world saw a crown. They saw power—the authority to command and destroy. They did not see the cost.

They did not see me.

A crown was not just worn, it was forged. Seeded, over centuries of time. It took a lot of blood to earn one, and it did not rest on one head alone.

I used to think that I didn’t need a queen. I thought I was strong enough to carry the kingdom by myself. It took years of training and lessons to see that I was wrong. A king was nothing without his queen. Not because he was weak alone… but because the ultimate power to rule demanded balance. Power was steadiness. It was the calm amid the responsibilities that had the strength to drown you.

What it came down to was control and chaos.

Mercy and massacre.

Love… and the willingness to sacrifice for it.

Most thought finding a queen was a matter of choice. They were wrong. Finding a queen was a necessity. But a queen was not chosen, she was broken. She was stripped of everything that gave her identity. And if she was lucky enough to survive the trials she faced, she was reborn. Or… buried.

I did not understand that at first. Not when I found her. Not when I loved her. Not even when I brought her into my world. But I understood it now.

To be king, I would have to lose her.

History remembers the crowns and who wears them. It keeps records of war. It recalls the victors who rewrite the truth to suit their reign.

History does not remember us.

I may be banished royalty—The Black Line cast into the shadows of society—but I still carry the blood of the rightful king.

Blood always remembers.

History has seen how far a bloodline will go to reclaim a title.

It has never seen how far an Order will go to restore one.

CHAPTER 1

Penelope

17 months earlier…

“Stupid girl, sit up straight. Do you not see what an embarrassment you are? He said no. No, to you. You’re the prettiest girl in all of Europe, but you sit there like some flighty, uneducated commoner, just slouching in your chair without a single thought in your head. In front of your father, no less. You couldn’t even wait until we left his office. Of course Lord Shorelam had no interest in a second meeting with you. His reputation is on the line. Our reputation. He doesn’t have time to train some stupid girl. Do you know the lengths your father went to get you an introduction? Edwin’s an earl, Penelope. An earl.”

“I do know, Mother. … Father, I apologize,” I rushed out. “I truly am sorry. About everything. I didn’t realize I’d sunk down in my chair. I’m a bit under the weather, and the rejection is a shock. I truly thought Edwin and I hit it off. I tried so hard. I don’t understand. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe looks don’t matter to him and he wants someone who still holds a title.”

The last was barely audible as I caught myself, but brown, almond-shaped eyes narrowed even more as my father stared me down. His round face was tinged with pink. I tried not to shake as he eased to stand from the brown leather chair behind his desk. “The only mistake made was thinking you could pull this off. We needed the titled match, Penelope. You said you could do this.”

“But I did everything you asked. I even… flirted like mother told me to.”

My eyes lowered to my hands as my fingers pushed into the dark green dress covering my thighs. Mortification heated my cheeks. It was repulsive. Me, trying to marry a strange man who was nearly three times my age. All for a title? I hated it. I hated this.

Pain spread like fire over my scalp as my mother jerked my hair so that I’d lift my gaze to hers. She moved in closer, but she didn’t continue holding on. “Perhaps you flirted a little too much. Did you insinuate more?”

“N-No. Of course not.”

Movement had me looking over. My lips separated as I took in my father’s growing rage. His eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent. “I didn’t. I swear, Father. I’d never.”