This is my way of announcing that I’ve begun writing on a new project. Will I finish it? Who knows? Is it fun though? Absolutely. So I’m going to share it with you guys against your will! The door is locked and the powerpoint-er, I mean the synposis is prepared! Read along, and you may just get a sneak peak of what I’ve written so far…

The Synopsis:

To end a generations-long war, a marriage is arranged between a charmingly naive prince and a dreamy but equally oblivious princess. Neither is thrilled, both long for true love, but duty comes first. Behind the scenes, however, the true powers are at play: the prince’s brilliant and calculating gentleman-in-waiting, and the princess’s cunning and fiercely loyal lady-in-waiting. Each is the secret strategist behind their monarch’s success, and each is deeply committed to their own kingdom. When tradition demands that they too be wed, to symbolize the uniting of the households, they are less than thrilled. But strategy has a funny way of turning into something else when hearts get involved.

Meanwhile, in the shadows of court, two rival assassins, one from each kingdom, are given a single directive: kill the monarch of the enemy side. As their deadly missions cross again and again, a reluctant chemistry sparks between them, even as they try to finish the job and stay alive. The lady and gentleman-in-waiting, ever alert, play a high-stakes game of wits to keep their monarchs alive, all while navigating their own slow-burning, inconvenient romance.

As alliances shift and true affections deepen, three love stories unfold: between the idealistic prince and princess who unexpectedly fall for each other, the wary advisors who find love in the midst of rivalry, and the assassin enemies whose mutual respect may just turn to something more.

As this all unfolds, will the true enemy come to light?

The Preview:

Chapter 1: The Lady-in-Waiting

The throne room was suffocating. Courtiers pressed close in their jeweled silks, whispering beneath the vaulted ceiling as the King rose from his throne. Sage held her breath, watching every movement. A hush finally fell over the crowd. His voice carried like a trumpet blast, proud and commanding:

“Today, I announce a union that will bind two kingdoms. My daughter, Princess Lotus, shall be wed to His Grace, the Scarlet Prince.”

A ripple spread throughout the court. Some gasped, others exchanged quick, calculating glances. Sage, standing a respectful pace behind her mistress, felt her stomach twist and drop. She wanted to look at Lotus with the unspoken question, Did you know?

She dared not. She was the Lady-in-waiting. She was to be still, respectful, and quiet. So she stared ahead, focusing instead on the fountains lining the throne room perimeter, willing herself to focus on the way the light shimmered through the spray of water and the refractions that danced along the wall.

Still, from the corner of her eyes, she could see the princess keeping her chin lifted, her face calm as carved marble. Sage’s heart ached.

The King sat again, dismissing the assembly with a wave of his hand. This evening, his glittering silver crown set with sapphires seemed uncomfortably heavy upon his head. Sage noted the red around his eyes. He had spoken with such regality, and yet, up close, Sage could see him clearly: a tired, older man, with silver beginning to show. A weary man who had seen years of war and felt his only ploy for peace was to marry his own daughter off to a monster.

Courtiers bowed low, murmuring congratulations as they filed out. Sage remained rigid until the chamber emptied, then hurried to Lotus’s side. From there, Lotus and Sage bowed low to the King and Queen before they were dismissed as well.

As they did so, Sage tried to sneak a peak at the Queen. What were her thoughts on all this? Had she also known? Did she even support this mad decree?

But Lotus had learned her steely face from the best, and the Queen’s expression revealed nothing. She only inclined her head ever so slightly before turning with to take her husband’s arm, silks rippling around her like an ocean.

~*~

“You knew?” Sage whispered, unable to keep the edge from her voice.

Lotus finally exhaled, the careful mask slipping. Her eyes were watery but no tears fell. “Only last night. When we were having tea after dinner. My father told me as though he were announcing the weather.”

Lotus moved to sit on her bed, head shaking. Beads braided into her raven hair clicked and clacked as she did so, but she said nothing more, shoulders sagging in resigned defeat.

Sage’s throat tightened with shame, cheeks hot. I should have seen this coming. I should have anticipated.

“It isn’t your fault,” Lotus said gently, as if reading her mind. She motioned her friend closer to lay a comforting hand on Sage’s arm. “None of us could have predicted it. Father has been playing his cards close to his chest lately. He is a King at the end of it all.”

But he is also a father, Sage thought but refrained. Guilt did not rest solely on his shoulders.

Sage could not forgive herself. It was her duty to see every threat before it arrived, every storm on the horizon. And for the first time in her many years at the Azure Palace, she had failed.

Her mind spiraled backward, to the day she had been bound to this role. The day she made an oath. A promise never to be broken.

~*~

Sage was fourteen when the Queen summoned her. She recalled it all as if it were yesterday. She remembered the long path through the garden to reach the pavilion where the Queen sat, enjoying the golden summer sun. And though it was a beautiful afternoon, Sage remembered that the guards’ silence brought a chill upon her, faces gray in the midday.

The Queen sat on a blue velvet chair, appearing to be deep in thought. Her crown rested on a small side table beside her, though her gaze was sharp as a blade.

“My daughter,” the Queen began without preamble, “is good of heart. She loves our people, and she is beloved in turn. But she is…not made for the rigors of politics. She has little taste for diplomacy, little head for stratagems.”

Sage, young as she was, lowered her eyes. She had known this truth too, though she never dared voice it. She could see it every day during the Princess’s tutoring sessions. The girl could never quite recall the sequence of battles, or who had signed which treaty, or why it mattered in the first place. She would wrinkle her nose in confusion, or laugh lightly at her own mistakes, as if history were nothing more than a jumble of names tumbled together in her head. Dates slipped away like water through her fingers, and more often than not she confused one monarch with another, sometimes even her own ancestors. The tutors would grow red with frustration, but the Princess only smiled, unbothered, certain that someone else would always be there to remember what she could not.

Mathematics fared no better. Columns of numbers left her wide-eyed and blinking, as if they were written in some foreign tongue. She counted on her fingers long past the age when most had stopped, and when asked to recite her tables, she would hum under her breath to buy time, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

It was at the age of nine when Sage began to do Lotus’s homework for her. At first, she attempted to teach the Princess herself, certain that, someday, it would all come together and click into place. It never did. So, Sage kept up with her Lady’s work while she tended to less “boring” matters.

The Queen rose and crossed the room. Her hand came to rest firmly on Sage’s shoulder.

“You, however,” the Queen said, “have always been clever. I have seen how you watch. How you notice. I’ve seen you poring over her books and lessons far more than she ever has.” The Queen began to smile, but it quickly faded as she continued. “The world will try to outwit her, to corner her. I will not let that happen.”

Her voice softened. “So I charge you, Sage of Rosehall, to be her mind when her own fails her. To stand beside her when I no longer can. She will be the heart of this kingdom, and you must be her reason.”

Sage’s knees nearly buckled under the enormity of it. But she bowed her head and whispered the vow that had bound her ever since:

“I swear it, Your Majesty. My loyalty is hers. My life is hers. I will not fail her.”

~*~

The echo of that oath still rang in Sage’s mind as she looked at Lotus now, her eyes burning.

She was sleeping now. She always did so easily. She had lain down on her bed only for a moment before she was snoring quietly. Even in the face of such an announcement that sealed her fate, she slept.

Sage beheld her with pale skin and blushed cheeks. Her sleek dark hair was half done now, the style not arranged for rest. Her sky-colored gown was rumpled and wrinkled. She was small, and gentle, and perfect. A lamb of the Azure court.

Sage’s fingers curled into fists. The King might throw his daughter to the wolves of politics. The Scarlet Prince might come to devour her. To devour her future kingdom, but Sage would not accept her friend’s fate. She would sharpen her mind as to a blade. She had sworn once that she would not fail Lotus, and she meant to keep it. By her life, she would keep it.