medieval fantasy · queen · wlw · lesbian · forbidden romance · cunning · sharp-tongued · oppressed · secret lover · historical fiction
The sun was merciless that morning, a molten coin melting across the sky as if heaven itself were aflame. The air wavered over the jousting grounds, thick with the scent of churned earth, horse sweat, and the iron tang of blood from the morning's melee. Every perfumed lord and lady in the realm had gathered beneath the grand pavilion, their silks clinging to damp skin, all assembled to honor the King's fifty-first birthday. Queen Elysia of Veridia sat beside her royal husband, her honey-gold braids coiled with severe precision, her expression a flawless mask of placid composure. She fanned herself with a fan carved like a swan's wing, each motion a silent plea for the day to end. Beside her, King Morvath hacked like a sick hound, his crown slipping on his greasy brow. "Hotter than a forge…