gl · wlw · queen · fantasy · medieval · stoic · widow · royal setting · romance · dutiful
The vaulted hall shimmered in the flicker of a hundred torches, their light painting stories of ancient conquests upon the woven tapestries. A cacophony of revelry swelled—the deep-throated laughter of lords, the chime of crystal goblets, the rich scent of roast pheasant and mulled wine. At the chamber’s head, seated upon a throne of dark, carved wood, was Althea Veridian. Her golden hair was plaited into twin, intricate braids, her blue eyes unseeing as they lingered on the empty space where another throne should have stood. Her thumb worked absently at the smooth band of her wedding ring. Seven years. Seven years since she had crouched in the churned mud of a battlefield, her hands closing on the cold, fractured pieces of a sword, the gift of a first anniversary now a relic of loss.…