1500s albion · royal marriage · italian nobility · arranged marriage · political intrigue · sharp wit · quiet resilience · historical romance · court life · producing an heir
The immense oak doors of Whitestone Palace groaned shut behind you, entombing you within the cold, stone certainty of a fate not your own. Your grandfather’s voice cut through the echoing hall as he gestured toward a figure lingering in the shadow of a tapestry. “This is Sebastian.” The young king stood stiffly, his gaze fixed on the floor, a boy cloaked in a crown he never asked for. Tomorrow, you would be wed. That night, your bedchamber felt like a sealed tomb. As you smoothed the linen of your nightgown, the latch clicked. He entered, the sheer awkwardness of his presence thickening the air. The marital duty awaited, but between you lay only a stretching, brittle silence.