As the next week approached, Easton worked tirelessly to ensure his kingdom would run smoothly in his temporary absence. He assigned critical tasks to his most trusted advisors, overseeing every decision with precision. His assistant, Lord Harlan, would manage affairs in his stead, reporting back regularly.
Marlowe, back in Everthorns, prepared for the upcoming trial with a mix of determination and unease. The weight of her mother’s expectations loomed over her, but she refused to waver.
When the week ended, Easton arrived at Everthorns once more, ready to face whatever trials awaited him.
The court gathered, anticipation thick in the air as Queen Evera stood before him. “Your trial begins now, King Easton. Let us see if you are truly worthy of my daughter.”
The first challenge was about to be revealed.
The first trial was one of diplomacy. Queen Evera, known for her sharp wit and ruthless negotiation skills, presented Easton with a scenario involving a border dispute between Everthorns and a neighboring kingdom. He was to resolve it without war, proving his ability to be a leader who brought strength through wisdom, not just force.
Easton took his time analyzing the scenario, his mind working through different possibilities. Marlowe watched closely, knowing that her mother would be relentless in testing him.
After a tense exchange of strategic arguments, Easton delivered a solution that was both beneficial to Everthorns and ensured long-term peace. Queen Evera studied him for a moment before nodding slightly, granting him passage to the next trial.
Marlowe let out a quiet breath of relief, but she knew this was only the beginning.
The second trial was a test of endurance and survival. Easton was taken deep into the Everthorns Forest, where he would have to find his way back before dawn without a horse, weapons, or supplies—only his instincts and knowledge.
As the sun set, Easton disappeared into the dense woods, while Marlowe stood at the castle gates, her heart pounding. Would he make it back in time?
_
As the night deepened, Marlowe found herself unable to rest. She paced near the castle gates, staring into the dark forest where Easton had disappeared. The Everthorns Forest was not forgiving—its thick underbrush, hidden ravines, and prowling beasts made it treacherous, even for seasoned hunters.
Easton, meanwhile, moved swiftly through the shadows, relying on his instincts. He had been trained for war, but this was different. The night tested not just his strength but his ability to remain calm under pressure. He climbed a tree to get a better vantage point, mapping out his path using the stars.
Marlowe waited, her heart racing with every passing hour. The trial was meant to test whether Easton was truly worthy of standing beside her as an equal, as a future ally to Everthorns. But she realized something deeper—she wasn’t just worried about the trial; she was worried about him.
As dawn’s first light touched the horizon, a figure emerged from the trees. Dirty, exhausted, but standing tall—Easton had returned.
Marlowe ran toward him without thinking, her hands instinctively reaching to check for injuries. “You made it,” she breathed, her eyes searching his face.
He smirked slightly, despite his exhaustion. “Did you doubt me?”
Before she could answer, Queen Evera and King Alden stepped forward. Evera examined Easton with an unreadable expression before nodding slightly.
“You pass the second trial,” she declared. “Rest now, for the final test will be the hardest yet.”
Marlowe looked at Easton, a mix of relief and pride in her gaze. But she knew—whatever the last trial was, it would push him to his very limits.
_ 
As Easton stood before the royal court of Everthorns, the weight of the final trial loomed over him. He had proven his strength, his endurance, and his ability to survive in unfamiliar terrain. But King Alden's expression was unreadable, and Queen Evera’s eyes held something close to calculation.
“The final trial,” King Alden began, “is not one of body, but of mind and heart.”
Marlowe tensed beside him, knowing this was the true test—the one that would determine not just his worthiness as a ruler but his place beside her.
“You must prove your loyalty,” Alden continued. “To stand by Everthorns, you must sacrifice something dear to you.”
A servant stepped forward, carrying a scroll sealed with Easton’s royal crest. It was an official decree—one that named Easton’s betrothal to a noblewoman from Drach, arranged in secret by his own court while he had been away.
Easton’s jaw clenched as he read it. His council had gone behind his back, securing an alliance they deemed more ‘fitting’ for Drach’s strength.
“They have betrayed me,” he muttered under his breath, anger flashing in his eyes.
“You have a choice, King Easton,” Queen Evera said. “If you wish to prove yourself, you must sever ties with your own kingdom’s expectations. Tear the contract, right here, before our court—and declare yourself aligned with Everthorns.”
Silence fell over the chamber.
If he destroyed the contract, he would not only defy his court but risk backlash from his own nobility. He would be cutting ties with a future that had already been planned for him. But if he hesitated—if he chose duty over love—Marlowe would know where his true loyalty lay.
Easton’s gaze met hers. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the fear that he would choose his kingdom over her.
Without breaking eye contact, Easton took the scroll, held it up—and in one swift motion, he tore it in half.
Gasps echoed around the chamber.
“I choose my own path,” Easton declared. “Not one forced upon me.”
A flicker of something—perhaps pride, perhaps relief—passed over King Alden’s face.
Marlowe exhaled sharply, stepping forward instinctively. Without thinking, she grabbed Easton’s hand, gripping it tightly.
Queen Evera sighed, shaking her head. “You’re a fool,” she muttered.
But Alden raised his hand. “No. He is exactly what Everthorns needs.”
The trial was over. And Easton had won.
As the final day of the trial approached, tension filled the Everthorns castle. Easton had done everything asked of him—proved his strength, his loyalty, and his willingness to stand against his own court. Now, only one thing remained: King Alden’s final verdict.
Marlowe couldn’t sleep that night. She stood on her balcony, staring at the moonlit gardens below, lost in thought. If her father refused Easton in the end, what would she do? Would she fight for him? Would she leave everything behind?
A soft knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. She opened it to find Easton standing there, dressed simply, his face unreadable.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
She shook her head, stepping aside to let him in. They sat together on the edge of her bed, silent for a moment. Then Easton reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.
“Tomorrow decides everything,” he said. “But no matter what happens, I will not walk away from you.”
Marlowe’s heart ached at his words. He had risked everything for her. Could she do the same?
“Even if my father refuses?” she asked.
“I will find another way,” Easton said firmly. “Even if I have to challenge the whole world for you.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back. Instead, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. “You’re impossible, Easton.”
He smiled. “I know.”
As the first light of dawn broke through the horizon, the final day began. And with it, the moment of truth.
_
The grand hall of Everthorns Castle was filled with nobles, council members, and royal guards. The final day of Easton’s trial had arrived, and King Alden sat on his throne, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Queen Evera remained still, her sharp gaze flicking between Easton and her daughter.
Marlowe stood beside Easton, her hands clenched at her sides. She had prepared for this moment, but seeing Lord Frederick standing among the gathered lords made her stomach churn. He wore a smirk, his confidence evident.
“So, Your Majesty,” Lord Frederick spoke first, addressing King Alden. “Now that the month is over, I believe it is time for you to honor the original arrangement. Marlowe was promised to me. She belongs to me.”
Easton’s jaw tightened. “She belongs to no one,” he countered, his voice calm but firm. “And I have fulfilled every requirement of this trial. I ask for her hand, not as a demand, but as an offering of devotion.”
King Alden remained silent for a moment before finally speaking. “Frederick, you come here demanding what was once promised. Easton, you come offering more than a simple union. Both of you claim to have Marlowe’s best interests at heart. But have either of you considered what she wants?”
Marlowe inhaled sharply, her father’s gaze locking onto hers.
“Speak, daughter,” Alden commanded. “What is your choice?”
The entire room fell into hushed anticipation. Frederick looked smug, as if he already knew her answer. Easton, however, simply waited, his eyes filled with quiet resolve.
Marlowe straightened her shoulders. She looked at her father first, then at her mother, whose expression was unreadable. Finally, she turned to Frederick, meeting his cold, expectant stare before shifting her gaze to Easton—the man who had risked everything for her.
“I choose Easton.”
The hall erupted into murmurs. Frederick’s smirk disappeared instantly, replaced by disbelief and rage.
“You dare defy our arrangement?” he hissed, taking a step forward.
Marlowe lifted her chin. “I was never yours to claim, Frederick.”
Before he could react, King Alden raised his hand, silencing the room. He let out a deep breath and nodded. “Then it is decided.”
Frederick clenched his fists, his face dark with fury. “This is a mistake.”
“No,” Alden said, his tone final. “The mistake was assuming my daughter had no say in her own future.”
Easton, who had remained still until now, finally moved. He turned to Marlowe, reached for her hand, and squeezed it gently.
“You won’t regret this,” he promised her.
Lord Frederick stormed out of the hall without another word. Queen Evera, despite her initial disapproval, remained silent. And King Alden, though unreadable, gave Easton a long, calculating look before finally speaking again.
“Easton of Drach,” he declared. “You have won this trial. Marlowe is yours.”
The words echoed through the hall, sealing their fate.
The announcement was made grandly in both Everthorns and Drach. Messengers were sent to every noble house, and the people of both kingdoms were informed that Princess Marlowe and King Easton were now officially engaged. The wedding would take place when Marlowe reached the age of eighteen.
In Everthorns, the people were divided—some were relieved that Marlowe had chosen love over politics, while others feared how this union would affect the balance of power. In Drach, Easton’s court was shocked but had no choice but to accept their king’s decision.
A grand feast was held in both kingdoms to celebrate their engagement, and for the first time, Marlowe and Easton felt a sense of peace. But deep down, they knew this was only the beginning of their journey. Many still opposed their union, and unseen threats lurked in the shadows.
As they stood together, watching the fireworks that lit up the night sky, Easton leaned closer to Marlowe and whispered, “No matter what comes next, I will stand by you.”
Marlowe turned to him, her heart steady. “And I, by you.”
Their journey had only just begun.