As Marlowe rode beside Seraphine, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. The last time she was in Drach, she had left as Easton’s fiancée. Now, she was returning not just as his future queen but also as an older sister bringing Seraphine into a world far different from Everthorns.
She glanced at Seraphine, who was quietly observing the scenery. “Are you nervous?” Marlowe asked.
Seraphine nodded. “A little. I’ve never left Everthorns before.”
Marlowe reached over, squeezing her sister’s hand. “You’ll be safe with me. And with Easton.”
Their convoy pressed forward, the towering walls of Drach Castle appearing in the distance. As they approached, the gates slowly opened, and standing there, waiting for them, was Easton himself.
Journey to Drach
The morning of departure arrived swiftly. Marlowe and Seraphine stood near the grand gates of Everthorns, surrounded by knights and attendants loading their belongings onto the royal carriages. The younger princess, barely able to contain her excitement, glanced at her sister.
"I still can’t believe I’m going to Drach," Seraphine whispered, gripping the straps of her travel bag. "What do you think Easton's castle is like?"
Marlowe smiled at her enthusiasm. "It's different from Everthorns. The air is colder, the halls grander, and the people… well, they’re quite disciplined."
Seraphine wrinkled her nose. "Disciplined? That sounds boring."
Marlowe chuckled. "You’ll see for yourself soon enough."
As the last of their belongings were secured, King Alden approached. His gaze softened when it landed on Seraphine. "Remember to conduct yourself with grace, child," he instructed. "Drach is not Everthorns."
Seraphine nodded. "I will, Father."
Alden then turned to Marlowe, his expression serious. "Keep your wits about you, Marlowe. You have more enemies than you think."
Marlowe inclined her head. "I know, Father. I’ll be careful."
With a final nod, Alden stepped back, allowing his daughters to board the carriage. The sound of hooves echoed through the courtyard as the convoy set off toward Drach.
Arrival at Drach
Days later, as the grand walls of Drach Castle came into view, Seraphine leaned out of the carriage window, her eyes widening. "It’s enormous!" she gasped.
Marlowe laughed. "I told you."
The moment they arrived at the castle gates, a group of knights awaited them. At the forefront stood Easton.
Marlowe stepped out of the carriage first, locking eyes with him. A familiar warmth passed between them before she turned to help Seraphine out.
Easton regarded Seraphine with curiosity. "So, you’re the little sister I’ve heard so much about?"
Seraphine crossed her arms, raising a brow. "And you’re the man stealing my sister away."
Easton chuckled. "I see wit runs in the family."
Marlowe shook her head with a smirk. "Seraphine, behave."
Easton gestured for them to follow. "Come, I have prepared rooms for you both."
As they walked through the castle halls, Marlowe couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed in Drach. The air felt heavier, the servants quieter.
And then, as they turned a corridor, an unfamiliar noblewoman appeared, her sharp eyes settling on Marlowe with interest.
Marlowe instantly knew—this woman was trouble.
_
As Marlowe and Seraphine prepared for their journey to Drach, they bid farewell to their nephew, ensuring he was well cared for at Everthorns Castle. King Alden gave his reluctant approval, while Queen Evera remained skeptical but allowed them to leave.
The next morning, the sisters, accompanied by trusted guards, embarked on their journey to Easton's kingdom. The road ahead was filled with unknown challenges, but Marlowe felt a sense of determination—she was returning to Easton, and this time, she was bringing a piece of her family with her.
_ 
As Marlowe and Seraphine settled into Drach Castle, Marlowe couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off. A certain noblewoman had been lingering too close to Easton, her eyes always calculating, her smiles too well-practiced.
Lady Genevieve of House Veltin.
Marlowe had noticed her before but never paid much mind—until now. There was something about the way Genevieve moved, always seeming to be in the right place at the right time, always offering Easton a soft smile or a whispered word.
One evening, during a formal dinner, Marlowe watched as Genevieve subtly leaned toward Easton, placing a delicate hand on his arm while laughing at something he said. Marlowe’s eyes narrowed.
Seraphine, sitting beside her, whispered, “You see it too, don’t you?”
Marlowe kept her expression neutral. “Yes,” she murmured.
Lady Genevieve was up to something. And Marlowe intended to find out exactly what.
That night, Marlowe couldn’t sleep. She sat by her window, deep in thought. If Lady Genevieve had an ulterior motive, Marlowe needed proof.
The next day, she subtly followed Genevieve through the castle corridors, keeping her distance. The noblewoman carried herself with the grace of someone who knew she was being watched—but also with the cunning of someone who had secrets to hide.
Marlowe’s patience was rewarded when she saw Genevieve slip into a secluded study room, where a man dressed in dark robes awaited her.
Marlowe pressed herself against the wall, listening carefully.
“You have one month,” the man said, his voice low but firm. “Convince him. Or the deal is off.”
Marlowe’s heart pounded. Convince who? Easton? Of what?
Genevieve sighed dramatically. “He’s not as easy to manipulate as I thought.”
Marlowe clenched her fists. She needed to get closer. She needed to know exactly what this woman was planning.
Because if Lady Genevieve was working against Easton, Marlowe would make sure she failed.
_
Marlowe carefully backed away from the study, her mind racing. If she confronted Genevieve now, she might spook her into changing her approach. Instead, she needed more information.
That night, Marlowe sent a trusted maid to watch Genevieve’s movements while she herself prepared to visit Easton. She found him in his private study, deep in thought.
“We have a problem,” she whispered as she entered, shutting the door behind her.
Easton looked up, concern flickering in his eyes. “What is it?”
Marlowe quickly explained what she had overheard. Easton leaned back, considering.
“She’s trying to manipulate me,” he murmured. “But why? What’s the end goal?”
“I don’t know yet,” Marlowe admitted. “But we need to act carefully. If she’s working for someone else, we can’t let her know we’re onto her.”
Easton exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “Then we play along,” he decided. “Let her think she has the upper hand—until we turn the tables on her.”
Marlowe nodded, determination in her eyes. “Then we need to find out who she’s truly working for.”
_ 
Turn out the woman didn't work for anyone that alive , she work for someone who already dead
_
Marlowe and Easton were both stunned by this revelation.
“You’re saying my mother chose you to train my future wife?” Easton asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
Genevieve nodded, her expression unreadable. “Yes. Your mother was a wise woman, Your Majesty. She knew that whoever stood beside you would need to be strong—not just in love, but in politics, strategy, and courtly influence.”
Marlowe crossed her arms. “Then why hide this? Why act so secretively?”
Genevieve sighed. “Because if I had revealed my purpose too soon, you might have rejected me outright. I needed to observe you both first, to ensure you were truly the right match before I interfered.”
Easton exchanged a glance with Marlowe. He could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced, and neither was he.
“So what now?” Marlowe asked cautiously.
Genevieve smiled slightly. “Now, I do what I was meant to do—prepare you to be Queen of Drach.”
_
Marlowe’s training under Genevieve began early in the morning, long before the sun rose. Unlike traditional court training, Genevieve’s methods were rigorous and unrelenting.
At dawn, Marlowe was required to master the art of poise, posture, and refined grace, learning how to command attention with just a glance. Genevieve taught her how to carry herself with elegance, but also how to disguise her emotions—an essential skill for a queen.
By midday, Marlowe was tested on diplomacy, strategy, and history. Genevieve ensured she knew the politics of both Everthorns and Drach, drilling into her mind the importance of alliances, the dangers of deception, and how to outmaneuver even the most cunning courtiers.
As the sun set, the real challenges began. Genevieve trained her in combat—not with a sword, but with words. “A queen's greatest weapon is her tongue,” she would say. Marlowe learned how to manipulate a conversation, how to turn a loss into a victory, and how to leave no room for doubt in her decisions.
But as days turned into weeks, Marlowe began to suspect that Genevieve was preparing her for more than just being Easton’s queen. It felt as though she was being shaped into something far greater—perhaps, a ruler in her own right.
And one evening, Genevieve finally confirmed Marlowe’s suspicions. With a sharp gaze, she said, “A queen is more than just a wife to a king. A queen must be prepared to stand alone. Are you ready for that, Marlowe?”
What will Marlowe’s answer be?
_
Marlowe held Genevieve’s gaze, her mind racing with the weight of those words. A queen must be prepared to stand alone.
She clenched her fists, thinking of everything she had endured—the political games, the expectations, the sacrifices. Marlowe had always thought she was preparing to stand beside Easton, but Genevieve was pushing her to think beyond that.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Marlowe admitted honestly. “But I want to be.”
Genevieve’s expression remained unreadable, but there was the slightest nod of approval. “Good. Because the day may come when you have no choice.”
From that moment, Marlowe’s training intensified. Genevieve pushed her harder, testing not only her knowledge and endurance but also her ability to make difficult decisions under pressure.
One evening, Genevieve placed a letter before her. “This came from Everthorns. Read it.”
Marlowe’s heart pounded as she unfolded the parchment. It was a message from her father, King Alden. There was trouble brewing in Everthorns. Whispers of unrest.
Marlowe looked up at Genevieve, who watched her carefully. “What would you do if you had to choose between your duty as Easton’s future queen and your duty to your birth kingdom?”
The question struck her harder than she expected. Could she truly serve one without betraying the other?
For the first time, Marlowe realized that her path to the throne was not just about marriage or love—it was about power, survival, and making impossible choices.
And soon, she would have to make one.
_ 
Easton stood at the castle gates, watching as Marlowe and Seraphine prepared to leave. The air was heavy with unspoken words, but the time had come.
Marlowe turned to Easton, her expression unreadable. “It feels strange to leave after all this time.”
Easton nodded, his jaw tightening. “You’ll return soon.”
Seraphine, standing beside her sister, glanced between the two of them before sighing. “Let’s not make this dramatic. We’ll see each other again.”
Marlowe gave Easton one last lingering look before stepping into the carriage. “Take care, Easton.”
“You too,” he said softly.
As the carriage rolled away, Easton remained still, watching until they disappeared from view. A part of him wanted to stop her, but he knew better.
Marlowe, sitting inside the carriage, stared at the passing landscape. Something felt different this time.
And she couldn’t shake the feeling that, when she returned, everything would have changed.
At least, she thought to herself, "At least you made the test of becoming a queen."
.