Lady Derynn The Daring

The king had left, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall as he made his way out of the dining room. The air in the room seemed to settle, but the tension remained thick.

The wives, having been dismissed in their own way, sat back down, each one returning to their respective positions, though none of them spoke. The silence was suffocating, and Derynn could feel their eyes burning into her back, the judgment lingering like a weight.

Queen Ralina cleared her throat first, her sharp gaze fixed on Derynn's empty seat. Lady Lyra muttered something under her breath, a quiet mockery. Lady Mira, still seething with frustration, tried to mask her anger behind a tight-lipped smile. Only Lady Evelyn remained silent, her eyes flicking between the others with quiet curiosity.

Derynn, however, had no intention of staying in that room any longer. She stood up without a word, turning on her heel, and left the table. No one protested. The air in the dining room felt too heavy to breathe, and she needed a moment to herself, far from the watchful eyes of her co-wives and the oppressive atmosphere of the royal court.

As the door closed behind her, she walked briskly down the corridor, her footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. She needed to clear her mind. Everything about this place was suffocating, the politicking, the scheming, the constant game. She had been playing it for years now, pretending to bow to the king's will, but inside, she was anything but loyal. She would wait, bide her time, until the moment came when she could shape things to her own desires.

Derynn stepped into a small garden at the back of the palace. The quiet of the space, with its lush greenery and the soft rustling of the trees, offered her a brief respite from the chaos of the royal household. The cool air helped ease her mind, and she closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, letting the peace of the garden soothe her.She needed to focus. There was much to do. Derynn stood in the quiet garden, her hand brushing against the leaves of a low-hanging branch. The cool air soothed her face, but it couldn't reach the ache buried deep in her chest.

Derynn stood in the quiet garden, her hand brushing against the leaves of a low-hanging branch. The cool air soothed her face, but it couldn't reach the ache buried deep in her chest.

Her mind drifted back—back to when she was 18 years old.

The day her life changed forever.

She could still hear the angry voices in the great hall, her father's tone firm but desperate. Kaelith Rain—the king's most loyal advisor—had refused the king's demand to wed her, his only daughter, to a man over twice her age.

But no one denied King Vill Zephyrin.

Days later, the rumors spread like wildfire—her father branded a traitor to the kingdom. Lies whispered into every corner of the court. Soldiers came to their home. Her mother wept. Her father stood tall, but she saw the fear in his eyes. He was innocent, but truth held no power against the king's will.

Derynn's engagement to Aaron was broken in blood.

She had loved him—Aaron—her first love. He was kind, brave, and he had promised her a future beyond the walls of the palace. They dreamed of a life together. Freedom. Family. Happiness.

But the king's men dragged Aaron away like a criminal.

He fought. She screamed.

But the king got what he wanted. He always did.

Aaron was executed.

Her father was stripped of his honor, his power reduced to nothing more than a pawn allowed to live only to serve, kept under watch like a caged dog.

And Derynn was forced into marriage, led to the altar with tears staining her face, bound to a man she despised. The king's hand on hers felt like a shackle. She smiled before the court, but her heart was buried alongside Aaron.

The weight of it crashed down on her all over again. Her throat tightened. Her eyes stung.

Even after all these years, the pain hadn't dulled.

She sat on a stone bench, covering her face with her hands. Silent tears escaped.

For her father.

For Aaron.

For the life she was robbed of.

But she couldn't let them break her.

She would survive.

And one day—one day—she would make this kingdom hers.

Derynn wiped her tears, forcing herself to breathe. The past was a wound that never fully healed, but she had learned to live with it. To pretend. To endure.

She let herself remember more—the nights she spent with the king.

Those nights were unbearable. His touch, his breath, his weight. She never wanted any of it. But she had no choice. He was the king, and she was his wife—his possession.

She learned early on that she could not fight him, not in the way she wanted. Resistance would only bring punishment. And if she became pregnant—if she bore him a son—she would be bound to him forever.

So after every night he claimed her, she drank the tea.

A special blend, given to her in secret by a trusted maid. It was bitter, earthy, but effective. The kind of tea that ensured no child would take root inside her womb.

She drank it without fail, no matter how much she despised the taste.

The other wives bore his daughters, one after another, desperate to give him a son. But not her. Never her.

She would not let him have that power over her.

For years, she followed this ritual. Pretending. Smiling. Obeying. Drinking the tea.

Until the one time she didn't,and everything changed.

Derynn was twenty when she first saw Marc Battle.It was in the royal court, during a military briefing.The king was speaking with his generals, discussing border defenses and enemy movements.

That was when he entered.Marc was not like the other knights. Tall, sharp-eyed, confident—but not arrogant. His armor was worn from battle, his sword resting proudly at his side. He carried himself with strength, but there was a calmness to him. A presence.Their eyes met just for a second.Something shifted in her chest.

It was not desire. Not at first.

It was recognition.

A man who was different. Real. Alive.

Unlike the others in the room who schemed and flattered, Marc was honest. Clear. Steady.

She had been surrounded by liars for years. That day, she saw truth in his eyes.

And though neither spoke, something was planted between them.

Something dangerous.