Veiled Among Kingdoms - Book One of Thrones Entwined

One Year Later

It had been a full year since Kourtney and Jenna left Hillgovia. No farewell, no public departure—just gone. Quietly. Without a trace.

Life moved on, as it always did.

The six princes returned to their kingdoms, each swept into the steady rhythm of duty, diplomacy, and demands. Between reforms, royal engagements, and border negotiations, their schedules rarely allowed for idle moments. But whenever they happened to cross paths—at summits, alliance meetings, or state gatherings—the conversation had a habit of shifting.

Inevitably, it would drift back to her.

The girl from Gardenia.

The only one they'd ever met.

She'd come without warning. Stirred their world for a brief moment. And disappeared just as suddenly.

They had questions—many of them. And more than once, they'd asked Julien Perrie if he knew anything. Where she'd gone, who she really was. But Perrie had only shrugged, saying she was working on a contract. That was all.

As for Perrie himself—his brand had only grown stronger. The gala became the benchmark of the season, and his studio expanded with new apprentices and higher demand. But every so often, when the fitting room quieted or he paused before a new design, his thoughts would go to the one person who'd had his back when things nearly collapsed.

She was gone now, just a memory in passing.

But not forgotten. Not by any of them.

And just like that, during one of their alliance gatherings, the six princes found themselves once again seated around in a room sleek with quiet authority, minds wearied by repetition.

Discussions had dragged on. Old systems. Stalled proposals. Traditional councils, reluctant to loosen their grip.

"We spend more time convincing our elders that the sky is blue," Prince Robert murmured, swirling his untouched glass of water, "than actually getting anything passed."

Jacen didn't look up. "That's because they believe the sky belongs to them," he added dryly. "Progress is a miracle at this point."

Nicholas gave a short chuckle. "And even if we offered them wings, they'd ask for reins instead."

Keith scoffed. "Try proposing reform in Liberty. They look at you like you've suggested arson."

Wysten nodded. "Phillips wants peace and growth, but no one wants to be the first to let go of the past."

Edward spoke softly, but the edge in his voice cut clear. "The world is shifting beneath their feet. But they'd rather pretend it's the breeze."

Robert leaned back, half-smiling. "Sometimes I wonder if we're the heirs of kingdoms or just scribes for yesterday's rules."

Keith gave a dry smirk. "How poetic of you."

Robert met his gaze with practiced charm. "Careful. If I get any more eloquent, you'll start thinking I'm serious."

Keith didn't miss a beat. "That would be a first."

A few quiet laughs stirred around the table, though none reached past the surface. The fatigue was deeper than humor.

There was a moment of stillness as the conversation lulled.

Then Robert leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting toward the windows where dusk painted shadows against the glass.

"You know," he said, tone casual but laced with a trace of fond amusement, "this time last year wasn't nearly so dull."

The others turned toward him, mildly intrigued.

Keith didn't even look up from his glass. "You'll have to narrow it down."

Robert smirked. "Oh, I think you remember it just fine."

He let that linger a beat—then added with a glint in his eye, "You know, the moment your tongue decided to take a vacation mid-sentence?"

Nicholas chuckled.

Jacen gave a quiet, knowing smile.

Wysten exhaled, a sound that could've been a laugh if you listened closely enough.

Keith's eyes narrowed, slow and sharp. "That again."

Robert shrugged innocently. "What can I say? I've never seen you flinch before. It's a historical memory at this point."

Even Edward gave a rare grin. "It was… memorable."

Keith's jaw flexed, the usual flicker of irritation surfacing. "Some people mistake impudence for brilliance. I'm not one of them."

Robert chuckled. "That's exactly what makes it so brilliant."

"I don't recall you faring any better," Keith said coolly, one brow arching.

"Oh, I didn't," Robert replied without missing a beat, leaning back with that irreverent grin. "But I wasn't trying to win a debate. I was far too busy falling madly in love."

Jacen gave a quiet huff of amusement. "For someone who fell, you hit the ground rather gracefully."

Wysten's voice was smooth, dry. "Graceful… and entirely unnoticed."

Even Edward couldn't resist a light remark. "She barely acknowledged you."

Robert placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "Wounds like those don't heal easily, gentlemen. I was a man struck by fate."

"Fate," Keith muttered, "or delusion."

But the jest faded slowly, and a new quiet settled in.

Wysten broke it, softly. "It is strange, isn't it? How someone from Gardenia—of all places—appears, and then vanishes without a trace."

Nicholas leaned forward, curiosity in his gaze. "None of us ever met a Gardenian before. And she's the only one we remember."

Robert's expression lost its humor, replaced by something thoughtful. "I kept thinking she might show up again. But… nothing."

Edward nodded slowly. "Julien didn't offer much either. Just that she was working under a contract."

Keith didn't speak this time, but his gaze lowered slightly, his fingers now still against the arm rest of the couch. As if reminiscing a certain memory.

A beat passed.

"She was a storm," Jacen said quietly. "And like most storms—unpredictable. Brief. But unforgettable."

No one disagreed.

The room fell still for a moment. Not heavy. Not wistful.

Just… unresolved.

But they didn't know it yet.

Not then, as they sat around, voices threading between duty and memory, brushing against moments they couldn't quite explain. Not while their conversation wandered through reform and fatigue—still holding onto traces of someone long gone.

Something was already shifting.

Far from that room—quietly, without warning—the world was preparing to wake to a name no one had spoken in years. A name long forgotten by the public, buried beneath treaties and trade, absent from royal discourse.

And when morning came, it wouldn't be subtle.

The sun crept across rooftops and palace terraces like any other day. But across the kingdoms, it wasn't bells or birdsong that stirred the world awake.

It was the news.

Broadcasts lit up screens and scrolls in every major capital, voices echoing through cafés, courts, and carriages. Headline after headline blazed across feeds and broadsheets:

"THE SLEEPING KINGDOM AWAKENS: GARDENIA'S QUIET RISE INTO THE GLOBAL SPHERE"

Gardenia.

A kingdom most had forgotten. A place no one had seen. A name lost to time—until now.

And for those who had once crossed paths with a girl from a kingdom no one dared speak of—

The headline hit harder than it should have.

Because history had just moved.

And whether they were ready or not—

It might be heading straight in her direction.