A ROYAL OBSESSION

Maya had never envisioned herself wearing an extravagant gown until today, sitting before a large mirror as she prepared to marry a man she had never laid eyes on, only heard rumors about.

The mess she was in, was deeper than she'd ever imagined, and she felt torn. One part of her urged her to run away with Peter, yet she recalled his stern warnings about the consequences—being tracked down and possibly executed.

She didn't want to drag him into that fate.

Speaking of Peter, they hadn't communicated at all. She had waited at their favorite spot, but he never showed up.

It saddened her to think he had just accepted their fate, surrendering without a fight. He wasn't even at home when she went to check. Here she was, entirely alone, set to marry a stranger and step into an unfamiliar life.

The woman tasked with preparing her for the wedding continued her work as Maya stared into the mirror. She knew she was pretty, but seeing herself like this, she felt ethereal—something she never thought possible. With soft features, the makeup artist wisely opted for a subtle approach, enhancing her natural beauty rather than overwhelming it. Maya radiated elegance.

"Please, my lady, press your lips together," the woman encouraged as she applied a light lipstick. Though anxiety churned within her, Maya complied, pressing her lips together as instructed.

"I'm done, my lady," the woman announced, stepping aside so Maya could fully take in her reflection. Maya stood, to see her full reflection. Her brown hair was elegantly styled into a low bun, with braids atop her head and tendrils framing her face, adorned with exquisite golden jewelry.

She donned a stunning white wedding dress featuring a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt that gracefully cascaded to the ground, adorned with elegant golden trim tracing the bodice, sleeves, and hem. The shiny white fabric accentuated her silhouette, while the off-shoulder neckline boldly revealed just the right amount of cleavage and back, keeping the rest intriguingly mysterious. "You look stunning, my lady."

"Thank you," Maya replied, forcing a small smile.

Just then, her gaze shifted to the door, where Eliana entered, dressed extravagantly for the wedding. Eliana had transformed quickly after learning that Maya was to wed the king, shifting from shock and insult to forced acceptance of what was an undeniable truth.

"Now, look at you," Eliana drawled, strolling into the room with a feigned cheerful demeanor. Deep down, Maya could sense her jealousy, wishing it were her daughter in this position. "You're such a ravishing young woman, I never recognized that before," she continued, sidling up to Maya.

Maya refused to meet her gaze, adamantly keeping her eyes focused elsewhere. "That position is meant for Mariana, but luck seems to be on your side, Maya," Eliana said, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "But regardless, I'm coming out ahead here because of all the wealth you bring. Had I known you'd be this valuable, I would have treated you like my own daughter." She said, reaching out to twirl a strand of Maya's hair.

Maya clenched her teeth, determined not to allow this woman any semblance of maternal claim over her. With a swift motion, she slapped Eliana's hand away, shock flickering across the woman's face before irritation took over. "Don't ever wish for that. I will never be your daughter," Maya declared sharply.

Eliana's lips curled into a cruel smirk, and she shrugged. "I only came to offer my congratulations. You know, aside from all the wealth and whatnot, I've heard plenty about the king and honestly, I doubt you'll survive this predicament. How unfortunate for you, Maya."

Maya remained silent, her frustration palpable as she faced Eliana.

"I still see this as a win, though" Eliana stated, straightening her back. "My daughter won't have to suffer, and we'll reap the rewards from the king as your family. So…"

Maya turned her head away, disgust evident in her expression. Eliana saw only the fortune Maya was bringing her. "Don't be upset, Maya. You owe me a lot. If it weren't for me, you'd probably be dead. I paid your mother's debts, took you in, fed and clothed you… This is how you can repay me. You need to play along with the plan, get married to the king, and continue bringing in money. Understand?" Eliana questioned firmly.

Eliana's gaze then swept over Maya, before landing on her hands—hands that bore scars and calluses from years of hard work. "Here, put these on," she commanded, holding out gloves before taking Maya's hand in a firm grip.

"What are you doing?" Maya questioned, though the answer was glaringly obvious. She lifted her chin to meet Eliana's gaze and added, "Oh, so you don't want the king to see the state you've allowed his bride to be in?"

"Just be quiet and let's get this over with," Eliana snapped, irritation sharpening her tone as she forced the gloves onto Maya's hands.

And then she spoke again, "If your mother hadn't abandoned you, she could have enjoyed these riches and being the queen's mother right now. Must be regretting her choices," she mocked, a chuckle escaping her.

Maya wrenched her hands away from Eliana's grasp. "Don't speak about my mother," she warned. "I'm the only one allowed to say anything about her."

Eliana responded with a condescending smile, nodding mockingly. "Well, congratulations again. Let's hope you survive in the palace," she said, chuckling as she turned away.

****

The large double doors swung open, and Maya's heart raced. It was time for her to marry a stranger—a dangerous one, from all she'd heard. What would he be like? The uncertainty gnawed at her. How had she ended up here, on the brink of this perilous union? She should be with Peter, strategizing their escape, but it felt impossible now.

Could something intervene today? Might there be a war, prompting a mass exodus, allowing her to flee? She wished for anything to disrupt this wedding, but the fanfare and circumstance drowned out her thoughts.

"Take my hands, Maya," Michael instructed, stepping into the role of her father, extending his arms.

Though she despised the situation, she had no choice. Him standing next to her twisted her stomach in knots. He had brought chaos into her life, and now he expected to escort her to her groom? It made her feel ill.

She reluctantly took his hand and they began their slow walk through the double doors. The gaze of the crowd fell upon her like a weight. Under her veil, her brown eyes scanned the sea of faces until they landed on Eliana, whose expression was a volatile mix of envy and irritation, then on Mariana, who looked annoyed and angry. Mariana seemed ready to marry the king herself, regardless of the rumors. Their past cruelty sickened Maya; they had used her for too long. If not for Peter, she might still be the naive girl yearning for their approval. Now, she was free from them, but headed into a different kind of trouble.

Maya tightened her grip on her bouquet as she walked down the red carpet to the altar.

Her eyes landed on the man standing there, dressed in an exquisite attire, with the crown resting on top of his head. He was no doubt the king. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and solid. Dark, wavy hair cascaded to his shoulders.

As the priest cleared his throat, signaling that she had arrived, he turned to face her. When their eyes locked, Maya felt the air leave her lungs; the intensity of his piercing blue gaze rendered her momentarily breathless.