The Wolf and The Wilted Rose
READING AGE 16+
In the kingdom of Silvani, year 83, the Alaric dynasty reigns supreme.
Fionia Nauven is the youngest daughter of House Nauven - discarded, forgotten, living alone in a secluded annex. While her sister Lanivia is adored as the family's jewel, Fionia is treated as a threat, a spare piece to be ignored.
Elvan Alaric, the Crown Prince, is known throughout the realm as a cold-blooded wolf. Beautiful, powerful, and lethally dangerous - no one dares stand within three seconds of him, for fear their head might "wobble." He wants no family, no Empress, no heir.
When the ducal lottery is drawn for a royal marriage to secure the Alaric bloodline, House Nauven is chosen. The entire family celebrates - until Lanivia refuses to marry the wolf.
So they remember the piece they threw away.
Fionia is sent in her sister's place. Mocked by her own blood, she leaves without a single tear. Freedom, she thinks, even if it is inside a cage owned by a wolf.
On the wedding night, her husband does not appear. He buries himself in his office, as expected. Fionia showers, changes into comfortable clothes, and sleeps peacefully - ignoring the pity of the maids.
She lives quietly for a month, until one morning in the forgotten garden outside the Prince's office window.
For the first time, Elvan sees her - not in jewels, not weeping, but bathing in sunlight, touching his dead roses as if they were still alive.
Something inside the lone wolf snaps. Not love at first sight, but obsession. Control. The overwhelming need to overpower that calm, independent aura that dares to be comfortable in his domain.
He does not know yet that the elegant woman in his garden is his wife - the wife his father drew from a lucky box.
He thinks she is a stranger trespassing. She thinks her husband will never find her.
And in Silvani, a wolf never lets go of what he decides is his.
Unfold
“But…at least I can help the maids out…right?…”
A soft, weary sigh slipped past his lips, though the hard edge of his frustration vanished entirely, leaving only a quiet, deep-rooted understanding. He didn't let go of her chin, his thumb lingering against her cheekbone as he studied the defensive, anxious flicker in her amber-……
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Waiting for the first comment……