The Throne Is Mine
“All I desire is a husband who can sit pretty on the throne beside me and keep his mouth shut while I rule. You don’t fit the criteria, Killian. I am not looking for a warrior.” “When the men at court point their swords at your neck princess, you’ll need a warrior by your side instead of a puppet. You won’t be able to get rid of me so easily Amelia. Not when I have made up my mind to have you.” “I am not something for you to simply have Killian.” “Aren’t you? The men out there seem to be putting a good price on your future. Become my wife and I will become your weapon. I will make sure this throne belongs to you.” … Fancy tiaras and dresses never interested Amelia Blackwell, current princess of the Backwell castle. It had always been the throne in the middle of the court that caught her eyes. The throne was the only thing she ever desired but the men in her life reminded her of how it would never belong to a princess. When talks of her marriage flood the castle and news that her father wishes to make her cousin Fraser Adams his heir, Amelia takes matters into her own hands. She sets off to find her own husband and plots to take the throne. Meeting the king of the north Killian Bune doesn’t make her life any easier. Along her way she finds love, betrayal, death, envy, and more as she tries to become queen. “I promise you, this throne will belong to me.” ... The cover was done by IG r.voh.k
Chapter 117
Cyrus walked through the various tents diligently inspecting every last one of them. He tried to focus on her presence and what he remembered she smelled like but there were too many people and too many smells for him to narrow in on her. He was starting to lose hope and feared the worst that she was never going to be rescued or he was too late and she had already perished.
He didn't know what he would do with himself if he failed her twice. Just when he was giving up hope, he smelt something familiar. A special scent of blood filled his nose causing him to spin around and look at the tent he passed a moment ago. There was a woman tending to her wounds with her head down.
"Jahi?" He called her name and felt his heart skip a beat when her head looked up. Her usual blond hair was covered with what he presumed to be mud making it look brown. Her body had become smaller no doubt because slaves were not fed right.