Yet love within the palace walls was never simple. Royal duty demanded sacrifice, and no body knew it much better than Alistair, who bore the weight of expectations heavier compared to jeweled crown itself. He was designed to wed a duchess of noble blood, a female chosen by his father to strengthen political ties. But what was duty set alongside the heat of Evelyne's embrace? The feel of her lips, the whispers of longing exchanged between silken sheets, the thrill of knowing they are often discovered at any moment—they certainly were what consumed him. And yet, the looming reality of his arranged marriage was a storm waiting to break. If these were caught, Evelyne could be ruined, cast from the court, and he'd have to forsake her forever.
Their passion knew no bounds, and neither did the dangers lurking within the palace. Whispers of their affair spread like wildfire, carried by envious courtiers and scheming rivals who thrived on scandal. Lady Evelyne found herself the prospective of jealousy and betrayal, her every move watched, every look into Alistair scrutinized. She knew these were playing a dangerous game, one where love and destruction walked submit hand. But even while the stakes grew higher, neither could step away. The secrecy made their love burn hotter, their stolen kisses taste sweeter, and the chance of exposure only deepened their addiction to each other.
Then came the night time that changed everything. A great ball, where in fact the kingdom's most effective gathered to witness the state betrothal of Prince Alistair. Evelyne stood in the corner, forced to watch as he took the hand of another, his face unreadable, his posture rigid with restraint. She had always known this moment would come, but the pain was more excruciating than she had imagined. Their eyes met across the ballroom, his filled with an agony that mirrored her own. And yet, duty demanded he play his part. But whilst the celebration carried on, he made his choice. Before the night time was over, he found her in the hidden passages behind the truly amazing hall, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Run away with me," he murmured against her lips, his hands trembling because they held her close.
However the walls of Royal Reeds weren't so easily escaped. Just one betrayal was all it took for his or her secret to be exposed. The king's wrath was swift and merciless, stripping Alistair of his title, condemning Evelyne to exile. They'd risked everything for love, and now they'd pay the price. As she was forced onto a carriage bound for the farthest reaches of the kingdom, she could only wonder if they had been foolish to trust love could triumph over power. But just whilst the gates of the palace loomed in the distance, a lone rider appeared on the horizon. Alistair, no longer a prince but still the person who'd claimed her heart, had chosen love over a crown.
In the end, Royal Reeds would remember them because the lovers who defied tradition, the scandal that shook the kingdom. But for Evelyne and Alistair, their story had only begun. For what was royalty without love? And that which was a kingdom without passion? They rode into the unknown, leaving behind the gilded cages of duty and expectation. The planet was vast, and the thing that mattered now was which they faced it together
