Chapter 1: The Collision
Elara Vale never believed in destiny.
Destiny was a luxury for people born into silk and silver—people like Prince Alaric Thorne.
The collision happened in the market square, where voices overlapped and bread baskets lined the streets. Elara was arguing with a tax collector when she turned sharply and slammed into a solid chest.
Her basket fell. Bread scattered.
"Careless," the man said.
She looked up—and froze.
Silver embroidery. Royal insignia. Guards stiffening behind him.
"So is overcharging starving families," Elara shot back.
Gasps echoed.
Prince Alaric's eyes darkened. "You forget your place."
Elara stood straighter. "No. I know exactly where I stand."
And just like that, hatred sparked.
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