Kingdom Cold Read online

  Kingdom Cold

  Kingdom Cold, Volume 1

  Brittni Chenelle

  Published by Brittni Chenelle, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  KINGDOM COLD

  First edition. February 14, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Brittni Chenelle.

  Written by Brittni Chenelle.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Kingdom Cold

  Chapter 1 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 2 | Prince Young

  Chapter 3 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 4 | Prince Young

  Chapter 5 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 6 | Prince Young

  Chapter 7 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 8 | Prince Young

  Chapter 9 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 10 | Prince Young

  Chapter 11 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 12 | Prince Young

  Chapter 13 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 14 | Prince Young

  Chapter 15 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 16 | Prince Minseo

  Chapter 17 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 18 | Prince Young

  Chapter 19 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 20 | Milly

  Chapter 21 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 22 | Prince Emmett

  Chapter 23 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 24 | Prince Emmett

  Chapter 25 | Prince Young

  Chapter 26 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 27 | Prince Young

  Chapter 28 | Prince Emmett

  Chapter 29 | Milly

  Chapter 30 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 31 | Prince Young

  Chapter 32 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 33 | Prince Young

  Chapter 34 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 35 | Prince Young

  Chapter 36 | Prince Minseo

  Chapter 37 | Prince Young

  Chapter 38 | Prince Minseo

  Chapter 39 | Princess Charlotte

  Chapter 40 | Prince Young

  Chapter 41 | Prince Minseo

  Chapter 42 | King Young

  Chapter 43 | Queen Charlotte

  Chapter 44 | Prince Minseo

  Chapter 45 | Queen Charlotte

  Chapter 46 | King Young

  Chapter 47 | Queen Charlotte

  Chapter 48 | King Young

  Chapter 49 | Queen Charlotte

  Chapter 50 | Prince Minseo

  Available for Pre-Order

  Author’s Note

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  Also By Brittni Chenelle

  About the Author

  I dedicate this novel to my father.

  The man who saw glimpses of brilliance in me

  before I did.

  .

  Chapter 1

  Princess Charlotte

  DYING WASN’T MY INTENTION. Yet there I lay, ravenous—twelve hours into my hunger strike, certain I was already slipping away. The moans of my stomach howled for me to submit to the trays of food of every variety within an arm's reach. I swallowed a gulp of nectarous air, heavy with the aroma of my favorite dishes, as the servants marched them in one by one. My mother was not relenting, but neither was I. As I lay dying, I didn’t observe my life flash before my eyes, but rather the few hours that led me to this desperate act— and ultimately to my untimely demise.

  "Married? To who?” I seethed. It didn't even matter. "Married!"

  My mom, Queen of Besmium, let out a breathy sigh. "Honestly, Charlotte, can we skip the theatrics?"

  I rushed closer to her. "I'm only sixteen. You said I'd have more time, until eighteen at least."

  She crossed her arms. "And you would feel differently about marriage in two years?"

  I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Tears stung my eyes. I clenched my jaw, rage pulsing through me. Was this a punishment? Everyone knew I would make a terrible queen. I wasn't cut out for rules or duty. My parents were never able to conceive another child, so they gave in to the fact it would have to be me. Married off for an alliance. “No. I won’t do it,” I said.

  “I wasn’t asking your permission.” Her gaze cut into my resolve but I refused to surrender the modicum of freedom I had.

  “I won’t say ‘I do’,” I said, locking my knees to keep them from shaking. Marriage? Even the word repulsed me. It sat at the back of my throat and I choked on it.

  She stepped forward and leaned her face close to mine, her voice almost a whisper. “Could you be any more selfish?”

  I swallowed back a wave of tears.

  “Drethen marches closer every day,” she said. “Without this alliance—"

  I succumbed to sobs, melting like a wax candle at the end of a banquet.

  This seemed to please my mother to no end. She watched my anguish, her eyebrow slightly raised. She did this after all her victories. Certainly, this was revenge for my disobedience. After what felt like one hundred years of silence she continued, answering the question I couldn't bring myself to ask.

  "The Prince of Vires. Prince Young."

  I choked. "The Eastern Statue? Did you know that's what they call him? They say he never smiles."

  "Be grateful he's only a year older than you."

  Her words hung in the silence like a thick fog, but instead of obscuring my vision, my mother had exposed herself. Her marriage had been arranged as well, and it was no secret that father was twenty years her senior. She pursed her lips as if she could somehow suck the words back. I studied her face but she spun away, taking her leave with poised, deliberate steps before I could respond, and left me there with the news.

  I walked like the undead to my bedroom and collapsed on the floor. Milly, my lady-in-waiting, appeared.

  "Is everything—"

  "Corset off. "

  Milly rushed over, her small hands unlacing my corset with quick, decisive movements. From behind me, all I could see of her was an occasional wisp of her summery hair. When she finished, she dropped down in front of me, as if my morbid energy was draining her.

  "What happened?"

  "Prince of Vires," I said as I buried my face in my hands.

  She leaned forward, awaiting more information, as I remained motionless. Her eyes widened. "Marriage? But you're only sixteen."

  I sat up and gave a hard nod, shaking a few of my dark curls from their pins. We sat there in silence. Each drape, chandelier, and ornately decorated vase screamed the same thing: my life wasn't mine.

  I strained to remember him. I'd met Prince Young once. Dark hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes that curved in at the corners... But his face—I couldn't really recall it. I could only remember the feeling of him. He'd seemed so serious and miserable, even more so than the stuffy, political vultures that circled court. I hadn't given him a single thought since we met—until now. Now, all I could think about was his cold, heartless stature and a lifetime without laughter.

  Milly wrapped her arms around me and pulled me in. She was a year younger and yet I'd always gone to her for guidance. She was beautiful, the kind that could rival any well-groomed royal, but that wasn't what I envied. Even as a paid servant of our household, she was in charge of her fate.

  For the next few weeks, I tried to think of a way to sabotage the wedding. I tried running away but didn't make it past the courtyard before the guard caught me. I wrote a heartfelt and smartly worded letter to my father. He responded with a letter of his own, which read something like, "Tough luck..." Finally, I got the idea of going on a hunger strike.

>   Admittedly, I had expected my mother to give in much sooner, but I remained obstinate because she’d clearly expected me to do the same. The anger welled inside me, tightening my stomach, which only emphasized its emptiness. A fresh loaf of Sasha’s wheat bread fluttered into the room on a silver tray. I sat up and stared as a servant placed the tray down beside me, the corner of her mouth turned up.

  I leaned into the steaming loaf and breathed in its warmth, my will being sucked away like summer rain on dry soil. I eyed my chamber for servants, but I was alone. No doubt they were scheming to bring in the next temptation. My stomach ached for me to surrender. If I took a small bite from the bottom of the loaf, they’d never know. I lifted the loaf carefully and bit into it. My mind surged with delight and I savored the crunchy exterior and doughy flavor before carefully placing it back on the tray, bite side down.

  I hesitated before I lay back down. Surely, my mother was evil for forcing me into such extremes. My father wasn’t though. Why hadn’t he intervened? Was the war with Drethen so dire that he was willing to sell his only daughter for a few extra soldiers?

  I remembered that five years ago, when the war first started, the rhythmic clop of two hundred horses reminded me of the rain. I was eleven and my father knelt before me, for kings bow to no one but the daughters they love. He urged me to hug him goodbye, but I didn't want to—I hated goodbyes. I remembered how my mother pinched the back of my arm.

  "Hug your father," she rasped, coldly. "You'll regret your poor attitude if he's killed in battle."

  I hugged him. The trumpets sounded as he mounted his horse—taking his place at the front. After that, Besmium was always at war, and my father, the king, was always one goodbye away from being gone forever.

  I reached over and ripped another piece of bread from the bottom of the loaf. I sighed as I popped it into my mouth.

  No matter how many times my mother had prepared me for the news of my engagement, I still felt blindsided. Where was love in all this? Love was just this abstract concept for novels but unspeakable inside the castle. Not even my father said it. Maybe it was their way of protecting me from something I could never have. Marriage was the duty of every princess, and love was the cost.

  I tore another piece of bread from the tray and rolled onto my stomach to avoid choking.

  By the time I was fifteen, there was a party or tournament almost every month, parading me around like some trophy to be won. The other courtiers cooed over the high-standing men at court, but I never understood why. Sure, the idea of courting seemed fun enough. I could wear elaborate gowns and be whispered sonnets by handsome princes. But that’s not how any of it actually happened. In the end, the choice was out of my hands. I’d marry whoever my father thought was best for the kingdom, and nothing about that seemed fun.

  Throughout my early teens, I'd sneak out beyond the walls of the castle every chance I got to try to catch a glimpse of the world beyond. There, I saw children at play and parents home for dinner. There seemed to be a general warmth in the ordinary lives of Besmium’s people that never existed in my world.

  During one of my excursions beyond the wall, I saw a scattered batch of white wildflowers on the far side of a small stream. Their petals shone like pearls in the sunlight, each delicate flower lovelier than the last. I rushed over and lost my footing on a slippery stone. My legs flew from beneath me. I twisted to catch myself, landing with a hard scrape of stones against both palms and my knee. I cried out in pain as I scrambled for my balance, only to slip again, this time landing in the center of the stream. The cold water was a series of daggers on my skin. My vision turned to waves of white fuzz. Panicked, I pulled myself out and sat by the water's edge.

  As I caught my breath, tears warmed my cheeks. I sat muddy, wet, and bleeding, the lesson learned: beautiful things could hurt. I felt a touch of shame as I trudged back to the castle. The independence my adventures had given me drained away.

  I spent several fearful moments attempting to convince the castle guard that it was I, Princess Charlotte, who stood before him. By that time I felt as small as I'd ever been and certain I couldn't be lower.

  That was the last time I was allowed beyond the wall without supervision. My mother put me under constant surveillance and conversations about my future as a wife became more frequent. Still, I hadn’t expected the day to come so quickly.

  I chewed thoughtfully.

  My desire to live a different life from the one I was born into remained strong. Marriage seemed like the fatal blow to my freedom. All I wanted was to see the walls of the castle fall and to walk out with no title and no crown. Now that my engagement was official, I was certain my dream would never come to be. At the same time, I never considered what I'd lose, if it did. Still, would it be so bad if Drethen won?

  I looked down at the empty platter in surprise. Did I eat the whole thing? I sat up, just in time to see one of the servants slip out of my room. Sure enough, minutes later, my mother strode into my chamber, her crown gleaming in the candlelight. She eyed the trays of uneaten food until her gaze landed on the empty tray beside me. Without a word she smiled, a searing and heartless grin that boiled my skin long after she’d gone. As helplessness overcame me, I scanned the room for the next tray I’d indulge in. There was no use resisting food now. I’d failed.

  On the eve of the wedding, the prince was shown to my home at Hiems Castle. I could hear the distant clip-clop of his horse-drawn carriage as it pulled up outside. I stared into the mirror and studied my face. It was more than about accepting all the things I'd never get to experience—love, freedom, happiness—it was also about the things I wasn't ready for: a kiss, a consummation ceremony, and—above all—a husband.

  Chapter 2

  Prince Young

  IT WAS AS IF MY LIFE had finally started—an immense bolt of lightning that jogged me awake. I bowed deeply with gratitude, to my father. As I headed back to my chamber, my mind played her name in a constant loop. Princess Charlotte of Besmium. A princess, a kingdom of my own, an adventure in a foreign land. I barely made it inside my room when I was hit from behind and toppled to the floor. My brother, Minseo pushed my face into the carpet.

  “Brother!” He laughed, berating me with a series of playful punches. I shoved him off. “I am definitely coming along for the ride.” He beamed.

  I nodded, instinctively suppressing my joy.

  “Aren’t you excited? You’ll be King of Besmium!”

  I stood, dusting myself off. “Yes, brother, but this is a serious matter.”

  He reached out and messed up my hair. “It doesn’t have to be so serious.”

  When he was gone, I allowed my mind to race with the possibilities. Minseo was right, I was happy, so I should show it, but unlike him, years of scolding and punishment had taught me to hold everything in, and it was a difficult habit to break.

  As the third prince of Vires, I was always destined to wed a kingdom. My father had done right by me, bartered me one of my own—a kingship. What I hadn't expected was to be matched with a western princess. I'd always assumed, based on the women they presented at court, that I'd marry an eastern princess. It seemed only obvious to join kingdoms that were closer. I'd never known anyone to marry outside of this region, and the thought that I'd someday rule as a western king thrilled me as much as it scared me.

  I had no time to waste thinking about the princess in the weeks that followed. I studied western culture, etiquette, political tensions, and history—it was like I was starting over. I'd been trained to handle just about any political situation that could happen in Vires or its neighboring countries, but not even my father could have predicted that King Morgan of Besmium would make such an offer. My father explained that the opportunity was too good to pass up. It wasn't until I'd reached the transport ship and settled in for the long journey that my thoughts turned to Charlotte.

  I remembered the first time I met her—Charlotte, Princess of Besmium. It was my first and only trip to Besmium or a
ny western kingdom. I was overwhelmed by the foreignness of all the people I saw there. The women in my kingdom were beautiful—white skin, red lips, and hair as long and glossy as the tail of a fully-grown stallion. But the Princess of Besmium, like many of the courtiers in her kingdom, had a brown skin tone, which I'd only seen once as a child when the King of Besmium visited my father. I had asked to touch the king’s skin, only to be scolded by my father, though I was too young to understand why. Charlotte's skin was lighter, a mixture of her father and the fair-skinned queen, but it was still unmistakably brown. I could see that clearly across the room.

  I approached for my introduction. We bowed and she looked up at me. I froze. I tried not to gape at her, but I couldn’t help but notice her caramel skin, which glowed a yellowish-gold in the candlelight; her black eyes, so round they made me freeze beneath their gaze; and her hair, which was curled into spirals. Then she was gone. My body pulsed. Fascinating. I wanted to see more of her, just to observe her features more closely, but my time had come and gone.

  The swaying of the ship lulled me into a state between awake and asleep.

  Charlotte curtsied. I took her hand and slyly whisked her out of the ballroom, making sure we weren't seen. Once in the hallway, I took a knee. "Charlotte, will you be my wife?"

  She beckoned me to my feet and whispered, "I am yours." I pulled her face to mine and kissed her. I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her in closer and—

  "Young?"

  My eyes snapped open and I lurched to a seated position. My brother Minseo hovered over me.

  "I’ve been meaning to ask, have you given any thoughts to your duties as a husband?" He grinned.

  Disoriented, I ran my hand through my hair twice before I convinced myself I was awake. "Uh, yeah. I guess," I croaked.

  "Have you thought about the, you know, the wedding night?"

  Heat radiated through my cheeks. Oh, that. I turned away from Minseo so he wouldn't see the color searing into my face.