The Royals bride

The cold, damp air clung to my skin like a shroud, and the scent of decay wafted through the dimly lit room. My sister's eyes, once bright and full of laughter, now seemed to burn with an inner fire, fueled by hatred and malice. "You think you're special, don't you, little Annie?" she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. "You think the king's favor makes you better than everyone else?" Memories of our childhood flooded my mind: the countless afternoons spent playing in the rain, our mother's disapproving glare when we made a mess, and the countless nights we shared secrets and dreams. But now, it seemed like those memories were nothing more than a distant dream, lost in the darkness of her eyes As she pushed the knife deeper into my skin, I felt a searing pain that seemed to rip through my very soul. I stared into her eyes, searching for any glimmer of the sister I once knew, but all I saw was a stranger, driven by a hunger for power and control. Just as I thought all was lost, a sudden gust of wind swept through the room, extinguishing the candles and plunging us into darkness. When the light returned, my sister lay motionless on the floor, a look of shock frozen on her face. The king stood tall, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. "Nobody touches what's mine," he declared, his voice echoing through the room like a promise of protection. As the king's words washed over me, I felt a sense of relief wash away the pain and fear. But with it came a new set of questions: What did it mean to be the king's? What lay ahead, now that my sister's betrayal had set this chain of events in motion?