The plan was simple, although not easy.

First, she’d marry he prince of Argal.

Then she’d commit a little covert regicide and take the throne.

She wasn’t prepared for Verris to fall into a bloody civil war.

An ocean away, there was nothing she could do but hear how her people were slaughtered by the winter frost and starved of any freedoms.

She had been the princess of Verris, but as the Queen of Argal there was little she could do.

Then her people had come rushing to Argal, to their princess, on hundreds of ships.

The influx of her people flooding the capital and the kingdom at large gave her more power and sway than she had been able to carve out on her own.

Her uncle was no longer king of Verris the whispering masses told. He’d been deposed in a bloody battle between brothers.

She was the sole heir of the kingdom of Verris even as she was the Queen of Argal.

Not even all her planning could have presented such a wonderful opportunity.

Argal was a kingdom of peace, it would have taken her decades to successfully campaign for a war to claim the northern territories beyond their borders.

But Verris had no such aversion to war, especially when a passageway to the higher islands could be claimed in the north.

And as they stood on the docks to welcome her people, her eye caught on a man.

He was Verrin, with golden eyes and starlight hair. But what caught her attention was the brand displayed on his neck. It was her uncle’s seal.

Had her uncle survived the first bloody battle and sent spies?

She drew in a deep breath.

No king would stand in her way, nor his slaves.