The rejected crown (book 1)

The end of the crown

Giovanna

Giovanna had lost everything. Stripped of her titles, her lands, and her claim to the throne, she was now a shadow of the proud princess she had once been. The guards flanked her on either side, but she walked with the unwavering poise of a queen, her head held high, refusing to give Richard the satisfaction of seeing her break. He might have thought he had won this round, but she would make sure he paid for underestimating her. She would not be the one to fall.

As she passed through the cold, torch-lit halls of the castle, her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice—one that struck her like a dagger in the heart. "Giovanna."

Ezra's voice was quiet, steady, but she could hear the tremor beneath it. She looked up, meeting his gaze, finding him standing at the edge of the crowd, an unexpected figure in the sea of onlookers who had gathered to watch her downfall. His eyes were a mix of defiance and regret, and for a moment, she almost wanted to laugh. Now he shows up?

"Back to watch me fall, gladiator?" Her voice was sharper than she intended, but she couldn't hold back. Their last meeting had ended in flames, his arrogance pushing her to test him in the festival matches. Since then, she knew he harbored some unspoken resentment. But here he was, defying the storm that Richard had unleashed just to witness her humiliation.

Ezra's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "I tried to warn you once, didn't I?"

Giovanna rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a wry smile, though there was a flicker of something softer inside. "Warn me?" She let out a bitter laugh. "I've had enough warnings to last a lifetime. But if you're here to add another, make it quick. I'm a busy woman on my way to exile."

Ezra frowned, stepping closer, his voice lowering as he spoke in a tone of rare sincerity. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. I thought you'd have a chance to change things."

She allowed a brief, sad smile to touch her lips. "I thought so too," she said softly, but the venom in her voice still lingered. "But sometimes, even a princess is nothing more than a pawn in someone else's game."

Ezra clenched his fists, his gaze shifting around the room. "Giovanna... come with me. If there's any way to change this, I'll help you. You don't deserve this fate. No one does."

She looked at him, her resolve momentarily shaken. His sincerity wasn't lost on her, but she knew the risks."And you?" she asked, her voice colder than she meant. "Are you really willing to risk everything for me?"

He hesitated, the defiance in his eyes faltering, but it quickly returned. "I can't just stand by and do nothing. I'm obviously here for a reason—I can't just waste it."

Giovanna frowned, confusion clouding her thoughts. Here? she wondered, but before she could ask, the guards moved in, separating them roughly, pushing Ezra back into the crowd. His face hardened, but for a moment, Giovanna saw a glimmer of the man she'd faced in the festival matches—a man frightened, yet determined to do something. To act.

As the guards pulled him away, Ezra's voice cut through the din, fierce and low. "You're stronger than you know, Giovanna. Don't let him break you."

Her gaze locked with his one final time, a silent promise passing between them, something unspoken that burned in her chest. She would remember his words, even if it was the last thing she did. With one last look, Ezra was swallowed by the crowd, leaving her surrounded by a sea of faces, all reduced to spectators in her fall.

But she would not be broken. No, not now. Not ever.

Giovanna climbed into the carriage waiting outside, her movements controlled, regal even in her defeat. As the carriage began to roll away, she cast one last glance at the towering silhouette of the castle—her castle, still bearing her mark, despite Richard's desperate attempt to erase it.

Ezra's words still echoed in her mind, like a flame kindling a fire inside her. Stronger than you know. He was wrong about one thing, though. He thought she was falling. But she wasn't falling. She was rising.

If she could survive this—if she could find the right allies, she would make them all pay. She would rise from the ashes of this humiliation, and when she did, Richard and every last one of her enemies would learn what it meant to underestimate the true power of a woman scorned.

This isn't the end. Not by a long shot. She wasn't finished. Not now. Not ever.