Giovanna
The battlefield was chaos behind her—screams, the clash of steel, the roar of men and beasts alike. Giovanna did not look back. She moved with purpose, her footsteps steady despite the churned mud and blood beneath her boots. A thousand thoughts swirled in her mind, a maelstrom of regret, bitterness, and something darker she couldn't yet name.
She had not expected to see Ezra again. Not here. Not now. Certainly not leading a rebellion in her name.
Ezra had found her amidst the carnage, his scarred face illuminated by the flickering glow of firelight. His voice, earnest and raw, had cut through the noise around them.
"Giovanna," he had said, his tone a mixture of relief and determination. "You can't keep running. They need you. I need you."
She had stared at him, her mask firmly in place, the pain buried deep beneath the surface. "You're wasting your time, Ezra," she replied coldly. "This fight isn't mine."
"It is," he insisted, his expression hardening. "You may have turned your back on it, but it hasn't turned its back on you. You can't hide from who you are."
His words stung more than she cared to admit. She had clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to lash out. He didn't understand. He never had. He still saw her as the princess she had been, not the ghost she had become.
Before she could answer, a soldier appeared, panting and wide-eyed. "Message for you, my lady," he said, pressing a sealed envelope into her hand. His gaze darted nervously between her and Ezra before he disappeared back into the chaos.
Giovanna had frowned, her fingers trembling slightly as she broke the seal. The letter was short, written in sharp, deliberate script:
You have a choice to make, Giovanna. Do not let the world decide for you.
She stared at the words, her blood running cold. There was no signature, but she didn't need one. She knew exactly who had sent it. She had always known. Folding the letter with care, she slipped it into the folds of her cloak and turned back to Ezra.
"You're wasting your time," she said again, her voice colder now. "You should focus on your rebellion, not on me."
"Giovanna—"
She didn't let him finish. Turning on her heel, she disappeared into the chaos of the battlefield, her plain, weathered cloak blending with the filth of war. Ezra's protests faded behind her as she pushed through the lines of soldiers, slipping past unnoticed. To them, she was no one. And that was exactly how she wanted it.
By nightfall, the battlefield had fallen quiet, replaced by the distant sounds of rebel cheers. The soldiers celebrated their victory against Balaric's men, their laughter and shouts echoing through the night. Giovanna stayed at the edge of the camp, watching the revelry from the shadows.
She scanned the crowd out of habit, noting faces she recognized from earlier skirmishes. Oddly, Ezra wasn't among them. No one had mentioned him since the morning, and his absence struck her as strange, though she didn't dwell on it. Ezra had his own ways, and she wasn't about to waste time puzzling over them.
Instead, she turned her attention to the forest ahead. The letter in her pocket felt heavier now, its sharp words still fresh in her mind: You have a choice to make, Giovanna. Do not let the world decide for you.
Giovanna stood at the edge of a secluded clearing deep in the woods. The trees loomed overhead, their branches twisting together to block out the fading light. She felt a presence before she saw it, a shadow stepping out from behind one of the ancient oaks.
"You came," the figure said, his voice smooth and low.
Giovanna's jaw tightened. She'd been right. It was him.
YOU ARE READING
The rejected crown (book 1)
Historical Fiction"How can I choose between my heart and my duty when loving you feels like the only truth I know?" The throne is empty, and the realm is crumbling. A princess must prove her right to rule, but can she survive a kingdom that doubts her? A witch, once...
