Cursed to Love His Majesty
Description
At the king's victory masque, village seamstress Lara Venn shares a single, perilous hour with a masked stranger. By the midnight he is gone-but his signet ring remains, hidden hidden against her heart. Years later, Lara is a mother-and the child is cursed by the prince's serpent-sweet fiancee. And here is the main problem: Only the child's father-love spoken in daylight, name given without shame-can break it. With nothing but nerve and a needle, she enters the palace as a seamstress and follows the ring's crest to the truth. Now, before a sorceress bride can seal the throne with a wedding with the prince, Lara must stitch herself into court intrigue, wake her lover's buried memory, and name the hidden heir in open daylight-no matter who tries to silence her.
Chapter 1
Nov 6, 2025
The lamplight trembles as I pull the needle through the fabric, my fingers sore, eyes stinging from strain. The shirt is old enough to have seen kingdoms rise and fall, yet Father refuses to let it go. He says it still holds the scent of my mother’s hands—though she has been gone for years now.
“You’ve done enough for today, Lara,” he murmurs without looking up. “Go rest before your eyes lose their light.”
“I can finish this last seam,” I reply, though the truth is I’m not working for duty tonight—I’m working for courage. The courage to ask him for something I’ve dreamt about since I was a child. My father, Durden, is a kind man but a cautious one. The world beyond our village walls is, to him, a place of thieves, storms, and ruin. To me, it is everything I’ve never touched.
The hum outside changes—soft chatter giving way to distant music. I hear the roll of drums, the ones that make the dust in our rafters tremble.
“Do you hear that?” I whisper, straightening up. “They’re celebrating again.”
Durden’s eyes flick toward the shuttered window. “Prince Aldric has returned from his first battle with a victory! You know how they are about their parades.”
His tone is fond but weary. He has little patience for nobles who celebrate while the rest of us work until our backs ache. Still, I can’t help the quick flutter of curiosity in my chest. The sound of drums makes the air taste alive.
“Father,” I start softly, threading another needle just to give my words weight. “May I—may I go? Just to the city gates. To see the lights.”
Durden sets his spool down. “The city?” He frowns, puzzled. “At this hour? Lara, you’ve been working since dawn.”
“I have cleaned the shop, organized every garment, and recorded every order,” I remind him, voice steady but hopeful. “Just one evening, Father. I’ll stay by the streets, I swear it. I only want to see what the world looks like when it rejoices.”
“Ah, Lara,” he says at last, smiling despite himself. “Your mother would scold me for letting you go. But—” He exhales and waves a hand. “Be home before the moon fades.”
My heart leaps. I kiss his cheek quickly and throw on my gray cloak. “I promise.”
***
The road to the city glows with lanterns strung high like captured stars. People pass me with laughter, faces half-hidden behind jeweled masks. Perfume, smoke, and roasted nuts fill the air. The closer I walk toward the palace, the louder the music grows—strings and drums, bright and dizzying.
Oh! I have never seen such splendor! Stalls line the cobblestone streets, selling silk ribbons, painted masks, and candied petals. Children chase one another through the crowd with sparklers that hiss gold light. Every corner of the capital feels alive—untamed, brilliant, impossibly big.
When I reach the palace gates, I tilt my head back to take it in: towers rising into the dark like carved ivory, banners of deep blue catching the wind.
A guard steps forward, blocking my path. “Hold there, miss.” His armor gleams dull under the torchlight. “Entrance is reserved for participants in costume.”
I glance at the swirl of dancers behind the gates, their masks feathered and bright. “I did not know,” I say softly. “I came only to watch.”
He shrugs, bored. “Rules are rules.”
The sting of rejection burns in my throat. “Then I’ll watch from the stones,” I murmur, turning away before he can see the tears in my eyes.
I walk until I reach the shadow of a wall, far enough from the laughter and light. My heart feels heavy as lead. I’ve imagined this night for years—the city’s glow, the joy, the music—and yet all I can do is stand outside, unwanted, like a ghost peering into someone else’s dream.
The first tear falls before I can stop it. Then another. Soon, my quiet sobs drown the music.
“Now, that’s hardly a sound that belongs to a celebration,” a voice says behind me.
I startle, spinning around. A masked reveler stands there, tall and graceful, his mask gold-edged and his hair dark as ink. His gloved hand holds a small lantern, soft light spilling across his smile.
“I did not mean to startle you,” he says, voice low and smooth. “You looked rather misplaced.”
“I’m not misplaced,” I say quickly, wiping at my cheeks. “Only… barred.”
“Ah,” he says with a tilt of his head. “The guards again.” He steps closer, his eyes glinting green through the mask. “Would you like to see what they’re hiding behind those gates?”
My heart flutters. “You mean the palace?”
“I mean the night itself.” He offers his hand. “Come. Borrow it. It won’t miss the hours we take.”
I stare at his gloved fingers. “Who are you?”
“No one important.” A hint of laughter in his tone. “A maidservant’s son, perhaps. A fool chasing sparks.”
“I should not,” I whisper, though my pulse betrays me.
He steps closer, voice dipping to a murmur. “Then do it because you should not.”
He leads me through a narrow side passage, beneath an arch of carved stone and past servants who pay us no heed. The air inside smells of cedar and wine. We slip into a storeroom lit by slanted light from a high window.
I can’t help but laugh softly. “You truly do know your way around forbidden halls.”
“I told you,” he says, gesturing at a rack of gowns. “The maidservants whisper all their secrets to me.”
He lifts a dress from its hook—a gown of deep sapphire trimmed in silver thread. “This one,” he says, holding it out. “It looks as though it knows your name.”
I brush the fabric between my fingers, awed. “And what is yours, stranger?”
He grins. “Tonight, it does not matter.”
When I emerge from behind the curtain, the gown fitting miraculously well, he stares for a heartbeat too long. The air hums between us.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “You look like you belong to this palace.”
“I belong nowhere near here,” I answer, but my voice sounds distant even to me.
He steps close, his breath catching mine. “Then forgive me for thinking otherwise.”
The space between us collapses. His lips meet mine with a neediness that startles me—a question, not a demand. I should pull away. I don’t. My hands find his shoulders; his gloved fingers brush my jaw, then my waist. For a moment, I feel weightless, as if the night itself holds its breath for us.
We stumble through another door, laughing quietly, breathless, into a room filled with velvet curtains and gilded mirrors. The scent of cedar lingers stronger here. The music outside fades until only our breaths fill the air.
He presses his forehead to mine. “We should go,” he whispers.
“Or stay,” I murmur back. “Just for a moment more.”
He looks at me then—truly looks—and something shifts behind those green eyes I saw through the mask. His hand finds mine again, trembling faintly. And for a heartbeat, nothing else exists but the warmth of his skin and the
pulse in my throat.
He moves his mask a bit up and kisses me. And I kiss him back. The night melts around us. Time folds in on itself. The stars outside could burn out, and I would not notice.
***
A sudden blast of horns splits the air. He pulls away at once, eyes wide.
“The opening ball—I have to—” He grabs his discarded coat, fumbling with the buttons. “Forgive me.”
“Wait—your—” I reach for him, breathless, but he presses a swift kiss to my wrist.
But he’s gone as fast as he appeared, vanishing through the door in a whirl of dark silk.
The room is silent again. My chest rises and falls too fast. I turn, dazed, trying to steady myself. That’s when I see it—on the rumpled linen near the bed: a ring. Heavy, ornate, bearing a sigil I recognize from the kingdom’s banners.
Before I can think, a shout echoes from beyond the door. “Inspection! Open in the name of the guard!”
I clutch the ring tighter and run—barefoot, heart pounding—through the shadowed passage, away from the voices and the rising sound of horns.
Cursed to Love His Majesty
30 Chapters
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