She Was Thrown to the Floor Until the King Saw Her Neck

Chapter 1: The Mark on Her Neck

The slap echoed through the royal hall.

Princess Celeste, dressed in white silk and diamonds, stood over the peasant girl with open disgust. The girl had already been forced to her knees by two royal guards, her face pressed to the cold floor while the nobles stared.

"How dare you touch the wedding veil," Celeste snapped.

The girl, no more than sixteen, struggled under the guards' hands. "I only wanted to return it. I found it outside the chapel."

But no one listened.

Celeste's eyes were sharp with fury. She raised her hand again, but one of the guards roughly grabbed the girl's collar first. The cloth tore open at her neck.

Then the entire hall froze.

There, just below her throat, was a red mark shaped like the rising sun.

The old king rose from his golden throne so suddenly his cane nearly fell from his hand. For years he had moved with the slow, tired heaviness of an aging ruler. Now he looked like a man who had been struck by lightning.

"No..." he whispered.

The nobles turned from the girl to the king in confusion. The black-robed lord beside him, Lord Dorian, stiffened. Celeste took one step back, her face going pale.

The king descended the steps himself.

No one had seen him move that quickly in years.

He stopped before the girl and stared at the mark with trembling eyes. His lips parted, but he did not speak. His hand hovered in the air, as if he were afraid to touch her and lose her.

The girl looked up at him, frightened and confused.

"I did not steal anything," she said quietly. "Please let me go."

The king's voice broke when he answered.

"What is your name, child?"

"Elara."

The king closed his eyes.

That had been the name his late queen wanted if their second granddaughter was ever born.

Celeste stepped forward quickly. "Grandfather, this is madness. She is a street girl. That mark could mean anything."

But the king did not look at her.

Instead, he asked the question that changed the hall forever.

"Who raised you?"

Before Elara could answer, Lord Dorian spoke sharply.

"Your Majesty, the girl should be removed. This is not the time."

The king turned toward him.

For the first time in many years, the softness vanished from his face.

"Oh," he said coldly. "I think it is exactly the time."

And in the silence that followed, a frightened old nurse in the back of the hall suddenly dropped a silver tray and began to cry.