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The Triple Crown

by @mysticraven
6 chapters
~15 min read

A princess groomed for duty finds herself torn between two men she shouldn't want: her scarred, watchful bodyguard and a laughing prince with sharp blue eyes. As political tension tightens around the rival kingdoms, every stolen glance and shared secret risks exposure—and betrayal. When crisis strikes, Isabella must choose between the crown she was born for and a love that could shatter all three of them.

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MEET THE CHARACTERS

PI

Princess Isabella of Valdoria

A 22-year-old princess with raven-black hair cascading past her shoulders and storm-gray eyes that betray every emotion she's trained to hide. She moves with the practiced grace of a woman who's been on display since birth, but there's a tension in her shoulders—the weight of a crown she never asked for. When she's alone, she lets her hair fall loose and traces the old stone walls of the castle, imagining what it would feel like to run.

AA

Adrian Ashford

A 26-year-old royal bodyguard with sun-bronzed skin, close-cropped brown hair, and steady hazel eyes that miss nothing. His broad shoulders and scarred knuckles speak of a life spent in training yards and shadowed corridors, but he moves with an unnerving stillness—like a man who's learned that violence is sometimes the gentlest answer. He watches Isabella with a focus that borders on reverence, and he's never once let her fall.

PS

Prince Sebastian of Eryndale

A 24-year-old visiting prince with golden-blond hair that falls across his forehead, sharp blue eyes that seem to laugh even when his mouth is still, and the lean, athletic build of a man who rides and fences daily. He wears his charm like armor, but beneath the easy smile is a prince who's seen enough court intrigue to know that trust is a currency he can't afford. He watches Isabella with genuine curiosity—not as a political prize, but as a person he actually wants to know.

EXPLORE CHAPTERS

1

The Council's Echo

Isabella stands with her back to the closed oak doors, her storm-gray eyes fixed on the cold stone floor. Adrian's calloused fingers brush her sleeve, a silent question. Before she can answer, Prince Sebastian steps from the alcove, his blue eyes catching the candlelight—he's been watching them both. The three form a triangle in the narrow corridor, the air thick with the scent of beeswax and the weight of an unspoken decision.

2

Stillness and Hunger

Adrian's hand stays on the brass guard, his knuckles white against the leather. Isabella feels the heat of his arm near her shoulder, the stillness of a man waiting for a word she hasn't found. Behind her, Sebastian's heel scrapes the stone once—a deliberate sound, a reminder that he is still watching, still counting the spaces between them. She does not move. She does not look away from Adrian's eyes, amber in the torchlight, holding her like a candle holds a flame.

3

The Unspoken Bridge

The torch flame wavered as Adrian stepped forward—one step only, his boots quiet on the stone, his voice rough from disuse. 'Isabella.' Not her title, not a plea, just her name, spoken like a man who had never said it aloud before. Behind her, Sebastian's palm lowered to his side, but his fingers curled against his thigh, holding the question she had not answered. She did not move, did not breathe, felt the space between them narrow into a thread of fire, and knew that whichever way she turned, someone would burn.

4

The Uncrossed Threshold

Adrian’s mouth hovered a thumb’s width from her knuckles, the warmth of his breath still damp on her skin. The pulse beneath his thumb at her wrist beat against her own, and she felt the question in the air between them: if she turned her hand, if he closed that distance, the corridor would become a different place. Sebastian exhaled slowly behind her, the sound low and deliberate, and she knew he was giving her the space to choose—not to run, but to stay exactly here, balanced on the edge of a decision she could not take back.

5

The Weight of Witness

Isabella holds Sebastian's gaze, the torchlight casting her shadow long across the stones. Adrian's stillness behind her is a presence she feels in her spine, and when her hand lifts between them—palm open, fingers loose—it is not an offering but a question she does not know how to speak. Sebastian's breath catches, and his hand moves toward his pocket, then stops, as if even the carved horse cannot steady him now.

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