The Obsidian Queen of England

I used to think hunger was my only personality trait.

I spent my life in the mud and ash of the Shetlands, watching my father’s empire rot while I starved. I thought the crown would be heavy. I thought it would pinch.

It doesn’t. It feels like it was always meant to be part of my skull.

Now, I am in Mayfair. They call me the Saffron Bride. They see a girl in silk and lace, a prize to be traded between mages and princes. They think they know my family secrets and I’m just another ghost in their halls.

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