The court astrologer announced that I would one day stand beside the crown just as Prince Julian informed me he would never make me a princess. I was the daughter of a minor treasury official, too cautious to challenge either claim and too sensible to believe the stars could protect me from a royal family. Prince Adrian, the king's popular second son and heir apparent, had already dismissed me as a clerk with an inconvenient surname. Julian had his own reasons to refuse me, and a kingdom with a looming succession crisis had little patience for a timid woman who wanted nothing more than to keep her father safe. But the old prediction followed me through every closed door, every public slight, and every choice I wished I could avoid. If Julian and I could barely defend ourselves, what kind of future could we possibly give a child?