Where the Crown Fell by Winter Warleggan
In the quiet woods of Thaloria, Eleanor Labrelle lives a sheltered life—until her mother, Zara, dies with a final, haunting wish: that Eleanor returns to the court of Wonderworth and claim her birthright. With nothing left to tether her, Eleanor ventures into the infamous Outlands—an ancient, cursed forest no soul crosses unchanged. What awaits on the other side is a kingdom of splendour and secrets, where power is currency, and every smile may hide a dagger.
Eleanor finds an unlikely connection with Prince Roman of Bravethorne—a man bound to another by duty yet drawn to Eleanor by fate. Their bond deepens into forbidden love, igniting tensions within the Court and threatening fragile alliances between kingdoms.
Where the Crown Fell is a sweeping tale of forbidden love, political intrigue, and a young woman’s fight to step out of exile and into power—if she can survive long enough to claim it.
Excerpt from the Book
CHAPTER 5.5 – The Space Between Fire and Fog
Eleanor did not see Roman again for three days.
Not because he avoided her, but because the court itself closed around her like a tightening corset. Every waking hour was filled with etiquette drills, council introductions, and interviews with curious nobles whose interest ranged from subtle admiration to thinly veiled suspicion. The queen had ensured that Eleanor’s schedule was packed tight, and while Thanamalice offered no overt hostility, the effect was the same as exile: isolation by ritual.
Meanwhile, in the north, the kingdom of Isendra teetered on the brink of full rebellion. A splinter faction calling itself the Dawnbringers declared open defiance of the royal line, taking control of several border towns and cutting off trade to Wonderworth. Messengers came and went from the war room, cloaked in urgency. Whispers of battle-ready allies and secret envoys drifted through the halls. Lord Varn of the eastern marches began petitioning for more garrison funding—ostensibly to defend Wonderworth, but everyone knew he was angling for power in the wake of King Edgar’s decline.
In the west, Taryn deployed naval scouts along the shared coast with Silverhaven. Skirmishes on the sea were being downplayed, but the merchant guilds whispered of a trade war brewing. The balance of power was shifting. Each kingdom tested its neighbours with subtler blades than swords.
Eleanor bore her burdens with measured grace, answering questions about her upbringing, her education, even her favourite teas—all while watching the shadows of the court shift around her. A few lords tested her poise with double-edged compliments. A few ladies offered friendship with the warmth of a snake basking in sunlight. And through it all, Eleanor kept her spine straight and her tongue sharp but controlled.
Roman, for his part, kept his distance—but not his eyes. More than once, Eleanor caught him watching her from across the feasting hall, from the stables, from the upper gallery above the council chambers. He always looked away first. But she felt the weight of his gaze each time, and she was sure he knew it.
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