Not a *peaceful* silence. Not even an angry one. Just that cold, heavy, suffocating kind of silence—the kind that settles over you like a wet blanket after a storm. King Lurchester, my father, sat across from me in the dark velvet interior, staring out the window like he was trying to pretend I wasn’t even there.

I finally broke. “You’re not going to say anything?”

Nothing.

“I know I messed up, but you could at least—”

“Destiny.”

His voice hit like a slap. Calm. Low. But sharp.

I shut up immediately.

When we finally pulled up to the castle gates, I was already bracing myself for the lecture, the guards, the humiliation of being escorted like some petty criminal. But instead, Father just stepped out, nodded at the royal guards, and said, “Take her to her room. Lock the door.”

“Wait—*what?!*” I scrambled out after him. “You’re locking me in?”

He didn’t even glance back. “You're grounded until further notice.”

“But that’s not fair—”

“Do you even know what *fair* is?” he snapped suddenly, turning so fast I nearly ran into him. His eyes were blazing now, the same eyes I used to run to as a child when I had a nightmare. “You snuck out. You stole a royal horse. You broke into a sacred place—lied to guards, nearly dragged the kingdom into a scandal—and *you’re telling me what’s fair?*”

My throat went dry. My lip trembled before I could stop it. “I just wanted to train.”

“You want to train?” he scoffed, pacing. “Train for what, Destiny? To be a knight? A soldier? You were *born* to rule, not bleed on a battlefield!”

“I never asked to be queen,” I whispered.

He froze. And when he turned again, his face wasn’t angry anymore—it was just... tired. So, so tired.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But your mother would’ve never—” He stopped. Gritted his teeth. “Your mother knew the cost of her choices. You, Destiny, do not.”

He turned away again. “Put her in her chambers. No visitors. No outings. No stables. And no swordplay.”

The guards nodded solemnly, flanking me on either side like I was a prisoner being marched to the gallows.

I didn’t cry. Not until I heard the *click* of my bedroom door locking behind me.

I stood in the middle of my room for a long time. My bed was still made from this morning, untouched. The night breeze fluttered through the high arched windows, but the bars they’d added—thick and black and new—made the air feel stale.

Grounded.

No, more than that.

*Imprisoned.*

I paced like a caged animal, my hands tugging at the curtains, the sheets, anything I could move. But it didn’t fix the growing ache in my chest. The ache of being told again—like always—that I wasn’t enough. Not strong enough. Not brave enough. Not the right kind of *girl* to chase adventure.

I threw myself onto the bed, pressing my face into the pillow.

And screamed.

**They can lock me in. They can strip me of my title. But I *will* find a way. I *will* become more than what they think I am.**

Because I’m not a dress.

I’m not a crown.

I’m not a caged princess.

I’m *Destiny fucking Lurchester.*

And they have *no idea* what I’m capable of.