As the specter of war looms, Meredith, Ethan, and Connor are thrust into a final, desperate struggle for freedom. With Stonefall reclaimed and the plague's grip finally broken, they must now race to forge new alliances before Theros—the ruthless King of Talos—brings his twisted vision of an empire to life.
But Theros's ambitions run deeper than conquest—and Meredith is at the heart of his plans.
As betrayals mount and loyalties are tested, she finds herself caught between the prince she married and the soldier she never forgot.
And beneath the weight of destiny, Meredith must decide who she truly is: a queen who must learn to believe in her own strength... or a pawn in a game she can no longer control.
As the specter of war looms, Meredith, Ethan, and Connor are thrust into a final, desperate struggle for freedom. With Stonefall reclaimed and the plague's grip finally broken, they must now race to forge new alliances before Theros—the ruthless King of Talos—brings his twisted vision of an empire to life.
But Theros's ambitions run deeper than conquest—and Meredith is at the heart of his plans.
As betrayals mount and loyalties are tested, she finds herself caught between the prince she married and the soldier she never forgot.
And beneath the weight of destiny, Meredith must decide who she truly is: a queen who must learn to believe in her own strength... or a pawn in a game she can no longer control.
The warm, comforting scents of almond and honey envelop me as I step into the bakehouse, softening the edges of the weight I’ve carried for weeks. Beth, her small frame hunched over the wood-burning stone oven, expertly maneuvers loaves of bread in and out with a bread paddle. She gives each one a quick squeeze and pat before placing them on the nearby shelf, each loaf covered in a dusting of flour. The rhythm is soothing, familiar—a fragment of normalcy. Yet beneath it lies a current of grief, ever present and inescapable.
Beth turns and notices me. Her dark curls peek out from under her white cap as she offers a small smile. “Good morning,” she says. Her eyes seem less swollen from tears, but the shadow of pain still lingers. Holt’s absence is everywhere—woven into the silence between us, in the empty spaces where his laughter used to echo. It feels like an eternity since the three of us were together here. Now, it’s just Beth and me, piecing together routines to mask the void.
Beth gestures toward the corner where custards and tarts are cooling, awaiting their turn to delight. “Lady Heloise’s cake is done,” she murmurs.
“Thank you,” I say, glancing at Beth. “It wasn’t too much trouble, was it?”
“None at all,” she replies with quiet sincerity. “I hope it lifts her spirits.”
Before I can respond, Esther’s sharp voice cuts through the bakehouse. “You unruly menace! Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” She storms into the room, dragging Pip by the ear. The boy winces but doesn’t cry out, his face stoic. Esther is so caught up in her anger she doesn’t notice me standing there.
“You can’t just run wild where you please!” Esther snaps at Pip. “Do you think this is some kind of playground?”
My temper flares, and I step forward. “Unhand him!”
Esther freezes mid-scold, her head snapping toward me. Her grip on Pip loosens immediately, and her face pales. “Your Highness!” she stammers, dropping her hand from Pip’s ear as though it burns. “I—”
Her sudden change in demeanor is almost comical, but I’m too furious to find humor in it. Esther’s boldness when she thought I wasn’t present only underscores her true character. “Explain yourself,” I demand.
Esther falters, casting a quick glance at Beth as though hoping for rescue. When none comes, she tries to justify her actions. “Your Highness, this boy was—”
“Aunt Esther,” Beth interrupts, “it isn’t your place to reprimand the boy. Let him be.”
Esther’s lips press into a thin line as she shifts uncomfortably. She avoids my gaze, her resentment clear in the tension of her posture. She has felt this way since I demoted her from baker to assistant. Beth doesn’t know the reason her aunt is my least favorite person in the palace, and I’ve kept it that way. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her how Esther refused to lift a finger when Beth needed her the most. That day is seared into my memory, but I doubt it ever even crosses Esther’s mind.
“How can we possibly work with him here? It’s impossible to take a step without running into him.”
Beth smiles at Pip. “But he’s such a good helper.”
Esther sighs, capitulating. “If that is what you want.” She spins on her heel to leave but then pauses, as though recalling whom she stands before. With obvious reluctance, she turns back and offers the barest dip of her head—a gesture more of formality than genuine respect.
“Your Highness,” she grates out. Then, without another word, she departs, her footsteps echoing sharply down the corridor.
As Esther’s steps fade behind her, Pip shifts nervously, his gaze pinned to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his small voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean t’ cause trouble.”
Beth straightens and turns toward him, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron. “Oh, Pip,” she says, crouching to his level. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” Her voice is so gentle, it’s as if she’s trying to wrap him in a comforting embrace. “She just doesn’t like sharing her space, that’s all. But I do.”
Pip fidgets, glancing toward the door as though considering whether he should leave. Before he can take a step, Beth continues, her tone bright and encouraging. “Actually, I could really use your help with something important. I made a special cake for a lady, and the princess here needs someone to help her deliver it.” She glances at me, her expression seeking approval.
I meet her gaze with a smile and a nod, silently urging her on.
Beth turns back to Pip. “Would you do us the honor?”
His face lights up, a shy but eager smile breaking through his initial uncertainty. “I can do that,” he says, his voice stronger now.
“Good,” Beth says, handing him the shallow earthenware pot holding the cake. “Just be careful. It’s delicate work, and I know you’re up to it.”
I step forward, letting my smile widen as I address Pip. “It’s an important job, you know. Lady Heloise will be thrilled to see this cake, and I can’t think of anyone better to help me deliver it.”
Pip glances at me, his confidence growing as he carefully adjusts his grip on the pot. “I’ll be careful,” he promises.
“I’m sure you will,” I reassure him as he follows me out of the kitchen and through the spacious hall, slowing my steps to match his smaller strides. His shyness is palpable, but I try to put him at ease. Connor has brought him here for a better future, yet I know little about the boy beyond his quiet diligence and the loneliness that crept in after Connor left for the Borderlands to see his aunt.
“Do you like it here?” I ask gently.
He nods, his gaze fixed on his steps.
As we pass through the sunlit corridors, the ornate surroundings seem almost oppressive compared to the simplicity of the bakehouse. A cool breeze wafts in through the open windows, carrying with it the faint chirping of birds. I hesitate before speaking again, hoping to bridge the gap between us. “I had to leave my home once too.”
He looks up at me, curious. “Why?”
“It wasn’t safe for me at the time.”
Before I can delve deeper into my explanation, a jarring clatter of steel punctures the stillness. My gaze is drawn toward the garden courtyard, visible through the open balcony. There, amid blooming flora and under the sun’s watchful gaze, Lief and Heloise are locked in a duel by the water fountain. Their swords, not mere training replicas but real weapons, glint menacingly with every swing they take at each other. A knot forms in my stomach. One false move could lead to injury—or something even more dreadful. Curious onlookers have congregated around the meticulously manicured bushes on the pebbled pathways, their eyes riveted to the dangerous display unfolding before them.
I turn back to Pip, who is watching me with a mix of curiosity and nervousness, clutching the cake carefully.
“Pip,” I say, crouching slightly to meet his eye level. “I need to handle something urgent, but I trust you can take it from here?”
His face falters, uncertainty returning in his expression. “What do I do?” he asks, glancing between the cake and me.
“Listen carefully,” I say, trying my best not to talk too fast. “Go to the front hall and find Steward Hale. He’s usually near the grand staircase, managing things, this time of day. Tell him you have Lady Heloise’s birthday cake and need help delivering it to her maid. He’ll make sure you’re shown the way.”
Pip nods slowly, repeating my instructions under his breath. “Steward Hale . . . front hall by the staircase.”
“Exactly,” I say with a small smile. “And Pip, don’t worry—you’re doing a great job. Take your time and keep the cake steady. Lady Heloise will be so pleased when she sees it.”
He nods again, more firmly this time, and I straighten, glancing back toward the balcony. The sound of steel on steel echoes through the halls, pulling at me like a magnet.
“Off you go, Pip.” I give him a quick pat on the shoulder before hurrying toward the garden. My dress tangles around my legs as I quicken my pace, nearly making me stumble as I round the corner into the open air. At the courtyard, the crowd stands in rapt silence, their attention fixed on the sparring pair.
As I push through the onlookers, my pulse pounds with unease. Heloise, in her flowing yellow dress, is relentless, her strikes fueled by a fierceness that borders on reckless. Lief counters with pragmatic control, his blade deflecting hers with the precision of a seasoned fighter.
The use of real swords is bad enough. But now, as I near the front of the crowd, another concern grips me: Heloise’s reputation in Stonefall’s court. Ladies are not supposed to do this—sword fighting is a man’s domain. Every swing of her blade, every drop of sweat on her brow, it all chips away at the image of refinement she is expected to uphold.
I spot Charles standing a few feet away at the front of the crowd, his grin wide as he watches the duel with undisguised amusement. He catches my eye and waves me over.
“I knew you wouldn’t miss this,” he says cheerfully when I reach him, his voice low enough not to disrupt the tension of the fight. “Isn’t she magnificent?”
I glance back at Heloise, her movements swift, her determination shining brighter than the sun glinting off her blade. “She’s skilled,” I admit, my tone tight, “but this”—I gesture to the scene before us— “is reckless, Charles.”
His grin widens and he leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Perhaps, but it’s also spectacular, don’t you think? She’s giving them something to talk about.”
I frown, my gaze darting to the crowd. The younger courtiers watch with wide-eyed fascination, but the older lords and ladies murmur among themselves, their expressions ranging from disapproval to outright scandalized shock. One lady whispers to her companion, clutching her necklace as though Heloise’s actions might leap off the courtyard and strike her personally.
Heloise lunges forward, her blade glinting dangerously while Lief barely parries in time. The crowd collectively gasps, and I can’t hold back any longer.
“Stop this!” My voice is like a whip through the courtyard. The clash of swords halts abruptly, and all eyes turn toward me.
Heloise pauses, her chest rising and falling with each breath as she brushes damp hair from her face. Her yellow dress, beautiful but impractical, clings to her from the effort of the fight. Her blade hovers in midair as she tilts her head, regarding me with the faintest hint of a smirk.
“Your Highness,” Lief stammers, stepping back from Heloise as though he’s been caught doing something improper. His grip on his sword slackens and his eyes flick to mine, full of concern.
“Those blades are far too sharp for a mere sparring session. What were you both thinking?”
Before either of them can respond, I turn to the gathered onlookers, their buzzing murmurs an irritating hum. This is not a spectacle Heloise needs to be remembered for.
“The show is over. You’re dismissed.”
The crowd lingers for a moment, reluctant to abandon the unfolding display. A pointed glare from me cuts through their hesitation and, one by one, they begin to drift away, their whispers fading into the background as they file out of the courtyard. Only Charles remains, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes.
With the onlookers gone, my attention snaps back to Heloise and Lief. Lief stares down at his sword, as though the blade has become something strange and foreign in his hands. Heloise, however, is unfazed. She twirls her sword lazily through the air, a defiant smirk playing on her lips.
“There’s no need for such agitation,” she declares. “We’re merely having a bit of fun.”
“This isn’t about fun,” I say, stepping toward them. “Do you have any idea what this looks like? The crowd wasn’t here to cheer you on—they were here to judge you. We’re not in Alder anymore, Heloise.”
Heloise’s smirk falters for a moment, her grip tightening on the hilt of her sword. “Let them judge. I don’t care what Stonefall courtiers think.”
“Well, I do,” I reply, lowering my voice as I meet her gaze. “Not for their sake, but for yours. You’re grieving, Heloise, and I understand that. But this won’t help you heal. All it will do is give people a reason to tear you down. Don’t give them that satisfaction.”
Her defiance wavers as she meets my gaze, but only for an instant. She straightens as though willing herself to remain untouchable, her expression hardening. Without a word, she steps back, offering Lief a curt nod before sheathing her sword. “I’ll be in my chambers,” she says flatly, turning on her heel and striding toward the far end of the courtyard. Her dress sways with each determined step, and the sound of her boots echoes in the air. But before the last of her presence fades into the palace, I catch the faintest slump in her shoulders, a vulnerability she can’t quite hide.
Since her father’s untimely death, Heloise has been a shadow of herself, proud and unyielding on the outside yet closed off and distant beneath the surface. She’s pulled away from everyone, shutting herself behind walls of grief that I can’t seem to breach. I’ve tried to reach her, to remind her that she doesn’t have to bear this pain alone. But every attempt has been met with silence, her refusal to confide in me stinging more than I care to admit. We’re supposed to be close, and yet, in her darkest moments, she’s chosen isolation over me. And now, instead of offering her solace, all I’ve managed to do is lecture her.
Seeing her spirit waver—however briefly—makes the knot in my chest grow. Did I do the right thing? Perhaps I spared her a harsher judgment from the courtiers, but at what cost? Heloise has always been strong, but this grief seems to have carved cracks in her resolve, as though her father was the foundation on which she stood. Now she must learn to walk on her own.
“She’s stronger than she looks,” Lief says, breaking the silence. His tone is light, but there’s a note of understanding beneath it.
I nod stiffly, not trusting myself to reply. Watching her retreating figure, I realize I should’ve approached her differently, found words that could soothe rather than sting. Lately, it feels as though I can’t do anything right.
“Shouldn’t you be at Crest Hall with the prince?” Charles asks suddenly, glancing at the sun’s midmorning seat in the sky.
“The petitions,” I mutter, cursing myself for forgetting—a reminder of how unfamiliar this duty feels in my hands. Brushing back a stray strand of hair, I sigh. “I don’t suppose either of you would like to go in my stead?”
Charles makes a face. “Not a chance. But I’ll save you a seat at dinner, if that helps.”
“Some help you are,” I say dryly, though a faint smile softens my tone despite myself. My gaze lingers for a moment on the shadows where Heloise disappeared, the echo of her footsteps still heavy on my mind. Then I square my shoulders and turn toward Crest Hall, each step weighted by the ever-growing burden of duty pressing against me.
Secret, forbidden love. Arranged marriage. United kingdoms, with one outlier yearning to overthrow them all. A queen with the power to change everything—but at what cost?
The Forged Empire is the third book in the The Kingdom Within series, written by Samantha Gillespie. The trilogy follows then-Princess Meredith of Stonefall, destined to marry the Prince of Alder, so their two kingdoms might remain a united front against Theros, the King of Talos, who seems to want nothing more than to overthrow it all and watch it burn.
Knowing that Theros means to kill her to prevent the kingdoms from uniting, Meredith is delivered to Alder by elite soldier, Connor, but not before she falls in love with the wrong man, and not before Connor is taken prisoner and tortured, memories all but wiped clean, by the dreaded men of Talos. Meredith finds herself fighting to remain loyal to her personal values, as well as those of Stonefall and Alder, without stooping to the murderous hatred exhibited by the King of Talos.
Finally, in The Forged Empire, now-Queen Meredith, Ethan, and Connor must come together before Theros forces his twisted concept of an empire into reality, no matter how at war her heart and mind might be.
Epic, action-packed with heart-racing and heart-pounding sequences, uniquely believable and tangible love, and beautifully well-rounded characters and motives, The Forged Empire is perfect for fans of Saga of the Unfated (especially A Fate Inked in Blood) by Danielle L. Jensen and the Daughter of Sparta series by Claire Andrews.
Come along to see how Meredith will resolve her loyalty, her anger, and her heart; how this story just keeps getting better and better with each new additional novel; and how this journey could easily and deliciously go on for several more books (fingers crossed!). This series was such a joy, especially The Forged Empire, and I wish you very happy reading!