✧ Prologue ✧ 

Ten years ago, on the blood-soaked fields of Verrien Pass…

The bodies lay in twisted heaps, steam rising from them in the early morning frost. War always began in silence before the screams.

Thorne Valen stood over the last of them, sword dripping crimson, expression unreadable beneath the glint of his steel helm. He turned when a child’s scream pierced the air—high, furious, and feral.

A girl no older than eleven sprinted toward him, dagger in hand, eyes wild with grief. She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t pause. Just aimed for his throat.

He disarmed her with practiced ease.

She hit the ground hard. Still she spat at him, her voice breaking: “You killed my brother.”

Thorne stared at her, something unreadable in his eyes. “Then grow strong enough to kill me next time.”

He turned and walked away, not knowing her name. Not realizing the weight of what he’d done. Not yet.

✧ CHAPTER 1 ✧

Present Day — Seris Kael

The diplomatic tents were too white. Too clean for the filth of politics that slithered within them.

Seris adjusted the ceremonial sword on her hip—not that she’d be allowed to use it here, not unless she fancied sparking an international incident. Pity. She could already think of at least three people who deserved a blade between the ribs.

And at the top of the list?

Thorne Valen.

The Reaper of Aethros. The man who’d orphaned her on that battlefield. She’d trained for ten years with one purpose: to end him.

She hadn’t expected him to be so… unchanged.

He stood near the high table, silent and still like a statue carved from obsidian. Older now—twelve, maybe thirteen years her senior—but no less lethal. A thin scar dragged from his temple to his jaw, a memento from one of the many wars he'd survived. His presence suffocated the room.

She hated how tall he was. How controlled.

How his gaze found hers the second she stepped inside.

Gods, she hated him.

And when the Emissary announced their supposed “arrangement”—that Seris and Thorne would serve as symbols of unity by pretending to be lovers—her jaw nearly cracked from the tension.

“We’re what?” she snapped.

Thorne didn’t flinch. “Apparently engaged,” he said blandly.

She wanted to throw something at his face. Preferably her sword.

Instead, she plastered on a smile for the diplomats. “What a charming idea.”

He leaned in slightly, voice low enough for only her to hear. “Try not to stab me in front of the nobles.”

She smiled wider. “No promises, darling.”

✧ CHAPTER 2 ✧

Thorne Valen

He'd known the girl would grow into a weapon.

He hadn’t expected the blade to be so sharp.

Thorne stood in the war-tent-turned-ballroom, glass of bitter wine untouched in his hand, and kept his eyes on Seris Kael. The child he’d once spared had become the general tasked with ending him. Ironic, really. Poetic, even.

If only she weren’t so damn loud in his thoughts.

Not literally, of course. But something about her presence demanded attention—fiery and electric, a pulse he could feel even through the cold armor he wore like skin.

She played her part well now, laughing with a Nareth envoy as if she wasn’t plotting five ways to slit his throat.

They were enemies. They both knew that.

But tonight, they were also engaged.

The terms of the truce were clear: a public performance of unity. A political engagement between one of Aethros’s highest commanders and Nareth’s rising star. The optics were everything. The execution? Disastrous.

Seris finally made her way to him, lips curved in a smile too venomous to be sincere.

“Fiancé,” she said sweetly, “you look like you’re considering jumping into the fire pit.”

He didn’t return the smile. “If I thought it would keep your blade out of my ribs, I might.”

“Don’t tempt me. I’m getting better with poisons these days.”

He tilted his head slightly. “So am I.”

They stood toe to toe, inches apart, while the room around them watched and whispered.

“You do know we have to kiss eventually, right?” she murmured through clenched teeth, smiling for the audience.

He raised a brow. “You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to make me flinch.”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to make you flinch.” Her voice dropped lower, silken with danger. “I was trying to make you sweat.”

Thorne chuckled. There she was. The fury. The fight. The part of her that refused to bow.

“I don’t sweat, Kael.”

“Then maybe you’re already dead inside.”

“Maybe,” he said, taking a sip of his wine, “but I make a convincing corpse.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Try not to die before the wedding. I’d hate to have to mourn you convincingly.”

He leaned closer, close enough to smell the citrus oil in her hair, feel the heat of her pulse. “Try not to fall in love before it’s over. You’d hate to have to mean it.”

That stopped her. Just for a second.

Then she recovered, teeth flashing. “You think I could love you?”

He shrugged. “You’ve hated me long enough. Not so different.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her fuming and flushed in front of half the court.

✧** CHAPTER 3 **✧****

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**Seris Kael**

****

**If she stabbed a diplomat during a peace summit, would they blame it on the wine?**

**Because it was either that—or shoving her butter knife into Thorne Valen’s smug face.**

**Seris sat at the head of a long, polished oak table, dressed in blood-red silk and draped in diplomatic lies. Her back ached from sitting up so straight, and her jaw was sore from smiling.**

**Across from her sat her “fiancé,” looking maddeningly calm as he sliced his meat with military precision. Everything about him was irritating. The neatness. The silence. The fact that she couldn’t stop looking at his hands.**

**Get it together, Kael.**

**To her left, an Aethros noble leaned in. “It’s truly a pleasure to see such unity between our nations. And the engagement—what a surprise! A genuine love match?”**

**Seris could practically feel Thorne’s smirk before he spoke. “Deeply genuine.”**

**“Oh, yes,” she added with a tight smile. “Madly in love.”**

**“Hopelessly,” Thorne said, not even blinking.**

**The noblewoman beamed. “How sweet! Tell us, how did you meet?”**

**Seris swallowed a laugh. Or maybe a scream.**

**Thorne leaned back, as if reminiscing. “She tried to stab me when we were children. Very romantic.”**

**There was laughter around the table. Her fingers tightened around her goblet.**

**“I believe your blade was at my throat first,” Seris said, tilting her head sweetly. “You never forget your first attempted murder.”**

**A diplomat from the neutral kingdom of Thavryn raised his glass. “To murderous beginnings!”**

**“Cheers,” Seris said through her teeth.**

**She took a long sip of wine, wishing it was something stronger.**

**And then, as if the gods themselves hated her, the Thavrynian king cleared his throat.**

**“Before we continue, may we ask for a show of affection? To celebrate this rare alliance?”**

**She nearly choked on her drink.**

**“A kiss,” he said brightly. “Nothing scandalous, of course. Just a token. A symbol.”**

**A symbol. Right.**

**Her heart slammed against her ribs as she turned toward Thorne, who was already looking at her.**

**No amusement now. No smirk.**

**Just those dark eyes, locked on hers, searching.**

**She could say no.**

**She could walk away, let the alliance crumble, and get exactly what she’d wanted for ten years—another war.**

**But for her people… her soldiers… she had to play the part.**

**So she leaned in.**

**And so did he.**

**It was supposed to be brief.**

**It was supposed to be nothing.**

**But when his lips met hers, the room vanished. Not because it was passionate—but because it was… careful. Deliberate. A held breath. A trembling silence.**

**His hand rested on her jaw. Gentle. Reverent. Like he wasn’t touching an enemy at all.**

**And that terrified her more than any blade.**

**When she pulled back, her heart was thundering.**

**Around the table, the guests applauded.**

**But all she could see was Thorne. Quiet. Watching.**

**As if that kiss had said something neither of them were ready to admit.**