The Rivaled Crown

I swore I would never return to this palace. Never kneel before my father again. But I have been dragged back into his gilded cage, trapped beneath his rule, and bound to a fate I had tried to escape. My body is his to break, my magic his to wield. And no matter how many nights I dream of Dacre storming these halls, of his hands pulling me from the darkness—dreams are nothing against the greed of a king. Even if my mate comes for me, even if I am freed from my father’s grip, I’m not sure there will be anything left of me to save. The kingdom is dying. The land withers beneath the weight of stolen magic, and my father’s reign will not end without bloodshed. But I have lived in the dark for too long. And I was not made to wither, I was made to burn.

I swore I would never return to this palace. Never kneel before my father again. But I have been dragged back into his gilded cage, trapped beneath his rule, and bound to a fate I had tried to escape. My body is his to break, my magic his to wield. And no matter how many nights I dream of Dacre storming these halls, of his hands pulling me from the darkness—dreams are nothing against the greed of a king. Even if my mate comes for me, even if I am freed from my father’s grip, I’m not sure there will be anything left of me to save. The kingdom is dying. The land withers beneath the weight of stolen magic, and my father’s reign will not end without bloodshed. But I have lived in the dark for too long. And I was not made to wither, I was made to burn.