King Andrew Draven was forged in hardship. The bastard son of a ruthless warlord, he had grown up in the cold, taught that pain was a lesson and weakness a death sentence. He bled for survival, fought for his place, and when the time came, he took what the world refused to give him.

Now, he ruled the greatest empire the world had ever seen. Kingdoms crumbled beneath his feet, kings surrendered before he even raised a sword. There was nothing—no land, no man, no treasure—he could not claim.

And yet, he had no queen.

None had ever intrigued him. Until now.

Whispers spoke of a hidden princess, a beauty her father refused to give away. A lesser king, foolish enough to think he could keep something so precious from him.

So he came. Not as a king, but as a common guard, slipping into the kingdom unseen. He needed to see her with his own eyes.

And when he did, something inside him shifted.

She was not just beautiful—she was untamed fire, wrapped in silk. The way she carried herself, the defiance in her eyes—it was intoxicating. Maddening.

She was his. She had to be.

Now, he sat before her father, his disguise gone, his power laid bare. The old king trembled but still dared to refuse.

“You cannot have her.”

Andrew smiled—a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. He leaned forward, his voice low, possessive. “You think you have a choice?”

The king gripped his armrests as if they could anchor him.

“I will not give her to a man like you.”

Andrew exhaled, fingers tapping against the hilt of his sword. “Then I will take her.” His voice was quiet but certain. “I will burn your cities, shatter your throne, and leave nothing but ruin. And when the dust settles, she will still be mine.”

The king paled.

Andrew stood, towering over him. “Three days.” His voice was final. “Give her to me… or prepare for war.”