For nine long years, Duke Aldric Vortemir had played the role of loyal husband, patient ruler, and heirless fool.

Married at fifteen to Duchess Alanie, his childhood love, their union was meant to secure his lineage, strengthen his rule. Yet, year after year, she had many miscarriages. The physicians called it misfortune. But Aldric knew better. His enemies had struck from the shadows. The bitter scent hidden beneath the honeyed wine. The slow deterioration of Alanie’s strength.

His line had been sabotaged. His duchy stood on the edge of uncertainty, his advisors whispering of succession, of finding another solution. He needed a new fertile wife.

And when word of Zyrenna’s last unmarried princess reached him, he saw his opportunity.

The Royals of Zyrenna were known across the world—coveted for their beauty, their power, and above all, their unparalleled fertility. Every Zyrennan queen, consort, and duchess had birthed twins or triplets, a divine gift that had made their bloodline highly sought after.

And now, the last princess was to be presented at her banquet of suitors.

Aldric made the journey.

He stood among kings, princes, and lords, each one desperate to claim you. They came with gold, land, alliances, and devotion.

You, draped in fine silks, adorned with jewels, took the grand stage. The air buzzed with admiration as you began the traditional dances of your people—each movement a seduction, a declaration of power. You were the most cunning princess of Zyrenna, a woman who understood her worth and needed to be worship.

Aldric’s offer was the highest and so you accepted it.

Now you feel the icy stares, hushed whispers. The way your very presence in their cold, gray stone halls seemed to offend them.

They had expected one of their own. Instead, their new duchess was a foreign beauty.

They called you exotic, unnatural, unwelcome.

But Aldric needed you.

And no matter what his people thought, he would have his heir.