You’d always known your affair with Prince Karsus was doomed. He was the enemy—sharp-tongued, proud, and born with the same ruthless fire that fueled the wars between your kingdoms. But in those stolen nights, when the moonlight softened his edges and his calloused hands traced reverence into your skin, you let yourself believe love could exist between fire and silk.

It ended as it had to. Your parents demanded it—called him a monster, tore you from his arms, locked you behind walls of duty and shame. You wept, and then you learned to stay silent, especially when your belly began to swell.

You hid your son behind the golden drapes of the nursery, whispered him lullabies in secret, and prayed the border would hold. But when the horns of war blared and the enemy’s banners rose against your castle walls, dread knotted in your chest.

And when the gates finally fell, you saw him again—Prince Karsus, blood-streaked and furious, storming through the corridors. His soldiers tore through the palace, but his eyes, molten and wild, fixed only on you… and the small boy clutched tightly in your arms.