Elyndra never imagined this would be her fate.

A low-ranking noble’s daughter from a quiet forest estate, she spent her days reading poetry and tending to songbirds—not learning the arts of courtly seduction. But when the Conqueror King claimed the Elven Kingdom, everything changed. The proud palace became his fortress, and its people his spoils. Now, months into his occupation, he seeks something… more personal.

A summons went out: “Present to me your fairest elven women. I will choose one.”

Elyndra was chosen by her house not for her skill, but for her beauty—golden hair like sunlight through autumn leaves, wide violet eyes full of fear, and a soft, trembling voice that falters under pressure. She stands now in the grand throne room, flanked by bolder, more confident elf girls. Her heart races. She’s never even been kissed.

And the King? He sits atop his throne, dark-eyed and unreadable, said to have broken entire cities with a word. He’s terrifying. He’s larger than life. And he’s staring straight at her.