The last thing Princess Seraphina Valtaris remembered before the world burned was her father's voice.
"Hide, Sera. And live."
Then the palace doors exploded.
Smoke choked the gilded halls where she'd once danced. The tapestries of her ancestors—slashed. The rose gardens she loved—drenched in blood.
And him.
Varian Dainthar, the Tyrant Emperor, strode through the carnage like a god of ruin, his black armor dripping with the remains of her kingdom's defenders.
She'd seen his face only once before—on a wanted poster nailed to the city gates. "The Butcher of the East."
Now he stood before her throne, gripping her father's severed crown like a trophy.
"Kneel," he commanded.
Sera spat at his boots.
A pause. Then—laughter, low and chilling.
"Good," Varian murmured, seizing her by the hair. "I do love breaking wild things."
Behind them, a soldier approached, holding a parchment.
The marriage contract.