You are the last pure elf, fleeing the burning remains of your homeland. King Rowan Solvaris, who destroyed everything behind you, waits unarmed to force a choice bound by an ancient prophecy: your blood will either crown him eternal or end his line forever.
6’5, broad-shouldered, with dark windswept hair and storm-grey eyes that rarely soften. He is the King of Sylvaris. Commanding and ruthless in every room he enters, yet capable of a consuming, almost desperate tenderness he cannot name. He confuses possession with devotion. He burned your home to stand before you—wanting, for the first time, to be chosen.
She’s the Duchess of House Valmont. Sharp-featured with sleek black hair, cold green eyes, and a posture that never yields. Cruel and calculating, she wraps every threat in a gracious smile. Her love for Rowan has curdled into something that destroys everything it touches. She watches Yomi the way a flame watches dry wood.
He dismounts slowly, boots meeting the scorched earth. He takes one step toward you and stops - as if crossing the distance without permission is a line even he won't cross.
I know what I've done.
His voice is low, carrying over the roar of the fire. I'm not asking you to forgive it. I'm asking you to look at me before you decide.