เข้าสู่ระบบSerafine has always been the family secret hidden in the cellars, her wolf bound by a brutal spell, condemned to a life of shadows and silence. But when her flawless sister flees her arranged marriage to the most savage Alpha King in existence, Serafine is ripped from the darkness, veiled, and thrust down the aisle in her place. The plan is simple: play the part, stall for time, and let her treacherous family escape. If King Lucian Draven discovers the deception, he will erase their entire bloodline. The lie shatters the moment he lifts her veil. Instead of the proud princess he was promised, Lucian scents raw terror and cellar-bred weakness. Yet he doesn’t kill her. With his court watching, he completes the vows, claims his false bride, and drags her to his frozen mountain fortress—not as queen, but as a prisoner in a servant’s rags. Stripped of power and dignity, Serafine becomes a ghost in his halls, watching, waiting, and plotting her escape. Until a savage ambush forces her to unleash the one thing she was never meant to possess: a rare, long-forgotten silver magic that surges through her veins. And when that ancient power touches Lucian, it does the impossible—it soothes the violent madness devouring his mind. In an instant, the unwanted impostor becomes the only thing keeping the ruthless king alive. Lucian’s fury twists into a dark, all-consuming obsession. The more she fights to flee, the tighter his obsession coils—especially now that she carries his secret heir. Because some beasts would rather burn the world than let their mate go.
ดูเพิ่มเติมThe grand municipal tribunal chamber was bathed in the crisp, brilliant light of a late summer afternoon, streaming down through towering arched stained-glass windows that depicted the unified seals of the four municipal wards. Gone were the oppressive, shadow-drenched courtrooms of the old high council, where faceless judges dispensed secret sentences from behind high iron screens. In this new world, justice was transparent, public, and anchored entirely in the rule of law.I sat at the elevated central dais in my fitted silver-trimmed attire, the crystalline light humming steadily beneath my skin. To my right, Lucian occupied a heavy, high-backed basalt chair, his broad shoulders and unyielding posture radiating an aura of calm, absolute authority. His molten-gold eyes were fixed entirely on the center of the marble floor below, where Lord Malakor stood stripped of his velvet robes, clad in the plain, unadorned grey wool of a convicted prisoner.To my left, Lord Chancellor Valen sto
The forest canopy grew so dense as we pushed deeper into the eastern ridge that the midday light filtered down only in thin, fractured shards of grey and pale gold. The air was heavy with the damp, earthy scent of ancient pine needles and the distant, metallic tang of woodsmoke drifting from somewhere hidden beyond the winding ridgeline.Captain Vane materialized from the shadows of a towering oak tree, moving with the silent, practiced grace of a seasoned scout. He reined in his mount beside Lucian and me, his leather armor dusted with frost and pine soot."The scouting detail has the main perimeter secured," Vane reported in a low, controlled whisper, his eyes sharp and alert. "Lord Malakor’s ancestral manor sits in the valley basin just past the next ridge. It’s surrounded by a high stone wall and reinforced iron gates. We spotted at least a dozen armed mercenaries patrolling the grounds, plus four heavy supply wagons loaded with provisions parked near the western stables.""Are th
The morning sun had barely begun to breach the high limestone peaks of the eastern horizon when the capital’s central courtyard transformed into a theater of calculated, unyielding mobilization. There was no room for hesitation, no administrative delay, and no administrative second-guessing. The confession wrung from the syndicate prisoner in the stone vaults had stripped away whatever illusions remained about the lingering ghosts of the old regime. Lord Malakor was not merely a retired aristocrat nursing quiet grievances on a rural estate; he was actively weaving a network of subversion in the dark corners of the timberlands, hoping to fracture the fragile peace we had bled to establish.I stood atop the broad stone steps of the upper keep, my fitted leather riding gear fitted with silver-threaded bracers that hummed with a low, protective resonance. The crystalline light beneath my skin felt sharp and alert, attuned to every shift in the mountain breeze.Beside me, Lucian adjusted t
The return journey through the western pass was swift and merciless. By the time the jagged peaks of the mountain ridge faded into the bruised twilight, our small detachment of Blackthorn guards was already descending into the lower valley where the capital’s towering limestone walls stood bathed in the warm, steady glow of municipal streetlamps.There was no celebratory fanfare this time, no cheering crowds or waving banners of indigo and silver. This was business—the cold, unyielding mechanics of statecraft that kept the new world safe from the ghosts of the old one.As we passed through the western gate, Captain Vane directed the bound syndicate mercenaries straight toward the newly constructed municipal holding facility beneath the administrative bureau. These weren't the damp, rat-infested dungeons of the high council’s brutal regime, where prisoners rotted in subterranean darkness without trial or record. The new holding cells were clean, dry, and meticulously cataloged by Diaci












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