Seraphine was ten when she pressed her bleeding palm to Aldric's bared chest and felt his heart break. In that instant the immortal king who'd raised her saw the wildfire beginning beneath her skin and knew he could either break her or burn with her. He chose distance instead. Stone-cold silence that lasted sixteen years of birthdays he watched from doorways and summer storms he weathered alone.
Now the kingdom is dying in his veins and she's the only living antidote. Every training session spills them together until their powers braid so tight he tastes her memories on his tongue. She knows the exact moment he chose her over his throne. He knows she kissed his sleeping mouth last winter and never apologized. The villain breaches the outer walls tonight and they're still pretending the greatest threat isn't the way she looks at him like he's finally allowed to want her back.