ihsan_elara

Lyra Michelson was born cursed—a cruel legacy that dooms anyone she dares to love. In a world where emotion is weakness and power is inherited through blood, she's learned to bury her heart beneath sharp smiles and sharper words. But when her name lands on the Consuls' marriage decree, she realizes her life is no longer her own. Not even her curse can save her now.

Tristan Williams is the heir to a brutal empire of magic and blood, a prince forged in shadows and secrets. Everyone believes he's his father's perfect successor. No one knows he's the ghost behind the most dangerous syndicate in the underground magic trade. To dismantle the corrupt regime that raised him, he must marry a pawn of the system he's trying to destroy—without losing control of the game… or himself.

Thrown into an arranged marriage neither of them wanted, Lyra and Tristan become unwilling allies in a world where trust is lethal and secrets bleed power. But when hearts begin to stir and old curses awaken, they must ask the one question their world has never allowed:

What happens when love itself becomes the most dangerous kind of rebellion?

VOWS OF ASH AND SHADOWS

I was halfway through a report on trade tariffs when my father's shadow passed over the threshold of my study. He never came here. Not unless something was already broken, bleeding, or burning.

His tone silenced me more than his words ever could. He was never soft. And yet… there was something hesitant beneath his steel this time. A warning unspoken.

"I need you to attend a gathering tomorrow," he said.

When none came, I frowned. "What kind of gathering?"

A pause. Then: "You've been chosen."

The words didn't land at first. I laughed. "Chosen for what? A performance? A punishment?"

A pit opened in my chest. "You can't mean—"

"You are to be married," he said. "To the heir of House Williams."

The name rang like a bell in a crypt.

Williams. As in the family tied to half the Consul's power and none of its conscience. As in the house whispered about in the dark, wrapped in control, crime, and cold precision.

I'd never met him. But I knew his reputation. Ice for blood. Eyes like a scalpel. A ghost with a crown.

"I'm not cattle to be bartered off—"

"You are my daughter," he snapped, finally showing teeth. "And you will do what is necessary to secure our legacy."

I stood, heart hammering. "You're sentencing me."

"I'm protecting you," he said. "From your curse. From the vultures circling our house. From yourself."

I stared at him, breath shaky. "You don't even believe in the curse."

"I don't have to," he said. "They do."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to set the palace on fire.

He met my gaze. "You leave in three days."

The words still hung in the air like smoke, suffocating, thick with the weight of inevitability. I didn't respond right away. Instead, I turned and left the room, my steps cold and measured. I barely felt the floor beneath me as I walked back to my chambers, the entire house spinning around me like a labyrinth.

Once inside, I closed the door quietly behind me, the sound of the latch clicking echoing in the stillness. For a moment, I stood there, just breathing, trying to hold it together.

My face was calm, but my hands trembled as they reached for the vanity drawer. I pulled it open, fingers brushing over the familiar smooth handle of the dagger hidden within. Not because I planned to use it. Not because I needed it for anything other than the reminder it gave me—of who I was, of the small scrap of power I still held.

I wrapped my fingers around the hilt, the cold metal grounding me in the moment. The weight of it was a reminder that I had a choice. A reminder that, despite everything, I still had control. Even if just for a moment.

I let the dagger go, and the silence in the room stretched on, just as cold as the blade itself.

CHAPTER NINE