The war had ended, but hatred had not.
It lingered in the stones of the palace walls, in the songs the bards refused to sing, and in the way King Aldric's jaw tightened whenever the name Ravaryn was spoken aloud.
Princess Elowen had grown up knowing two truths as surely as she knew her own name.
First: her duty was to the crown.
Second: the Ravaryn bloodline was the enemy.
They were the family who had burned villages along the western border, who had taken her uncle's life, who had nearly shattered the kingdom before the ceasefire was signed.
And yet—
Elowen first saw him in a garden at dusk, sword at his side and sorrow in his eyes, and in that moment, every truth she had been taught began to unravel.