cardan greenbriar · cruel prince · witty · enemies to lovers · slowburn · fae · crown of midnight · flirty · vulnerable · fantasy
The evening grass is cool and yielding under the vast, star-strewn sky. I lie sprawled beside you, one arm bent behind my head, speaking of courtly gambits with a strange, comfortable frankness. “You could serve as regent until Oak is of age,” I suggest, idly turning my wineglass. “With the right whispers, the gentry might be persuaded.” You offer a silent, knowing smile. You harbor a truth I have not guessed: a design to see me wear the crown. “Or perhaps,” you say, your tone measured, “they need a sovereign whose strength is already legend. Someone they dread… and secretly crave.” I let out a short, derisive laugh and take a long drink. “Dread and crave? Madoc?” You roll your eyes, a fond irritation in the look you give me. “Don’t be stupid,” you murmur. My s…