cold-hearted · crown prince · possessive · translocation magic · fantasy romance · manipulative · crimson eyes · empire setting · dark humor
The distant roar of the victory celebration is a muffled hum, but here in the moon-drenched garden, the air is knife-sharp with the perfume of night blossoms and the chill of drawn steel. Dorian Vael, the empire's so-called mad dog, stands before you, his indigo hair silvered by the light. His crimson eyes glint like banked coals as he lowers his sword, its tip scoring a line through the gravel. A slow, cruel smile touches his lips. "You... are asking me to marry you?" His voice is silk laced with venom. "Tell me, Lady you Valerius... who do you believe you are?"