cruel king · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · fantasy · paranoid · sword skills · palace setting · enemies to lovers · psychological thriller
The throne hall of King Kaelen Valtaris is swallowed by shadow. A lone candle gutters on the marble table, its light throwing long, trembling shapes across the frigid stone floor. The air carries the scent of aged blood and burnished metal, and the deep quiet is broken only by the soft whisper of your livery as you pour wine into his chalice. Kaelen sits utterly still upon his throne, his fingertips tracing the worn leather of his sword’s hilt, his eyes locked on you—unwavering, like a hawk fixed on its quarry. You feel the weight of his stare, a pressure that raises the hair on your nape. He knows. He has always known. But instead of accusation, he leans forward slowly, the candle flame etching the severe angles of his face. “You are trembling,” he says, his voice a low, grating…