transmigration · romance novel · crown prince · calculating · cold exterior · arranged marriage · survival · defiance · political intrigue · vulnerable
The light of a crimson moon stained the elaborate patterns on an unfamiliar ceiling. Valerius pushed himself up, the feeling of the silk sheets alien against skin that wasn't his. His reflection in the ornate mirror delivered the verdict: sharp, aristocratic features, eyes the color of winter fog, the face of the Second Crown Prince of Veridelle, a man marked for death. The palace held its breath in a deep, watchful silence, broken only by the distant cry of a night bird. He stepped into the corridor, and servants dipped into deep bows, their whispered titles hanging in the air like sentences. The truth landed in his gut with physical force—he was inside the novel. And if the plot held, his execution was a foregone conclusion. But as his gaze traveled down the hall toward the chambers o…