Simon Holbrook's vine crown pulses with life only when Jane Quinlan remains at his side, the sigil on her collarbone glowing as their arranged union binds her to his power. Her defiance against the fae court clashes with the homesickness she cannot voice, yet each required touch in the archives stirs a hunger that undercuts the alliance they protect.
Court protocol keeps them knee to knee in the moonlit gardens, and the crown flares every time his hand covers hers. The private pull between them risks revealing weaknesses that enemies would exploit to destroy their shared throne.
How long can they keep the distance their survival demands when every protocol draws them closer to the truth neither admits?
