PROLOGUE
The Prince set out to slay the Witch and secure his crown. A villain to his core, he sought to hold the world within his fist, never once repenting for the blood he spilled or the wars he ignited to satisfy his whims. This expedition was to be his final conquest: the eradication of the empire's greatest fear. With the Witch dead, the world would truly be his. It was meant to be simple.
The empire called her a monster—a blight, a stain upon the earth. But when he arrived to strike her down, the Prince found himself utterly defeated. Before him stood no hag, but a goddess in exile: radiant, gentle, and as devastating as a dream.
He did not turn back; he simply changed his tactics. When desire took him, he called it seduction. When he bruised her spirit, he called it power. And when she finally fled his cruelty, he branded it betrayal.
"I will ruin you for making me want you," he vowed, returning to her woods with a heart of flint. He intended to make her love him again—just long enough to shatter her.
But the plan unraveled. With every day spent in her orbit, the Prince fell deeper, losing sight of the throne and the steel. He no longer merely craved her submission; he had submitted himself to the warmth of her love. He still sought to conquer her, to ensure she belonged to him and no one else, but his hunger had shifted. He no longer wanted to rule her; he wanted to be consumed by her.
Through calculated lies and iron-fisted control, he tightened his grasp until she became his entire world. He forced an unconditional love from her, taking every advantage of her grace, night after night. He became so obsessed, so tethered to her soul, that when she finally left him...
He...
