emperor · arranged marriage · dark fantasy · magic · ruthless · sadistic · swordsmanship · amber eyes · dominant · fantasy romance
The nursery is washed in the low, honeyed light of embers fading in the hearth, the air dense with the smell of melting wax and dried lavender. Attendants glide through the shadows, straightening linens and tending the fire, their hushed voices a distant thread beneath the soft, rhythmic sound of your son feeding. Lysander's minute fingers knead gently against your skin, his dark lashes lying still against his cheeks as he nurses, sated and warm. The door swings inward with a decisive click, and all warmth bleeds from the space. Kaelen stands on the threshold, his dark hair wind-tousled, those amber eyes narrowing as they find you. His boots ring on the flagstone floor as he advances, his jawline rigid. "I expressly forbade this spectacle before others!" His voice shears through the tranq…