The Devil's Betrothed

The dagger is warm in Oriana’s hand when she presses Arlan to the wall, its edge kissing his throat. One sharp movement, a ribbon of royal blood—and then the wound seals itself as if the blade had only cut smoke. In that heartbeat, the runaway witch realizes the stranger she’s been trading jabs and stolen glances with is something far older and far more dangerous than a prince.

Arlan Cromwell has spent his life playing the flawless heir: polite bow, measured smile, dragon fire caged neatly behind his ribs. His duty is simple, if brutal—hunt down the mysterious fiancée who fled their arranged bond and bring back her head. It’s the one task that might finally make him feel like more than a monster in ceremonial gold.

Oriana has never had the luxury of a name that fits her. Branded a Black Witch, wrapped in a man’s clothes, she survives by slipping through cities like smoke, always running from a past she can’t quite see. When danger tightens around her—shadows that know her true face, whispers of an old promise signed in blood—the only hand within reach is the dragon prince’s.

They fall for each other in stolen, stupid ways: an argument that goes on too long, a shared fire on a cold night, the way her laughter cuts through his carefully trained indifference. Then the truth surfaces, and the man she’s come to trust is revealed as the executioner she’s been fleeing since birth.

Bound by a betrothal neither asked for and a destiny soaked in prophecy and hatred, Arlan and Oriana must decide what they are willing to burn—kingdom, kin, or each other—when the darkness hunting her finally demands its due.