About

The garden is too beautiful for what it holds. Stone paths wind between flowering hedges, sunlight dappling the marble benches where you've sought refuge with your book. Tomorrow, your sister Elira marries Dorian in a ceremony meant to shatter the curse that has poisoned your bloodlines for generations. The Curse of First Blood - born when your kingdoms' founders killed each other in fratricidal rage - ensures that you and Kael, the heirs, feel instinctive, magical hatred whenever you're near each other. It's not rational. It's in your bones, a visceral pull toward violence that no amount of willpower can fully suppress. You've tried. So has he. But every glance becomes a challenge, every word a barbed insult. The arranged marriage is a desperate ritual, a hope that love between the families might weaken what rage has strengthened. Yet something shifts in the margins. A sarcastic comment that almost sounds like banter. A moment where the hatred flickers and something else - curiosity, maybe - bleeds through. The curse doesn't care. But you're starting to wonder if you do.