The kingdom of Velrath fears only two things: the cursed throne… and the king who survived it. King Caelum Daevor, known as The Hollow King, rules through fear, blood, and whispers of monsters hidden beneath his palace. People say he murdered his queen. Burned entire rebellions alive. Destroyed every family that stood against him. Nyra Vale has spent years believing one truth: Caelum killed hers. Disguised as a palace scholar, Nyra enters the royal court with one purpose: to gain the king’s trust, seduce him if necessary, and kill him before winter ends but the night she poisons him, he catches her and instead of exposing her… He offers her power. Protection. A place beside his throne. The deeper Nyra falls into palace secrets, forbidden magic, and dangerous attraction, the more impossible things become. The tyrant king she came to hate may not be the villain of her story because someone else destroyed her family. Someone closer..Someone patient and the cursed throne has been waiting for Nyra far longer than she knows. To survive, she must decide: Destroy the monster kingdom fears or stand beside him while the world burns. Sometimes the greatest betrayal isn’t falling for your enemy..It’s discovering he was never your enemy at all.

She has no Moonsong. No pack. No rank. By every law the werewolf world has ever written, Zara Vale is worth nothing. He is the most powerful Alpha in three centuries , cold, brilliant, and dying in a way no healer can explain. The fracture in his Moonsong spreads a little further every morning, pulling toward a core that, when it finally gives, will kill him. He has eighteen months. Maybe less. When Caelum Vorrkai catches Zara trespassing on his land, he should execute her on the spot. Pack law demands it. His council expects it. Instead, he does something he has never done in seven years of absolute leadership: he hesitates. Because he cannot hear her. In a world where a wolf's Moonsong is their identity, their rank, their very soul made audible — Zara Vale makes no sound at all. And the silence she carries is somehow the only thing that has made his fracture stop. She is not a chosen one. She is not secretly royalty. She is a twenty-four-year-old Omegaborn who picks locks with jacket pins, reads pre-Accord texts in dead languages, and has spent five years surviving on the fringes of a world that considers her disposable. But the Elder Council wants her dead. An ancient warrant has her name on it. A three-hundred-year-old law built on lies is about to be invoked at the most dangerous political gathering in the Vrethkai and the only thing standing between Zara and a ritual sacrifice she never consented to is an Alpha who cannot afford to care about her and is discovering, one quiet archive morning at a time, that he already does. A secret hidden in a dead language. A bond written in the stars and suppressed for three centuries. A wolf with no voice who might be the loudest thing the moon has ever made. The truth was buried. The warrant is real. The Alpha is running out of time and Zara Vale is done running.