She spent her life serving the Sun God. The night he died, his power went into her. Now the God of Death wants her in his kingdom. And every monster in the underworld can smell her. In a thousand years, no priestess has been more devoted than Lyra. She has never doubted her god. Never questioned her purpose. Never imagined that on the holiest night of the year, she would kneel in the inner sanctum and watch the light of her world die. The Sun God is gone. His killer is unknown. And his power? It didn't vanish into the void. It went into her. He came to her in the darkness. Zephyr is the Nightshade King, the God of Death, the ancient enemy of her faith. He is cold where she is warm, shadow where she is light, weary where she is hopeful. He should be her enemy. Her nightmare. Her destruction. She has no choice but to follow him into the underworld. It is a kingdom of ancient politics, hungry demons, and whispered conspiracies. The court sees her as a weapon, a sacrifice, a delicacy to be consumed. And Zephyr's rule stable for ten thousand years is cracking. A faction wants war with the mortal realm. Someone killed the Sun God. And the truth could shatter both worlds. Lyra should hate him. She was raised to despise everything he represents. But he is gentle with the souls in his care. He prepared her a room with a fire because he thought she'd be cold. He touches her like she might break, and when their hands meet, light and shadow don't fight they dance. He is the God of Death. She is the vessel of the Sun. Their love could save both worlds.