A runaway princess. A loyal soldier. One stolen night that damns them both.

In a kingdom still bleeding from civil war, those born with magic rule from fortified thrones, and Azalea fled her bloodline years ago, trading a crown for autonomy in the kingdom's most exclusive brothel. As a Moonlit Blossom of the Black Lotus, she controls every transaction, every touch, every emotion—until Torrin walks through her door.

He serves an enemy house. A tracker who has never lost a mark. He should be the last man she lets close. Instead, he looks at her like she's worth protecting, and she makes the mistake of letting him see her. What begins as a transaction becomes the one thing she swore she'd never sell: the truth. Stolen breakfasts. Whispered confessions. He sees the woman behind the practiced smile. She sees the artist behind the warrior's scars.

Then duty calls Torrin to the battlefield—to kill the very people whose blood runs in Azalea's veins. She can hate him for the blood on his hands. Or love him anyway, knowing her family's deaths paid for every moment they had. Either way, the cost is the same.

Some love stories are the kind that heal kingdoms. This one burns them.