Mothers, hear me. My fate cannot lie beneath yet another male.

Astrid understood her virginity would be traded like a gambling marker. For all her power, her father only saw her worth within the constraints of a marital bed. She was a princess, blessed with soul-weaving magic. A symbol of Clorea. A commodity to be exploited for the success and longevity of her kingdom-only to have a soul drinking assassin decimate her family and court.

I would kill a god to possess her.

Dimitri was a death spirit, an assassin. But fear sours the soul. He'd taken thousands, each leaving the putrid taste of rot on his tongue. All except her. Infatuated with the taste of Astrid's vicious soul, Dimitri claims her as his right of conquest and vows she will never escape him.

A Soul Weaver and Soul Drinker Clash

Abducted and forcibly married to the demented soul drinker, Astrid recognizes Dimitri as a sword fate has placed in her path. It is now up to her to determine if she's meant to wield him, or if he's a razored-edge destined for her throat.

Fate is not meant to be easy.

It's meant to be traversed.