/0/84669/coverbig.jpg?v=2a43e08e87e3e59d923fedc125f53fc7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
She was fated to kill him... but fate made her his bride. When the once-feared warrior Princess Nyra is born crippled, cast out and disinherited and yet becomes the Cursed Empress, she realizes all those stories were just the beginning. She is destined not just to rule the kingdom, but to consume it.But open the first page, and you'll see: the Empire is as much victims as sinners, and not even the most powerful women in the world can end the social and political corruption that has emptied the Empire of fire.With nothing to lose, the Cursed Empress will do everything to destroy her enemies, and that's exactly how the gods like their heroes best. To stave off a war, she is married off to Prince Rael, heir to the kingdom that destroyed her own family. Cold, dispassionate and dangerously seductive, Rael has no use for love - only for his power. But as palace intrigue begins to threaten her life, and a dark god seeks to destroy everything in her path, Nyra will be forced to make a choice: betray those she loves, or let her empire fall. But the greatest threat is not the curse in her blood. He's the man fate has tethered her to.
Chapter 1 The Marriage of Fire and Blood
Nyra didn't even twitch as the crown was jammed onto her head.
The gold circlet had been too small-carven with dragon's teeth and fire runes that blistered her skin. Each individual symbol blinked silently upon her scalp, as a trail of smoke hissed from her temple.
All the hall reeked of burned silk and blood.
She kept her chin high.
Not because she wanted to.
She wouldn't let them see her break - not again.
The nobles prostrated themselves before her below. They had each voted for this. Her forced rise. Her caged ascension.
And across that room, by the base of the burning altar, was the man she called husband now.
Prince Rael of Thornevale.
Her enemy.
The son of the king who slaughtered her father.
The blade behind the army that burned her palace to ash.
And now... the man whose ring branded her finger, forged in the very flames that destroyed her home.
She looked at him. Tall. Regal. Beautiful, in that cruel way only conquerors were. His silver eyes gave nothing away. No pity. No hatred.
Just calculation.
He didn't look like a groom.
He looked like a man waiting for a war.
"Let the union be sealed," said the High Flamekeeper.
He turned to Rael.
"Do you accept Nyra of Elthria as your Empress, by fire and by vow?"
Rael's voice was ice.
"I accept her by fire."
The priest turned to her. "And do you-"
"I accept nothing," Nyra cut in.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Rael's head turned slightly. The first sign of interest he'd shown all day.
The priest cleared his throat. "Your Majesty-"
"I did not choose this," she said, her voice steady. "You dragged me from exile. Branded me with my mother's crown. Tied me to the man who conquered my people. I accept nothing."
She turned her head, slowly, toward Rael.
"But I will endure it. For now."
Another wave of whispers rolled through the nobles.
Rael met her gaze, unbothered. His voice, when it came, was soft - and far more dangerous than any scream.
"You have a spine. That's more than I expected."
"And you're colder than the rumors claimed," she replied. "That's less."
His mouth curved slightly, not quite a smile.
"I don't need your warmth, Empress."
"No," she said. "Just my bloodline."
The private chambers were worse than the ceremony.
Nyra stood alone by the high window, the moonlight casting shadows across the marble floors. The fire in the hearth crackled, but she didn't move to it. Her skin was already too hot. Always too hot, since they reawakened her curse.
Since they dragged her back to the Flame Throne.
She flexed her fingers.
The marks were still there - faint golden runes along her veins, glowing brighter each day. A legacy she never asked for. A curse she barely understood.
They thought her blood could bind a fractured empire.
What they didn't know was that it was burning her alive.
The door opened behind her.
She didn't turn.
"I told you I don't want guards inside my chambers."
"No guard," came Rael's voice.
She turned then, sharply.
He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, still wearing his ceremonial cloak. No crown. Just that dangerous calm.
"Why are you here?"
He stepped inside, letting the door shut behind him with a soft click.
"To see what kind of woman I was forced to marry."
She walked past him, toward the hearth. "Then look. Decide if you want to slit my throat in my sleep."
He raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm that obvious?"
"No," she said, sitting on the edge of the carved bed. "You're worse. You'll kill me politically first. Drown me in noble expectations. Have me sign decrees that bury my people's history. Bleed me dry until I'm docile."
"I don't need to," he said coolly. "You're already dying."
Nyra froze.
He stepped closer.
"I know about the fire in your blood. The curse that burns you from the inside. That's why they want this union. They think my blood will stabilize yours."
She looked at him sharply. "That's impossible."
"Is it?" he said. "My ancestors fed from the Flamefather too - though we buried that truth centuries ago."
She stood. "So that's the real reason. You think our cursed bloodlines will cancel each other out."
Rael's face was unreadable. "I think the elders are desperate. And desperate people gamble with dynasties."
They stood only inches apart now.
She could smell the iron on his breath. The ash of his sword.
"I won't be your tool," she said.
"And I won't be your savior," he replied.
Their silence stretched.
Then, he said something so quiet it almost got lost in the crackle of the fire.
"But I might be your mirror."
She stepped back.
The fire behind her flared.
Rael's eyes darkened. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"
She said nothing.
Because she could feel it - the fire inside her chest coiling tighter, whispering in ancient tongues, crawling up her throat like a scream she couldn't release.
Every night it got stronger.
Every night she got closer to losing control.
"You need to let it out," Rael said, watching her carefully.
"No," she breathed. "If I do... something will wake."
He tilted his head. "What?"
But before she could answer-
The room shook.
Just slightly.
Enough to rattle the glass.
Nyra gasped, clutching the edge of the bed.
Rael caught her arm.
"What is it?"
She looked up, eyes wide.
"I think something's already waking."
Deep beneath the palace, far below the sealed crypts and forgotten archives...
A glyph cracked.
Stone split down the middle.
And from the depths of the seal, a voice spoke:
"She breathes."
"She burns."
"She will call Me again."
And the fire beneath the empire answered.
/0/77278/coverorgin.jpg?v=e33b5a48fd64490b6c3dab31c8798b9a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/79297/coverorgin.jpg?v=5580ae4317d3230416418e5292fa6d1e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/77336/coverorgin.jpg?v=b0064f360b5858825f4c662e7fe502c8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/76683/coverorgin.jpg?v=b7c65e5736ae8fb75396f0aa812af2d4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/45176/coverorgin.jpg?v=5779e16c98c80d0d996953d28aab8181&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/60498/coverorgin.jpg?v=62dcb7be9563dc3a710aa1e248de0ea9&imageMogr2/format/webp)