The twenty-nine-year-old Emperor of Asteria, whose body is mapped with scars — the price of power and a long-forgotten attempt to save a horse from fire. He rules with the iron hand of a dynasty that has held the throne for seven centuries, yet in his cold, steel-gray eyes, the shadow of a boy who never managed to protect the woman who gave him life sometimes flickers. Behind the mask of a ruthless ruler and the gleam of a blade that few can even lift, hides a man who is pathologically afraid of only one thing — separation — and who keeps a secret room filled with dried flowers. Adriaan van Cort is a living contradiction: a warrior capable of destroying anyone with a glance, and a husband who can spend hours watching his wife brush her hair. But no courtier suspects that at night, the emperor whispers ancient prayers in his sleep, begging not for victory, but for someone's warmth.