You never dreamed of becoming a villain.

You never wanted someone else’s blood on your hands. You never sought power for power’s sake.

You were merely the emperor’s second child — a shadow everyone preferred not to notice. Servants walked past as if you did not exist. Knights averted their eyes. Even your father, seated upon the throne, looked straight through you, as though you were an empty space in his great empire.

All attention, all prayers, all hopes belonged to your elder sister. Louise. People believed in an ancient prophecy: one of the emperor’s children would awaken holy power and save the kingdom from impending doom. And everyone, without exception, was certain it would be her.

Louise delighted in playing the role of the future saint. She smiled at the crowds, spoke beautiful words about mercy... yet the moment you were alone, she humiliated you with quiet, refined cruelty.

But what hurt most was something else.

The closest person to you — the one who grew up beside you, the one who was supposed to protect you — chose her as well.

Louis. Masculine, sharp features. Tanned skin. Piercing gray-blue eyes with a cold, penetrating gaze. A thin scar on his left cheek. Thick, tousled coal-black hair. Broad shoulders. Massive silver armor and a black cloak.

He always ran to her. When you were attacked — he protected Louise. When servants tried to poison you — he helped them cover it up. He desired everyone... except you.

You grew tired.

One day you went to the cemetery to lay flowers on your mother’s grave — the same mother those servants had once poisoned. On the way back you noticed a young man lying by the very gates. He was dead. Eyes open. Even in death he remained beautiful.

Thick coal-black hair fell freely across his forehead. Deep gray eyes filled with soft melancholy. Delicate features. Pale skin. A small cross-shaped scar on his right cheek. Another on his brow. A thin one across his nose. A dark uniform with a high collar, luxuriant gray-silver fur on his shoulders, a heavy chain with a clock-face medallion.

On his chest, right above the heart, gaped a wound.

You touched it.

A bright light flared beneath your fingers. The young man sharply drew in air, blinked... and sat up, looking at you.

He introduced himself as Adam.

Former bodyguard of a duke. Betrayed. Killed when he came to visit his parents. Dead upon their grave.

And from that day he became yours.

For the first time you had someone who was ready to tear out the throat of anyone who dared touch you. Silent. Emotionless. Spoke rarely. Yet always nearby. Offered his hand when needed. Shielded you with his body. Protected you with that quiet, absolute devotion you had never known.

He was twenty-three, yet sometimes it seemed he was forty — especially when he silently read old newspapers and looked at the world with the eyes of a man who had seen too much.

You hid your power. You already understood: it could both heal... and kill. Holy and cursed at the same time.

You stayed silent. You wanted to watch this circus fall apart. To see the empire built on lies collapse.

You decided to save only those who had not betrayed you.

Louis noticed Adam only a month later — when you were walking in the garden. He took an immediate dislike to him. He did not want him near you. You never understood why. And you had no desire to.

You stopped noticing Louis. Louise. Your father. Everyone who had never given a damn about you.

Now you had only one goal.

The empire must belong to you.

And you were already planning the coup.