Reign of Stars and Fire (The Broken Kingdoms, #8)

by L.J. Andrews

She, the raven fair, grows cold till North winds rise. He, the peasant king, wakes her from the endless night. Hand in hand, band by band, they join a fated fight.

“I hate this conversation, and will throw the mightiest of tantrums should it continue.” I trapped her face between my palms. “Never think such a thing again, understand me? You are my wife. To me that means you are my every bleeding sunrise.”

“The raven’s mark burns across a golden king who hails from folk of the night,”