The viral TikTok fantasy romance, now in a special print edition with exclusive bonus material! An outcast princess makes a political marriage with a reluctant king to save both their kingdoms in this first book in the viral Bride of the Shadow King series. Though she is the oldest daughter, Princess Faraine lives in the background, shunned from court and kept out of sight. She's told her gods-gift makes her a liability to the crown, and has learned to give place to her beautiful, favored younger sister in all things. When the handsome and enigmatic Shadow King comes seeking a bride, Faraine is not surprised that her sister is his choice. King Vor is not eager to take a human bride, but he is willing to do what is necessary for the sake of his people. When he meets the lively Princess Ilsevel, he quickly agrees to a marriage arrangement. So why can’t he get the haunting eyes of her older sister out of his head? “Sylvia Mercedes hits every note that romantasy readers want in a novel!”— New York Times bestselling author Danielle L. Jensen “Utterly swoonworthy!”— USA Today bestselling author Elise Kova “Really enjoyable!”— USA Today bestselling author Ruby Dixon " Bride of the Shadow King is one of my favourite romantasy reads. This wonderfully immersive and emotionally mesmerising book is a real treasure. It had me completely bespelled by its gorgeous, rich worldbuilding and by the slow, heart-stirring relationship that develops between Faraine and Vor. Sylvia Mercedes writes both cleverly and beautifully, and I hope everyone who loves fantasy romance will discover the magic of her worlds." — USA Today bestselling author India Holton “The thrilling first in a romantasy trilogy from Mercedes layers plentiful intrigue and action with delicate worldbuilding and vibrant characters... By turns tender and tense, this addictive beginning will leave readers excited to find out what happens next.”— Publishers Weekly (starred review) Sylvia Mercedes makes her home in the idyllic North Carolina countryside with her handsome husband, numerous small children, and the feline duo affectionately known as The Fluffy Brothers. When she’s not writing she’s . . . okay, let’s be honest. When she’s not writing, she’s running around after her littles, cleaning up glitter, trying to plan healthy-ish meals, and wondering where she left her phone. In between, she reads a steady diet of fantasy novels. But mostly she’s writing. 1 Faraine If you'd managed to snare the crown prince of Cornaith for a husband, we wouldn't be in this situation, now would we?" I close my eyes, trying to still the shiver running down my spine. My brother's words hit me like slaps. They fall from his lips so casually, one would think he remarked on the weather or the cut of his tunic. But the bitter and unspoken emotion behind the words makes me wince and wish I could somehow sink into the cushions of my carriage seat and vanish. I draw a long breath before raising my lashes and peering at Theodre seated across from me. He's resplendent in a fur-trimmed travel cloak and a plumed hat that takes up far too much room in this small space. A purely decorative sword is propped by his knees, the jeweled hilt wrought to correspond with his belt. Six fat rings, large enough to fit over his velvet-gloved fingers, flash at every move of his hands. He polishes one of them now, blowing on the faceted stone and rubbing it against his sleeve. "War is such a fright, you know," he says, as though the thought would never have occurred to me. "Hard for the average man to go about his business, what with having to drop everything and turn out to fight. Crops are left to spoil with only the women to do what needs to be done. And such ugly scarecrows they are! All hollow eyed and bony hipped. It quite turns the stomach to look at them. Out there with their plows and their scythes, and a gaggle of ragged brats trailing behind. It's like they have no pride in king or country." He looks up at me, his dark eyes flashing in the dimness of the carriage. "Nothing an alliance with Cornaith wouldn't have fixed. Their cavalry would have made our enemies take to their heels! Instead, we've got those gods-damned fae crawling all over the countryside, running raids, burning crops, stealing livestock, all like it's good sport. So the people come crying to Father's gates, wailing and holding up their starving children like there's anything he can do about it. Other than send more of them out to fight." And it's your fault. He doesn't say it. He doesn't have to. I feel the accusation underscoring every word, every gesture, every glance. I feel it so profoundly, I begin to believe it. My fault. Burned crops. Displaced people. Starving children. My fault. I should have done better. I should have been better. When Prince Orsan of Cornaith came courting, I should have smiled and flirted and danced and teased. I should not have sat quietly off to one side, keepi