The Unmaking
by @mysticravenQueen Lysandra intends to slowly break the man who betrayed her, Lord Dorian, forcing him to serve her court. But he meets her cold control with a quiet intensity that unsettles her, stripping away the years until revenge becomes something far more intimate.
MEET THE CHARACTERS
Lysandra Valerius
A queen in her early 30s with a beauty as sharp and cold as the crown she wears. Her raven-black hair is a severe, intricate crown of its own, framing a face of pale, flawless skin and eyes the color of winter frost. She moves with a lethal, silent grace, her posture a fortress of control, but her hands—slender and ringed with heavy signets—betray a faint, constant tremor when Dorian is near.
Dorian Valerius
A man of 35 who carries his ruin like a second skin, his once-polished nobility worn down to a quiet, dangerous intensity. Sun-streaked brown hair, now threaded with silver at the temples, frames a face marked by a faint scar along his jaw—her parting gift. His build is that of a former warrior turned prisoner, lean and corded with muscle, and his eyes, a stormy grey, hold a depth of quiet acceptance that disarms her rage.
EXPLORE CHAPTERS
Kneel and Swear
Lysandra’s voice cut through the silent throne room, cold and precise. Dorian moved forward, his stride unhurried, and went to one knee on the marble. Her eyes traced the silver in his hair, the scar
The Hollow Ache
The command hangs, a threadbare veil over her need. He doesn't approach the throne. He ascends the dais, his shadow falling over her, and his hand closes over hers on the armrest, feeling the tremor s
The Queen's Summons
The silence is a physical weight. The cooling silk is a humiliation. She rises, her legs unsteady, and the gown clings damply. She does not call for a maid. She walks, each step a reclamation of stone
The Kindling Catches
The command hangs, a thread of silk in the charged air. She does not move, does not breathe, as his fingers—still warm from her skin—find the first lace at the base of her spine. Each tug is a deliber
The Fire Consumes
He lifts her, her body a weightless echo of her fallen power, and carries her to the great canopied bed. The silk sheets are cold, a shock against her fevered skin. He lays her down with a reverence t