The Cursed Bloodline of Alvar

She jumped from nine hundred feet—not to die, but because the three seconds of transformation were the only moments she didn't have to pretend to be human. She's a royal castoff, a living weapon, the deadliest curse-carrier on the continent. She smiles when she kills. She goes blank when she saves. The court calls her "Princess." She prefers "Monster." Then she met someone who wanted to die more than she did—a shadow-son forged from his mother's living alchemy, who hates every beat of his own heart. He said: "Kill the monster, or accept that I'm yours. There's nothing in between." She threw the dagger into a tree. Dragged him up by the collar. And bit through both their lips. A god-killing blade has infiltrated the palace. An ancient titan is opening its eyes beneath the earth. And the beast inside her is the only warhead that can detonate it. She doesn't need saving. She needs someone who isn't afraid of her.