Some loves are born in sunlight. Others grow in the shadow of war. Astrea Ysoria was supposed to heal, not kill. Her hands were meant for mending bones, not gripping daggers. But war orphans don't get the luxury of choice-and when you're the daughter of the general who signed death warrants for rebels, your gentleness becomes a liability the moment you step foot in the Riders Quadrant. What breaks her isn't the bridge designed to kill soft things like her. It's him. Xaden Riorson. Five years of silence. Five years of pretending they never existed to each other. Five years of learning to hate what they used to love. But some bonds refuse to break, even when they should. Even when loving him is treason. Even when every touch feels like betrayal and every heartbeat whispers enemy. This is what happens when war takes children and forges them into weapons. When the only person who ever saw you as whole is the one person you're supposed to destroy. This is a love story. It's also a war story. Sometimes, those are the same thing.