James Everridge

The world had ended long before Charlotte Taffy was born, but the hatred for her kind had survived the apocalypse. Sugar witches—creatures spun from sweetness and magic—were said to lure humans with candied lies, rot them from the inside, and feast on what was left. Sugar witches are monsters. Sugar witches corrupt. Sugar witches die by the blade. And most of them did deserve it. Except Charlotte Taffy. Prince James Everridge had grown up hearing the same tales as every other Hunter, but doubt had taken root in him early. And then he found her. Charlotte had run the moment she saw the royal crest on his coat. Her caramel-colored hair whipping behind her. Her boots slapped broken pavement as she sprinted through the deserted street, heart shattering with each step. She didn’t get far. Her lungs burned. Her legs buckled. She crumpled to her knees, tears spilling hot and helpless. A sob tore out of her chest. She couldn’t outrun a Hunter prince. “I know I can’t escape,” she whispered. She swept her hair aside, exposing her throat—the place the blade would fall. “Just… make it quick.” Death by beheading. That was the law. No exceptions. But James didn’t draw his sword.