Toghat The Vile By Cara Wylde (2K 2026)

Elara didn’t tremble as she approached the dais. She had spent a week in his fortress, expecting torture or death. Instead, she had found a library filled with ancient scrolls and a monstrous warlord who spent his evenings reading by the fire, nursing a glass of dark elvish wine.

"You’re late for dinner, little bird," Toghat rumbled, his voice like grinding stones.

To the kingdoms of men, he was a nightmare. To Princess Elara, who had been "sacrificed" to him by her own father to settle a blood debt, he was a mystery. Toghat the Vile by Cara Wylde

Elara leaned into his touch, her eyes defiant. "A captive waits for rescue. A queen takes what she wants."

He reached out a clawed hand, his touch surprisingly gentle as he tilted her chin up. Elara felt a spark—not of fear, but of a dangerous, magnetic heat. Elara didn’t tremble as she approached the dais

"I was finishing the history of the First Era," Elara replied, stepping into the circle of light. "You never told me your people were the original architects of the Great Spire. The history books say men built it."

"Your father thinks he sent you here to die," Toghat whispered, his thumb grazing her lower lip. "But he gave me the only thing in his kingdom worth keeping. Tell me, Elara—does a princess prefer to be a captive, or a queen of the dark?" "You’re late for dinner, little bird," Toghat rumbled,

Toghat let out a low, cynical huff. "Men write the books, Princess. They prefer to believe they conquered a desert, not stole a kingdom." He stood, his massive frame towering over her, his presence heavy and suffocatingly warm. "They call me 'The Vile' because I refuse to give it back."