First in an ongoing arc; slow-burn romance; strong “read the fine print” energy; magic works best through explicit permission and clear scope.
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A Bargain of Winter and Wyrd
The Frostbound Court · Book 1
Elowen Thorne didn't come to the Winter Court looking for love.
Elowen Thorne didn't come to the Winter Court looking for love. When her brother's name appears on a centuries-old debt that threatens to swallow their port town whole, Elowen does what she's always done — she follows the paper trail. It leads her from the salt-stained stacks of Port Blossom to the frost-laced halls of a fae palace, where an heir called Cael holds a curse in his bones that can shut down every harbour on the coast. He's powerful, bound, and running out of time. She's mortal, sharp-tongued, and nobody's pawn. They shouldn't work. But when they dance, he asks before every turn. When they argue, he listens. And when the ancient magic that's tearing him apart finally quiets — just once, just barely — it's because she kissed him and meant it. Now the Court wants to use what they've found. Rivals want to bury it. And the only way to free her brother, break the curse, and survive the politics is to prove that a bond chosen freely holds stronger than one sealed by force. In a world where magic answers to bargains, consent is the most dangerous power of all. Frostbound Court — Book One
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PublicationAvailable
FormatsKindle eBook & Paperback
Publication dateFebruary 14, 2026
Edition1st
Kindle print length375 pages
ISBN978-9190145104
Kindle ASINB0GNGXNZHJ
LanguageEnglish
ExtentFull-length novel
Paperback pages296 pages
Word count122,000 words
GenreRomantasy with political intrigue, court drama, and consent-based magic.
SeriesThe Frostbound Court
Book in seriesBook 1
Story scopeFirst book in The Frostbound Court series
ToneIcy, tense, and intelligent
PublisherUTP House
Court politics, competent heroines, cursed princes, forced proximity with boundaries, and romantasy where negotiations matter as much as chemistry.
Political coercion and threats; imprisonment as leverage; food scarcity and hunger pressure in a port town; dueling/training with minor blood/injury; grief and past deaths referenced in memory scenes.
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Cael wiped his palm once on his trousers and lifted his sword properly. The blunted edge caught the light. He could feel the eyes at the edge of the yard like a physical pressure. This was a taste of how the Duello would feel: everything—power, steel, breath—under an audience’s attention. “Elowen,” he said, “may I strike to your blade?” “Yes,” she answered. “Only the blade. No higher.” Agreement formed boundaries in his mind like chalk lines. He stepped in, angled his wrist, and brought the sword down along the agreed path. Steel met steel with a clean sound. The impact vibrated up his arm. The power flared in response, wanting more— “Name it,” she said, low enough that he felt the word as vibration rather than sound. “Where is it?” “Forearm,” he managed. “Pushing.” “Pause?” she asked. “No,” he said. “Not yet. I can hold it if you—if you stay close.”
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Audio sample in preparationComplete title informationA Bargain of Winter and Wyrd
A slow-burn romance forged in explicit boundaries
Port Blossom is running thin: ships delayed, grain rationed, and a debt that should have been paid in coin is now being collected in iron bars. Elowen Thorne has spent her life keeping records straight and people fed with the quiet power of accurate ledgers—but this time, the math won’t balance unless she leaves home and walks into Winter itself.
Winter Court is beautiful, exacting, and dangerous in the way polite rooms can be. Elowen arrives as a mortal archivist with a petition and a pen, and finds a realm where bargains are binding, dances can lay traps, and ‘consent’ isn’t a mood—it’s a protocol that can keep magic from turning cruel.
Prince-Heir Cael of Winter is fighting a curse that reacts to command and steadies under permission, and the court is already circling: rivals who want him exposed, envoys who offer ‘help’ with a price hidden in fine print, and officials who would rather rewrite the record than admit what it has cost.
To save what she loves—without surrendering who decides the terms—Elowen must learn Winter’s games fast…because the next test won’t happen behind closed doors. It will be public, ritualized, and waiting under the name the crown prefers: the Coronation Games.
Story
Cael wiped his palm once on his trousers and lifted his sword properly. The blunted edge caught the light. He could feel the eyes at the edge of the yard like a physical pressure. This was a taste of how the Duello would feel: everything—power, steel, breath—under an audience’s attention. “Elowen,” he said, “may I strike to your blade?” “Yes,” she answered. “Only the blade. No higher.” Agreement formed boundaries in his mind like chalk lines. He stepped in, angled his wrist, and brought the sword down along the agreed path. Steel met steel with a clean sound. The impact vibrated up his arm. The power flared in response, wanting more— “Name it,” she said, low enough that he felt the word as vibration rather than sound. “Where is it?” “Forearm,” he managed. “Pushing.” “Pause?” she asked. “No,” he said. “Not yet. I can hold it if you—if you stay close.”
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