To err is human. To avenge is Divine.
Every person Cressida Thorne kisses dies. It is the family's oldest weapon, and she has learned to wield it exactly as her parents intended: quietly, obediently, and always for the Thorne name. By day she is Ravensmere's coldest widow. By night, hidden behind black lace, she is something else entirely a masked vigilance stalking men the law refuses to touch, men who have mistaken cruelty for safety.

Then her father arranges her second marriage. Julian Ashcombe, heir to a fortress on the edge of a forest that eats the unwary, is meant to be nothing more than another debt collected on her family's behalf. She intends to kill him before the wedding feast has ended.
He survives her kiss.
Worse, he already knows what she is — and instead of exposing her, he takes her north, deep into wolf-haunted country, into a marriage built on secrets neither family will speak aloud. As the ancient wardline meant to hold back an older, hungrier darkness begins to fail, Cressida discovers that Julian's honesty may be the only thing more dangerous than her own poison: it is asking her to be known.
The Poison Daughter is a dark, slow-burning romantasy of arranged marriage, buried family history, and a heroine who has spent her whole life being someone else's weapon — until she chooses, deliberately and completely, to become her own. Combining the vigilante fury of Promising Young Woman with a moody, wardline fantasy and a marriage that starts as a death sentence and becomes a partnership neither house intended, this is a story for readers who want their romance dangerous, their heroines lethal, and their happily-ever-afters genuinely earned.
Spanning a single transformative marriage from wary distrust to hard-won devotion — and, ultimately, the raising of a daughter who inherits both the gift and the freedom her mother never had The Poison Daughter is epic in scope but intimate in its center: two people, cornered by their families' cold calculations, choosing each other anyway.