My Hideous Wardrobe and the Butcher's Collar

I am Roshanak of House Firoze, the most pristine, haughty, and flawless noblewoman in Oakhira. Or I was, until a terrifyingly accurate bazaar mystic warned me that Iskandar, the infamous Crescent Butcher, would sever my head before the solstice. My solution? Destroy my own reputation. I smeared my face in soot, wore a gown made of rotting kelp, and cackled like a rabid hyena at the Grand Gala. My public humiliation was a masterpiece of repulsion. Unfortunately, my frantic flailing tripped a dormant soul-loom, magically stitching my aura directly to Iskandar's. Now, this terrifying conqueror can feel my every emotion, and my unhinged behavior has him completely fascinated. To make matters worse, as I scramble to break the bond, I discover his 'villainous' reputation hides a tragic burden, and the murder I was avoiding might have been a desperate attempt to excise a lethal parasite from my soul. When he willingly locks a magical submission collar around his own neck just to prove he won't hurt me, I have to ask: is it too late to wash my hair and admit I'm not actually crazy?