Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
B y the time my head hit the down pillow that night, I was so exhausted I could barely see. Worrying really took it out of a girl, and I’d been in a constant state of anxiety-laced fear for days now. Still, it was hard to stop the chatter in my brain, and it was long past midnight by the time I was finally able to drift off…
I found myself in total darkness, with only the sounds of insects and forest creatures in the distance to ground me.
“There’s no place like home.”
Somehow I knew I was dreaming and that the voice had come from inside my own head, but that didn’t stop me from arguing the sentiment as I let out a snort and squinted my eyes in an effort to see something…anything…in the inky darkness.
“I’m with you. We do need to get back to The Hollow,” I agreed with myself out loud, because it was a dream so who really cared? “But not because it’s so amazing. It’s a shithole, and I’m sure there are plenty of places like it, but it’s my shithole.”
“Home is not The Hollow, child. You come from a land far, far away…and you must get back soon. Your people need you. You must prepare yourself.”
I froze, realizing with a start that the voice wasn’t mine at all. It belonged to a woman much older than me, but familiar. If I could just place it ? —
“Gayelette?” I asked, searching the dark in earnest for the strange street vendor now as my heart skipped a beat. There was lush grass beneath my bare feet, which gave me some small comfort, but still… “Where am I? And where are you? I can’t see anything at all.”
As if lifted and hung by an unseen hand, a fat, yellow moon appeared in the corner of the sky, like a glowing piece of fruit. I reached my hand up to pluck it when a second voice called my name.
“Harmony?”
A shiver rolled through me at the rumbling, male voice. This one was also somehow familiar, yet somehow not…
“Duncan?” I called hesitantly, scanning the meadow for any sign of him.
The cold laugh that followed held no humor as a hulking figure appeared in front of me, blocking out the moon. “Ah, little witch. That will leave a mark for sure.”
I swallowed hard as I looked up into the face of the man I’d seen in my dreams before. Easily a dozen times over the years. He’d been more like a shadow at first. His face hidden, a silent observer. But recently…
I lifted my hand to my throat in an effort to hide the pulse fluttering there, like a butterfly trying to escape the webs of a spider.
He stepped closer, until the tips of his boots touched my bare toes, and the scent of the ocean spray and the bite of sweet rum rolled over me. He cupped my chin in his hand and tilted my head back until our gazes locked. The gleam in the endless black of those eyes…the flex of his jaw as he stared at my lips with unchecked desire. Slowly, he bent lower, and lower still until our mouths were a mere breath apart. Then, he paused for an eternity. I was about to put an end to the torture and crush my mouth to his when he nipped my bottom lip, hard.
It should’ve hurt. Fuck, it did hurt. But it hurt so good, and I wanted more.
“Please,” I whispered, drowning in the sensations, in the touch and smell and desire.
“Ask me one more time, nice like that, and you’ll forget this Duncan ever lived.”
I sat up with a gasp and pressed a hand to my thumping heart.
“Leave me alone!” I whispered under my breath, sparing a glance at a sleeping Molly across the room in her own bed.
The remainder of the night was full of sleep but only in fits and starts. I woke just ahead of the morning sun, crying out after a nightmare about a witch with green skin who reached for me and Fetch.
Now, an hour later, seated across from Bertrand on the carriage ride to the forest, I couldn’t stop yawning as he spouted falcon facts.
“Yes, they are majestic creatures indeed.” He tossed a treat to Aemon, who eagerly snapped it up, throwing his head back to swallow. “Does Fetch have a lot of tracking experience?” Bertrand said, glancing over the top of his glasses at me.
“We've hunted together countless times,” I said, “but not with this many people. We usually go out alone, so we’ll see how he does. What is it that we're going to be hunting, by the way?”
Bertrand frowned—something that he seemed to do a great deal. “We don’t like to put the royals in danger, you see, so rabbits and pheasant, for the most part. But the king tends to get a bit… carried away on hunts.”
My anger with Heinrich thrummed back to life at his mention. “Does he go often?”
“Before he left on his travels, he enjoyed the hunt very much, yes. The royals have had an annual outing before the Abundance Feast.”
I nodded as if I knew that, Bertrand went on. “The king wanted to make sure his people know he’s out and doing things as usual after the…incident. We will likely get a kill or two and then head home. It’s more ceremonial than anything today. Many more hunters will be out here tomorrow, including a contingent of guards, who will harvest an array of wild game for the palace Abundance Feast.”
Talking about Heinrich and his love of the hunt only made me think of Moll, and all the other women he’d put through similar or worse. How could the people of Alabaster stand behind a man like that? How could?—
“Are you listening? I'm starting to wonder if you don't really want this job after all,” Bertrand cut in.
I held back a deep sigh. No point in pissing him off early in the day.
“I’m sorry, Bertrand. I'm worried I won’t do well out there today.” It wasn't entirely a lie, of course. The situation with Moll was difficult but being in forced proximity with a man I’d tried to pry a shoe out of a few days earlier wasn’t exactly helping my nerves. I was sure he was dead at the time, but who knew? Maybe there had still been some spark of life in him…and that gave him a tiny niggling sense that he knew me from somewhere?
What if that was why he’d even called on me for such an occasion? Bertrand could certainly have run the hunt on his own, and had done in the past for years…
I pushed the thought aside, reassuring myself for the dozenth time that day that the guard would have been there with chains and handcuffs rather than an invitation if they had even the faintest suspicion of who I was and what part I’d played in the ‘incident.’ The more likely explanation was that they wanted their new falconer to get some hunting experience, and to see if I was up to snuff.
Gods above let that be all there was to it.
The carriage slowed to a halt, and I sucked in a final, strengthening breath before stepping out of the doors. I slid to the muddy ground below, and Bertrand scowled at me as I offered an arm to help him down.
Okay, then.
Another carriage halted next to ours, and Duncan was the first to emerge. He raised a hand in greeting, turning as Sir Crispin and the sorcerer Relyk stepped out from behind him. My heart skipped a beat as one of the strange guards filed out next, leaping down with unnatural agility considering the bulk of his black armor.
He hit the ground, turning as the cloth shifted once more on the carriage behind, and he offered a hand to Heinrich as he appeared.
My blood chilled as the king’s eyes fixed on me for the briefest moment, but they didn't linger. He ignored the guard’s outstretched hand, stepping out of the carriage and onto the ground below.
Bertrand strode forward, dipping his head in greeting to the royals, and I dropped down to do the same on instinct. “Where should we headfirst, Your Majesty?”
“Hmm.” The king looked upward for a moment, pensive, but it was Duncan who was the first to speak.
He nudged his friend. “Sir Crispin said that they spotted several fox dens just a mile to the east on yesterday's patrol. I’m sure there’s a healthy population of rabbits in the area.”
Heinrich shrugged. “So be it. It's as good a place to start as any.” His nose wrinkled, and his attention shifted to the hulking guard in black armor to his left. “Do keep your distance, you stink.”
The guard took two paces to the side without a word, his head never moving to look at the king or acknowledge the order other than to do as he was told. Something about the guards bothered me deeply.
I squinted. The flies were still there, weaving in and around the black armor.
A chill rolled through me.
Very strange.
Were they even…human? Their movements and reactions were somehow otherworldly as if they were pretending. And the fact that they never seemed to remove so much as their helmets only added to the effect. If I got a chance to look under that faceplate, what would I see?
Did I even want to know?
I could almost hear my stepmother’s voice in my head. “Enough with the fantastical thinking, Harmony. They’re going to put you in a padded cell one of these days.”
I shook off the sense of unrest and stepped a little closer to Bertrand.
We set off on foot in the direction Duncan indicated, with Heinrich leading the way.
The King sucked in a deep breath of the cool morning air and nodded, his color far better than it had been the other night. “We'll take a full circle of the hunting grounds this year.”
Bertrand gave the softest huff that I barely heard. I glanced at him, and he shook his head ever so slightly.
It was a lovely day—crisp and not too cold—but I didn’t relish the prospect of being out here any longer than was necessary. A full circle sounded like an all-day thing to me. Not to mention, if we went really far, we might wind up running right into the shack Moll and I had holed up in the night of the jubilee. I wasn’t sure what those creepy, fly-covered fuckers were capable of, but what if they were able to catch my scent there or something?
I swallowed hard and tried not to let myself fall down that rabbit-hole of worry.
“If I remember, you did have some success at the lake in the far back last time you both came home to visit,” the sorcerer walked just behind Heinrich and his unnerving guard.
Duncan nodded in agreement, and Heinrich's lips curled into a frown as he turned back toward the rest of the party. “You got that boar there, did you not, Duncan? The one we ate at the Abundance Feast that year?”
“Still thinking about that?” Duncan asked, a bite to his words.
The king scowled and waved him off. “Let’s make it a contest this year, too. The one who catches more rabbits wins.”
There was a clear tension between them, but the rivalry seemed largely one-sided. Duncan didn't seem concerned with his brother's jabs or challenges, but Heinrich had some serious insecurities.
Small penis syndrome if you asked me. My lips twitched at the thought, but I wisely kept my mouth shut.
As the deep winter evergreen forest grew dense around us, there was only a smattering of orange and yellow trees left from the fall. Beautiful, and far bigger than any place I’d ever hunted.
Bertrand let out a low whistle, and Eamon took to the skies. He made a strange clicking sound with his mouth, and the falcon shot into action, shooting even higher into the sky, eyes fixed on the ground below.
“Should I do the same?” I kept my voice low. Had the king heard me speak the night of the Jubilee as I’d stood over his seemingly dead body? I did my best to dismiss the thought yet again.
Bertrand shrugged. “Better two sets of eyes than one.”
I whistled once and jabbed my finger into the air. Fetch hurtled upward, climbing rapidly until he was a bit higher than Eamon. I rolled my eyes, hoping that competitive spirit wouldn’t drive him to overperform too much. The last thing I needed was more attention.
The sorcerer smiled as I looked back to the path ahead. “You really do have him well-trained, and with no access to the systems or years of trial and error we’ve had at the palace. It's quite impressive.”
“Fetch has served me well, but I believe he was trained before he came to me,” I agreed.
“How did you afford him?” The sorcerer asked.
My heart skipped a beat as I moved into my well-practiced story about our first meeting—all lies. “I found him wounded in the woods when I was just a girl. By the time I nursed him back to health, we’d grown close. He wouldn’t go, even when I tried to make him. He's been with me ever since.”
The truth was, I couldn't remember a time when I didn't have him. When my adoptive father had found me, Fetch had already been by my side, as if my true parents had left the bird to watch over me. It was a silly fantasy, but one I refused to rationalize. Maybe they had been too poor to feed me, or maybe they just hadn’t loved me enough to keep me. But at least they’d tried to ensure I would be safe…
A loud, screaming sound split the air overhead, and I looked to see Fetch dropping into a dive. We shifted directions as he hurtled toward the ground below, but before we could reach him, he was flying back to us with a whole rabbit in his beak. As he dove to me, he angled back upward so he could drop the rabbit right into my chest before soaring back into the skies.
The king spared a quick glance at me, eyeing me with those cold, piercing eyes. “Not bad. But make sure the birds don’t hog all the game, now that we know we're in a good area for hunting.” He turned away. “My bow, Jackal.” He reached toward the black-armored guard, who pulled the longbow from his back and handed it to the king, who was already equipped with a quiver.
I inched closer to Bertrand, “Why’d he call him Jackal?”
“It's what the king calls them in private,” he murmured. “They’re the Empire’s most elite soldiers—Relyk trained them himself and imbued their armor with magic. Even their identities are kept secret.”
I nodded, looking the Jackal up and down one more time. Their strange, preternaturally fast movements would be a marvel to see in real combat, and I found myself feeling grateful there hadn’t been one stealthily watching over the King the night of the Jubilee.
Probably, Heinrich liked to do his raping in private.
My fingernails dug half-moons into my palms as I tried not to let that thought take hold. I just had to get through the day. This was not the day to think about rebellions or taking down a king.
The minutes turned to hours, and it was shaping up to be quite the successful day of hunting as it drew close to noon. The large sack Crispin carried was halfway filled by the time we took our first break.
Bertrand's falcon, Eamon, had caught two rabbits, the same amount as Fetch, and the two royal brothers were neck and neck as well, going rabbit for rabbit.
“We must have nearly a dozen, that should be enough,” the king said, glancing at the sack that one of his guards carried.
“Bang on, here, we’ve the same Your Majesty,” Crispin said, looking up from the bag.
Relyk sucked in a loud ragged breath, drawing everyone’s eyes as he leaned against a sturdy oak tree. “The lake isn’t far now, but I grow weary. We should turn back.”
He looked pale and haggard and had been fading fast over the past half hour. I studied him as he turned to the king. How old was he, even? Something about his face made it hard to say. Perhaps that was the magic of a Whisper—a slowing of aging?
The king grunted. “Locke, you stay behind, light a fire for Relyk. Warm yourselves and rest while we continue our hunt.” He glanced at his brother. “Our wager doesn't seem to be going anywhere, and it hardly seems a satisfying end if one of us wins this coming out a rabbit or two ahead. Why don’t we settle this with some larger game?”
Relyk seemed to pale further. “Your Majesty, I?—”
Heinrich grinned at his own suggestion. “We can each take a falconer as our spotter, and whoever comes back with the biggest game by noon will be declared the winner.”
The wind gusted once again, blowing off my cape hood for the umpteenth time, and I let out an annoyed breath. Having had about enough of it, I yanked it down and with it came my hair, falling in a mass of loose, inky waves around my shoulders. As I looked up, though, the king's eyes were fixed on me. A shiver ran through me as his eyes dilated and he licked his lips.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“We'd better get a move on, then.” Duncan stepped smoothly between us, breaking his brother’s view of me.
The king inched to the side, coming back into view. Heinrich cocked his head and studied his brother before his lips split into a cool smile. “Whoever gets the biggest kill wins.”
Relyk nodded even as he slumped to a fallen log, seating himself. “We’ll weigh them when we return to the palace, if there’s any dispute.”
The king strode toward me. “Well, I guess we should get moving. To me, falconer.”
Duncan held up an arm, preempting the king’s move to grab my arm. “We should flip a coin to see who gets which falconer. It’s only fair and we don’t want the win to be tainted, as I know that Bertrand has more experience...”
Heinrich's eyes flashed with annoyance for a moment, but he nodded. “Fine. Hurry up, then.”
Duncan tugged a coin from his pocket, perched it on his thumbnail, and then flipped it up into the air. Fetch strained at my side, likely more out of his instinct to snatch the coin than out of any awareness of my inner turmoil. Going alone with the king into the forest was about the worst possible outcome for the day.
The king leered once again, tongue brushing against his lip as he opened his mouth to make his call. “Heads, of course.”
I went still as a statue as the coin hurtled toward the ground, and the two brothers stepped up to get a look at it. The second or so before it landed stretched on, as if time had slowed. My heart froze as the coin thudded into the grass, and I studied Heinrich’s expression, searching for any sign of the result.
His face scrunched in anger, and the passage of time seemed to return to normal speed. “Fucking tails.”
Duncan reached down, pocketing it. “Hmmm…I suppose I'll take the girl, then. No doubt you have an edge, brother.”
The king sucked in a breath, his hands balling into fists, but the sorcerer called out before he could reply.
“Better to have the one with experience in any case. Anything I can do for you before you go off, Your Majesty?”
Heinrich ignored the question and kept his gaze locked on Duncan. “No, I’m fine. I’ll take the old man, and Duncan can take the pretty wench. I’ll still beat him.” There was a venom to his tone that made my blood run cold.
The Jackal followed close behind the king as he started off toward the north edge of the forest. Heinrich held up a hand and spun around with a snarl on his face. “ This thing is coming with me, too? As if the old man doesn’t stink enough.”
“Security is crucial in times like these, Your Majesty,” Relyk answered.
The king reached out and smacked his palm into the guard’s armored chest, though the guard didn’t so much as flinch. “Ten feet away, minimum.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
My heart skipped a beat as the voice sliced through the autumn air like a knife. Cold, raspy, and low, like it was half growl and half whisper. But there was no anger in it, despite the rough treatment, and he let Heinrich create a bit of distance before following him deeper into the woods.
A heavy hand dropped to my shoulder, pulling me out of the moment. “Come on, then.”
I followed Duncan, adrenaline still coursing through me from the near miss.
“Really is a beautiful day out, for mid-winter,” Duncan said, a hint of a smile on his face as he met my gaze.
“Gambling with the lives of servants comes easy to you, does it?” Regret set in instantly, and I tensed. What was so damned hard about keeping my mouth shut and laying low around this man? Why couldn’t I just agree, and make small talk about the fucking weather?
My muscles went taut as his hand went to his pocket. Was I about to get stabbed for my insolence? But no…he pulled out the same coin he’d flipped a short while before. “It’s rigged. Both tails,” he said, flashing me the two identical sides of the coin.
I blinked, already seeing the flaw. “He’s the one who called it. What if he chose tails?”
“Hasn’t done it once since we were kids. Some things never change.” He pulled a second coin from his tunic, tossing it to me. “If it’s something small, I let him win, if it’s something I care about, I win.”
I let out a breath, unable to shake the lingering discomfort despite the explanation. The thought of being in the forest alone with that monster had my guts in a turmoil…
One of us wouldn’t have walked out, of that I was sure.
It didn’t matter now, though; Duncan had saved the day. For now. The king had called me a pretty wench, and technically I was in his employ. He could call me to the castle at any time.
Again, all the fucks in the world were not enough for this situation.
Duncan stopped abruptly at my side, hand dropping gently to my shoulder. “If, for whatever reason, he chose tails, I’d have come up with some other excuse. I would never have let him take you alone. I promise you that.”
And this time, I couldn’t help what I did next. After taking care of myself alone for so long, it was nice to have someone else do it for a change. I leaned into his touch for a moment rather than pulling away. He was a royal, born and raised in a palace, but I was beginning to trust him, just a little.
I glanced up to find him staring down at me. Electricity seemed to pulse between us as his hand slid up my neck, his palm cupping my cheek. A tingle shot up my back as his other hand fell to my hip, and my breath caught in anticipation as he leaned down. I could feel his sweet, warm breath feathering my lips when a piercing screech split the air. A second later, I caught a wing in the mouth as Fetch landed heavily back onto his favorite perch. He clacked his beak, threatening the prince.
Duncan stepped back, a grin tugging at his mouth. “He’s a jealous one, huh?”
Fetch’s interruption gave me a chance to check my emotions and remind myself of all the stupid things, kissing Duncan was probably the stupidest. I let out an exasperated breath as I turned to the falcon, tapping him gently on the forehead. “Doesn’t mind other birds, but definitely jealous when it comes to people. Barely tolerates my cousin, even.”
The tension between us was broken, and that was a good thing. I needed to focus on the hunt and nothing else. With a series of whistles, I sent Fetch back into the air, renewing the command to spot for game. We hunted in companionable silence for a time, and the sun was nearing its zenith by the time we made our next stop with no trace of any animal larger than a squirrel since leaving the clearing.
But did I even want us to find big game? Winning would only draw more attention to me and likely enrage the king further.
Duncan stopped abruptly, crouching down. “Looks pretty fresh.”
I strode over to him and knelt next to the pile of half-dried deer pellets. “Which way did it go?”
He circled for a long moment, then jabbed his finger toward the ground. And, sure enough, a cluster of small impressions in the ground led away from the pile, barely visible between the fallen orange leaves.
A whistle brought Fetch surging back to my shoulder, and I was struck with a brief flash of guilt as I sent him back into the air, but in the wrong direction. Spoiling Duncan’s hunt was a small price to pay for avoiding Heinrich’s ire.
Duncan gestured wordlessly for me to follow, heading toward a more overgrown section. Brambles and shrubs intertwined with one another, and I winced as I noticed the narrow pathway that cut through them. Our quarry had been through that way, no doubt about it. Worse, we were now moving in the exact direction I’d sent Fetch. The falcon screeched overhead, as if on cue, and my eyes flitted upward. He turned sharply, gliding through the air just a few dozen yards ahead of us.
Duncan dashed through the rest of the bramble, somehow managing to keep his footsteps silent despite his speed. I cursed under my breath, debating whether to fake a sneeze and scare the deer off, but before I could even make a decision, a second cry split the air—panic lacing it.
Fetch.
Something was wrong, the cry was off, I’d never heard him like this. I broke into a sprint as I frantically searched the sky above.
Where the hell ?—
The falcon came into view, hurtling toward the ground in a mass of flailing wings and flexing talons like he’d been shot out of the sky. My heartbeat thumped heavily in my ears, nearly drowning out my voice even as I screamed.
“Fetch!”
My eyes never left him even as I tripped, smacking into the ground with a force that knocked the air from my lungs. He was going to crash, and I’d be lying here helpless as I watched it. But the falcon let out another screech just as a warbling growl sounded behind me, rumbling through my bones as only a predator could do.
I turned in slow motion horror to find a bear the size of the carriage charging right at me. Fetch shot past me and swiped at the animal with beak, wing, and claw, but the bear was oblivious to the attack, its soulless black eyes locked on me.
“Back, Fetch!” I scrambled to my feet, praying he’d listen even as I knew he wouldn’t.
Fetch surged toward his eyes instead, and time seemed to slow as the bear grunted, lashing out to swipe with a paw larger than my head. The falcon crashed sideways in a mess of feathers, smacking into the ground as I screamed.
“No! Fetch!” I lunged to go to him, but the bear cut between us. It’s cold, black eyes didn’t so much as blink as it reared up on its hind legs, a low rumble escaping its throat before it let out a monstrous roar that rattled through my chest. Cold mud splattered across my cheek and time seemed to slow as the animal landed on all fours again, lunging forward, jaws snapping. I could count its teeth as its maw opened wider yet, coming straight for me. I scrambled back, fighting the urge to turn and sprint away with everything I had. I wasn’t beating a bear in a foot race. What was I beating a bear in?
The fugue of terror and fury faded in a rush, leaving behind a single, terrible realization.
I’m going to die here.
“Run!”
Duncan’s bellow was almost as terrifying as the bear’s, and I scuttled backward, time speeding back up. He threw himself in front of me, fists raised as if he intended to fight the massive beast with his bare hands.
What the fuck was he even thinking?
A moment later, I found out as he made the first move, launching himself at the beast with a guttural roar. Even the bear seemed surprised as the two found themselves locked in what could only be called a deadly embrace. The bear towered over Duncan.
“Duncan, don’t!” I found my voice, but he didn’t listen.
The bear held him off with one claw and slashed with the other, but even as blood poured from his shredded bicep, the prince held fast, whipping out one booted foot and planting it into the animal’s belly. The move sent the bear reeling backward with a force that I didn’t understand. Duncan didn’t waste time. He lunged again, this time with a closed fist into the animal’s sensitive snout. Blood poured from its nostrils, and it stumbled down to its knees.
Duncan stood between me and the bear still. “Go on, now! You leave us alone; we leave you alone!”
The bear shook its massive head, blood spraying, and huffed out a breath as if considering the prince’s proposal. It shook its head again, maybe still stunned from the blow to its nose. Then, with one last look at Duncan, it loped off, crashing through the woods and out of sight.
As if it had never been here.
“What the hell just h-happened?” Shock, I was in shock, I could feel the cold of it snapping through me as I dropped to the ground.
Duncan turned and knelt beside me. “Ella…Are you alright?”
I nodded, sucking in another gasping breath. “I will be,” I managed, meeting his gaze as I sat up. My breath caught at the silver eyes and diamond-shaped pupils that stared back at me—those were not the gray I remembered. I blinked as he turned away, pulling a waterskin from his belt.
“Your arm?”
“It’s fine.” He pointed at the bicep that I’d been so sure I’d seen ripped by the bear’s claws. The shirt was shredded but the skin…the skin was not.
“Once you’re ready,” he said, handing it to me with one hand as the other went to my forehead, exploring it gently. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”
“I don’t think so.” I glanced up at him and realized with a start that his eyes were back to smoky gray.
Maybe I had hit my head when I’d fallen backward? Or maybe the change in his eyes was some hallucination triggered by shock? The sound of fluttering wings pulled my attention away, and my heart soared as Fetch flitted into view, a little unsteady as he landed on my shoulder.
I lifted a hand and laid it on his back, looking him up and down. “You okay, buddy?”
He ruffled his feathers, as if shaking off the whole situation, then he pressed his cheek against mine, as affectionate a gesture as a falcon could manage.
“I think he’s alright.” I ran my other hand over his downy legs, checking for any injuries. But Fetch did not have his attention on me. No, he’d turned to Duncan. The two met eyes for a long moment, and Fetch clicked his beak and dipped his head.
I gave a wobbly smile. “He says thank you for saving me. At least, that’s what I think he said, at any rate.”
“He’s a brave bird. I might not have done what he did if I were as small as him,” Duncan said as he reached down to help me to my feet.
The humble words seemed sincere, but something deep inside me told me that wasn’t true. Duncan Westerly had secrets, of that I was now sure. Yet he’d proven over and over that he was what Moll had been searching for in vain her whole life…Something I’d been convinced didn’t even exist.
A Prince Charming in the flesh.
Wasn’t that some fairy tale shit?