ndria

nd of the garden. It was my mother's favorite place,

still a whirlwind. I motioned for Jade to wait by the entrance an

wasn't

wore simple, dark clothing of a fine cut, his posture straight and unwavering

me, sharp-featured, but marred by a thin, pale sca

s eldest son. The prince who had reportedly lost his sight a

s were not close. I had enough trou

ent to me. Crisp and clean, like pine after winter rain. But underneat

fr

e scent matched. Nightshade root, processed and refined. It didn't kill. It put the inner wolf into a deep, unbreakable

four... five... six... seven. A fractional pause. A hitch so small anyone e

unula-the small white crescent at the base of each nail-was

e breath. The

being p

of the realm, the firstborn son, being systematically weakened by s

nd smooth. "Miss Torres. I

gruffly. "His Highness h

t. He was seen as a broken piece, useless in the great game of pow

. Silas tensed, his hand dropping to his sword. I

voice low and direct. "Was you

e cracked. Not a break-a hairline fracture. He did

he asked, "Why would you as

ess. Metallic." I paused. "Do you often suffer from headaches, Your Highness? Persistent coldness

his sword. The air grew th

his voice came, quieter than before. "

mes what looks like a curse is ju

pping his guard from dra

the garden, a familiar, hat

knew I'd find y

e had fol