ling a little. I can't blame it all on being out of practice.

ccent makes me homesick for London.

e of us answer the ritual question.

o the word of your k

tear my gaze quickly away, I still feel his willing me to meet it again. There's a confidence about him that has nothin

my throat. I can barely catch my breath; I wonde

your will for the

their loveless, boring marriage. It's the que

if I don't make my decision on the transformation, an

rath of my mother, I'm compelled to s

d of your enemies." The ancient creed, which always sounded so ruthless to my younger ears, is like a low, sensual promise in the king'

e toward the doors to the grand ballroom, but whatever lies beyond them doesn't hold the sam

ackling between us or did I invent it from a combination of nervousness and emotional confusion? I've never reacted

, and I decide it's safe to take one last, quick look back at the king w

watching m

st assumption is the most obvious one: the old king died. But he has a s

link of silverware, the laughing, and all the other gossip floating around. "He mated some ridiculously young t

e's the most beautiful of all of us,

o's-the-fairest-of-them-a

ns in. "And imagine how his children felt when

understand how that leads to a random

ns sharply. "He is

bother to lower her voice. "There was a power

He seems like a nice enough guy, but he was brought up in the same society as every other man in th

ather's word wasn't as powe

lance at Mother. "Are

orgeous as she is, with nearly identical honey blond hair. H