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... tative bond that had been budding again between the Thierre girls, like a fragile plant, had been savagely cut down and crushed to dust since that day. The day Violet had discovered Ilse hiding with Prince Leo and had accused her of being nothing more than another one of his strumpets.

Ilse hadn’t forgiven or forgotten that comment.

The sister who as a child would always apologise first after a quarrel - even if she’d been in the right - because she hated conflict, now refused to ...

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******

“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

“No, Ayleth. This changes nothing.”

“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

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His eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

She had met her One. And he was the son of her bloodsworn enemy.

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She couldn’t resist. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, letting her palm catch on the scruff of his jaw. He blew out a breath and put his hand over hers, and that jolt that happened whenever they touched shivered through her again.

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“I cannot deny it,” she whispered.

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