Twelve
In less than a minute, I find myself back inside the warmth of the palace in a small sitting room somewhere near the ballroom. Despite the turmoil of emotions overwhelming me, I didn’t dare disobey Roarke when he uttered “Follow me” in a tone icier than the winter air. Dash hesitated, but he soon caught up to the two of us. Back in the ballroom, no one stopped the prince or his betrothed. No one even looked our way. I suspect Roarke’s magic was responsible for that.
The door of the sitting room swings shut of its own accord. Flames spring to life in the fireplace. “What is he doing here?” Roarke demands immediately, gesturing at Dash without looking at him.
“I … I don’t …” I run my hands over my face, trying to focus on Roarke’s words and seeing only Chelsea and Georgia’s lifeles
