*Gabriel*
I feel like laughing aloud as I blink at the back of Miss Cinders’s head. It serves me right for jumping to the conclusion that all she-wolves want to be princesses. Or that any English she-wolf would like me simply because I’m a prince.
This English she-wolf had decided within seconds that I’m a self-important ass. I see it in her eyes, in the way she looks down her straight little nose.
Perhaps her nose is a little too long. Isn’t Blanklake’s fiancée supposed to be a raving beauty? I don’t think she is. There are dark blue shadows under her eyes, for one thing. Beauties are supposed to have glowing skin the color of peach blossoms.
A she-wolf of the court would have plucked her eyebrows to high, airy peaks… hers s***h over her eyes, giving them punctuation. Rather extraordi
