CHAPTER 40
The pristine glass throne reflected the lustrous moonlight. On its hard surface rested a withdrawn Judicaël. Though fire had engulfed the throne, it hadn't burned. In fact, it was the only thing left standing in Loïc's castle. At the feet of the high king lay charred rubble that had once been tapestries and finery. He was surrounded by immense chunks of glass, broken tree trunks, and branches. Yet all Judicaël could see were the aural remnants of the woman who dared reject him.
The peculiar glow of her hazel eyes wouldn't leave his thoughts, nor would the curve of her lips, even while disgust that had hung on her every word repeated in his mind, haunting the passing moments since her escape. From his brief contact with her, he felt stronger than he had in centuries. He squeeze
