"What's Owen doing in there, and who's he with?" Isabella's voice was filled with fury.
"Who do you think you are, stopping me?" she snapped at Bayne, her voice dripping with disdain.
"Don't think that just because you're Owen's lackey, I can't deal with you. Move aside, Bayne."
Thomas frowned at the scene. "Is she always like this?"
I shrugged, feeling oddly indifferent. Years of Isabella's temper tantrums had worn down any shock or anger I once felt.
I shot Thomas a resigned look, and he cracked a small smile.
"You've adapted well, Your Highness," he said softly, the warmth in his eyes piercing. "These past ten years must have been hard."
I looked up, finding myself drawn into the emerald depths of his gaze, which seemed layered and endless, as if inviting me to dive in.
My heart
