“I’ve waited long enough, Zion,” Isolde’s voice broke the silence of the grand hall, its white marble walls bathed in the reflection of the evening sun. “How much longer are you going to ignore me like this?”
Zion stood at the doorway, both hands gripping the gleaming black wooden frame. His gaze was dim, expressionless.
“This isn’t the right time to discuss trivial matters,” he replied flatly.
“I just received reports from the northern territory. Rogues nearly ambushed the Sentinels.”
Isolde scoffed, her red lips twisting. “Trivial? You call our wedding gown—and our trip to Edinburgh—trivial?”
She walked gracefully, the rustle of her gown sweeping the floor, the scent of pine filling the air. “I want you to go with me. Not Beta Tyler, not that foolish guard. You, Zion.”
“I can’t lea
