I shifted in Gosto’s arms, turning to face him.
His words still hung in the air like a challenge, daring and bold. His face, though unreadable to many, showed unwavering conviction. He didn’t waver not even under Gualtiero’s piercing gaze. I could hear my heartbeat drumming wildly in my ears, an erratic rhythm that betrayed how affected I was by his claim. I told myself he was pretending. He had to be. Yet, hearing him say his heart belonged to me those simple words sent butterflies careening through my stomach.
“You cannot be serious referencing the archaic blood bond?” Prince Anselmo cut in, stepping forward, disbelief painted on his face. “That hasn’t been seen in over a thousand years.”
Gosto tilted his head, wearing a smirk. “And yet, I feel it. Every time I’m with Domitilla, I fee
