Chapter 4Ciaran
The palm of Ciaran’s hand was still warm to the touch. Cove grasped it and held it like a fearful child. Then they fought. He should be mad at Cove. Who talked to a prince this way?
Instead, he stood outside Cove’s room in the hallway, feeling guilty. He could hear sobs through the door. This was not how an heir acted. Ciaran turned and slammed his bedroom door shut. Pacing in his bedroom was more dignified than pacing in the hall.
None of this was his fault. He had thought he’d have a political match. Maybe he did. Ciaran still thought Cove was capable of cunning actions. Cove was toned and muscular. An unhelpful thought. It had been mere hours, and Cove had Ciaran doing as he said. That spoke to wit. This was not a love match, Ciaran reminded himself.
“Hello, Kwan,” C
