Chapter Thirteen
Three Years Ago
Amalie was no longer a prisoner, but she couldn’t rid herself of John’s words. He’d sat in that cell as if none of it bothered him. Simon left, taking most of the queen’s guard with him. Only a few guards remained. They allowed Amalie Leroy to live in the house once belonging to her family, but it was no longer hers. That much was clear.
Tyson’s chest rose and fell steadily beside her. He was so close yet so far away. Her arrest put a distance between them that hadn’t been there before.
The village needed a warrior, John had said. Someone with good intentions and an even better aim.
She rolled over and away from Ty. The queen, Ty’s own mother, had taken the only thing that belonged to Amalie. Her estate. And she’d ignored the village beyond those walls
