Celeste was stunned and frozen in place by Maeve’s words, almost stumbling back from the grave mistake she had just made.
As the porcelain wine jug crashed and shattered into shards, all eyes turned to her.
She couldn’t believe what she’d heard—Maeve’s request to be Syzar’s queen. Her wolf craved to itch to surface and claim the king as her bonded.
But right now, she’d made a mess in front of the guests, glass littering the floor.
“I—I am sorry, I am sorry,” she called out, reaching for a shard and hissing as one cut her finger.
Her breath came harsh, eardrums pounding from the princess’s words. Then a warm hand touched her shoulder. She looked up to meet Prince Maverick, who helped her to her feet.
“It is alright,” he said. Her shoulders relaxed—he’d just saved her skin.
But Syzar
