Torian’s lavender eyes were intense and vulnerable as they searched mine. His strong hands covered mine, and, despite the natural chill to his skin, I felt warmth radiate from his palms. His question was not a demand for allegiance, but a plea for partnership.
“Torian…” I began, my voice thick with emotion. I had spent the last year searching for a way to return. Trying to fix the watch. I couldn’t even date because my every waking thought was filled with the man kneeling before me now. “I have spent the last year desperately trying to return to you. I am a curator though…I wouldn’t begin to know the first thing about being a queen.”
He didn’t waver, “You are of elven blood. You are the Guardian’s descendent. You are the Temporal Anchor of Aethelgard, just as Rosariel was. The key resid
