Elian
My heart did not slow its frantic, rib-cracking pace until I was three corridors away from Gunnar’s study.
The adrenaline coursing through my veins was a volatile mix of terror and intoxicating triumph. I had done it. Under the very nose of the executioner prince, I had reached under his desk, popped the latch, and walked out with the crown jewel of his northern military strategy tucked against my ribs.
But gods, when Gunnar had walked through that door, I was certain the stone floor would be painted with my blood before the sun set.
For a terrifying, venomous second, when I saw Lena standing beside him, I was convinced she had caught on, and signaled for him. I thought she had run straight into the warlord's arms, trading my head for her own safety. But the sheer, unvarnished pa
