Lena
I stood frozen in the corridor of the Western Wing long after Gunnar's footsteps had faded into the silence of the palace.
My heart was still hammering, but as I pressed my back against the cold stone, something small and breathless caught in my throat. I couldn't place it. My lips parted into a weak, anxious smile.
I was smiling.
It was maddening. How could I smile after the promises he'd just whispered into my ear? Was it some sick craving for a savior, or just the raw satisfaction of watching the Crown Prince unravel over his brother touching what he considered his? Either way, the heat of him had drowned out the terror for one full breath.
Then reality slammed back in, and the warmth died with it.
He wasn't joking. I knew the stories. Less than an hour remained before Arlo's
