“You’re proving my point,” I say. “If you knew, you never would have risen to be king. You always would have known I was in the shadows, judging your choices, your movements, your ideas.” “Then why did you tell me at all?” he demands. I reach out and ruffle his hair again. “Because I love you too much.” He catches my wrist, but then he grips my hand tight. His eyes gleam. “I’m very glad you did.” “So am I,” says Tessa. “Besides,” says Quint as he fetches the kettle to pour steaming cups of mulled wine, “I rather like having a cottage in Mosswell. The village gossip is downright vicious, and
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