“Giselle’s been calling me a lot lately.” Panic flares in Mallory’s eyes, sending a sharp pain through my chest. I step forward, prepared to pull her into my arms and provide all the reassurance she could need, but she steps back. “Princess—” Desperation coats each syllable of the nickname I gave her a lifetime ago, the way it always seems to these days, and I’m unashamed. I want her to know that I’m prepared to beg, to bleed, to die for her.
