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“You know, when I was a kid, I was tricked into thinking that princesses wore tiaras and hosted tea parties. Now that I’ve met a real princess, I must say, I’m kind of disappointed.”
Essentially, nobody knew anything.
Yet Carswell Thorne, when given a chance to explain, always had a reason. A good reason. A heart-stopping, pulse-racing, awe-inspiring reason.
Because if there was one thing Cress knew about heroes, it was that they could not resist a damsel in distress. And she was nothing if not in distress.
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“It’s all right,” said Wolf. “You loved her. I would feel the same if someone wanted to erase Scarlet’s identity and give it to Levana’s army.” Scarlet stiffened, heat rushing into her cheeks. He certainly wasn’t insinuating …
“Is she blushing? She sounds like she’s blushing.” “She’s blushing,” Thorne confirmed, shuffling the cards. “Actually, Wolf is also looking a little flustered—”
“I guess you could say I enjoy a challenge. No survival skills? Let’s honeymoon in the desert. Can’t see? Let’s go play some cards.
She was a girl. A living girl, smart and sweet and awkward and unusual, and she was worth far more than they could ever realize.
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Hopefully they would deem her not worth coming after. Or maybe they would shoot her.
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Thorne really, really hoped the doctor wasn’t about to keel over. That would ruin oh so many things about this day.
“Pause one second. And be honest.” Thorne held up a finger. “Are you having a mental breakdown right now?”
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