“She’s too good for you,” Lunden said. Zeke slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his chest. Irritation clung to him so heavily that even I could taste it. “She is,” he finally replied, his tone becoming more profound, “but she’s also mine.” His. I wasn’t the queen. I wasn’t a witch. I wasn’t the found Princess of Reales or Celestina’s daughter. I was his.
