“What a pointless way to die,” I breathed, holding her there on the cusp of death. “Finding yourself impaled upon a piece of cutlery simply for being an insufferable cunt.” “Prince Dragor,” Cassandra gasped, clearly not stupid enough to make me wait any longer. “He will marry the Collingsdale heir a week tomorrow with the rising moon.” Ice slid down my throat, coating my spine and racing for my toes. I blinked. A single moment passing as those words struck me. I was his. He’d made me swear it. But he had never promised to be mine.
