He had carried me up into the castle, started the fire that warmed my numb limbs. Then he’d kissed my forehead and slipped out the door, likely dealing with more pressing Enforcer duties than the crumbling queen-to-be. He watches me now, an ache in his gaze that mirrors my own. I want nothing more than to be held by him, enveloped in the comfort of his arms. He is a weakness I am not supposed to indulge in. Not in this life, at least.
