King Thorne doesn’t explain himself. He steps back from the doorway, his gaze tracing over me again and lingering on the shirt I’m wearing. I brace myself, half expecting him to reach for my throat like Foulo did. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he says shortly. “Make sure you’re ready on time.” Without another word or so much as a smile, he turns on his heel and departs. I realize I’m shaking with anxiety as I look up at Kastian. “What the fuck was that?” “Lucky is what that was.” Kas lets out a breath and glances at the T-shirt I’m wearing instead of a dress. “You should change.” I flush, but
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