Mae loved secrets. Add in a solid dose of conflict and a dash of bloodlust, and she was happy. Was it her nature? Or was it her upbringing? As a child, Margot had given me dolls to celebrate my birthdays. When Mae had turned five, Father had gifted her a set of gilded blades. She’d fit in with these Turan warriors, wouldn’t she? With this prince? Mae had inherited Father’s strong frame and Margot’s height. Eighteen years of training had sharpened her into a weapon. The Turans wouldn’t break Mae. Perhaps Father was counting on it being the other way around.
Interesting
