“Prince Zavier,” Father said. “Mae is my daughter intended to be your bride. If you wish to forgo the planned festivities of the equinox, then we will arrange for your union tonight.” My gaze bounced around the room, hopping from Turan to Voster to Father to Banner and back around again. The prince was still bored. The Voster seemed comatose. Banner looked lethal. Father’s expression was too guarded to discern. Mae and Margot were livid. At. Me. And the Guardian was still smirking. I hated him instantly. Maybe I should have wished for Banner to cut his throat.
Tonight!?
