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To the quiet girls with stories in their heads. To their dreams—and their nightmares.
Yes. Because running, dear one, is exactly what she wants from you.
He was the hunter, and I the prey. A single cold tear slid down my cheek. But when I peered around my shoulder, the High Prince was gone.
I wanted it to burn me to pieces—for him to burn me to pieces.
As if all my woes would disappear if I remained there, naked, next to him.
As if I had all the time in the world.
Had I known they’d be the last words I’d say to him aloud, I might have chosen them differently.
