*Isla*

Alatar takes a step toward me. My body begs to take a step back, but I hold my ground. Emery is still as a statue behind me. A quick glance shows  her eyes round with… fear. If she’s scared, and she’s never scared, I should be.

But I’m not. Not when this man, this wizard, reaches out and brushes his fingertips over my cheekbone in a frigid caress. His touch is freezing, like ice. I resist the urge to shutter and lean away from him.

“You are a prize, Isla. ...