Verity’s POV

The first time the door creaked open again, I braced myself for him.

But it wasn’t him.

The man who entered was tall and lean, head fill with long black hair a few shades darker than the king’s. His features were sharp, but not unkind, and his expression was calm, unreadable. His eyes, though—those held something dangerous. Not ruthless like the king’s. Calculated. Watching. Always watching.

He stopped a few feet from where I sat, shackled to the wall like some ...