The bitter taste of poison still lingered in my throat, though I had already survived it. Every sip of water reminded me of that night—the way my body betrayed me, the way the room spun, the sharp panic of knowing I might not see another dawn.

But what haunted me more was the memory of Kristen’s eyes.

I had never seen anything like it. Not when he barked orders at warriors. Not when he silenced a room with a glance. That night, when he held me, his eyes had been wild, desperate. His ...