ISOLDE

Finnian stepped forward first, bowing slightly. “Your Highness,” he greeted, his tone was formal and low.

Velin didn’t even look at us. She stood beside Rowan’s bed, adjusting his robe like she was born to touch him.

“I came to report something,” Finnian said, ignoring her. “Something urgent.”

Rowan shifted lazily on the bed, his eyes half-lidded, as if he was just pulled out of sleep. “Yes, yes… go on then.”

Finnian’s voice deepened. “One of the maids I ...