ISOLDE

I closed the door quietly, expecting the familiar face of one of my maids, but it wasn’t them, it was Finnian. Standing there, framed in the doorway, my chest clenched at the sight. I didn’t want to see him. I wasn’t ready.

“Let me in, Isolde,” he said, frustration bleeding into his voice, his power barely contained in the room. I hesitated. But then, my curiosity won over my pride, and I opened the door. He stepped inside, cautious at first, then bold, reaching as if to ...