ISOLDE

Before I could think, Rowan scooped me up in his arms. My breath hitched, my fingers clutching his royal robe to steady myself. His warmth surrounded me, yet my heart raced with unease. The guards at the gate bowed immediately.

“Your Highness! Your Highness!” they chorused.

“Make sure Arthur doesn’t escape from the dungeon,” Rowan ordered, his voice sharp and heavy with authority.

“Yes, Your Highness!” they all echoed.

He started to walk, then stopped midway and turned ...