Lorelei

The door opened before I could prepare myself.

He didn't knock. Of course he didn't knock. He was the king, and I was his property, his mate, his broken thing to visit whenever the mood struck. The bond pulsed in my chest as he entered, a traitorous recognition that made my stomach clench.

I held my breath as he sat.

The chair was the same one Penelope had occupied earlier, the same one where she'd held my hand and told me about the gardens blooming and the sunrises painting the ...