With a face that was both aristocratic and brutal, he looked like the king he was by birthright and the solider he’d become by destiny.
Truth was, he felt sorry for her because she’d been forced to become his shellan.
Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy, he thought. For the price of admission, you get a splitting headache, a nearly irresistible urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex. Yippee.
“You don’t know this yet,” he said grimly. “But you are mine.”