Freedom comes at a price and a young Earthal princess must live the life of somebody else, even if it means facing evil threats and impossible odds.
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As someone who craves freedom, Princess Clarabelle cannot just stand by and let her life be take...
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COLD BLOOD rushed through Clara's body. It had been weeks since she had last seen Fynn's shadow. And to see him in the ballroom, talking and laughing to the prince as if they were friends, sent her head into a whirlwind of chaos.
Flynn knew who she was, and that was what she was afraid of. Could he have exposed her identity by now? She had not had a chance to speak to him, more so to explain herself since the first and last time they'd been together in Rovenshire.
More than just being a royal advisor to the Leighton family, Flynn was something else. Clara had to keep her eyes open or risk getting caught.
With her mind numb and her body cold, she completely forgot about the man who was dragging her out of the ballroom and into the cold, blustery night. His hands were gentle around her wrist, almost not touching it. Clara tilted her head as she studied his broad back and tensed shoulders. She couldn't help but compare this other prince to Emir.
Getting Emir's attention would require one to pay a price of gold; if he did, he'd make sure to give Clara the nastiest look. But this other prince's eyes were hard and determined that if she refused to go with him that night, Clara would still find herself being led on. If Emir was timid and would choose to hide behind his own shadow, the way this prince carried himself screamed confidence.
It surprised Clara that there was someone who was as forward as him. A man like him seemed hard to handle yet all he had ever shown so far was pure gentleness.
The two followed the gravel stone path and every lamp post was lit one by one as they passed. The prince stopped short in front of a marble fountain, its sparkling cold water spraying on them like droplets of rain. If Clara hadn't been alert, she would have collided with his rock-hard back and smashed her nose.
Did Clara ever say that he was a man of confidence? Well, he seemed to be... at first, and she judged him too quickly. He paced back and forth in front of her as if going mad, brushing his hair with his thick fingers while some strands fell on the sides of his face.
Studying him closely, he was almost like a spitting image of Emir, only that he was manlier with a bulky physique, long, tied hair, and stubbled jaw.
Clara shivered at the freezing wind, rubbing her exposed arms to keep them warm. She'd always loved a perfect night stroll. The palace of Boreas sitting atop a floating rock island offered a better view of the sky and its jewels, of the dragons and birds than on land. The wind would carry the scent of the nearby towns. But whatever it was he needed should be done quickly enough. Any longer outside and Clara would surely catch a cold. Somehow, she had to get his attention, but what else could she say to a stranger?
"Say, Prince..." Clara trailed as she tried to recount his name when all of the royal family of Boreas was introduced.
A flash of gold caught the moon's light. A golden medallion bearing the Castellan family's coat of arms hung around his neck—an eagle with its large wings sprawled open and two swords crossed over its chest. Overlapping it were three stone pillars. Clara's eyes widened. He must be the third prince.
