The knife kissed his throat-cold and very precise. ❝Don't move,❞ Morgana's voice said behind him. ❝Not a muscle.❞ Sage froze. He felt her breath at his nape, warm against the blade's promise.She knew exactly where to place a blade. ❝How did you get out of your room?❞ he asked calmly. ❝Step forward.❞ He obeyed. She guided him through the narrow corridor, backing him against stone, trapping him there. The knife pressed closer now-close enough to hurt. ❝Drop your sword.❞ It hit the floor. ❝You're going to get me out,❞ she said. ❝Out of your reach. I don't care where you send me-as long as I never have to see Procris Saxon again.❞ Sage smiled faintly. ❝And why would I do that?❞ The blade bit, just barely. ❝Because if you don't,❞ she said, ❝I finish what I started.❞ Silence coiled between them. Then Sage moved. In a breath, the knife was his. Her back met stone. His forearm blocked her escape, the blade resting beneath her jaw. ❝You bastard,❞ she hissed. ❝Careful,❞ Sage said softly. ❝Any movement, and this becomes... unfortunate.❞ Her pulse fluttered wildly beneath the knife. He felt it. She knew he did. ❝Do it,❞she said. ❝You've wanted to since the day we met.❞ Sage leaned closer,Their eyes locked. ❝Tell me,❞.he said slowly , dangerously,.❝why I shouldn't.❞ *** Power is never inherited cleanly. It is taken-by fire, by blood, by betrayal. Sage Saxon, High Marshal of Wein, is the Queen's most loyal weapon-and her most dangerous liability. What he does not have is freedom.And Morgana Hawthorne is nothing but a pawn to get that freedom -THE CROWN.Or at least that's what Sage thought. Morgana of Bellorophen wants none of this. But when survival demands a contract sealed in vows,she has no option but to marry the man she vowed to kill. Their marriage was designed to end. strategic , temporary, and controlled. Love, unfortunately, does not follow design.