Of Mist and Monarch

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.