Princess Vittoria Olympia of the Romana Family of Olympus
The doors didn't just open. They exhaled.
That was the only way I could describe it. Warm air rushed out to meet the cold Scottish wind at our backs, smelling like woodsmoke and old books and beeswax polish. Campbell's hand was still holding mine, and I realized I was squeezing it too hard.
"Easy," he murmured, just for me. "It doesn't bite."
"It looks like it could," I whispered back.
He laughed and pulled me inside.
I had expected the castle to be cold. Draughty. Miserable in that romantic, gothic way.
This wasn't.
