"Earlier, you said, 'we may or may not have the Third Princess.' What do you mean?"
Fang Yuan's voice was deceptively calm, the kind of calm that precedes a storm. "Speak."
Fang Tian flinched as if struck. He opened his mouth, then closed it, his Adam's apple bobbing in a convulsive swallow.
Words failed him, dying in his throat before they could form.
A silken laugh broke the tension, sharp and unnerving.
Lin Zhaoyue stepped forward, her movement a graceful, predatory glide.
She brought her hand down on Fang Tian's back in a slap that was just a little too hard to be truly friendly.
"Oh, don't look so terrified, little brother," she purred, her eyes glinting with malicious amusement.
"Your brother won't be vying for your lover." She shifted her gaze to Fang Yuan, her smile sweet yet utterly devoid of warmth.
