Pacing a hole into the expensive rugs of the cliffside manor was not befitting of a Sovereign, but I couldn't stop myself.
It had been an hour since Lucien and Silas had vanished into the shadows. Rurik had already returned from the tree line, cheerfully announcing that a dozen terrified poachers had run screaming right into his guard blockade. The mercenaries were currently tied up and waiting for the capital dungeon.
But there had been no sign of the Panther Warlord.
"You are going to wear a groove into the floorboards, Little Rose," Caspian murmured.
My husband was sitting gracefully on the edge of the velvet sofa, looking entirely too relaxed for a man whose brother-in-arms was out fighting a black-market syndicate. Though, if I looked closely, I could see the subtle tension in his broad shoulders and the dark, swirling energy in his teal eyes.
