Rosamund
I didn't know if I was happy that Nevan was here or devastated that his presence was a reminder of how my suffering would continue.
Perhaps, being a widow would have been the better outcome after all.
Regardless, I took his outstretched hand, welcoming the chill in his touch that had terrified me the first day we'd held hands. This time, I didn't flinch; I was used to it.
He led me to the centre of the floor. The crowd parted around us, nobles and courtiers pressing their backs against the walls as though an invisible force was clearing a path. I could feel Julian's gaze on my back as I walked away with Nevan, but I didn't turn.
Every part of me was focused on the man holding my hand, on the way his fingers gripped mine as though he was afraid I'd slip away if he loosened his hold for even a second.
When we reached the centre, Nevan turned to face me.
"Hello, Rosamund." His voice was gentle. "You look beautiful tonight."
