Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince
Rasmus asks, but from his tone, I know it’s nothing more than formality—empty courtesies before the real questions come.
Beside him, Daphne chuckles softly. “What a strange friendship,” she says, stepping forward with her usual effortless grace. “Who would’ve thought these two would have to tolerate each other?”
She turns to me then, and without warning, wraps me in a hug. Her perfume is floral and sharp, like roses crushed underfoot. “You look different,” she says, pulling back to study my face. “I didn’t think a wretched place like Thornhall could do this to you—I’ve heard all the creepy, murderous tales of that castle. Or is it being away from Caelondor… with Magnus… that’s responsible fo
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