MOON MARKED BY THE LYCAN KING
The recognition was instant, followed immediately by a look of sheer, unadulterated terror.
She began to drop to her knees, her wet hands clutching at her apron. "Your Grace—I didn't—I was only—"
"Don't," I said, stepping forward quickly to catch her by the elbows before she could touch the wet stone. Her arms were cold, shaking under my grip. "Please. Don't do that. My name is Skye."
"You're... you're the King's mate," she whispered, her wide eyes darting to the door as if expecting the royal guards to storm in and execute her for looking at me. "The one from the Silvercrest pack."