Aveline's heart sank.
For one stunned moment, she had almost forgotten the betrothal entirely. But now, with those words hanging between them, the memory struck her all over again, opening something raw and aching inside her chest.
The last time she had been with Theron, he had told her only that his betrothed came from a powerful family. She had not stopped to think beyond that. She had not needed to. And now the truth had revealed itself in the cruelest possible way.
The archduke's granddaughter.
Of course, it was someone like that.
Someone with status, with lineage, with everything Aveline had never had and never could offer him. Her throat tightened painfully.
She had thought, perhaps foolishly, that Theron had intended to break the engagement. That was why he had given her his night robe, why he had told her to keep it as she pleased, why he had looked at her with that strange gentleness that had made her believe he was choosing her in some quiet, careful way.
