She looked at me as if I had just spoken a foreign language as my eyes noticed her trembling fingers against her knees.
To her, the social hierarchy was an unyielding stone wall. To suggest that a royal prince, especially one as notoriously ruthless as Xander Alaric Arcturus, would expend his ink for an ordinary girl was nothing short of madness.
"Yes, Neisa. For you," I said, my voice dropping into a low yet firm tone that left absolutely no room for doubt.
I reached out, and this time, when my fingers brushed against her hand, surprisingly she didn't pull away. Her skin was freezing, a physical manifestation of the terror she was trying so desperately to suppress.
