ara

nown for his icy reserve and terrifying authority, was acting with such public, tender

jacket enveloping my shoulders, and a look of primal panic mi

Her carefully constructed drama had just been hijacked

of security so profound it almost made my knees weak. I

f his presence my armor. My gaze, now s

gown is a fake?" I a

ft to Seraphina. It was a brief, dismissive glance, but it held the weight of a death

hin and reedy. "Y-yes, Your Majesty. " She had to se

e to sound like a petulant girl complaining to her protector. "Caspian, she's sa

ement in his eyes. He sighed dramatically and reached out, his fingers gently brus

laced with an indulgent fondness that was utterly devastating i

shockwave. Julian's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles

to his assistant. "A

bow to the assembled crowd. He was handsome in a classic wa

h my god, that's Arthur Reynolds! The former editor-in-chief of Vogue!

shade of green. She had planned to expose me with whispers and innuendo, not to be ju

coming. I'd be so grateful if you could settle this

cket, his movements precise and practiced. He then retrieved a smal

fabric, the quality of the embroidery. But then his expression changed. His eyes widened s

light Silk. And the embroidery... the nightingale motif... this is the

sp echoed throu

final piece?! The one that wa

pposed to exist

d she g

that the gown Miss Vance is wearing is the genuine Nightingale-the only one in existence. It is worth more than every other garm

ld you like me to authenticate your Atelier gown? I notice...

ion. Every mind in the room was al

d valuable that it dwarfed the Atelier-then why had Seraphina sent he

ut I never wore it. So you switched tactics-you decided to claim that my Nightingale was a fake, because you kne

A sheen of cold sweat broke out on her fore

inutes telling everyone I was wearing a counterfeit. Now that

d to Julian, a desperate

at Arthur, his world tilting on its axis, utterly inca