Damian woke before dawn, cold sweat running across his brow.
Astrid…
He stared at the ceiling for a while, the nightmare gradually slipping from his memory. His mind turned over the events of last night, Astrid's tearful face swimming before his eyes.
She fears her brother. I always knew that, but when did things get so bad? What's happened to make her so afraid? And would marriage save her—or only give the duke what he desires?
With his complicated thoughts filling his head, Damian swung his legs out of bed.
It was bitterly cold in Lombrass, especially with Firelight—the coldest and darkest night of the year—so close at hand. But this morning, with his mind clouded and sweat clinging to his back, the chill was welcome. In fact, he wanted something even more refreshing—and a chance to clear his mind.
