The days stretched on, an unwelcome calm after the whirlwind of introductions and courtly formalities. Every stolen glance towards Damian only amplified the frustration simmering within me. Finally, with the last ambassador dismissed and the fiery sun bleeding into the horizon, I sought refuge in the familiar embrace of the palace library.
The scent of aged parchment and worn leather soothed my frayed nerves. Yet, even amongst the towering shelves that held the wisdom of ages, the image of Damian, his strong jaw etched with an intensity that both thrilled and intimidated me, lingered in my mind. Determined to quell the restless thrumming in my chest, I plucked a well-worn tome on herbal remedies from a shelf, sinking into a plush armchair by the window.
A soft voice startled me from my reverie. "Lost in thought, are we, Annie?"
