It was her. The beautiful princess. Her hypnotizing scent clung to him, embedding itself into his very being.
It was Lorelai—panting and heaving. Her glossy eyes were unfocused, and her hands were drenched in blood.
Rhaegar's eyes widened in shock. The sight of the princess in such a horrible state overwhelmed him, and the countless questions he wanted to ask seemed to choke him, too paralyzing to voice even a single one.
"Lorelai, you..." Slowly, his gaze drifted down, widening even more as he finally noticed the large black dagger clutched in her trembling hands. Sticky red blood dripped relentlessly from the blade, staining her skin.
Surprised and alarmed, Rhaegar grabbed Lorelai by the arm and dragged her into her bedroom, locking the door behind them.
"What the hell happened? Whose blood is this? Lorelai, answer me!"
