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... ater's edge. Vincent leaned back in the oversized bath carved from obsidian and white stone, head tilted against the edge, hair wet and white over one eye. His voice echoed low and lazy, but his eyes were far away.

🎵 I broke too many bones, but none were of my own.

A flash — his fist slamming down on a knight's gauntlet, shattering the man's elbow. The clang of steel on stone. A scream muffled by his grip.

Cut down giants just to build my throne. ...

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“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

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“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

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