đ.đ: Pampered princess
"đou shouldn't have gone after them."
Zachary's voice cut through the thick silence like a blade honed to a razor's edge. It trembled with a worry he was trying, and failing, to conceal.
Elysia blinked up at him from the plush depths of her bed, suddenly feeling a childish guilt prickle at her.
It was the same sensation as being caught sneaking out after curfew in the orphanage from her past life.
Except instead of being scolded by a sleep-deprived matron with stale coffee breath and mismatched socks, she was being glared at by a silver-haired king whose crown glinted even in the soft lamplight.
She was currently cocooned, wrapped burrito-style in the soft velvet blanket Lucas had tucked around her with all the meticulous care of a mother henâif that hen sported long copper locks and possessed a jawline sharp enough to slice through the thickest oak, that is.
The warmth was comforting, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in the room.
