Chapter 12
Ethan ran a calloused thumb over my cheekbone, watching me too closely.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I turned toward him, locking eyes with those deep, unreadable ones. He looked familiar—but off. Like a ghost I hadn’t fully buried.
“…Ethan Shaw?”
He blinked. Just once. And then nodded.
Something inside me broke loose and slammed into my chest. Pain, relief, disbelief—all of it at once. But I didn’t say a word. I just reached out and grabbed the corner of his coat, clutching it like it was the only solid thing in the world.
The carriage hit a bump, but I barely noticed.
Then the curtain was yanked open.
A soldier—the same one who’d called Ethan “General” earlier—poked his head in.
“Sir. Princess Helena’s requesting you.”
Ethan’s jaw tensed. “For what?”
“She won’t eat. Says she won’t touch a thing till she sees you.”
Ethan cursed under his breath, that familiar growl returning to his voice.
Still, he made a move to get up.
But I didn’t let go.
My fingers clung to his jacket like claws. I didn’t say anything, but my grip told him everything.
He looked down at my hand. His expression softened, eyebrows lifting.
“I won’t be long,” he said.
I didn’t believe him.
And my eyes told him that, too.
