Fiction

Prince Bertrand knew Lady Micah Erembour.

She wore men’s clothes and struck from the shadows.

She was an Erembour. Had been training to protect the crown since she had been old enough to hold a dagger.

Was ruthless. Efficient. Loyal.

And a little bit crazy.

Suddenly he wanted a little crazy in his life.

Lady Micah felt good in his arms. Too good. Prince Bertrand never wanted to let her go.

Not even when Hugo Aldarius and Leander Essen came to rescue him.

She was an amazing dancer.

Another fighting stance, she had told him as she had helped him practice.

He wanted to practice a whole lot more with her.

“Would you like to dance?” Prince Bertrand asked.

She blinked at him.

“I’ll be safer with you as a dance partner than anyone else,” he said. “And my father will eventually force me to dance.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Is there something wrong, Your Highness?” Lady Micah asked him.

“You look…”

“Ridiculous?”

That wouldn’t have been his words for it. Not at all.

“I told my father not to force me to attend,” Lady Micah said. “I hope he regrets it. I am an Erembour. My place in is the shadows.”

And beside him, of that Bertrand was certain.

Bertrand ignored his handlers as he strode across the ballroom, determined to be introduced to the young woman.

As he approached, she turned to him and smiled. An expression that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Your Highness,” Lady Micah Erembour dipped a courtesy to him. “Where are your guards?”

Prince Bertrand stared at his spymaster’s daughter and almost forgot his own name.

That’s when he saw her.

Rather than the pretty pastels the other young ladies wore, she was dressed in scarlet. A color to warn predators that she was not prey. Her ebony hair was piled into an elaborate coif, and her lips were the same color as her gown.

She glided among those gathered, head held high, appraising them as much as they appraised her.

She was a lioness among sheep, and he wanted to dance with her.