Princess...

The rain had stopped falling, but the cold she felt refused to go away. Amara curled herself at one end of her bed, her gaze fixed on the lantern placed nearby instead of looking at the man seated on a stool opposite her.

She still couldn't forget the way he held her closely, how his touch awakened something within her. Shaking her head, she knew she shouldn't be thinking about him.

Her heart tightened as she pondered why she was feeling so much pain as her father died, when she had felt little for him when he was alive.

Was it because of Safiya's betrayal, or was it the fact that soon she would be thrown out of the palace since she wasn't fit to sit on the throne?

"You should rest, Princess," she heard him from the far end. His voice was soft, with a little drawl in it. There was a richness to the way he spoke, deep and soothing. He didn't speak much, but when he did, she felt a tingle in her toe.

"My father is dead," she gulped, biting her lip.