The Prince and Mia

, illuminating swirling dust motes like forgotten constellations. For Mia Ritchard, it was the only place in the palace where the world's rigid hierarchies melted away. In this haven, she was not merely Sofia Ritch

, but it was her eyes, the sharp, luminous blue of Klbasian sapphires, that held a depth of intelligence and longing that belied her station. She lived under the shado

in glowed like the Klbasian sun, had once been her partner in every mischief, her laughter a bright, shared secret. Now, Myar's world revolved around courtly duties and p

eyes dancing with unrestrained laughter. Myar, her wit as quick as her grin, would orchestrate their games, crowning a giggling Mia with wreaths woven from discarded paper. One golden afternoon, when they were twelve, Tarkan had kni

to a summer's day? The poetry was a way to armor her heart against the inevitable ache of change. In two days, Tarkan will leave for four ye

en shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, hinting at the strength of the man he was becoming. At eighteen, he was every inch the Klbasian prince, bronze skin gleaming under the soft light, dark hair slightly tousled, a

e, now a low baritone, cut through the librar

initive snap. She had to be strong. "Shouldn't you be at your

cture on the political virtues of various European dukes. I'd rather be here." His gaze

no longer the innocent camaraderie of their youth. He was the Crown Prince, heir to the Klbasian th

road," she said, hating the tr

he book clutched in her ha

athed, gripping the volume as if

idden, shot up her arm. He opened it to the page she'd been reading. "Thou art more lovely and more temper

warning against the spell he was weav

ue minds admit impediments..." His voice deepened, each syllable deliberate, each word a vow. "Love is not love which alters wh

lung to for years. Her breath caught, her sapphire eyes wide with

closed the remaining space between them, caging her between his body and the towering shelves unt

ture of a prince, but a kiss that was a raw and desperate collision of four years of unspoken longing and the bitter tang of farewell. It was a question, a vow, and heartbreak all in one, over

. "I left a note inside," he murmured, pressing the warm leather-bound

her heart a wild, frantic pulse against her ribs. With numb fingers, she opened the book. Nestle

t for yo

ones, a single sentence that would become both the anchor and