By Anne Osterlund

A powerful debut, equivalent components advertisement attraction and literary prowess. Princess Aurelia is subsequent in line to rule the dominion of Tyralt, yet she could otherwise be one of many universal people, loose to profit and roam and . . . now not marry the subsequent tyrannical prince that comes dating. certainly, the king wishes Aurelia to marry for political energy. Aurelia desires to marry for romance. And anyone within the nation wishes her . . . lifeless. Assigned to enquire and safeguard Aurelia is Robert, the son of the king’s former royal secret agent and certainly one of Aurelia’s oldest buddies. As Aurelia and Robert slowly discover clues as to who's threatening her, their friendship turns to romance. With every thing attainable at the line—her lifestyles, her nation, her heart—Aurelia is pressured to take concerns into her personal arms, regardless of the associated fee.

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She eyed him, the screen over her emotions faltering. "I thought you were going to be honest with me. " "A number of things," he replied, "but that's not what I meant. What is your first reaction? does it seem plausible to you that the queen might be involved? " Aurelia trailed her fingers against a sandstone wall. "I don't know how anyone's attempts to murder me could be plausible. elise and I have never been close. she made my father happy after my brother's death. beyond that . . " Her voice rose in anger.

It's because I do know the owner, and the horse as well, that I told you what I just did. That team belongs to the queen's own stables. Not at the palace, but her personal stables back in midbury. " Crash! Noise clattered through the tent. drew and robert sprang to their feet, whirling to face the entryway. scattered at the foot of the tent pole lay the remaining foldable chairs, toppled from their perch. standing above them in the open doorway was Aurelia Lauzon, princess of Tyralt, her face drained of color except for the streak of a bulging red vein running from jaw to collarbone.

Robert could have walked straight there as quickly as he could ride around the city circumference, but he preferred to avoid the heavy traffic of wagons and carriages cluttering the main road. The famous Tyralian wall rose up on his left, its protective layers of stone reaching as high as the palace tower. The wall swept out from behind the palace, traced its way down the slope and around the front of the city, disappeared along the waters of the bay, and climbed back up the hill to complete the circle.

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