So she was just about to move toward one of the side chairs when Kian's voice sounded low and steady beside her.
"My female deserves to sit on my throne."
The entire hall went quiet.
Actually, quiet was not enough.
It became the kind of silence where if someone had dropped a hairpin, everyone would have heard it hit the ground.
Isabella stopped mid-step and slowly turned to look at Kian.
For one shocking second, she genuinely wondered whether some spirit had crept into his body overnight.
This was Kian.
Cold-faced, reserved, serious Kian.
The same Kian who often looked as though even smiling too much would damage his pride.
And yet he had just said that with a completely straight face, as if offering her his throne in front of city visitors was the most natural thing in the world.
Isabella's eyes widened.
Then, despite the cold, despite the heavy furs around her, despite herself, she felt heat rush into her face.
