“What is your name?” he asked. His voice shivered through me, and I found myself speaking.
“I am Isolde.” The answer slipped from my mouth, at war with my mind, which raged against him.
“Who are you?”
Again, I answered not of my own accord, my voice the whisper of a lover. “I am princess of the House of Lara.”
“Isolde,” he repeated my name, a rough growl that vibrated against my chest. “My sweet.”
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