The king paced back and forth restlessly in his room, this close to losing his mind completely.
What if she just ran away and doesn't trust me enough to keep my promise?
What if she's still scared and confused by my actions today?
Should I just drag her down here to my room instead of hoping she would come by herself?
Malachi collapsed at the edge of his bed, well-laid and untouched. His mind reeled back and forth through many terrible scenarios of her not coming to him—and worse, running away again before daybreak.
No creature in all his existence had swayed and kept him this restless before.
He held his head in his palms, caught between hope and dread.
He would die if she didn't come to him with those damn pretty legs of hers. He could lock her up with him forever in his room, begging and doing all he could for her to give him a chance.
