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Summary
Lady Izlyn had been mere moments away from losing Kathea. It made her blood boil to think of it. The new King had meant to give his sister to that dull, mean little clod of a Count, as if she were nothing.
And it had been plain that the Count intended to choose his wife’s new lady companions himself.
Then, the carriage bearing them to the grand cathedral had been stopped. Burly, tattooed men with wicked, curved swords had ripped open the doors and dragged them away — just in time.