The heavy oak doors of the Crown Prince's private chambers slammed shut with a deafening CRACK.
Aeron didn't just throw the deadbolt; he slid the secondary iron bar into place, effectively turning the massive bedroom into an impenetrable vault.
Kaia stood in the center of the Persian rug, her chest heaving against the stiff, dark grey wool of her day dress. The adrenaline from the High Council chamber was still surging through her veins, a potent, electric current of pure power. She had done it. She had looked the most powerful men in Arindale in the eye and broken them with their own ledgers.
Aeron turned away from the door.
He had shed his military tunic the moment they crossed the threshold. He wore only his crisp white shirt and dark trousers. His white gloves had been discarded on a side table. His metallic silver eyes were locked onto her, completely devoid of the "Saint" and burning with a feral, untamed pride that made the air in the room feel instantly thin.
