Maisie
Without taking my eyes off him, I backed up.
"You have matured beautifully since I last saw you," he said.
I shivered against the night air. "W-who are you?"
"I had hoped you would have some recollection of me. Well, I do suppose the inferior blood in you is to fault for your fickle mindedness."
His words were rough strewn and his dialect, though lilting, felt archaic in the way he emphasized on the wrong syllables.
He drew up to an impossibly taller height. He had to be above seven feet tall. Closer to eight, maybe. And when he finally answered my question, I was more than convinced that he was a truly mad man.
"I am Prince Kisten Hunt. Your half-brother. And your betrothed. And I have waited ten years for this day."
I stumbled back. "You've got the wrong girl. I have no brother."
