I stepped out of my father's office and immediately licked my lips. They always went dry when I was irritated, and right now I could've sucked the moisture out of a desert and still been annoyed. Arthur was out there — probably swinging a sword at some miasma-dripping vampire with Seraphina practically glued to his side, fluttering her lashes like she wasn't trained to kill a man in thirty-seven different ways.
I wasn't worried about him dying. Arthur was the kind of person who could stumble through a war zone and come out the other side with cleaner boots. No, I was worried about her. The whole noble, deadly princess act, the gentle discipline, the way she stood next to him like she'd always belonged there.
That couldn't be allowed. Absolutely not.
