It was a small library compared to the one owned by House Vivek, but it did boast of a rare collection of sketches and research conducted along the Northern Shores, information privy only to House Maris.

A blue runner ran between the bookcases, leading to the other side of the library. Damien silently walked along the runner, glancing down every row, searching for a familiar head of black hair and feminine features. At the end of the rows, he stepped off the runner and looked to his left, where a small alcove was built into the wall and four arched windows overlooked the cliffs to the north of the castle. Selene sat on a blue cushion next to one of the windows, her legs drawn up beneath her simple gown, her face pressed against the glass, the book in her hand forgotten. Her hair was pulled into a braid that hung over one shoulder down to her waist. She didn’t appear to have heard him.

Damien stood still. His eyes traveled from the book she held—curious as to which volume it was—to the way her face was pressed to the window and wondered what held her interest. Then his eyes trailed to her hair. He wanted to untie the end of her braid and touch the long black strands and see if they felt as silky as they looked. And the curve of her neck . . .

Damien glanced away and cleared his throat, both to alert Selene to his presence and to tear his mind away from the path it was traveling down. Now was not the time. Eventually, when things weren’t so cold and awkward between them. Not that he was feeling very cold at the moment . . .

He looked up and caught Selene staring at him, leaving his mouth dry.

“I didn’t hear you enter,” she said as she closed the book and stood.

How could that one movement look so enticing?

“Lord Damien?”

“I wanted to ask you something.” Words poured out of his mouth as he reeled in his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“What were you reading?” he blurted out.

“Reading?” Selene looked down as if seeing the book in her hands for the first time. She turned it around and glanced at the cover. “The Campaigns of Tolrun.”

Damien frowned. “You were reading a book about Commander Tolrun?”

“Yes. I wanted to know more about the man who led the first razing of the Dominia Empire. We do not have this volume at Rook Castle. I had no idea about the acts of brutality he committed against the eastern side of the continent. Large-scale slaughters, wiping out local populations . . . It’s a miracle most of our people and lands survived.” Selene rubbed her forehead, her eyes still set on the book in her hand. “If the empire was that dangerous then”—she locked eyes with him—“what are they capable of now?”

Damien turned his gaze away from Selene and stared out the window to her right. Even hundreds of years later, Commander Tolrun was still seen as a hero to the people of the Dominia Empire. Commander Orion was walking the same path as his predecessor, gaining the accolades and prestige of the people of the empire. Orion elevated the common man, allowing his soldiers to retain the spoils of war and have a part in how the empire was governed. In a way, Damien understood Commander Orion’s methods. Damien wanted the same rights and respect for his own people, hence the coalition his father had started and that he continued. But not at the expense of other people. Never that.