Third Person
By nightfall, Prince Rain returned to his wing to finalize preparations: every carriage packed, every gift accounted for, and every head counted. He had not only taken Rhett's men but also a handful of them, too. While the kingdom slept with its guards lying down, Rain watched the moon with a glass of wine in hand. His wolf stirred at the thought of Caelan.
"Are you waiting for me, just like I am?" he asked as the wind swayed away his words.
Perfection wasn't what Rain craved; his man could be crippled, blind, or speechless for all he cared. This control was all he wanted: to have a say in his life. And this gamble he was about to take was enough to give him his will or torment him, as everyone said. Nevertheless, Rain was willing. It was his only shot at a reasonable future.
That night, as Prince Rain finalized the last of his plans, his brother Marcus watched him from a distance, his hands buried in his pockets and his face dark as midnight.
