Her frail limbs trembled against his body. It had been too much for her to see Vail. It tore his heart open that the two could not have a relationship. Perhaps it needed time and patience. God knows, he had learned patience in this marriage. He’d once thought her dead, and to find her alive decades ago had put back together the pieces of his broken heart. He adored Viviane, even when she raged. “You told me Constantine was no more,” she said, her voice warbling. “You told me, lover. Did you lie to me?” Sometimes it had been easier to allow Viviane to believe what she wanted. He’d never told her as much, only that he had no idea where Constantine was—which was true. “Never, my love.” “Why has my dark prince only come to me now? Why so long?” He swept the hair from her face and tilted up her chin to gaze into her lucid blue eyes. Lucid, but for how long, he could never know. “Remember when the faery Cressida chose one of your sons as payment for enchanting my werewolf?”
