Years ago, Tatiana had trained her that any attempt at touching her would not only be rebuffed, but ridiculed. Apparently, that rule had been suspended, at least temporarily. Still silent, Willow patted her sister’s shoulder and let her cry. “I don’t want to marry Prince Eric,” Tatiana finally sobbed, raising her mascara-stained face to Willow’s. Doubly shocked, Willow stared. Tatiana’s ruined appearance, combined with her words, proved she actually meant it. Aware she needed to tread carefully, Willow ventured a comment. “I thought he was the golden one, the prize among all princes.” “And the way our two kingdoms can join forces against the Shadows,” Tatiana recited, as if by rote. “I know, I know.” “You said he was beautiful.” In the past, appearances had been all that had mattered to her gorgeous older sister. “He is, he is,”
