Ashlyn sat on Prince Liam's lap. The silk of her dress rustled against his velvet coat as she shifted her weight, settling herself more comfortably against him. She looked down at him, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and seduction.
She felt powerful. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was the one holding the strings. Marissa was somewhere else, waiting for him, while she, Ashlyn, was here in the warmth, holding the future King in her arms.
She smiled, a slow, curving expression that she had practiced in her mirror a hundred times.
