Lace: Book 5 of The Nine Princesses is now available.

She turned back to her chamber with a stifled sigh. Another gown. Another garment to cut and sew, wash and haul, iron and fold. Another chore that should be done by a servant, not a princess.

Lace is basically the polar opposite of Briette. While Briette wants to escape her privileged life as a princess, Lace has embraced it and never wants it to change. She wants nothing more than to become a beautiful queen. But is that what fate has in mind for her?

In this book, Lace and Jaedis travel to Morganoch in hopes of forming a friendship with the king and queen. They desperately need an ally against the powerful King Jarrod who every day grows more hostile. But an honest friendship is awfully difficult when Lace and the married king are fiercely attracted to each other. Lace has always been the perfect princess. Can she resist this kind of temptation?


Lace shifted, just slightly, to form a more intimate angle between herself and the king. “What I was trying to say before was… what if we needed your help? My kingdom. What if a larger kingdom such as Grunwold attacked us and we were desperate? Would you come to our aid?” She leaned forward and looked earnestly into his eyes. He had to know how important this was.

Brennan stared back at her. “Well, of course I would. How could I not?”

“Can we rely on you for that?” Lace asked.


“Can we – can I - rely on you?” Her voice was softer now and she did not move her eyes from his face. “As an ally?”

A momentary doubt flickered over his features. “I believe so, truly I do. But I’m not sure if Wynn-”

“Are you not the king?” Lace reached out and rested her hand on his forearm. She held him with her eyes, he could not look away. Nor could she. The world shrunk until it held only the two of them, like figures in a crystal globe.

“I am the king,” he said with a gentle smile. “And yes – Wynn will listen if I insist. But if I promise you this, may I in turn, rely on you?”

“On me?”

Brennan merely nodded and continued to gaze at her. When she didn’t answer, he lifted his free hand and covered the one she had resting on his arm. “May I rely on you?” he said in a whisper.

“For what?” Lace asked. Their heads were tipped toward each other, quite close now. Her heart had begun to beat at a high, frantic tempo.

“Your discretion,” he said, barely audible. He began to stroke the backs of her fingers with his thumb. His face showed a struggle, something painful. “Forgive me, I can no longer bear it.”

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