Before Julian could continue his casual commentary about nearly being murdered, Alexander burst into the dining hall looking like barely controlled fury wrapped in expensive clothing. His platinum hair was windblown like he'd been running, and his gray eyes were blazing with intensity as he scanned the room for me.
"Isabella," he said, reaching our table in seconds. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. Julian's the one who was almost poisoned—"
"I know Julian was almost poisoned. I also know you prevented him from eating it, which means you put yourself between a royal assassination attempt and its intended target." Alexander's voice was rising despite obvious attempts to maintain control. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"
"I grabbed his wrist before he ate poisoned pasta. That's no
