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Romantasy Meets Hart of Dixie “You look beautiful.” Silas’s voice was a whisper between worlds, as if he were nothing but a figment of my deepest desires. “If I may?”
I could only nod as he extended a hand toward me, toward the pins aching and straining against my scalp. He pulled the largest of pins free, then another, until my hair tumbled down my shoulders in waves.
“You were hiding your crown.” Silas studied me with an intensity that told me he really saw me. Me. “That’s better.”
“It’s not a crown,” I said. “It’s—” Then I stopped myself as reality hit me. “Why is everyone frozen? Did I have a heart attack? Am I dead? Are you my guardian angel, leading me to the light?”
“Oh, Alessia.” His voice was full of dark humor as he leaned toward me, smelling of mint and fresh air and possibility. “I’m no angel.”

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