“As soon as he reached the terrace behind the conservatory, he ducked through servants’ unadorned halls to evade courtiers who strolled outward in order to gossip. His mind burned with questions, his eyes burned with exhaustion. His heart panged with the knife-sharp irony of memory, how he and Lasva had longed for Midsummer’s Day to be over, so they could set out for the journey south. Well, Midsummer Day had brought its own surprise. Lasva had looked so solemn at the Rising, so… lost. He’d watc...hed her obliquely while pretending to listen to chatter about the trip to Sartor. He’d ignored everyone but Lasva, who had given him no signals, but he was used to that. Surely their situation was better, now that Hatahra had her heir. Surely the queen would release Lasva to do what she wished? After all, Kaidas never expected a title—didn’t want one. Though she said she would marry him, he didn’t care. He’d be Lasva’s footman, or stable master, or whatever she wanted. Yes. But in spite of all these arguments, he’d seen that look in her eyes.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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