“Not that he’d had any real home for quite a while—not for more than a few nights at a time, anyway. The dungeons at Gem-Hold certainly didn’t count, and for most of two eights before his incarceration there, home had been a camp tent, around which the landscape changed every sunrise. Before that, he’d divided his time between the royal suite in the Citadel in Tir-Eron and his own youthful quarters in Argen-Hall. And before that, it had been the war with Ixti, which meant camp tents again. And p...rior to the war? Why, home then had been the Wild, and bedrooms had been ruined way stations, birkit dens, or the Ri-Eron itself—but it was wisest not to think about that timeless interval when he had floated beneath the ice, sustained only by the gem’s determination to keep him alive. Just as he preferred not to think about his earlier tenure in Gem-Hold-Winter, when he had thought that the only aberration in the life his culture had laid out for him was an early marriage to someone he liked but did not love, and who was carrying a child he had not begotten.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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