But he continued into Kyllian’s tent. She
didn’t come after him.
She was a stupid fool.
A stupid fool, to have said anything, and to
now feel something in her chest crumpling.
She had enough dignity left not to beg. To
not watch Aedion go into Kyllian’s tent and
wonder if it was for a meeting, or because he
was seeking to remind himself of life after so
much killing today. To not give one inch of
space to the burning in her eyes.
Lysandra made her way toward the
comfortable tent Sol of Suria had given her
near his. A kind, sharply clever man—who
had no interest in women. The younger
brother, Ravi, had eyed her, as all men did.
But he’d kept a respectful distance, and had
talked to her, not her chest, so she liked him,
too. Didn’t mind having a tent in their midst.