She simply rested there, limp and exhausted. What calm she felt was probably from hralla tea. That must explain why she hadn’t thrown a fit earlier, and all in all she was glad of it. It wouldn’t have done her any good. No one could afford to break protocol again. If this was her fate, she would be brave. She swallowed and straightened—and became aware of being in a man’s lap, of his hot hard presence down her left side. She was finally touching a man, in many places, and he was her husband. She shied away from that thought, fixing instead on a simpler problem—her runny nose. “The costume of the Sacrificial Virgin Princess doesn’t include a handkerchief.” “The clothing of the seyer of the dragon’s womb doesn’t include one, either. Use the bandage on your arm.” Teeth gritted at his tone, she did as he suggested, taking in the state of her gown for the first time.
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