Elinor Loredan The name sounded almost as if he’d thought her up himself. Cursing, Fenoglio pulled the blanket over his face. Wasn’t it bad enough that she was a know-it-all, a bluestocking, and stubborn as a mule? Did she have to be an early riser, too? He supposed day was just beginning to dawn outside. "Hm, that doesn’t look particularly inspired!" Her eyes had gone straight to the blank sheet of paper lying beside him. How -horribly bright and cheerful she sounded. "Don’t they say the Muses’ kisses are sweetest early in the morning? I think I read that somewhere." Huh. As if she knew anything about kissing—and hadn’t he earned his sleep, when there wasn’t a decent drop of wine to be had in this wretched cave? Hadn’t he just saved the Black Prince’s life? Very well, the Prince’s legs were still rather weak, and he wasn’t eating much, as Minerva kept saying with concern. But then, all those children had to be fed, not an easy task at this time of year, and the little ones were hungry the whole time — when they weren’t asking him or Darius for a story, Farid for some tricks with fire, or Meggie for a few songs about the Bluejay.
