“I’ve yet to fathom why you need to acquire a new tresora at all,” Byrne grumbled as he poured a glass of bloodwine for Jayr. “We’ve dozens of them about the place. Pick one from our own, and train them to suit you, I say.” “Most of our tresori are performers, laborers, or office workers,” she reminded him as she accepted the glass. “None of them have any experience with overseeing an entire household or serving the suzerainty. Also, most of them are female.” “Aye, for we’ve a progressive household, where women are respected and valued.” He lifted his glass to toast her. “As well you know, my lady.” “As I do, my lord.” She inclined her head. “I might point out that you’ve also slept with most of them.” He nearly choked. “That was before you confessed your love for me. Since I’ve had you, I’ve naught touched another.” He gave her a suspicious look. “Never tell me you are jealous of the house wenches.” “Considering that I once handpicked your bed companions for you, no.
