CHAPTER 47Ralf of Dol smiled as my heart finally broke and crumbled, because I had been wrong, because I had not wanted to listen to my cerebral, thinking self who had known all along that this would be the outcome of my journey. No loving husband deviously cheating death for noble ends, but this equally devious and terrible young man who had admired him, who had been kind to his mother and whose nobility, if he had any, was strictly for show.
“Well, who cares?” said Ralf when I did not answer him. I could not even remember the question. “Stony-hearted or loving, I am overjoyed to see you. Shall we go and greet your friends?”
Something did stir at that, at least enough to make my lips form the syllable, “No.” I knew, somewhere, that I had to begin to think again, to try and save Siward a
