“She was sold in Firi and indentured by an elder of Solemn and a delegate of Lord Quondoon. It is believed she was once a servant in the house of Lord Kilmorda before the province fell. I wonder if perhaps she was something more.”
“It is believed?” Tiras asked, incredulous.
“She doesn’t remember.” Damion shrugged.
“She is familiar to me,” Lark said, her brows furrowed above luminous eyes, her small pointed chin cradled in her palm.
“It is the hair,” Tiras remarked, his eyes trained beyond Damion where Sasha had been, turning pages in his head, trying to find something he’d once seen.
“I’ve never seen hair like hers,” Damion interjected, and felt a wash of embarrassment at the awe in his voice.
“No. Not as deep a red,” Tiras said. His eyes were troubled.
“Lady Sareca of Kilmorda had
