“Tiras, Queen Lark, this is Sasha. Of Quondoon. Of . . . Kilmorda.” Damion bit back a curse at his clumsy introduction and continued with more care. “I have promised her a position here in the castle. I would view it as a personal favor if she could remain here. For the time being. For the near future.” He ceased talking.
“We have been traveling for a long time, Highness. Forgive me for my appearance,” Sasha stammered, blushing.
Damion thought she looked beautiful and didn’t understand the wide, incredulous look she tossed his way before curtseying again.
“You will forgive my brother,” Tiras said. “Damion has so few friends. We welcome you.” Tiras grinned wickedly, his eyes calculating, his words smooth.
Lark rose from her throne and joined her husband, extending a hand to Sasha as
