The next morning Rynn barely spoke to her. Worse, he barely even looked her way. Dressed like the Lathar warriors she was so used to seeing on the news, half his hair was braided up and away from his face in multitudes of little plaits. She wanted to ask what they were, and what the beads on the end of the braids meant but she daren’t. Not with the hard look he wore. Despite the fact he’d taken her over and over last night, and she’d fallen asleep in his arms, he wouldn’t even look at her.
Instead of talking, she curled up silently in the chair next to his, her arms around her knees and tried not to look as miserable as she felt. Her clothes were grubby, she needed a hot shower and about a week’s sleep. Worse, all she wanted to do was burst into tears. Which she absolutely would not do. N
