“Hamar and Mother should have been here by now.” Dresdan looks to the tall grandfather clock wedged between full bookcases in the lounge we’ve collected in for drinks before dinner.
“The rain might have held them up.” Elmir stands by a blazing hearth, the orange light casting his form in shadow. Outside, rain pounds the glass.
“This is not the rain. Hamar is still up to his antics. I hear the rumors of the youngest prince even out in Westwatch. I’ve no doubt he’s the cause of this delay.” Dresdan takes a long swig of his drink. Mine is mostly unfinished. “We need to be done with it, marry him off and give him land. The sooner he gets real responsibility on his shoulders, the better.”
“He’s not ready,” Elmir protests.
“I wasn’t ready when you gave me Westwatch and was only a year older
