Irenya obeyed the summons, but in the doorway of Elaaron’s suite, she hesitated, kept telling herself that being scared for one’s life justified one’s actions. But it came back to the same facts; she had run away—and stayed away for hours. She had not been there for Aldine, or anyone else. She hoped the princess would forgive her, and that somehow, on the journey north, she could atone for her desertion. And she hoped Elaaron would overlook her weakness, forgive her unfamiliarity with bloodshed.
He was sitting in a small reception area discreetly separated from the main rooms by drapes and latticework screens. His clothes were torn and dirty, which added to her embarrassment; she had bathed and changed hers.
‘You sent for me?’ She could smell roses.
‘I did.’ He motioned her to a chair o
