“I believe you must be exhausted from your long journey,” said the middle-aged woman, her voice clipped and formal.
Klarine looked at her, catching the clear hostility masked beneath a veil of politeness. She hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but the coldness of the Chauverthiers still stung. It was apparent that they didn’t want her in Gloaza.
“Greetings. Please, call me Klarine — the Duke’s lover,” she said with calm dignity, lifting her chin slightly.
Even behind the thick lenses of her spectacles, the woman’s sharp gaze was unmistakable. There was no mistaking the animosity in her eyes, no effort made to soften the blow of rejection.
“Since you are pregnant,” the woman continued curtly, disregarding Klarine’s greeting entirely, “a chamber has been prepared for you. I’ve also assigned
