Chapter Seven
‘Konrad.’
It was Tasha, climbing in through his study window, attended by a blast of cold air.
Konrad, startled out of the reverie into which he’d fallen, sat up with a jerk. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Breaking and entering,’ said the little lamaeni, planting both feet upon his fine carpet and dusting snow off her dark jacket.
‘I can see that. May one ask why you found it necessary to enter that way, instead of via the front door?’
‘Gorev would’ve sent me away if I tried to come in that way.’
‘And why is that, pray?’
‘Because last time I was here I went into your kitchens and stole half of your cook’s fresh batch of pastries.’
Tasha said this serenely, but with an impish twinkle lurking in her eye — the kind that begged to be taken up for it, and argued with, all her sa
