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Chaol had warned him to watch his mouth when speaking to his father, but when he spoke to him like that, as if he were a pampered idiot …
...I mean, he kind of IS a pampered idiot, so...
Sven had wanted to prove a point, she understood, and understood only because of that day she had come within a fingertip of touching the wall at Endovier. Adarlan could take their freedom, it could destroy their lives and beat and break and whip them, it could force them into ridiculous contests, but, criminal or not, they were still human. Dying—rather than playing in the king’s game—was the only choice left to him.
She had no desire to talk to him, but rather just to look at him,
Love an honest FMC 🙌🏻😅
“I’m not married,” he said softly, “because I can’t stomach the idea of marrying a woman inferior to me in mind and spirit. It would mean the death of my soul.”
Thinkin' mighty highly of yourself there...
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Her heart tightened, and she realized it wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for.
Girl, just let him be arm candy and leave it at that.
He should have done something other than watch when she had so clearly been drugged. She would have helped him; she wouldn’t have hesitated. Chaol, even, had helped her—he’d knelt down beside the edge of the ring.
So, back to that whole 'pampered idiot' thing...
