My blood catches fire, heading directly south until I’m forced to adjust the way I’m standing. Beside King Espan, in his usual gold crown and pale cloak, is a sight that I imagine will be burned into my retinas for the rest of my life. Renna is in a dress that I can only describe as scandalous. A slit runs up her thigh, ceasing at her hip, the low-cut dress held up by the thinnest of gold chains. She’s barefoot. Miles of tanned brown skin is on display, interrupted only by a gold cuff on her bicep. She wears no other jewellery and her hair is free of clips, loose down to her waist. That
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