As he continued on, the meager firelight revealed skeletal bodies and discarded armor, but his mind turned to Kitten. No, to Amma. He’d been far worse to her than Celeste, by all accounts, and not just for the whole murdering her thing; he’d had her sent back to that marquess she was supposed to marry. He knew very little about the royal families of Eiren and even less about the way they played matchmaker with their children, but he’d seen the look in her eyes when she’d called her betrothed a monster. He’d retorted then that he didn’t care, but… “And more apologies,” he muttered, chest heavy.
