“Could have been worse,” Sandre said prosaically. “Oh, somewhat,” Catriana said tartly. “We could all be lying dead here now.” “That would indeed have been worse,” Sandre agreed gravely. It took her a moment to realize he was teasing her. She surprised herself by laughing, a little wildly. Sandre, his darkened face sober, said something quite unexpected then. “You have no idea,” he murmured, “how dearly I wish you were of my blood. My daughter, granddaughter. Will you allow me to take pride in what you are?”
