“Thank you, Lord Waxillium.” “For what, exactly?” he asked. “For being nice. For being willing to subject yourself to, well, me. I understand that it is not a pleasant concept.” “Steris . . .” “Do not think me self-deprecating, Lord Waxillium,” she said, sitting up and taking a deep breath, “and please do not assume I’m being morose. I am what I am, and I accept it. But I am under no illusions as to how my company is regarded. Thank you. For not making me feel as others have.”
