“Proteus was my father,” she said, untying her white apron to reveal a simple brown dress before she emerged from behind the counter. Was. “I’m sorry,” he said. “He didn’t come home from the war.” Cassian kept his chin from lowering. “I am even sorrier, then.” “Why should you be?” An unmoved, uninterested question. She extended a slender hand. “I’m Emerie. This is my shop now.”
