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The woman wore only her uniform undershirt, which was unlaced to show collarbone and muscle. Muscle showed in her forearms, too. She had broad, scarred hands with long fingers. Luca wondered—only academically, of course—how much strength it took to bludgeon a man to death with the Sands’ batons. Luca cleared her throat.
That wasn’t something Balladaire’s queen regnant came out and admitted. “However, as an ambassador in my employ, it’s hardly professional.” Gil snorted. “Really? I recall a seamstress, a coachman, a chambermaid—”
Aimée reached over to pluck at the fabric of Touraine’s new sleeveless shirt, eyed the new trousers and boots, and whistled. “I’m sure you’re right. But your lack of choice looks a sight more comfortable than ours.”
Faithless. She said it the same way Cantic said “uncivilized.”
“You can’t be yourself unless you have a leash in your hand, and there’s always got to be someone attached to it.” “Not you,” Luca said, voice surprisingly soft.
She and Touraine had never been married, had maybe never even loved each other,
??? you barely even hung out
“I can’t come with you.” Luca bowed her head slightly. “I thought so. May I ask why?”
Are you kidding
If anyone knew how to put a country together, it would be Luca.
BASED ON WHAT... she arrived at this country and fucked up so bad that the empire had to pull out entirely lmao
