He’d brought that damned gold couch with them, shredded cushions and all. It had earned him no shortage of comments from Hasar when it was hauled into the cargo hold, but he didn’t care. If they survived this war, he’d build a house for Yrene around the damn thing. Along with a stable for Farasha, currently terrorizing the poor soldiers tasked with mucking out her stall aboard the ship. A wedding gift from Hasar, along with Yrene’s own Muniqi horse. He’d almost told the princess that she could keep Hellas’s Horse, but there was something to be said about the prospect of charging down Morath
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