“Either way, it’s no good arguing with every breath. The nature of a bargain, regrettably, is that we belong to each other.” He flushes a little as he says it, and inside my boots, my toes curl. Gáspár chooses his words carefully and crossly, the way I would comb the trees outside Keszi for the largest and least-bruised apple. I wonder why he has chosen these words now. Perhaps he is only being as wretchedly reasonable as ever, but still my mind stammers around the thought of us being bound together.
Oh no, not the curling toes. 🙄
