“This is your fault,” I hear Theodre muttering furiously. He waves his arms in a grand but futile gesture. “You realize, I hope? If you’d married Orsan like you were meant to, Father never would have sent you to that gods-forsaken convent. There’d have been no need for me to come out all this way to fetch you home again. Gods above, it makes me sick to think of it! I hope you’re prepared to explain to Father exactly why good men died tonight.”
