“That boy will be the death of me. Blessed with beauty by the gods! But the gods never give gifts without taking something in exchange. They took that boy’s brains and left him the prettiest oaf in the realm. What I wouldn’t give for a proper son at my side in these dark times! But here,” he adds with a significant look, “mayhap the gods have heard my prayers after all. Tell me, Vor, do you care for dancing?”
