“It was my turn to be confused. You see, I saw you when you were here last. I saw how beautiful you are. But all he has said about you is that you’re the worst sort.” “Did he say that?” Gravel replaced the velvet in her voice. “He did.” And he had at one time, so it wasn’t a lie. Her lips thinned. “Nyktos does have a poetic way of speaking of the women in his life, doesn’t he?” A short, dry laugh escaped me. “That he does.”
