Conall's gaze steadied on me at last. "You look lovely tonight. Have you been reading her poetry, Laz?" Conall asked with false delicacy. Laszlo's brow furrowed. "Poetry?" I laughed and shook my head. "I am feeling much improved." "Good," Conall said brightly. "But we mustn't grow lazy with your recovery. I'm sure you'd benefit from a great deal more pleasure still." There was no mistake in the words and their meaning. Where Asterion was careful to the point of withholding, Conall had all but made a direct offer.
