Monday: Where
Aveline’s voice had grated and hissed and snarled, Cassandry’s fell upon his
ears like the music of a sweet, gentle rain.
Tuesday: As they moved away from Gerolt, he heard Egelina
whisper something to her mother in a hiss far less meek than the murmured
acknowledgments she had been responding to the knights’ compliments with.
Wednesday: And then it was time for the ring and the
betrothal kiss. Cassandry heard a soft, “Ow!” and a muffled, “Sorry.” as Rauffe
apparently shoved the ring too hard over Egelina’s knuckle.
Thursday: (15 year-old Egelina to her mother, Cassandry) “He would much rather I be a nun—well, of course
God would! And I shall tell Lord Gerolt so, even if his height does frighten me
a little.”
Friday: After years of dressing drably, it had felt so bold to
don the crimson, and so very, very pleasant to have a man compliment instead of
condemn her for it.
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