We get a glimpse of the capital of Aquitainia in Avarice of the Empire...but likely not in the way anyone expected!
My full author debriefing is coming on Sunday, a full week since the book's drop, and there will be spoilers. Until then, enjoy Cassius's pretty ankles.
With a sigh,
she let herself inside the chamber, and when the door was shut, heard the lock
turn from the outside.
The fire
crackled merrily, bright and pulsing warmth into the chamber. Candles flickered
on the bedside table, and in the sconces, and on the low table in front of the
sofa.
She thought
it was the work of a slave—and it was, but not the lady’s maid she’d
envisioned.
Cassius
straightened from the table and blew out the fireplace spill he’d used to light
the candles. He’d lost his stiff coat since she’d left for dinner, dressed now
in a spring weight thigh-length tunic and breeches. The ensemble made his
shoulders look broad—broader than she’d thought they were.
“My lady,” he
greeted. “How was dinner?”
She turned,
crossed to the sideboard, and poured herself a large measure of wine.
“Ah.”
She took a
long, fortifying swallow and turned to lean back against the sideboard.
Cassius, she saw, had perched on the arm of a chair, legs stretched out long in
front of him, crossed at the ankles. He’d traded his usual boots for a
soft-looking pair of slippers; they were dark purple lined with some sort of
dyed fur, a sharp contrast to his pale, trim ankles. She stared at them a
moment, the distinct lines of bone and tendon, the faint blue tracing of veins.
Pretty, she thought, and then gave herself a
mental shake and took another slug of wine.
“Did you see
your sister and cousin?” he asked, and she looked up at his face.
If he’d
looked informal earlier, he was downright casual now. Clearly tired, no longer
trying to hold his expression in check. He sat with arms folded, brows drawn
together, chewing at his lower lip in an absent way. His sleek white hair was
ruffled on top, like he’d been raking it back with his hands, and she realized
he’d taken out the leather tie that kept it pulled back at the crown. It framed
his face in a whole new way, now; lent a little color to his cheeks by
contrast.
Again,
against her will, she was reminded of Mal. Of him unbuttoning his collar and
slouching against her bedpost, relaxed but attentive, caring but ready to tell
her a hard truth should she need to hear it.
