Khryseis
Bejarano's Letters
From Home
***
She
ran her thumb over
the sigil warily. A
leopard rampant. If
the crest was on the
inside in full color,
she'd see the black
of the beast on a
field of gold.
Khryseis had told
him it was over.
She'd been traded
off to marry his
decrepit old father
and he'd been
snapped up by a
vacuous, half-witted.
. .
No. Those
were sour grapes.
Chiara Merrith was
as charming and
sparkling as any in
Carhien. And she
was a fugitive now,
not content to be a
dowager at twenty,
living a life of
noble widowhood on the
surface and idling
away the hours with
the Daes Dae'mar. A
string of
meaningless spite
and meaningless
lovers. She would
not be her mother.I
am a woman
accustomed to having
my own way. she
told him. And no one
has her own way as
an Aes Sedai has her
way. She was half tempted
to throw the letter
into the fire
without a word. . .
Maybe
she would.
Later.
"Grace
favour you. . .I
have no time now. |