Danielle Jensen

Taryn was snoring as though her life depended on it, Gorrick was jabbering in his sleep, and someone—probably Jor—was farting at regular intervals.

eyebrow rose. “You are a charmer, aren’t you, Your Majesty.”

“Do you bestow titles on all your patrons?”

“Only on women with eyes of Veliant blue who travel in the company of Ithicanian spies.”

There seemed little point in trying to dissuade her. “Either pour and talk at the same time, or shut up. I’m in no mood.”

Then they loaded you onto the ship, and you were gone. Off to Ithicana and off, unbeknownst to me at the time, to steal away my favorite lover.”

Lara gave her a sweet smile. “Given you hadn’t seen him in over a year, I’m not sure you had much claim to him at that point. If ever.”

“You are quite the little bitch, aren’t you?”

Lara plucked the glass Marisol was polishing from her hands, filled it, waited for the other woman to raise it, then clinked hers against it. “Cheers to that.”