The solar was no different from when she’d seen it last. Her mother was seated at the harp while Edgar looked her up and down with a wolfish grin. The strings twanged discordantly. Clara’s face resembled someone who had been chewing on lemons.
“I heard you last night, little slut, moaning and screaming. Disgusting!”
Eithne frowned. Did she mean … ?
“It’s a rare vixen that enjoys being ravaged,” the Queen Dowager’s lover said, passing his tongue over his thin lips.
“I had hopes for you, my daughter. Now I fear you will be relegated to service the lesser warriors.”
“Rest assured, while ever I live, that will not happen.”
“Service you well, did she, m’lord?”
The leer was hateful and made her feel shame for something she had not done.
“For your information, the Princess spent last night in her own chamber. Alone.”
“You discarded her. Before or after?” Clara asked, as if she were discussing the weather or the price of fish.
“Before. And I don’t answer to you, remember that.”
So h
