Page 37 of The Scot

That was hardly the answer she’d expected.

“But I am—”

“Exactly as you should be. Rail against a dead man, if it pleases you. Empathize with him, even after he wronged you, if it allows you to heal. Neither is wrong. ’Tis only wrong to chastise yourself for being honest about your feelings.”

“When did you become so wise?”

She meant the question sincerely. This was a different woman than the younger sister she’d left behind in Stanton. Meeting Lance, and supporting his work with the order, had changed her.

And maybe Terric could be a part of her own journey?

Nay. He has made his intentions clear. Best listen to them.

“I’m no wiser than you. Indeed, I’m shocked you’re still standing on both feet given everything you’ve been through. You lost your husband and were forced out of your home, only to flee to safety in what is soon to become a battleground.”

Roysa did smile then. “You forgot to add that I was kissed by the handsomest of men.”

Idalia cocked her head to the side. “Do you really think so? He is much too large, I think. And his nose . . .”

“Is perfect! There is nothing wrong with Terric’s . . .”

Idalia had already started walking. Roysa followed the sound of her laughter toward the hall.

Thankfully, there was little chance the man with a perfect nose would be in attendance. Her father’s war councils sometimes lasted for days, and Terric had made himself scarce these past few days. She wouldn’t make the mistake of stumbling into his solar again, so they were unlikely to see each other.

Then why are you wearing this gown?

Roysa pushed away the pesky thought.