Death Twenty-Five

If there is one object and activity Oceana loved more than money and trinkets, it was arguing and she wielded sarcasm like a sword. She did not care to be delicate. Had Desolation been royal born, Lady Dal-Raseay would have softened her words until she spoke the illusion of sincere compliment.

"Well, perhaps a seat would be more accommodating and better suited since you are not a dog and certainly not a potted plant," Lady Dal-Raseay replies.

"My Lord Jerrath said I could sit anywhere I wished, I chose the floor."

Yes, he had said those words.

"Oh my dear, aren't you a treat. You have misunderstood. He meant any chair, not the floor."

"If he wanted me to sit in a chair, he would have asked me to sit in a chair. He did not. My Lord Jerrath is very specific."

"You act as if you know him. How long have you lived here? Two Moons? I have known Lord Jerrath for five Moon Turns."

"I am confident he did not spend much time with you," Desolation dully replies.