Jade Fern Grove chafa

akavir did not need to be apologetic, or bend before her; that he had come at all surprised silvertongue, who stood watching him with blueglass eyes. they had both changed, she decided, and her far more than he. on first glance akavir seemed much the same, but as her silent contemplation went on, as she remembered the words arric had spoken, the woman felt she spied new and permanent exhaustion in akavir, deep pain, and of course, anger. always and in every way was he completely different from the shadowprince whom silvertongue had once known, but she saw now that she had been all too willing to transfer her desperate obsession to akavir, the warm gold of his eyes and rich darkness of his body enough to disconnect silvertongue at least in part from crowfeather. "in the desert, i found germanicus," she murmured, at last bringing herself a step further. "but i did not touch him. his — his children. they brought me down." and wren brought me back. she spared akavir the rest of it: her feverish toil, her hatred, her anguish, the adjustments she had been forced to make. there was dirt upon the creek man; she wished to bathe it from him, for she could not help the softness she bore for akavir. "i have come to tell you i failed. once in killing him, and secondly in abandoning all to find him." but her eyes asked why he had not come after her, why it had only been wren? and then eshe; he had chosen so swiftly. but why did she care? she could never have been that to him. silvertongue felt her chin trembling.