Horizon Ridge cast away in time

She calls his bluff on the fairytale. She’s right, of course, but Vermouth doesn’t think it’s about his gender. Perhaps he’s wrong. He tilts his head, contemplating this. His family hadn’t exactly raised him with sound morals. He’s done a lot of work to mend himself since leaving them, though there’s only so much damage control he can do after being brought up with a Kvitravn’s values driven into him.

Actually, her sweeping generalization about men reminds him of his family’s principles. She appears to look down on men like the Kvitravns look down on those with swarthy features, himself included. Vermouth’s tongue sweeps over his bottom lip as he ponders this, then shakes his head as if the comparison is an annoying gnat whining in his ear.

But he plays along, asking, “Trouble? What trouble is that?”