See! I told you I was back.
Meet Duchess Anya Norvine. She’s a straight talking older lady in tradition of The Dowager Countess Of Grantham on Downton Abbey.
I awoke a few days later, happily in my comfortable green and blue hued bedchamber in my apartment. The Grand Apartment. The bed alone was almost the size of my chamber in Pantona, and that wasn’t a small room. I stretched and rolled over.
It still felt strange, waking in the morning without Tristan there. Since we’d arrived he’d been quiet and withdrawn. Athena tried to make up for it by constantly chatting, but it doesn’t work. I miss him, I want him and I know I can’t have him anymore. They all tried to warn me. I sighed and pulled on a dressing gown and walked out into the parlor. Athena was already there of course.
I’m convinced that she doesn’t sleep at all.
“Good morning,” she said and poured me a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” I grumbled.
“Duchess Norvine came last night,” Athena smiled, “you’ll like her, I…
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