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Darona’s face bore the pinched, taut look and shadowed eyes of someone constantly in pain, but the lack of lines suggested she was younger than Jesral had first thought; middle-aged, fifty at the very most.‘You make an uncommonly fine looking noblewoman, for a Mhrydaineg commoner.’‘Thank you.’ Jesral was careful to keep all tone out of her voice. Darona gave her a shrewd stare, then a slight smile.‘Self-control. Good. You must ignore me when I offend you unintentionally. They say that pain can make one waspish, but my brothers and son tell me there’s been no change in my manner. I was acid-tongued long before this set in,’ she held up a knotted hand, ‘and taking devil’s claw root has no effect on that. Rest assured, young woman, when I intend offence people are in no doubt about it.
