Csevet Aisava had hated Eshovaree from long before he laid eyes on it. But he feared now he may never lay eyes on anything again in his life- should he manage to keep even that. If only-
If only he had not been exhausted from the ride and the brutal, bloody climb. If only he had not been frozen from the rain.
If only he had had the leisure of a brief rest before presenting his message to the Duke- not that it would have helped,
for an audience with such as the Duke was not something that could be truly prepared for. All the same, Csevet would have liked a chance to calm himself and brush the mud off his clothes.
It was his first audience with one of them, but he was too tired to fear he had made a poor first impression.
He was still shaking, though the water was blessedly warm and took the worst of the ache from his bruises; of course it was not the cold or his scratches that still left his limbs trembling.
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