Earlier…
Nevan
I ran the brush down the neck of Tiara, my horse, in long, even strokes, letting the rhythm settle my thoughts as it always does.
After everything that happened with Rosamund, I'd tried to drown the ache in my heart with wine but ended up staying awake until Alistair's message had come. The stable was quiet at this hour, with only the soft breathing of the horses, the rustle of hay and the grey light of early morning, piercing through the slats in the sky.
"You know," Clyde's voice came from the stable door, thick with sleep and mild accusation, "you're a married man now."
I didn't turn around. "I'm aware."
"On his honeymoon, no less." He yawned loudly enough to startle the horse in the next stall. "Which means you should be upstairs with your wife on a cold morning like this, not forcing me out of bed when you know my blanket is the only warmth I'll ever come back to."
