"I'm late, Delia."
I think I must be in pretty bad shape right now. I was drenched from head to toe, and the hem of my long skirt clung to my shins, smearing the grass. There was blood on the gloves of my arm from the wound in Lancaster, and my hair was disheveled and I was a mess.
But so what? Kral has seen me in many ways. He's seen me in my worst form.
I held my breath and watched Karal come to me. His scent lingered on my nose, with a hint of liquor, but also a hint of sweet grass.
But I only feel a sense of security surrounded, like the first time he reached out to me, holding me away from the suffocating home.
Kral took off his right glove with one hand and touched my face with his warm palm. The delicate touch of his fingertips made it impossible for me to pretend to be strong
