Chapter 8In the morning the rain fell like crushed diamonds over buildings, shops, spires, the river; tiny droplets bathed the world in diaphanous silver. Jeryn kept stopping, in between making tea and slicing bread and cheese, to ask whether Talis was warm enough or wanted to borrow a shirt or coat or woollen socks. The more formal court uniform turned him into even more of a stained-glass portrait: dark blue and dark silver and bronze against tanned skin, starlight eyes, fair hair that he hadn’t tied back yet.
Talis wanted to put both hands into the tumble of pale silk; Jer poured more tea, and batted one of the waves out of his face with some exasperation, and found a hair tie, not plain leather but matching blue ribbon. “I didn’t think about keeping any spare clothing here. For guests
