CHAPTER EIGHT
Konstantina sat shivering by the fire in her room, wrapped in shawls.
The dark room, stuffy and airless, oppressed her.
Outside it was day. In here – eternal twilight.
She had awakened in a fever and then Britji had brought hot linden tea and syrup in a little glass.
Konstantina had drunk the tea, but could not touch the syrup. She supposed that she had a cold from the ride in the rain last night.
All night she had tossed and turned, unable to put Prince Gregor’s kiss out of her mind.
The Prince must be a bad man indeed to kiss her when he was emotionally in thrall to the Countess.
He must be a bad man to have so abandoned the Countess and simply because the poor woman had become disfigured.
He must be bad, bad, bad! Yet Konstantina could not tear him from her heart.
