“No doubt!” she agreed, thrilled to finally have someone who understood the utter shock she was going through at all this. Not someone who had grown up with it or who was on first name basis with the king. “They gave me a ton of presents — all of them — for the ceremony, right? And I feel like I shouldn’t touch a single one for fear of breaking them. It’s startlingly generous.”
“He doesn’t trust us,” Pratik countered. “But he does trust Sera. And he pities people like us… like you…” Gaius didn’t feel a single drop of pity for Pratik, he was sure. And that was fine. He didn’t need anyone’s pity. The only thing he demanded was respect — for himself and his autonomy. Which Gaius gave, with the exception of his poetry, and he’d gotten an apology for that one. “It will all work out. I’m sure of it.”
