He shut the thought down. Hard. Before a pair of grey eyes and dark chestnut hair could form behind his eyelids. Before the memory of a sharp tongue and a sharper mind could settle into the space Elyra's absence had carved.
No. That's not — I don't even know what that is. I don't know what I feel when I look at her. I don't know if it's real or if it's just the war and the loneliness and the fact that she looks at me like I'm a person instead of a title.
It doesn't matter. None of it matters right now.
"Elyra is still my wife," Auren said. "The annulment hasn't been ratified by the High Septon. Until it is, she is still my wife, and I swear on every god you pretend to pray to, Mother, if you say one more word about replacing her—"
"My prince."
Nyssara's voice. Soft. Careful. The first words she'd spoken in twenty minutes.
Auren turned.
