The Cattle King's Bride. Margaret Way
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“I’m here, Mel.” He looked down at her, his expression grave. “We can handle this together.”
“What if we’re too late, Dev?” She stared up at him, drawing on his strength.
“We did our best. Even my grandfather can’t dictate his time of departure from the planet.”
They had barely reached the entry to the Great Hall with its bold chequerboard marble floor when Sarina came at a rush towards them. Her olive skin was close to marble-white. Tears were pouring down her cheeks, unnoticed and unchecked. The astonishing thing was that she looked furious. “He’s gone!” she cried, wringing her hands and making no attempt to embrace her daughter. “Whatever delayed you?” Her voice resounded in the double-storey space, hoarse with grief and open condemnation.
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