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Morashk stood silent for a moment, then he lowered his fiercely burning eyes and snatched the letter. He paused, waiting for any further orders, but seeing there were none, he turned and hurried away.
It was odd that he should hate her. Once in days gone by he would have died before he would hate her, though he would have hated willingly anyone who spoke ill of her. Perhaps that was why he still felt scorn and contempt for his master, overruled only by his loyalty. Lord Korak had always said ill of the Lady Arshalous, and once Morashk had hated him bitterly for it. Now it was what drew them together, so Lord Korak considered Morashk his chief servant. But the hatred for Korak had not vanished completely, but had only lessened. He still felt no fondness for his master.
And he felt no fondness for the Lady Arshalous. Then why was he so upset at her acceptance of the King? Well, it was, after all, a mere dream he loved, for the Lady Arshalous had never been what he thought she was. He had learned that when he heard her lashing words, her anger that a servant had presumed to tell her... But now, with her acceptance of the King, all last flittings of that shadowy dream were disappearing, and that was painful to him.
Since she had scorned his love so long ago, it was a relief to be able to hate her bitterly now.
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