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Summary
“Lord Harbinger,” Tartaglia was going to go out on a limb here. She figured it was better to look stupid here in private in her own country, rather than embarrass the Tsaritsa abroad. “W-what’s a hòugōng? Is that the Liyuean court?”
The look Pierro gave her…well, Pierro was usually pretty expressionless. If Tartaglia had to guess, she’d say it was pity.
“It’s customary in Liyue for the Emperor to keep consorts and concubines. It’s customary in Snezhnaya to seal international alliances with weddings. You’re a smart girl, Tartaglia. I’m sure you can connect the dots.”
The room was getting smaller. Spiraling tighter and tighter. A cage, threatening to crush Tartaglia’s lungs. “You’re whoring me out.”
“You make it sound so crass.”