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Summary
Daeron is happy in Tyrosh with his wife and her family, but when her brothers slip something in his wine for a laugh, he runs home to her absolutely desperate.
“You did not want them, did you?” she murmured, tipping his chin up and leaning closer. The neckline of her nightdress gaped and he could not hide the way he looked at the curve of her breasts. “All those beautiful girls, and you came home to your wife, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” he said immediately, understanding her meaning at last. “Yes, yes.”
“Countless trained whores, countless delicate maidens, a city of women who would not refuse you, and you wanted your wife?”
“More than anything,” he breathed. “Oh, Melantho, please, I do not want them, I didn’t, I refused because I want– I need–”