Celia's voice trickled off into a whisper. The next moment, she felt a wave of embarrassment at how entitled she sounded.
It was rich of her to complain about ending up with nothing, when her entire life had been one of a pampered princess. She'd been raised in a loving household, she had never gone hungry or struggled with poor health. How much pity could she really claim for herself, while now sitting in a luxurious palace and wearing a small fortune in jewels?
And yet, that's what she wanted. Pity. Even though it was wrong.
She was mortified by her own weakness. She was usually better than that at keeping her feelings in check.
Where had such sudden neediness come from?
When she looked at the man next to her, Celia expected him to look nonplussed, ready for him to scoff an her, to insist she stop being so overdramatic.
All she saw was wretchedness in his gaze.
