Soleia wracked her mind for a topic of conversation as she proceeded to lead them to their rooms, mentally hoping that they were at least ready for them to stay in. Truth be told, she was entirely unprepared to be a hostess. Three years at Drankenmire had taught her to balance a checkbook like none other, but it certainly didn't hone her abilities to make guests feel welcome.
After all, no one visited Drankenmire in those three years.
Meanwhile, these men continued to burn the back of her neck with the intensity of their stares. Soleia hastened her footsteps, hoping they would find something else to distract them. Vramid's palace was lovely, why were their eyes glued on her like dogs facing a piece of juicy meat?
That comparison made her more uncomfortable.
"Princess Soleia's sure is energetic," Prince Ricard observed. "Her strides certainly are wider than most women."
