Unfortunately, Lady Valdemar's granddaughter isn't much better. There are few things that would prompt Misaya to linger inside the chapel after the end of a service; Warsman is one of them.

And she truly does think of him as a thing, her gaze, bright with compassionless curiosity, darting up and down his body as she sweeps over to him. This is hardly the first time she has fantasized about quite literally pulling him apart and examining what makes him tick, and it's unlikely to be the last. Her eyes flick to the candles briefly, then up again. "Much on your mind?"