More time, he thought, his eyes darkening as he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest.
He wasn't a cruel man by nature, but when it came to Caelen, Soren found depths of pettiness he hadn't known he possessed. He wanted the King of Solmire to stay.
He wanted Caelen to walk these halls and breathe the air that was heavy with the knowledge of what Soren was doing to his former wife.
He wanted Caelen to see the way Eris looked at Soren now... not with the guarded distance of a political pawn, but with the raw, dazed recognition of a woman who had been thoroughly claimed.
He wanted to rub Caelen's face in every inch of his failure. Every day the snow fell was another day Caelen had to endure the sound of Soren's triumph.
Soren wasn't sorry. Not even a little.
