Calandre

Pronunciation: Cul-ondra

AKA: Sweet

Hair Color: Blonde

Eye Color: Blue

Motto: Beauty is its own reward

Desires: To find some sense of ‘control’

Weapon of Choice: Words

 

Description: Dressed in his best golden tunic, Leoric stood facing the chapel door. The yellow silk gave his cheeks a ghastly pallor despite the blood he’d taken from me. “I receive you as mine, so you become my wife and I, your husband,” he said, grave and stone-eyed. No man could dispute the beauty of his bride as she responded too quietly to be heard. Perfection in sapphire silk, she was the woman troubadours sing about.

Discussion Questions For Calandre?

 

  • Do you feel sorry for Calandre?
  • Do you have a favorite scene?
  • What quotes linger on your thoughts?
  • Should Quin have tried to help Calandre?
  • What must she suffer to be Lady Rensweald?
  • How did you feel when her dad died?

“She’ll understand in time. I’ve done what I must.” Hoping he was wrong, I nodded without looking at him. “It won’t be long before I’m rid of Calandre–a year, two at most. That’s little time compared to what we’ll have.” I pitched the mare fresh hay without offering the reassurance he was aching for. “When I explain the way of things to her, she’ll see I had no choice. It’s a comfortable life we have here–a safe one, and I’m only doing what I must to preserve it. A sham marriage, a supposed heir–it’s such a small price for the security.”

TANGLED

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