On Neutral Ground

Princess Elwyn had hoped that no one would find her in the little grotto at the end of the cedar grove. She had a lot of important work to get done today, like tying flies and waxing her bowstrings. But around noon, Vittoria came striding up the path through the ferns, smiling like she had expected to find Elwyn there. Perhaps Edwin had told her where to look.

The pretty little Immani messenger girl whipped off her floppy leather hat and bowed low. “I’ve been told to fetch you, your royal highness. There’s a meeting.”

“What sort of a meeting?” Elwyn asked, though she started packing up as she spoke. Her brother was getting more insistent about attending his council.

“I believe this is supposed to be a surprise,” said Vittoria, as she picked up Elwyn’s box of lures. “But in my experience, it’s never a good idea to surprise people with old lovers.” She stopped and put a preemptively comforting hand on Elwyn’s arm. “It’s Lily Serrana. She’s here.”

Elwyn dropped everything. She ran through the grove and the rose garden and up the terrace into the Villa Cedra. She rounded the arcade and went straight to the Blue Parlor, where she found her brother and her stepmother seated in awkward, painful silence with the first person Elwyn had ever loved.

Lily looked precisely like Elwyn remembered. Precisely like she did in the dreams Elwyn still had about her. Long, sleek brown hair. That golden, tanned skin. That long neck. Her curves, filling out a perfectly-tailored blue wool riding dress. Her bright blue eyes, half-lidded and lined with kohl, that grew wide as she saw Elwyn.

“Lily,” said Elwyn softly. She bit her lip to keep from saying more than she should.

Queen Rohesia, Elwyn’s stepmother, cleared her throat. With a suspicious look at Lily, she said, “Miss Serrana has come here on a most unusual—”

Lily excused herself and went into the smaller Gold Drawing Room with Elwyn. She didn’t seem to notice or care about the way Rohesia was glaring at both of them. Elwyn shuddered as she recalled the time, nine years before, when Rohesia had found them in bed together—the moment when the queen had discovered her stepdaughter’s secret.

But then she was alone with Lily, and the door was shut. Elwyn reached out, wanting to throw her arms around her old lover.

But Lily caught her hand halfway and shook it, in a much less intimate gesture. “Elwyn. You look lovely. I’m so glad you’re doing well.”

Lily squeezed her hand. “Yes, you and King Edwin barely made it out of Myrcia. But after everything, you made it here to Teperum. I read Vittoria’s report. That must have been quite the journey, going up through Polynarod and Nivia, and then down—”

“I don’t mean that,” said Elwyn. “I don’t think I’ve ever....” Her voice caught, and she took a deep breath before trying again. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently.”

“I’m sorry, Elwyn.” Lily’s face fell. “I wish this could be easier for you.”

Her voice was soft and kind, but there was something stiff and cold in her manner that made Elwyn suddenly wish she was back tying flies in the grotto. Or possibly on the other side of the world. Or maybe dead. It suddenly struck her that Lily had never pined for her the way she had pined for Lily. This woman was a glamorous spy who traveled everywhere and saw everything and no doubt had slept with dozens of beautiful lovers.

Elwyn had slept with dozens of lovers, too, since she and Lily had last seen each other. Some of those people—both men and women—had been very pretty. There were a few she had even loved. There had even been one—poor Sir Alfred Estnor—that she had loved enough to marry, if only he hadn’t died at the fall of Leornian. Her feelings for Alfred had been deeper, more profound, perhaps. But Lily had been the first, and somehow Elwyn’s feelings for her seemed sharper and more intense, even now.

In the aftermath of yet another ruinous defeat, Elwyn and her brother had been forced to flee to the Immani Empire. And in the weeks since arriving, her thoughts had turned more and more to the beautiful Immani spy. Lily, to her, had become a symbol of everything good and perfect that she had lost over the past eight years, even Alfred.

But that wasn’t how Lily saw her. Elwyn could never mean as much to Lily as Lily meant to Elwyn.

They sat together on the window seat, and Lily held her hand and loaned her a handkerchief while she cried. It was like the last day of an old illness, and when Elwyn finally dried her eyes, she felt much better. Lily, with a motherly smile, cleaned Elwyn’s face from the fountain and used some rouge and kohl to help hide the fact that she had been crying.

“So why are you here?” Elwyn finally asked. “It’s...lovely to see you, of course, but....”

Lily’s smile faded. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of it, but his majesty, your brother, has gotten a message from our diplomatic legate back in Myrcia.”

Elwyn had a vague memory of her little brother mentioning something about a letter from Legate Talius. “Yes, but why...?” She wanted to say, “But why did you have to come here and break my heart all over again?”

“Your brother and the legate have come up with a most daring plan.” Lily’s smile returned, though she still looked a little nervous. “A plan that will split the Gramiren usurpers from their most important supporters, the Ostensen family of Severn.”

“Well....” Lily’s tanned face reddened. “Well, it seems your brother was thinking of your pretended betrothal to Lord Andras Byrne—”

“Quite so. Lady Muriel is still very interested in arranging a betrothal between her son, Prince—er, I mean, Lord Broderick the younger, and...you.”

It took Elwyn half a minute to find her voice again. “You...you mean my brother and Legate Talius want me to pretend to get betrothed to the usurper’s son?” She clenched her fists. “Doesn’t anyone recall how badly that turned out the first time?” She glared at Lily. “I mean, you ought to remember—you were there!”

“So how can you sit there and...?” Elwyn let her voice trail off as the truth gradually dawned on her. The horrible, horrible truth of why Lily was here. Someone—the Immani spymasters, or Legate Talius, or maybe even her brother—had determined that Lily was the one person in the world Elwyn couldn’t say “no” to. And blast it all, they were right.

“Fine, then.” Elwyn dropped Lily’s hand and stood up. “Fine. Let’s go hear this plan that my brother and Talius came up with.” At the door back to the Blue Parlor, she carefully dabbed away the tears that were starting again and looked at Lily. “But when we’re done, I want you to leave. And I never want to see you again.”

Broderick found Lady Therese pacing under a bare cherry tree beyond the evergreen hedges. Queen Maud’s Garden, named after the first Queen of Myrcia, was nearly empty today. Therese’s footprints were almost the only ones in the snowdrifts.

“Oh, it’s you!” she said, smiling. Her big blue eyes lit up, and her cheeks turned pink. Or maybe that was just the cold. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, fancy that,” he said, chuckling. They met here all the time now, but they liked to joke that it was entirely by accident. And sometimes it was, actually. Therese served as a lady-in-waiting to Broderick’s mother, and her court duties made it hard to make definite plans.

Broderick offered his arm, and she took it instantly. They wandered off through the old grape arbors that sagged under the weight of snow.

“There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. Her smile faltered, and she let out a little sigh. “I’ve been trying to get the other ladies-in-waiting to help me put together a memorial for your aunt. I think Lady Anna would really appreciate it if we could get a brass plaque or even a little statue in the cathedral for her mother.”

Carrine Ostensen, Duchess of Severn, had never been one of Broderick’s favorite relations. She had, in fact, never been much of a favorite of anyone, including her husband. Poor Lady Anna, one of her daughters, had probably been the only person who could stand her. But Broderick, like Therese, had been shocked and saddened by the duchess’s sudden decline and passing.

“Oh, would you?” she said, squeezing his arm. “Personally, I...well, I mean, a lot of people really love you, your royal highness, and if they knew that you were giving money, it certainly would make it easier.”

Broderick pledged fifty Sovereigns, which made Therese beam. And that made Broderick feel giddy and warm. So warm, in fact, that he wouldn’t have minded another turn or two around the garden. But then a familiar voice hailed them, and his mother strode into view, bundled up in silver fox furs.

“Ah, Therese,” said Queen Muriel. “I need someone to go down to the city and pick up those new riding dresses of mine. Could you be a dear and do it? Thank you.”

Therese, turning bright red, dropped a quick curtsy and rushed away. Broderick’s mother sidled over to him and took the girl’s place on his arm as smoothly as if they had been on the dance floor. “Lovely day, isn’t it, darling?”

“Yes, but spring is right around the corner. A new year, with new possibilities.” His mother let out a low chuckle. “You seem to be spending a lot of time with Therese Halifax now.”

Broderick cursed the blush he felt creeping over his face. “She’s taking up a collection to build a memorial for Aunt Carrine.”

“Ah, Carrine. Do you know there’s a rumor going around court that I killed her?” Muriel threw her head back and laughed wildly. “As if I’d waste poison on the likes of her.”

Before he could find a way to reply to this alarming display, she patted his arm and continued. “By the by, speaking of the dearly departed, I’ve had a letter from her grieving widower. My darling brother Lukas has taken time out of his busy schedule of fucking tavern wenches to propose a marriage between you and his daughter Anna.”

“Me and...and Cousin Anna?” The girl was another of his mother’s ladies-in-waiting. Broderick didn’t really know her very well, though.

“You don’t seem thrilled,” said the queen. “Not to worry. Lukas seems to think he’s ‘owed’ this. Personally, I think he’s owed a swift kick in the balls. But no matter. I have a much better proposition for you.”

She tugged his arm and led him under the willows, into a part of the garden that was blocked by the hedges from the view of the looming castle. Then she went on, in a low voice. “I’ve been in contact with Legate Talius, and he’s been in contact with the Sigors, up in the Empire. I’m arranging a meeting at Rawdon between you and Princess Elwyn.”

“M...mother, you’re not seriously going to try that again, are you? I mean, the first time Elwyn and I—”

“Yes, yes,” said the queen. “But if at first you don’t succeed, et cetera.” She gripped his arm so hard it hurt. “We’ve won the war, darling. Now we have to secure the peace. We have to unite the country, and as long as the Sigor dynasty is out there, you’ll never be safe on your throne.”

“Your father is getting older,” she said. “He’s not the man he used to be. Neither is Lukas. The fools both keep thinking they’re dashing young knights. But they’re old men now. Your father needs to know that the kingdom will be at peace after he passes on. You can do this for him, Broderick. If you marry Elwyn Sigor, then her brother, Edwin, will never be king. If you marry her, the wars will be over forever.”

Broderick sighed. “Mother, I see your point, but Elwyn and I...we’ve never....”

“Elwyn is the finest woman the Sigors have produced in a century,” said his mother. “If the Sigor commanders had half her guts, and a quarter of her brains, Edwin would be ruling here now.” The queen dropped Broderick’s arm and turned to face him. “Go see her in Rawdon, dear.”

This was so impossibly stupid that Broderick couldn’t even begin to comprehend the idiocy. “Mother, I...Mother, this is never going to work.”

“We still have Elwyn’s uncle in the dungeon downstairs. Do you think she’s forgotten? Do you think Queen Rohesia has forgotten we’re holding her brother prisoner?”

“I expect they have forgotten, actually. No one much liked the Earl of Hyrne to begin with, and they were probably relieved to be rid of him. Maybe we can let him out for the wedding, though.”

“Leave my brother to me,” the queen said, smiling again. “He still hasn’t managed to learn his place, but I suspect it’s slowly dawning on him. I’ll deal with him.”

Broderick didn’t like the sound of that. Lukas Ostensen, Duke of Severn, was the Captain General of Myrcia and supplied a hugely disproportionate amount of the Gramiren army’s manpower and money. But the queen kept poking and prodding at her brother, as if she thought he had no other option but to support Broderick and his father.

The way she smiled now gave Broderick a very, very bad feeling. A feeling like maybe this prospective marriage had nothing at all to do with ending the war and securing a legacy, and everything to do with showing Uncle Lukas one more time who was in charge.

She put a hand on his cheek. “Darling, do it for me. And do it for your father. Go talk with Elwyn. What can it hurt?”

Broderick thought of Therese, but he knew that mentioning her would make things worse. “Fine, Mother. Fine. I’ll go.”

As they rode up the Teper Valley, the year seemed to wind back, and spring disappeared. Flowers vanished; the trees grew bare and gray again. And then they went up the pass into Cruedrua, where the snows of winter were still howling down from the sheer granite peaks.

One morning, Elwyn tried to open her tent flap and found three feet of snow pushed up against it. Half a minute later, though, Callista burst through, carrying a steaming pot of coffee and a skillet of eggs and bacon.

Callista was an Emissaria—like Vittoria—and she worked for Lily and her masters. But she wasn’t entirely like the rest of them. She was quiet and competent most of the time, until the evenings came around, and she drank enough to drown the average man. Then she would make their Cruedruan guides play music, and she would dance. And such dancing—undulating and shaking, writhing and pulsing. Elwyn couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Not that she wanted to think about sex. Elwyn ached for Lily, and she ached for poor Sir Alfred Estnor, the man who ought to have been her husband. And more than that, she ached for her younger self, long dead and buried, who could love someone so completely and without reservations. Only young people could love like that. Elwyn was 30 now, on the cusp of middle age, and she feared she would never again feel that total sense of abandon.

She ate the breakfast Callista had prepared, and then they joined their legionary escort for the day’s ride. They were nearly out of the high mountains now, and into the icy, rolling hills of the Cruedruan Plateau. They rode all day, and there wasn’t a path in sight. But their guides—wild Cruedruans with red beards and bearskin cloaks—never faltered.

Callista started coming to Elwyn’s tent to drink wine in the evenings. One night, she asked if Elwyn was angry at her brother for sending her on this mission.

Elwyn was a bit taken aback, but she rallied. “Well, I wish he hadn’t. That’s all I can say, I suppose.”

“That’s how I am,” said Elwyn, with a bitter laugh. “I’m not angry at Edwin. Or, maybe, I suppose I am. I remember him in the old days...,” she cleared her throat. “I remember him in the nursery with his toy soldiers.” Her eyes stung and she rubbed at them. “Stupid dust. I remember when he was born, and our father sent me a letter....”

“Yes. Of course.” Elwyn shook her head. “He’s the only person who really understands me. So he’s the only person who can hurt me this badly. I can’t believe he asked me to fake another engagement.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Callista. She passed the whole bottle to Elwyn. “You probably need this more than I do.” And she was probably right.

Days later, at the far end of the high plain, they came to a wall of gray mountains again—the Sothebeorg Range, which marked the border with Myrcia and home. One morning, Elwyn woke up to hear chanting, and saw white-robed priests bowing and kneeling in the long blue shadows of the distant peaks.

“They’re singing the sun into the sky,” said Callista, joining her. “It’s their tradition.”

That night, they reached the little village at the top of the Styrung Pass—the gateway to Myrcia. At an inn there, Elwyn shared a drink with Callista after the rest of their party had retired to bed. As a band of minstrels in the corner played a sappy medley of old Kenedalic ballads, Elwyn ventured to ask about Callista’s spymasters, the famous sorcerers Servius Faustinus and Moira Darrow.

“Yes, Presley Kemp told us when we moved to Teperum. I think my stepmother was offended she wasn’t invited to the wedding.”

“They did it on the spur of the moment, after a secret operation the Province of Thessalia that I can’t talk about. It surprised all of us Emissariae, too, believe me. They’ve been lovers on and off for years, and I don’t think any of us ever expected them to actually take the plunge.”

Then the minstrels started a faster-paced, more formal tune. A dancing tune, in fact, with the most fantastic melody and a low, pulsing counterpoint. Elwyn was sure she had heard the song before, but she couldn’t remember where.

Callista winced slightly, then sighed and said, “It’s the Volta in D Minor, Opus 450, ‘Me Amare,’ by Terentius Horvex.”

“Yes. Everyone has. He was the Imperial court composer before he died.” Callista coughed. “This piece is particularly important, because it’s about a period in his life between when he divorced his third wife and he found his fourth wife. He was looking for love, you see. All over the court, if rumors are to be believed.”

Elwyn regarded the messenger girl with new respect. “Wow. I had no idea. ‘Callista Horvex.’ You never told me that your name was—”

“That’s not my name,” said the girl softly. “It’s Callista Ferria, actually.”

“Thank you. I had a lovely childhood, up to a point. I had all sorts of music lessons, and my father would come every few weeks and tell me how marvelous I was. I got to meet all the great singers and actors of the capital.” There was a long pause, before Callista added, “But then....”

“I...I wanted to be like my father more than anything. When I was 14, I showed him some of my compositions.” Tears started rolling down Callista’s face. “He...he told me they were ‘pedestrian’ and ‘derivative.’ He heard me play and sing, and said I didn’t have the talent to bother with further lessons. Imagine that: the greatest composer of a generation telling you that you had no business being a musician.” Callista let out a long, shuddering sigh over her mug of ale. “Imagine your father saying that.”

Elwyn thought of all the unpleasant things her stepmother, Rohesia, had said to her over the years. She thought of her late father, King Edgar, and all the ways he had sometimes made her feel small and worthless. All those awful things he had said to her in anger that he had never said to her half-siblings, Edwin and Alice.

“I can completely imagine what that would be like,” she said, taking Callista’s hand and kissing it. “And I’m so sorry.”

They ordered another bottle, but they took it up to Elwyn’s room, where very soon they were in each other’s arms, and they had forgotten their families entirely.

In the distance, the Prince’s Palace looked as Broderick always remembered it. The gray, sober walls, all the columns, and the soaring dome against the shimmering blue of Lake Newlin. The air was still and cold, but the sun was bright, and daffodils bloomed along the roadsides as the royal party approached the city gates.

The knights there had Sigor livery, but that was only to be expected. The duke here was a Sigor—a cousin of Broderick’s, and of Elwyn’s. His grace, Duke Aldrick, was waiting under the gatehouse and raised his sword in salute.

“Your majesty,” he said, bowing to Broderick’s mother. “Your royal highness,” he said, nodding at Broderick.

He and his knights wore black armbands, not for Duchess Carrine of Severn, but for his mother, the dowager Duchess Cynthia, who had passed away earlier in the year. “A bad year for duchesses,” Broderick’s mother had called it, grinning over her wineglass in the carriage. A bad year for dukes, too: Karl Rode, Duke of Dunkelshire, had gone to the Light a few weeks before Duchess Cynthia. And poor Hildred Stenburg, daughter of the Duke of Keelshire, had died in childbirth, as well, this past year. And Edwin Barras, younger brother of Duke Roger of Pinshire, had died in battle just before the duke surrendered to Broderick’s father.

All of which showed that death came for everyone, no matter how lofty one’s title. And that was why this trip was so important to Broderick, his parents, and the kingdom. There had to be a clear line of succession. As Broderick’s mother kept reminding him, he needed a wife, and he needed to produce an heir.

He still didn’t think producing an heir with Elwyn Sigor would work out, though.

“I have a message for your majesty,” Duke Aldrick said, interrupting Broderick’s thoughts as they turned up East Marrethstryde toward the palace. He handed Broderick’s mother a letter.

She laughed, broke the seal, and glanced over it before handing it to Broderick.

It was from his Uncle Lukas, Duke of Severn. Broderick skipped past the pleasantries and found the meat of the matter pretty quickly:

I cannot imagine why neither you nor your son saw fit to attend the dedication of the memorial for Carrine. I know you never liked my wife, but common Ivich decency should tell you to honor the woman in death.

“Uncle Lukas seems...upset,” said Broderick, passing the letter to his mother again.

She was still laughing. “Yes, you and I certainly need lessons in Ivich morality from a man who has planted his seed in dozens of girls from Terminium to Flodmund. I’m so pleased he’s remembered his wife, now that she’s dead. Let’s give him something to really whine about.”

Broderick pondered this as they rode along through the straight, arcaded streets. Here and there, people gathered to wave little black Gramiren banners, and Broderick smiled and waved back at them. But for the most part, he was left to his thoughts. It seemed to him that his mother was trying to deliberately antagonize her brother, Duke Lukas. And yet, the Gramiren family couldn’t possibly stay on the throne without the Ostensens’ soldiers and money.

If he married his cousin Elwyn, then Uncle Lukas would be furious. It might even start a new civil war in the south, in fact. There was no reason for it. No one needed a new war as the old one was ending. But the alternative to Elwyn was Anna Ostensen.

The girl was...fine, as far as it went. Like Elwyn, she was a cousin, though on his mother’s side instead of his father’s. But he didn’t know her well, and he didn’t know how she felt about him. He didn’t like the idea of her being forced into something she hated. Something both of them would hate.

No, beyond that, there was a third possibility: Therese Halifax. She wasn’t an Ostensen, but she was from the south. And she was a cousin, too, though more distantly related than Elwyn and Anna. Was there some chance Uncle Lukas would see her as more acceptable than Elwyn? Broderick tried to think how to ask his mother, but before he could put it into words, they were at the massive Prince’s Palace, and he had to supervise the servants in putting their clothes away and stabling the horses.

The duke’s chamberlain said that Elwyn hadn’t arrived yet—thank Earstien! So, Broderick had time to walk out on the beach of Lake Newlin, behind the palace, and try to compose his thoughts again. But he’d no sooner started down the sand, than he was hailed by a slim little dark-haired girl. She was sitting on a blanket with a pile of books, but she jumped up and ran, smiling, to greet him.

He mentally reviewed his family tree and made an educated guess. “And you’re...Lady Lily, aren’t you?”

“Naturally, your royal highness” she said, dropping into a low, formal curtsy—exactly like her dancing master had probably taught her.

“You’re out here reading?” he asked, casting about for a topic of conversation.

“Oh, yes! I’m going to Atherton this autumn, and I wanted to make sure I had the right texts.”

Broderick had been to Atherton, of course. He couldn’t resist the chance to look at her books and give her the benefit of his experience. “No, you don’t want this one,” he said, in his airiest tone. “The translation of Claudius is shockingly bad. But this one...,” he picked up another book, “is exactly what all the masters at Atherton use. Pay attention to the footnotes.”

“No, I was a terrible student. But I learned very quickly how to make work easier for myself.”

He promised to send her some of his old books, and he was about to help her with her Immani translation, when there was a sudden fanfare from the front gate. And then bugle calls from within the palace. The chapel bells started tolling, too.

Broderick carefully set down the book he was holding. “I’m sorry, but I think I should see what’s going on.”

What was going on was the arrival of the Sigor party from the Empire. Their procession was far more impressive than the one he had arrived with. First came a troop of Immani cavalry with blue and gold surcoats, followed by another company of Immani infantry, in their famous red tunics, carrying the gold eagle banners that were known and feared throughout the world.

Then came a dozen knights in Sigor livery, and a carriage done up in blue and silver. Not the livery of the Dukes of Newshire, but that of the Sigor kings—open and unafraid. Anywhere else in Myrcia, those surcoats would have made the men targets for slaughter. But here, behind a wall of Immani military might, they could show themselves openly.

The carriage stopped, and footmen rushed up to supply steps and to roll out a carpet. Broderick felt, rather than saw, his mother sidle up next to him. “Be kind, darling,” she whispered.

The door of the carriage creaked open, and two massive men-at-arms climbed down, their muscles straining against their Sigor surcoats, and the swords and bucklers and knives clattering. Broderick bowed to them, and—after a few seconds of frigid silence—they bowed back.

And finally, there she was, descending the carriage in a slim blue riding dress. Her dark hair was up in a blue hair net. A little crown of pale gold, set with diamonds, glittered on her brow.

Broderick’s heart nearly stopped. She was so lovely. He’d forgotten how lovely she was—how could he have forgotten this? Those blazing blue eyes. Those marble-hard cheekbones, like a sculptor would make.

She was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Except Therese, obviously, but that went without saying.

She turned her cold glare on him, like a blast of winter snow in spring. And then she smiled, like all the heat of summer at once. “Oh, Broderick!” She took his hand. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

He had a neatly-trimmed beard over his strong jaw, and he had let his brown hair grow longer. The look suited him. She hadn’t remembered that Broderick was quite this handsome, but then again, it had been nine years, and he had barely been a man then. What she did remember was how he had helped her and Rohesia, Edwin, and Alice escape from Wealdan Castle the day his father seized the throne. That was the last time they had actually seen each other. Lily Serrana had been with them, too. Strange to think that so much time had passed, and here they were again, almost like all those years of war had never happened.

She took his arm and they went up into the rotunda together. Servants had laid out food and drinks on big silver platters. Broderick took a mug of mulled cider, and Elwyn did the same. When she looked at him, he blushed and turned his head.

“He’s nervous,” she thought. “Nervous around me.” In fairness, a lot of people were, but when he blushed like that, she saw the little boy she had known.

She tried to put him at ease, asking about his trip from Formacaster. He told her it had been uneventful, then he asked about her journey.

“Nothing terribly exciting happened,” she said, though she glanced briefly at Callista.

“How are you liking Teperum?” he asked. “You just recently moved there, didn’t you?”

As if they had gone to the Empire by choice, and not because they were fleeing for their lives. As if they had chosen Teperum deliberately, and not because that was where the Immani Emperor had deigned to give them shelter. But she knew he was trying to be polite, so she answered politely.

“It’s lovely,” she said. “Sir Presley Kemp arranged the move and found our new home, so everything went perfectly.”

“Ah, Sir Presley.” Broderick nodded. “My father always speaks very highly of him.”

Elwyn felt pretty sure his father would have executed Presley for treason if he’d had the chance, but again, Broderick was trying to be polite.

Conversation became easier when they went out on the beach together, away from the courtiers, and talked about old times. “Do you remember when you tried to teach me the Mt. Nellis Reel in Severn?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I ended up kicking you in the balls. I’m not sure if I’ve ever said ‘sorry’ for that, but if I haven’t, then I do apologize.”

“That was probably very impressive for you. Your hands were a lot smaller back then.”

They both laughed, and they talked about the days at court before the civil war, carefully avoiding any mention of people who had died. Or of Rohesia’s brother, the Earl of Hyrne, who was still rotting in the Wealdan Castle dungeon at that very moment. Then a bell rang, summoning them in for some sort of musical entertainment.

That afternoon, while everyone was bathing and napping before supper, Callista slipped into Elwyn’s room, and Elwyn told her about her conversation with Broderick.

“It sounds as if you like him,” the Immani spy said, grinning, as she started unlacing Elwyn’s bodice.

Elwyn sighed. “I’ve liked him for years. I’ve just never wanted to marry him. Especially not now.”

“No. Because it would destroy Edwin’s claim to the.... Oh, Earstien. Do that again.”

She did, and then she did some other things that were even more pleasant, all while they slowly removed each other’s clothes.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and the girls had to race to make themselves presentable. Elwyn was almost decent again when the door swung open, revealing Legate Talius and her cousin Aldrick Sigor, Duke of Newshire.

“Um...Callista here was helping me dress,” said Elwyn quickly, as she finished lacing her bodice.

“H’m...I see,” said the duke. “Right. I needed to, um...send some messages. Miss Callista, could I have a word with you?”

Callista didn’t usually blush, but her face was growing pink as she stepped out into the hall with the duke. The legate shut the door after them and cleared his throat. And then he shuffled his feet. Then cleared his throat again.

“Your royal highness, I was fully aware of your...um, reputation. I assumed the stories I heard were gross exaggerations spread by your family’s enemies.”

Elwyn crossed her arms and glared defiantly at him. “I hope you’re not expecting me to apologize.”

“A great deal of effort has been expended in preparing for this meeting between you and the prince. Not only by me, but by your family and the Gramirens. Not to mention the family of my son-in-law, Lord Pedr Byrne.”

“Duchess Flora is involved in this, too? I might have known. You can tell that bitch from both me and my stepmother that—”

“Do you not understand that once your betrothal is formalized, there will be a fatal rift between Severn and the Gramiren king? Then, under the auspices of the Byrne family, we will negotiate a treaty with the disaffected Ostensen clan, which will allow—”

“So, not only are we going to trust Duchess Flora again, we’re going to trust Duke Lukas, too? Are you completely mad?”

“A great many people are counting on you, your royal highness. Would it really be too much to ask that you keep your clothes on for a few days?”

“I don’t know. I can’t make any promises. You never know when I might start blowing the footmen in the middle of supper.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he said gravely. “But please try to behave with some measure of decorum. Please.”

After that, Callista was moved to another room in an entirely different wing of the palace, which annoyed Elwyn so much that she barely spoke to anyone all evening. She had trouble sleeping, too, and eventually went out to walk on the beach as the sun came up.

She was about to head back in, when a small, brown-haired girl came out of the library with a book under one arm and a blanket under the other. She was trying to spread the blanket on the sand without having to put the book down first, and a slight wind over the lake was making things difficult for her. So Elwyn went over and lent a hand.

“You’re Cousin Elwyn, aren’t you?” said the girl, after thanking her for the help. She put out her hand. “I’m Lily.”

The name took Elwyn aback for a second. Then she rallied and shook the girl’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’ve heard how you saved your brother’s life at Leornian and Pinburg and a dozen other times, and how you saved him from an assassin in Sahasra Deva.” The girl’s eyes were wide with admiration. “Did all that really happen?”

“It might be exaggerated a bit. I only did what any sister would do for her brother, I imagine.”

Lily leaned forward, resting her head on her arms. “I’ve always wished I could do something like that for my brothers. Not that I want them to be in danger, of course.” She looked up. “And they annoy me sometimes.”

“Yes, brothers will do that,” Elwyn said, nodding. She let out a long sigh and thought of Edwin. She still hadn’t decided whether she was going to forgive him for sending her on this stupid trip, but she was starting to feel that she probably would.

“Lily?” A man’s voice came out from the library. “Lily, what are you doing out here?” Another of the big glass doors swung open, and Aldrick Sigor, Duke of Newshire looked out.

His face flushed as he looked from Lily to Elwyn, and back again. Then, with a forced smile, he said, “My dear girl, your governess is looking for you. And the princess is a very busy woman. You mustn’t take up too much of her time.”

Elwyn helped Lily fold the blanket, and the girl went back inside with her book. The duke put out a hand to stop Elwyn, though. “Just a moment,” he said in a low voice. He waited until Lily was out of earshot before continuing. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to stay away from my daughter.”

“I don’t know what you’d do, and I don’t care. But I know what I saw up in your room, and we all know the stories. I would prefer that Lily not be mentioned in any of them.”

“Go fuck yourself straight to the Void,” said Elwyn, pushing past him and into the palace. She stormed upstairs and went to find where Callista was staying now.

After a frantic, vigorous tumble in bed, when they stopped to catch their breath, the Emissaria observed, “You really seemed to need to take out your frustrations. Even more so than usual, I mean.”

Elwyn told her what Duke Aldrick had said, and as she related the conversation, she started getting angry all over again.

Callista grinned and shook her head. “That’s pretty rich of his grace to talk about other people’s scandals.”

“I know,” grumbled Elwyn. “His own fucking wife tried to sell out my brother to the Gramirens.”

“Oh, it’s more than that. Did you know about what happened between him and your stepmother?”

“With Rohesia?” Elwyn sat up straighter in bed. “You mean...when she and Alice and Helena were confined here at the Prince’s Palace under Cousin Broderick’s orders?”

“No, when the queen and Duke Aldrick were both teenagers. They fell in love at school, and they almost eloped together after she came to court. She got cold feet at the last minute, though, and he’s held a grudge about it ever since.”

“It’s true. Lord Faustinus told me in a message right before we left Teperum, and he learned of it from Rohesia herself. He’s one of the few she ever trusted with the secret, and he only told me because he thought I needed to know ‘the relevant background of the parties involved’ in this mission.”

“Holy shit,” said Elwyn. She tried to imagine a world in which Rohesia had married Aldrick, rather than Elwyn’s father. “I almost wish she had gone through with it and eloped. No, that’s not true. I don’t wish that.”

Callista leaned over and kissed her. “I always suspected you liked her better than you let on.”

“It’s not that.” Elwyn kissed her back. “It’s just that nobody deserves fucking Aldrick.”

It was a good morning for a ride along the beach. The sun was coming up over the city, and there was a breeze off Lake Newlin, whipping up little froth-covered waves. Broderick rode down around the port as far as the end of the city wall, then back again, passing the palace at a gallop. If anyone was watching, they would probably have thought he was showing off, but he didn’t really care what the courtiers thought. He had been awake for hours already, trying to think how to get out of this betrothal without hurting anyone’s feelings. He needed this ride to take his mind off it.

He had been up late the night before talking about it with William Trevelyan, his best commander. William had said, “Princess Elwyn is very pretty, sir, and we’re all tired of this damned war. Marry her, and then we can all go home.” But then, William wasn’t even married, so he probably had no idea what he was talking about.

North of the palace, Broderick slowed his horse again as he passed fishermen mending their nets and patching their sails. He was almost at the northern wall, when he happened to look back and noticed a woman galloping up the beach toward him. He could see her brown hair flaring out from under her little blue cap, and when she waved, his first thought was that it must be Elwyn. Except, she filled out her gray riding dress in ways Elwyn couldn’t have.

“There you are!” she cried. “I was afraid I’d have to go to the palace.”

He jumped out of his saddle and went over to help her down. “What are you doing here?” His mother had specifically ordered Therese to remain in Formacaster. “Where are you staying?”

“At that inn,” she pointed down the beach. “The White Crane. I kept watching to see if you’d ride by. I knew you would eventually.” She wouldn’t let go of his hand, clutching it in both of hers and bringing it up to her lips.

“I had to see you,” she said. She kissed his hand again and looked up, lips quivering. “I had to tell you that...that I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he blurted out, almost before he knew what he was saying. He was shocked at having said it, but it was true: he really did love her, and he didn’t know why he hadn’t realized it before.

“Please don’t marry Elwyn. I couldn’t stand it if you married anyone...anyone but....” Her voice faltered and tears glistened around her eyes.

“Anyone but you,” he said softly, and she nodded. “Therese, I don’t want to marry Elwyn. But my family needs.... I mean, my mother arranged this stupid meeting, and there’s not really anything I can do about it.”

She kissed his hand again and then let it go. “I know. I know you have a duty.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I know I’m being selfish, but I can’t help it.”

She cried a great deal, so he walked her back to her inn and bought her some ale and sat with her until she had calmed down a bit. He made her promise not to do anything rash—like showing up unannounced at the palace—and then rode back, feeling miserable.

Elwyn was his mother’s choice. Marrying her might end the war. But it would anger his Uncle Lukas, and there was no telling what would happen if Severn abandoned the Gramirens.

Cousin Anna was, in many ways, the safest choice. Marrying her would preserve the alliance with her father, Uncle Lukas. But it wouldn’t end the war. It merely preserved the status quo, as the Immani would say.

And then there was Therese—the girl who loved him and the girl he loved. He thought about her, the way she smiled when she saw him, the way it had felt when she had clutched his hand, the sound of her voice as she cried. He decided he didn’t really care which option was best for his family. His family wasn’t marrying the girl; he was. He was the one who would have to live with this choice for the rest of his life, and he wasn’t going to marry Anna or Elwyn and be miserable about it forever.

He pulled his boots on again, went straight back to the stables, and got a new horse. Then he rode to the White Crane inn, where he brushed aside the innkeeper’s objections that this was “a respectable house, sir,” and went to Therese’s room.

She was lying in bed, and it looked like she had been crying again. She sat up, clutching the blankets modestly to her chest, and gave him such a look of joy and hope that he knew this was the right thing to do.

Legate Talius and the duke seemed determined to make Elwyn’s life miserable. They followed her around like they expected her to make off with the silver. She almost preferred the company of Broderick’s mother. Muriel was a horrible human being, but at least she didn’t care what Elwyn did in bed. And knowing Muriel’s attitude toward her own wedding vows, she probably wouldn’t care what Elwyn did after the wedding, either. Assuming there would be a wedding, of course, which there wouldn’t be.

It was partly to defy Talius and the duke that Elwyn took such pleasure in continuing her affair with Callista. Mostly, however, she kept seeing Callista because the sex was so good. They couldn’t meet in each other’s rooms anymore, because the duke was given to barging in unannounced. So they got very creative in finding places to fuck. They fucked in the stables and in the wine cellar and even once in the little cupola at the top of the dome. They did every filthy, perverted thing that their minds could devise, and they did it so often that they used up Elwyn’s supply of oil and had to steal more from the kitchens.

One morning, Elwyn hit upon the idea of going out on Lake Newlin with Callista. They got a boat, rowed out far enough so that no one could hear their moans and cries of ecstasy, pulled some sailcloth over themselves, and spent an hour or so fucking like mad. When they were both too exhausted and sore to continue, they dressed and looked out again to find they had drifted northwest of the palace.

“Look, there’s an inn,” said Callista, pointing. “Gods, I’m famished. Let’s pull in there and get an early lunch.”

They had nearly landed when suddenly Elwyn heard pounding hoofbeats, and she looked around to see Broderick riding up the beach from the direction of the palace. She ducked her head, but he seemed preoccupied and didn’t even notice them.

She and Callista beached their boat and went around to the front of the inn, expecting to see him in the common room. But he wasn’t there. Then, through a wide glass window in the back, Elwyn spotted him. He was sitting with his arm around a girl in the little garden by the beach. A rather beautiful girl, from what Elwyn could see. Nice figure, dark hair. A pretty smile, though she didn’t smile much. She kept crying, and then Broderick would comfort her, and she would smile, only for the tears to start up again a minute or two later.

He was there long enough for Elwyn and Callista to share a plate of sausage and eggs and a pitcher of ale. Finally, he stood up, kissed the girl very passionately, and left.

Elwyn tossed a few shillings on the table. “I’ll see you later,” she said to Callista. “I’ve got to have a word with someone.”

She caught up to him as he was walking slowly back toward the palace, leading his horse. With his head bowed, he seemed deep in thought.

He spun around, his face white as he spotted her. “Elwyn! Oh, Earstien. I’m sorry. You must think that I’m being terribly disrespectful toward—”

“I couldn’t care less if you’re seeing someone. In fact, I’m glad for you. Who is she?”

Elwyn hadn’t even remembered that the Duke of Haydonshire had a daughter named Therese. Now that she heard the name, though, she had a very, very vague recollection of a wide-eyed little creature in brown pigtails who had come to play in the Wealdan Castle nursery a few times.

Broderick couldn’t help smiling as he extolled the girl’s virtues. She was sweet and kind. She loved to go riding, but she couldn’t stand killing animals, so she never hunted. She was good at cards and tafel and other games. She was marvelously skilled at sewing and weaving tapestries and all sorts of other girlish pursuits. She and Broderick had kissed, but he would never insult her by attempting to do any more than that.

Broderick snorted. “I wasn’t going to say it, but...yes. I suppose she is.”

Elwyn put a hand on his arm. “She sounds wonderful. For what it’s worth, you have my approval.”

“Thank you.” He sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, my mother feels differently.”

That explained why the girl was crying, then. Poor thing. Elwyn felt indignant on her behalf. Why shouldn’t she be able to marry the man she loved? And why should Broderick be stuck with a woman like Elwyn when he had someone sweet and kind and virtuous who actually wanted him?

“I’m very sorry for you,” she said. “Is there anything I could do to help?”

Another big sigh. “I wish there were. But honestly, I can’t see how. Thank you, though. It actually means a lot to me that you approve of her.”

He fell into a moody silence as they approached the palace. When they saw his mother waiting for them on the beach with Legate Talius, he whispered, “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” under his breath.

“Ah, there you two love birds are,” said Muriel, with an infuriatingly smug grin. “Hurry up, now. We’ve got all sorts of people here for the morning concert.”

She took her son’s arm and led him in. Legate Talius held Elwyn back for a moment. “What exactly were you and the prince doing?” he asked, giving her a suspicious look.

He was glad Elwyn knew. He didn’t want to marry her, but he didn’t want to lie to her, either. And having her on his side suddenly made everything easier. No one could possibly object if the two of them said they were going riding together.

The Immani girl named Callista always came along, allegedly as their chaperone. Broderick had a notion that the girl was more to Elwyn than a messenger and lady’s maid. He had heard a lot of rumors about Elwyn’s proclivities over the years, and it seemed the stories were at least partly true. But it wasn’t really any of his business what Elwyn and Callista did after they dropped him off at the White Crane inn. And frankly, he didn’t care. All he cared about was seeing Therese.

His visits were limited to an hour or so—however long it took for Elwyn and Callista to finish whatever they were doing and come back to pick him up again. It never felt like enough time, even though he and Therese mostly sat holding hands in the window seat of her room, looking out at the lake. They talked about their childhoods and places they had traveled.

They spoke often of Atherton. He was older than her, so they hadn’t been at school together, but they knew all the same places—the library, the dining hall, the famous Crown and Gown inn on High Street.

Sometimes they kissed, but Broderick had been quite truthful when he told Elwyn he respected Therese too much to do more than that. On his third visit, Therese noted the fact that he hadn’t tried to take advantage of her, the way that some other young knights at court occasionally had.

“Um...never?” she asked, blushing. “Look, Broderick, I appreciate that you respect my virtue, and of course I don’t want to...you know...,” her blush deepened, “do the real thing until we’re married. But there are...other things we could do.”

“I, um...I’ve never done any of them,” she said, “but I’ve read books, and one time a girl at school had a book with, um...pictures. And there is something I’d rather like to try.” Then, still blushing, she got down off the window seat, knelt between his legs, and started unlacing his trousers.

He had never had a girl do this before. He’d never even had a girl touch him there at all. Well, except maybe once, long ago during the Loshadnarodski War, when an Immani assassin had drugged him and seduced him. But he had passed out before they had actually done anything. That hadn’t been the best introduction to sex, and since then, he had told himself he ought to avoid temptation. Not just because that’s what good Ivich boys were supposed to do, but also because he didn’t want to end up like his parents—rutting and slutting it up all over Myrcia.

But this was different. This was Therese, and he loved her, and she loved him. And if he had anything at all to say about it, they were going to get married someday. This wasn’t like his father and all his mistresses, or his mother and her endless string of handsome young knights. This was the only woman he ever wanted.

He relaxed and closed his eyes as she took him in her mouth. She really had no idea what she was doing, and he didn’t, either, but in the end, it didn’t matter very much. She succeeded in doing something he had only ever done for himself.

Then she took one of his hands and put it up between her thighs, under her dress. She moaned and panted, but after a minute, she took his hand and moved it slightly, giving him a brief explanation of the mysteries of the female anatomy. After that, it took a remarkably short time until she was clawing at his back and biting his shoulder to muffle her screams.

They both said it had been perfect, but that no doubt with practice it could be even better. They got cleaned up, and Broderick kissed her, promising that he would be back the next day. He went downstairs, as happy as he had ever been in his life, only to find his mother there, sitting with a sheepish-looking Elwyn and Callista. There were six armed guards in his family’s livery, too.

His mother stalked up to him, scowling. “I thought you and Elwyn were getting on a little too well. So I decided to follow you today.” She slapped his face. “Stupid boy.”

She sent the guards upstairs, and in a minute they returned with Therese, who was shaking with fear. His mother slapped her, too. “You wicked little slut. How dare you seduce my son.”

“Be quiet.” She pointed at Therese. “There’s a grand ball coming up, so I don’t have anyone I can spare to escort you home. I don’t trust you to go by yourself, since you obviously can’t obey my orders.” She looked at the sergeant. “Lock her in her room here. Keep a guard on the door at all times. And you,” she said, turning back to Broderick, “are going to marry Elwyn.”

“No, he’s not,” sighed Elwyn. “He loves Therese. Can’t you see that?”

“I couldn’t care less,” said his mother. “You two will be formally betrothed. We are making the announcement at the ball.”

Broderick tried again, desperate now. “Mother, please don’t take this out on Therese, she’s—”

“She is going to stay right here in this room,” the queen said. Her voice was low and venomous, and she gave Broderick a cold glare that made him feel six years old again. “If you do everything correctly, with no more little...embarrassments, then I will release the girl. Who knows? I may even let her continue as a lady-in-waiting. But if you don’t do as you’re told, if you don’t act toward Elwyn as the most nauseatingly devoted lover in history, then I will not be quite so forgiving. I may have to be rather...severe to poor little Therese.”

There was nothing he could do but go back to the palace with his mother and Elwyn and Callista. No one said a word until they were in the rotunda, where the servants were setting up for a tea party. Then Elwyn drew close and whispered, “I’m going to find some way to make this right. Trust me.”

Fifty couples swirled around Elwyn and Broderick. Fifty knights and noblemen in bright surcoats; fifty ladies in shimmering silks and glittering jewels. An orchestra of twenty men and a choir of twelve singers played all the most popular songs from the Empire and Myrcia. Along one wall, five trestle tables groaned under a wild array of food—everything from roast venison to braised peacock. And these were just the appetizers. A real supper would be served in a few minutes in the duke’s grand dining room—a fact that Elwyn was counting on.

Ironically, the sheer size of the gathering made it easy to talk privately with Broderick. No one could possibly overhear them as they spun and twirled around the dance floor. “Is Therese still at the inn?” Elwyn asked.

“Yes.” He looked rather glum about it. “I haven’t been allowed to see her.”

The song ended. Broderick would have kept dancing, but he offered no resistance when she led him to the side of the room.

The second Elwyn released his arm, Muriel appeared as if by magy. “Where do you think you’re going?” she hissed. “They will be sounding the dinner bell after this next song.”

“I feel a trifle indisposed after three glasses of wine,” Elwyn said. “You’ll have to excuse me for a moment.”

Elwyn dropped her smile. “It means I have to take a piss. Now get out of my way unless you want your shoes to get damp.”

She really did need to use the privy, but once she was done there, she circled around the rotunda and went down a hall filled with gaudy old Shangian vases to a little chamber off the dining room. Callista was there, fussing with a long, bright blonde wig.

“Oh, I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” the Immani spy said. “I’m going to be in such trouble with my commanders.”

“Hence the wig,” said Elwyn. “Now put it on, and let’s hurry. We’ve only got a minute until they open the doors.”

In the dining room, five long tables, all covered in pure white silk, bore silver platters and gold candelabras. Over the high table hung the banners of the Sigor and Gramiren dynasties—the same picture of an eagle, only in blue and silver on one banner, and silver and black on the other.

Two footmen were lighting the candles, and one of them came bustling officiously over. “I’m very sorry, your royal highness, but we will be opening the doors in—”

“We just need a quick look,” said Elwyn. She took out a pair of silver half-Crowns and flipped them to the men. “Why don’t you go take a walk somewhere? You really don’t want to be around here in a minute.”

The two servants left quickly, no doubt thinking there was no accounting for the eccentricities of royalty.

Elwyn went up to the high table and pushed aside several of the platters. Then she turned and hoisted herself up to sit. Somewhere nearby, a low bell rang four times, and she could hear people coming up the hall.

“Remember to run,” she told Callista. “Then get rid of the wig as soon as you’re out of the palace.”

In moments, Elwyn was the very picture of sexual dissolution—bodice hanging open to almost expose her breasts, skirt pulled up to reveal her legs. Callista looked her over, rolled her eyes, and then knelt down to bury her head in Elwyn’s lap.

And just in time, too, because half a second later, the doors opened, and all the ladies and gentlemen of the court started filing in. Elwyn let out a long, passionate moan, and then sat up, feigning surprise.

“Oh! Is it suppertime already?” she asked. “Some of us wanted a little...snack...beforehand.”

There were murmurs and mutterings, gasps of shock and nervous laughter. Some people averted their eyes. Some people pushed forward for a better view. Elwyn tapped Callista on the shoulder, and the girl sprinted from the room, clutching the wig to her head to be on the safe side.

“What in the Void are you doing?” cried Duke Aldrick, rushing up to the table. “How dare you disgrace my family—your family—in this way!”

Elwyn slid off the table and slowly did up the laces on her bodice. “Is this really a surprise to you?”

Muriel hurried over, looking as if she was about to explode from fury. “You’re going to regret this, you little whore. And you,” she jabbed a finger at the duke, “are going to be beyond sorry. You said you could control her.”

Legate Talius appeared and dragged Elwyn back into the little anteroom. “You stupid, stupid girl. You realize you’ve ruined everything, don’t you? You’ll never be married now.”

“I don’t mean Broderick,” he went on. “I mean any marriage, ever. Word of this will spread to every court in every land. You’ll be a laughingstock. You’ll be notorious. What man would ever want you after this?”

“I’ll try to live with the disappointment. Now get out of my way. I’m going to the kitchens to get something to eat. I’ve worked up quite the appetite, as it happens.”

His mother was busy yelling at the duke, and the duke was screaming at the legate, and the legate was shouting at everyone. The party broke up into absolute chaos; no one could think about food or dancing now.

As Broderick slipped away, he heard people trading every vile rumor they had ever heard about Elwyn’s sex life. She had slept with the emperor. She had slept with her brother. She slept with dogs, with pigs, with horses. Broderick would have stopped to argue, but he knew no one would believe anything he said in her defense. Not after what they had seen. Even that was getting exaggerated—already people were saying Elwyn had been stark naked up on the table, that there had been two girls with her, that she had been tied up with silken cords and gold chains.

He could hardly comprehend that she had done this, and had done it for him. He knew Elwyn hadn’t been there by accident. She could be more discreet than that. No, she had done it deliberately, because it was the only way to get him out of the betrothal without getting Therese in trouble. This way, all the blame fell on Elwyn. He hadn’t done a thing, and his mother knew it—she had been standing right next to him when the doors to the dining room had opened.

He shuddered to think what his mother might do in retaliation. Elwyn had humiliated her, and Broderick knew that if it weren’t for the protection of the Immani, his mother would have Elwyn thrown in a dungeon. And that was if she felt charitable.

Everyone said Elwyn was a slut, a whore, and “no true lady.” They said she was a bitch. They said she was mean-spirited and foul-mouthed. They said she was a disgrace to her family and an abomination before Earstien. But Broderick thought her most important quality was her courage. She was absolutely, stunningly, jaw-droppingly brave. Maybe she did the wrong things sometimes, but she always did them for the right reasons. Even if they were never going to be husband and wife, he was proud she was his cousin and proud she was his friend.

He ran through the streets and in minutes he was in the common room of the White Crane inn. To his surprise, he found Callista there waiting for him. “You’ll never believe what happened,” he said.

“Oh, I can believe it,” she said, with a wry smile. “Don’t tell anyone, but I was the blonde girl on her knees. Wigs do wonders sometimes. Now go on up and see your lady love.”

“Probably. There’s no reason to spoil the romantic mood. Go see Therese. Otherwise, what was the point of everything Elwyn and I did?”

He rushed up the stairs and found Therese working on some embroidery by the light of a small table lamp. “What are you doing here?” she cried. Then she dropped her sewing, ran up, and threw herself at him with such force that he staggered a little. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much.”

He told her what had happened, and to her credit, her first reaction was to worry for Elwyn. “I feel so badly for her. I hate to think she’s damaged her reputation to help us.” Therese tugged at his arm. “Please tell me you didn’t ask her to do this.”

“I don’t know how we can ever repay her for that. I should be horrified by what she did, but...I think I admire her.”

They kissed, and then moved to the bed. Broderick sensed that if he had asked Therese to go further, she would have said “yes,” but he didn’t want to do something they might both regret later.

It was a beautiful night—almost perfect, in fact. They fell asleep, side by side, and when he woke up, there she was, head propped up on one arm, smiling at him. “I always want to wake up this way,” she said.

Then came the tension and fear, as he realized he was going to have to go see his mother now. He knew this would be unpleasant, but then, as he was washing up and Therese was brushing out her hair, he had a sudden, brilliant idea.

He would have hired a messenger, but to his surprise, Callista was still at the inn, eating a big, hearty breakfast in the common room. “Do you think you could get letters to Leornian and Haydon?” he asked.

The girl looked up, beaming, from her plate of bacon and eggs. “Of course. Nothing could be simpler.”

So he wrote a letter, and Therese wrote one as well, and they sent them off with Callista, who promised she had “people” who would see them safely to their destinations.

Then he and Therese walked hand-in-hand to the Prince’s Palace, where they found his mother in the Tapestry Parlor, still in her dress from the night before, with a full glass of wine and a nearly empty bottle.

The moment she saw them, she smacked her forehead. “Oh, Earstien. As if I haven’t had to wade through enough shit already. It’s you two.”

Broderick pulled Therese close. “Mother, I think we can agree that a betrothal with Elwyn is impossible now. So, there’s no reason why Therese and I can’t get married.”

“No reason?” His mother glared at him with wild, bloodshot eyes. “No reason? No, my darling boy, there is the best reason of all, which is that I refuse to allow it!”

“I am being reasonable, you stupid oaf. I’m trying to end this blasted, bloody war! If you can’t marry Elwyn, then perhaps the duke here might be amenable to your marrying his daughter, Lily. She’s a Sigor, too, after all.”

“Oh, are you in a hurry now? My son, the 27-year-old virgin. Finster’s balls, I wonder what’s wrong with you.”

“Your...your majesty,” said Therese softly. “I’m very sorry, but I love your son, and he loves me, and—”

“Shut up, you stupid, selfish little girl,” snapped his mother. “You stupid little traitor. If I could have you drawn and quartered, I would do it. You’ve ruined everything!”

“We’re getting married, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. This morning, Therese wrote a letter to her father. What do you think the Duke of Haydonshire will do now if he finds out you’ve stopped his daughter from marrying the man she’s pledged her love to?”

His mother’s face went pale. “Oh, Earstien,” she whispered. “Oh, please...please tell me you didn’t do that.”

“And I sent a letter, too,” he went on. “Mine was to Uncle Arthur. You know, your brother, the Bishop of Leornian. The head of the Leafa church. I told him Therese and I want him to perform the ceremony.”

“You...you didn’t!” His mother looked so horrified that he almost felt sorry for her.

He thought for a moment that they had won, but then his mother’s lips curled up into an evil grin. “Therese, darling, do you know what a morganatic marriage is?”

“It means when a member of a royal family marries without the consent of the king. It means you and Broderick would be married in the sight of Earstien, but your children would have no claim on the throne.”

“Mother, that’s insane!” cried Broderick. “If my children can’t claim the throne, that’s the end of our dynasty!”

She folded her arms and grinned triumphantly. “Yes. Exactly. If this is what it takes to bring you to your senses, then that’s what I’ll have to do.”

Therese broke down, and Broderick had to lead her outside, where it took her some time to recover herself. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I’m destroying your family, and that’s not what I wanted to do at all. You should forget about me. Please, I’m not worth it.”

“You are,” he said. “And my mother is just angry. A lot of people have called my mother a lot of things, but trust me, she’s no fool. And neither is my father. When he finds out that we’re betrothed, I think he might have something to say on the subject of morganatic marriages and his heirs.” He kissed the top of her head. “It’ll be alright in the end.”

Elwyn and her caravan left Rawdon in the dead of night, as was appropriate for the most scandalous woman in Myrcia. Elwyn didn’t care about the scandal. She had given up any hope of saving her reputation long ago. If she was going to make herself truly, unforgettably infamous, then she might as well do it for a worthy cause.

She had ruined the grand plan of Duke Aldrick and Legate Talius, but she didn’t care about that, either. Any plan that relied on the goodwill of Duchess Flora and Duke Lukas was too stupid to seriously contemplate. It would never have worked, and there was no point in making decent people miserable to achieve nothing at all.

As the sun came up over the dewy green fields of Newshire, she thought of poor little Therese. And also of Broderick. In a strange sort of way, she really did love him. Not in a way that made her want to marry him, of course. But she would trust him with her life.

Back when they had been students together at Atherton, there had been people who had teased her about him, saying they were destined to marry. She had been mortified by the notion, and she had hated him—entirely unreasonably—after he had groped her by accident while dancing. But the funny thing was that, after years and years, and dozens of lovers in between, he was actually her longest love affair. She didn’t want to marry him; she never had, and she never would. But now that they were finally and irrevocably done, she found herself unexpectedly sad.

He deserved to be happy. He deserved a girl who loved him. He deserved Therese. The girl was wonderful and sweet and kind. As Elwyn had admitted, Therese was everything Elwyn wasn’t. No matter what people might think now, helping the two of them get together was the right thing to do.

Elwyn was so caught up in these thoughts that it wasn’t until they were halfway up the Styrung Pass that she noticed how worried and distracted Callista now was.

“I’m going to have to write a report about this,” the Immani girl said, twisting her long black hair in her fingers. “But I can’t think what to say.”

The girl’s little chin quivered. “I...I’m pretty sure I’ll get fired.” Her head drooped. “And this is the only job I.... Oh, your royal highness,” she started to cry, “the Prefecturate took me in. Lily took a chance on me, and I’ve let her down now.”

Elwyn gave her a hug. “Let me write the report, then.” So, she did, and she made it sound as if the girl she had been seen with was someone else, and Callista had been at the inn, dutifully following orders. She explained that Callista was a marvelous agent, and she finished by saying that, “If any blame should fall on her, then I will have to urge King Edwin to reassess our family’s relationship with the Immani secret service.”

She showed the letter to Callista, who kissed her and said, “You’re the best.”

They made love as they usually did that night, but afterward, Elwyn couldn’t sleep. She slipped out of the tent and walked around the campground, looking up at the soaring snow-covered mountains on either side of the pass, blue like cold steel in the moonlight.

Callista had done everything she had asked, and the girl probably would have done more. But she shouldn’t have had to do any of it. Elwyn had taken advantage of her, like a drunken knight at a country inn, making a bar wench smile and kiss him because he could.

“She told me she didn’t want to do it,” Elwyn muttered. “And I made her do it, anyway.”

There was no getting around it. Elwyn was poisonous, and she knew it. She infected everyone and everything she touched. Broderick should count himself lucky he’d escaped her. Poor Callista hadn’t. But there was still time to correct that.

Elwyn paced around and around the camp until morning came, and then she went back to the tent, where Callista was waking up.

“Oh, where were you?” the Immani girl asked, grinning. “I was so cold, and I wanted to snuggle.”