A Tale of Two Weddings

Edwin and his mother couldn’t believe what Elwyn had done. He was sure it had to be another of the sick lies that people told about her. The story had gotten back to Teperum even before she did, and as his mother said, “The truth never travels that quickly.” But then Elwyn got home and admitted it was all essentially true. She really had been caught having “Thessalian” sex with a girl at a feast intended to celebrate her betrothal. A betrothal that might have been for show, but had still been very important politically to their whole family, all the same.

After the shouting followed weeks and weeks of sullen silence. Edwin was furious with her, but he just wanted her to explain why she had done it. Except she wouldn’t talk to him, and his mother wouldn’t talk to Elwyn. This went on and on, all through summer.

Edwin tried to get the Emissariae to play peacemaker, but Vittoria was busy carrying messages, and Callista said, “Sometimes it’s best to leave it alone, your majesty.”

Callista’s blush deepened in a very suspicious way. “I don’t believe there’s a name in the report, your majesty,” she said, and then she hurried off again, claiming that she had something important to do “elsewhere.”

In August, just before her birthday, Elwyn abruptly announced that she was taking a hunting trip to the north, and she couldn’t say when she was coming back. Everyone at the Villa Cedra, including Edwin, breathed a sigh of relief. He hated to say it, but with Elwyn gone, it felt like a cloud had lifted and the sun had come out at last. But then month after month went by, and there were no messages at all from her, and Edwin started to worry.

Finally, near the end of December, she was back again, in time for Seefest and the Solstice. She turned up in his room, in the middle of a roaring thunderstorm, and pulled a big new bow of yew wood out from under her dripping cloak.

“I’m sorry I tried to make you pretend you wanted to marry Cousin Broderick.”

Now that everyone was on speaking terms again, his mother decided they would have a very small Seefest party with just the family and a handful of close friends. But then suddenly word came that the old Proconsul of Embaria was leaving, and a new proconsul had been appointed in his place. Apparently, the new fellow was a conscientious sort; he was touring his province, and he would be in Teperum over the holidays. It almost went without saying that the Sigors had to invite him to visit. He was basically their host, after all.

At first, it seemed there would be an additional cause for excitement. A message arrived saying that Servius Faustinus and Moira Darrow Faustina, joint commanders of the Emissariae, would accompany the new proconsul to “help him get settled in.” But after only a few days, they sent their regrets, saying they would not be coming, after all, as “other urgent duties” required their attention somewhere else in the Empire.

“It’s just as well,” Vittoria told Edwin and his mother. “The two of them are still in the honeymoon phase. Callista and Lily think it’s sweet, but it’s actually a bit nauseating.”

Proconsul Terrance Fulminius Glaucus arrived in Teperum with ten carts of luggage and a squadron of cavalry in gilded armor. Everyone in town wanted to meet him, so people clamored for invitations to the Sigor family Seefest ball. The mothers of young, unmarried men were particularly interested, because the proconsul’s daughter was said to be a famous beauty.

Edwin met Irena Glauca for the first time seconds before they were supposed to open the dancing. She wasn’t merely beautiful; she was stunning. He could hardly move. He could barely speak. She was tall and slim, but her blue velvet dress brought out every curve in her sinuous, elegant form. Her dark hair was braided up around her head and secured with golden combs. She had a little black choker around her neck with a giant sapphire that matched her eyes. Her jaw and her cheekbones were perfectly cut like fine marble.

Some people said she looked a lot like Elwyn. Personally, Edwin didn’t see the resemblance.

“Well, your majesty,” she said, dropping into a low curtsy, “you look very handsome this evening.”

She looked him up and down with a crooked grin. “You’re shorter than I expected, though.”

They danced twice, and then he led her through to the drinks table in the courtyard.

“Thank you, your majesty,” she said, as he handed her a glass of chilled Argitis. “You know, I’ve heard it said that Myrcians can’t dance, but you got nearly all the steps right.”

“I like how you wrinkle your nose when you laugh,” she said. “You look like a little boy.” She tapped him on the nose with her fan, and then she went off to dance with some other fellows.

Edwin’s mother corralled him and took him to speak with Sir Presley Kemp and Professor Grigory Sobol, two old family friends who had sailed up from Presidium for the holiday. The professor told many amusing anecdotes about his classes, and his longtime lover, Sir Presley, talked about the latest plays they had seen. But even though Edwin had always liked the two of them, he barely heard a word they said. He focused all his attention on Irena.

Much later, after he had fortified himself with a couple glasses of wine, he asked her to dance again.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she sighed. “I’m getting frightfully tired. All these big, strong men keep whirling me about. But I suppose if it’s you, I could have one more dance. And then I really must go.”

When she left, he asked her if she would like taking a ride with him or coming for tea some morning. By this point, he was desperate to see her again.

She appeared to think it over for a few moments. Then she smiled and said, “Oh, I suppose I wouldn’t mind. I like being around you, your majesty. There’s so much less pressure to say something interesting.”

“I know what you’re going to ask,” said his mother, setting down her quill. “Do we really need to go through this again?”

“It’s a new year,” said Broderick. “I thought perhaps...we might try to turn over a new leaf.”

She stood from behind her little writing desk and went over to the long bank of windows. Snow lay two feet deep on Queen Maud’s Garden and was still coming down in big, wet flakes. The rivers and the countryside beyond were hidden in the gray, cottony mist. “I suppose she’s been writing to you.”

He had gotten a letter from Therese that morning, in fact. Six pages, telling him over and over how much she loved him and how much she missed him, and it still hadn’t been long enough for Broderick. He had read it four times already.

“I wish you would let this go. I honestly hope you enjoyed finally having sex, but—”

“Fine, fine. Well, I hope you enjoyed your adolescent dry-humping, or whatever it is the two of you have done. But it’s time to get over her.”

The queen let out a long sigh. “Your father and I have listened to a great many stupid petitions over the past few days. Everyone thinks because it’s New Year’s that they can get away with anything.” She turned and nodded. “So, go on. Tell me why I should forgive her.”

“Look, we wouldn’t have to get married right away. She and I have been discussing this, and we’ve waited more than half a year already.”

“More than half a year,” said his mother, shaking her head and grinning. “Your tragic love will be the stuff of ballads and poetry, my dear boy.”

He realized it was a mistake to appeal to his mother’s romantic impulses. In the time Therese had been exiled back to Haydonshire, his mother had been through two young knights and had started with a third.

“Yes, I know.” His mother rubbed her eyes. “He keeps writing letters to your father, saying that his daughter has been ‘disgraced’ and demanding satisfaction.”

“Mother, are you sure you want to make the Halifaxes angry at us? What if Therese’s father decides not to send us troops anymore? What if he stops collecting taxes?”

“That’s what your Uncle Lukas keeps saying.” She slumped onto a long settee and put her head in her hands. “He says he’ll stop sending levies to the army unless you marry your cousin Anna.”

In a saner family, perhaps, that would have been a strong argument against the marriage. But Broderick knew his mother was feuding with her brother again. The last time Uncle Lukas had visited court, he had left two pregnant housemaids in his wake, and the queen was very annoyed at having to pay off their families.

“I suppose you raise a good point,” she said. “But there’s still the matter of the girl’s disobedience. I gave her a clear and direct order, and she defied me. I can’t have that sort of thing.”

“Very well,” said Broderick, repressing a desire to roll his eyes. “Fine, but she’s been punished enough now, hasn’t she? You sent her back to Haydon under armed guard. You banished her from court for months.”

“That’s true,” said his mother, with a hint of an evil grin. “She’s been completely disgraced, hasn’t she? Have you heard some of the rumors that are going around court about her? Popular opinion has it that she’s carrying your child. I think Anna Ostensen was the one who invented that story. A shame, really. You know Therese and Anna used to be such good friends.”

Broderick was pretty sure that if Anna was being hateful, it was only because she’d been goaded into it by the queen, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud.

“Mother, with stories like that going around court, she’ll never find a husband.”

“Yes, she’ll have to go into a convent, I imagine. I happen to know a good one.”

He joined his mother on the settee. “Or I could marry her. It’s the right thing to do.”

“It’s not just honor. It’s good strategy. I’ve got to marry someone to continue the dynasty, right? You don’t want me to marry Anna Ostensen, and frankly, neither do I. But the Halifaxes are a southern family, too.”

“I mean that we could make it sound like a compromise. Maybe marrying Therese wouldn’t be quite so offensive to people in Severn as if I married a northern girl.”

His mother frowned and bit her lip. After a few moments, she said, “I’m not sure if you’re starting to make sense, or if I’m getting tired.”

“It pains me to see you throw yourself away like this, but if you’re determined to persist in this folly, I suppose I shall have to learn to like the girl again. I’ll tell your father to write a letter to her father.”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m going to expect a truly exorbitant dowry to make up for what that girl put me through.”

Broderick didn’t care about the dowry, though. It didn’t matter if she came with a farthing or a thousand Sovereigns, as long as she married him. He raced back to his room and started a letter to her. When he had finished that and sent it off with an army courier, he wrote to his sister and all his old friends from school and the army. He even wrote to Elwyn, though he wasn’t sure if she would ever get the letter. He was happier than he had ever been in his life, and he wanted everyone to know.

As the new year started, Edwin became obsessed with seeing Irena Glauca. He accepted invitations to all sorts of parties he would never have attended on the off chance she might be there. If she wasn’t, he quickly grew bored and went home. But if she was, then he threw himself into the task of getting her to notice him.

He felt his lack of experience here keenly. He had no idea how to make himself seem more interesting. The other girls he had liked had seemed to like him just the way he was. He hadn’t been forced to compete for the attention of Penny Ostensen at Atherton, or Meredith Barras at Pinburg.

She was always surrounded by a crowd of handsome young patrician men, fetching drinks for her and carrying her cloak and rushing to find her a seat if she looked fatigued. At most, Edwin got only a minute or two of conversation with her, and if he was lucky, a couple of dances. It was wonderful while it lasted, but it always left him terribly frustrated. Especially when she would snuggle up to him on a settee or put her arm around his waist or even (on one memorable occasion) kiss him on the cheek.

Edwin thought his sister was just jealous, because the men were paying more attention to Irena than to her. He had heard a few people calling Elwyn an “old maid,” because she was 31. Not that he agreed, necessarily, but he could imagine she might envy Irena, who at 17 was considered a “brilliant new beauty” in society.

He finally plucked up the courage to go see Irena at her inn and ask her to join him for a ride in the country.

“Well, I suppose I could,” she said, “if you really can’t think of anything more interesting to do.”

She had a habit of doing that—saying things that were almost an insult. It annoyed him, but it also made him more desperate to win her approval.

Was this a pattern? Meredith Barras was the first girl he’d ever proposed to, and while they had eventually become friends, at first she had been openly rude to him. Penny Ostensen had been sweet and kind to him until she discovered he was courting her under an assumed name. At which point, she had slapped him and called him “a complete prick” and “a worthless toad.” After that, he had been obsessed with Penny for a while. “Maybe I have a thing for girls who insult me,” he thought. “Is that weird?”

He and Irena rode out of town on the Via Horatia through fields dusted with snow. She told him about her school days at some very elite girls’ college in Presidium. He told her about Atherton.

“Oh, I’ve heard of that place,” she said. “People say it’s very nearly the equal of some of our Immani schools.”

In the old vineyards overlooking the town, they stopped at a little inn for lunch. After a glass of wine, Edwin suddenly felt something brush his leg, and he looked down to see the tip of Irena’s little red boot gliding up his calf.

“That you make up for your lack of skill in the bedroom with an excess of zeal.”

He couldn’t think how to reply, and he was getting painfully hard. Then she burst out laughing and kicked his knee. “Silly boy. I’m kidding.”

When he left her back at her inn, though, she stunned him with a very long, very passionate kiss. “You almost seem to know what you’re doing,” she said, grinning, after she had finally pulled her tongue from his mouth.

They went riding twice more that week, and both times she rewarded him at the end with another kiss. Then on Sunday afternoon, rather than kissing him, she leaned close and whispered, “My father is away on business for a few days. Want to come up to my room?”

She had a magnificent suite with marble everywhere and gilded furniture. There was even a large bath attached, fed by the local hot springs in true Immani fashion.

“I’m so dirty from the ride,” Irena said. “I’ve simply got to get clean. You can sit here.” She pointed to a bench outside the door to the baths. “No peeking, now.”

She let out a long, low moan as she settled into the hot water. “Oh, you have no idea how good this feels.”

“I think I can imagine,” he said. He could imagine quite a bit, in fact, and he almost had to adjust the laces in his trousers.

She started singing some Immani folk song. It was very pretty—she had a lovely voice. Then she stopped. “Edwin, I think I must have strained a muscle in my arm. I’m so stiff, I can’t seem to wash my back. I’ll let you do it, if you promise not to look at anything else.”

Walking hunched over, hoping she wouldn’t see the bulge in his pants, he went in to find her lounging at the side of the big bath, halfway out of the water. He could see the sides of her breasts, pressed against the smooth blue tile, and through the ripples and soapy bubbles in the bathwater, he could make out the shape of her backside.

He dutifully washed her back with the sponge, and then she said, “Bring me my towel, will you? Thank you. Hold it for me, like that. But no peeking, remember.”

He closed his eyes, and then she was pressed right up against him, hot and damp from the bath. She started sucking on his neck, and then she whispered, “I think you deserve a reward for being so good.”

Still in her towel, she led the way to her bedroom. He couldn’t believe this was really happening, that she actually wanted him. She pushed him onto her huge, canopied bed and then dropped her towel. She was so beautiful—every curve exactly as he had imagined it. He reached for her, but she slapped his hand and pushed him back again.

She slowly undressed him, taking time now and again, to lick his chest or nibble his toes. When she finally removed his underclothes, she studied him carefully. “H’m...well, I suppose it’s perfectly adequate,” she said.

“Don’t talk unless you have something absolutely filthy to say.” Then she straddled him and slowly lowered herself. He almost came right then, but she seemed to sense this, and she slowed her movements until he had control of himself again. “Not quite yet,” she said, grinning.

After she finally let him finish, she pulled out a pair of long silk cords from under her pillow, and had him tie her to the bedpost and spank her while she rubbed herself against the headboard. This seemed to excite her a good deal more than anything else he had done, and when she finally collapsed against the ropes, panting and quivering, she said, “Not bad for your first time.”

Edwin wasn’t quite sure he believed that, but he couldn’t think how to say it.

She noticed his dubious look, though, and explained. “I’ve done everything else with boys. And a couple girls, too. But I was saving the real thing.” She kissed him. “You almost made it worth the wait. Thank you.”

They made plans to meet up again at her rooms, but her father returned from his trip unexpectedly the next day, and Edwin was frantic to find somewhere else they could sleep together.

Irena said she wanted to go see his room, and she would not be dissuaded. “I don’t want to meet up at inns and taverns all over the countryside. That’s so tawdry.”

He could only imagine what his mother would say if she knew. So, obviously she couldn’t know. And frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to involve Elwyn in this business, either. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, Elwyn didn’t seem to like Irena very much.

So Edwin went to Lady Rada and Sir Walter Davies. They were, at least in theory, in charge of his security at the Villa Cedra, and they shared the suite of rooms next to his with their little boy, Louis.

“Suppose I wanted to have a...um...a visitor in my rooms every once in a while,” Edwin said. “Could you let that person in through your patio door?”

Rada looked as if she already knew. “Let me guess. This person would be visiting you at night.”

“Um...yes,” he said, his face getting warm. “I’d rather no one else know about it.”

Edwin begged and pleaded. He promised to watch Louis one night a week so Rada and Walter could go out together, and that was what sealed the deal.

“Very well,” said Rada. “It’s against my own better judgment, but your ‘friend’ can use our door whenever she likes.”

Broderick’s mother looked up from the letter she was writing. “Oh. You’re here, then.”

He gave Therese an encouraging smile. Blushing, she stepped forward and curtsied. “Yes, your majesty. Thank you so much for letting me come back.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank your future husband here.” The queen shook her head. “Honestly, girl, if it had been up to me, I would have had you flogged through the streets and then exiled to some tiny island in the Southern Ocean. As it is, I must welcome you as a daughter.” She held out a languid hand.

“Thank you, your majesty,” said Therese, as she rushed forward to kneel and kiss the queen’s ring.

“I always hoped for a daughter who had the sense Earstien gave a turnip, but it seems I have again been denied that particular blessing.” His mother patted Therese on the head like a dog and told her to stand up again.

Raised voices came from the parlor outside the queen’s bedroom. A guard was saying something about waiting for an audience, and a woman was insisting she had “a right to be heard.”

Seconds later, the door flew open, and Lady Anna Ostensen burst in. Her long blonde hair had fallen out of its braid and hung loose over her shoulders. “So, it’s true,” she snapped, pointing at Therese. “You’re back!”

Anna’s face reddened. “And you’re going to let her be a lady-in-waiting again? After what she did?”

“At least until the wedding, of course,” said the queen, starting to grin slightly.

“And you!” Anna cried, rounding on Broderick. “You want her here? After she made herself a laughingstock? After she humiliated your family?”

“Yes,” said Broderick gently. He felt bad for Anna. She had been trying all sorts of desperate and silly things to win his attention. She had even tried sneaking into his rooms at night, but a guard had caught her in the servants’ stairwell.

“It will be a strain, but I daresay we can endure your loss,” said the queen, chuckling. “Maybe you can join your sister Penny at her convent.”

It took Broderick’s mother a minute to get her laughter under control. “Well, well. Such excitement so early in the morning. Now run along, you two. I’ve got letters to write, and I suspect you have a busy day of not quite having sex ahead of you.”

Broderick took Therese around the corner into his suite of rooms. They kissed. He pulled her down into his bed, but she scooted away from him.

“I’m sorry. I really want to do...everything we did in Rawdon. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not ashamed we did it. But I think I want to wait. Now that we know we’re getting married, I mean.”

“Please don’t hate me. I think maybe it’ll seem more...special if we wait. Or is that stupid?”

His initial answer would have been a hearty and enthusiastic “Yes!” But he could see that this was important to her. “No, I don’t think it’s stupid.” He smiled. “Can we still kiss, though, or are we going to wait and make that more special, too?”

She let out a snort of laughter. “No, kissing is fine, I think.” So they did that for a while, until both of them were clearly on the verge of rethinking the wisdom of waiting until marriage, and Therese jumped up from the bed, fanning her face and saying, “I think we should go take a walk outside.”

Neither of them was quite able to keep to their resolution. Hands tended to wander a bit whenever they kissed in private. But they kept their clothes on, and they both agreed that was good enough.

On the last day of January, Therese’s parents arrived from Haydon, and the castle was festooned with the Gramiren and Halifax colors for the giant betrothal feast. Broderick’s mother gave Therese one of her little silver crowns, with inlays of black onyx. The Duke of Haydonshire gave Broderick a sword that had been in the Halifax family for over three hundred years.

There was roast boar and river trout and all sorts of Annenstruker pastries. “Oh, I don’t think I can eat anymore,” groaned Therese, as the servants brought out curried lamb. In a whisper, she added to Broderick, “My mother laced up my bodice so tight I can hardly breathe.”

Everyone got properly drunk, and there was a long, long series of speeches and toasts in honor of the newly-betrothed couple. Everyone held their breath when Broderick’s mother got up, but she was the model of decorum for once and said all sorts of very kind things about Therese.

It was all going so well, and then a messenger showed up in the blue and white livery of the Dukes of Severn. Broderick’s father went to go deal with the man, saying, “I’m sure it’s Lukas’s apology for not being here.”

Several minutes went by, though, and when he didn’t come back, Broderick decided maybe he should see what was going on. He kissed Therese and slipped out a side door. He had no trouble finding his father—the king’s voice, raised in anger, was unmistakable, and it was coming from the library.

“No, your majesty,” said the messenger, cringing before the royal fury. “He merely needs to—”

“He needs to get his head out of his ass,” snapped the king. He noticed Broderick and thrust a letter at him. “Read this fucking nonsense.”

Your serene majesties,

You took one daughter from me, without my consent, and sent her to a convent. You failed to pay my late wife the courtesy of attending the dedication of her memorial. And now you have humiliated another of my daughters. I cannot think what we have done to make you despise my family after all these years. But I have had enough of this disrespect.

Unless your son breaks his betrothal with Therese Halifax and agrees to marry my Anna, I will withdraw every single Severnshire soldier from your army. I will cease to collect your taxes. You have spurned my friendship, so I will have to look elsewhere to find friends. Perhaps I may even look as far as Teperum.

Yours most sincerely and emphatically,

Lukas Ostensen, Duke of Severn and Captain General of Myrcia

“Lukas can’t be serious. He just can’t.” Broderick’s father patted him on the back. “Go back and enjoy the feast, son. I’ll take care of this.”

Irena finally got her breath back and pulled off her blindfold. “I didn’t think you’d really do that.” She giggled and snuggled up against him, squirming with pleasure. “But I’m glad you did. Of course, next time, use more oil, and try not to drool so much.”

She crawled up and kissed him, long and deep, so he tasted himself on her. She always did that, and he wasn’t sure if it was supposed to bring him pleasure, or if she just enjoyed doing it to him. He didn’t care either way. He considered it a small price to pay to keep sleeping with her.

“I’m going to have to leave soon,” she said, peeking over his shoulder at the window. There was definitely some light in the sky now. “Of course...,” she leaned over and traced a fingernail around his chest. “Of course, we could do this sort of thing all the time if....”

“What’s that term in Myrcian? An ‘honest woman’?” She pinched his nipple lightly, and he let out a gasp. “What about it, Edwin Sigor? Would you like to make an ‘honest woman’ of me?”

“Yes, I suppose I could learn to settle for you.” Her eyes wandered down his body. “Or not. We’ll see.” She rolled out of bed and started collecting her clothes from the floor. “In any case, you really should invite me to supper with your family. It’s quite rude of you not to.”

He supposed she was right about that, and later that morning, once everyone was awake, he went to see his mother. “Do you suppose we could have the proconsul’s daughter over for supper?” he asked.

He tried to stop himself from blushing through sheer force of will, but he couldn’t do it. “Um...yes. Could we have her over tomorrow night, perhaps?”

“I don’t see why not,” she said, fighting to repress her smile. “Give me a minute, and I’ll send her an invitation.”

Edwin spent most of that day and the next planning and preparing for the supper. He spent two hours with their cooks and stewards, picking foods and wines he thought Irena might like. He spent another two hours in his room, trying on every outfit he owned, looking for something that made him look dashing, yet respectable; young, yet mature for his age; and sexually desirable—but in a way that wouldn’t embarrass him in front of his family.

He considered it vitally important that the dinner go well. He kept hearing Irena’s low, sultry voice whispering, “Would you like to make an ‘honest woman’ of me?” Maybe it was a joke—maybe she was teasing him the way she always did. But maybe she was serious. The more he thought about it, the more he hoped that she was. Holy Finster! How amazing would it be to have her forever, to have her anytime he wanted, and not just when she could sneak away?

Finally, the evening arrived, and Irena rolled up in one of her father’s big red and gold carriages. She was dressed in red velvet with a tiny gold belt and a big red ruby set in a choker of gold mesh. She curtsied low to his mother and thanked her very politely for the invitation. Irena had met his mother and Elwyn at parties before, but this was her first time meeting Alice. Irena gave her a hug and told her she looked, “Simply adorable” in her new green dress. Alice looked very pleased.

“And what a lovely crown,” Irena went on, turning to Elwyn. “Ah, and that ring. A ruby, is it not? I simply adore rubies, and that setting is so clever. I would give anything for a ring like that.”

Irena had compliments for Edwin’s mother’s clothes and jewelry, too. And then they showed her around the villa, and she proclaimed everything “perfect” and “charming” and “delightful.” Edwin kept waiting for the half-veiled insults that she always gave him. He expected her to say the tapestries were “not bad for a first attempt” or that the wine was “perfectly adequate.” But she never did. She seemed utterly and sincerely enchanted by everything and everyone. He had never seen that side of her before.

After supper (which she called “culinary perfection”) they went into the big parlor off the garden. Irena sang for them—a bunch of old Turetanian ballads that were all about dashing legionnaires and fair maidens. She admired some drawings that Alice brought out on their mother’s urging, and she went into raptures about Elwyn’s bravery when Edwin pointed out the mounted head of the bear that his older sister had killed on a hunt the previous year.

He thought it all went very well, and when he saw her out to her carriage at the end of the evening, he told her so.

“Oh, good,” she said. “I like your family a lot, Edwin. I’m not sure what I expected, based on knowing you, but they seem very cultured, all the same.”

He was hoping she might slip back into the villa later that night, but she protested that she had “a slight headache.”

In the morning, he went to Elwyn’s room. She was seated by the window, looking at the ruby ring that had belonged to her mother. It was, he knew, the ring she would have used to marry Sir Alfred Estnor, if only he had lived.

She nodded. “I was thinking about love. And about marriage. And about finding the right person.”

This seemed like a natural segue to the question he had come here to ask. “So, what did you think?” he asked, plopping himself down on her bed.

“Of Irena Glauca?” Elwyn took off the ring and frowned at it. “Edwin, do you want me to be nice, or do you want me to tell you the truth?”

“Probably not in this case.” She put the ring back in her jewelry box, next to its mate, which had belonged to their father, and which Sir Alfred had been wearing when he died. “Look, no offense, but I’ve spent a lot more time around court than you have. I know Irena’s type, and they’re always trouble.”

“Two-faced, ass-kissing little bitches who will stab you in the back the moment you take your eye off them. That type.”

“How can you...? I mean, what are you...?” he spluttered. “I mean, she was perfectly nice to you and Alice and mother!”

“It’s called ‘flattery,’ Edwin. Little Irena wants to be queen someday. Don’t be stupid enough to give the girl her wish.”

“Well, suppose I do!” he snapped, jumping up from the bed. “What if I want to marry her? What about that?”

“If you marry her, you will find out what she’s really like, and trust me, it won’t be pleasant.”

He started for the door, but she called after him. “Edwin, wait.” He turned back, and her face was lined with worry. “Edwin, be careful.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I know she’s sneaking into the villa. I know you’re having sex. Be careful.”

“Who better to warn you?” she said. “Think of our Cousin Broderick. He waited, and he found someone wonderful. You could, too.”

“I have.” He turned and left, muttering, “blasted hypocrite,” under his breath. Elwyn had no idea what she was talking about. She was probably jealous that for once, someone was having better sex than she was.

Lukas says he might be willing to accept a compromise. Essentially, our son could marry any woman in the kingdom, so long as she isn’t Therese Halifax.

Broderick handed his father’s letter back to his mother. “He’s not serious, is he?”

“I should certainly hope not,” she said. Very slowly, she crumpled the message into a ball. Then, with sudden violence, she flung it into her fire. “Let me make something clear. If it were up to me, I would not let you marry Therese. But I will be frozen in the Void before I let my damned brother stop this wedding. It’s about time he learned his place.”

This was escalating quickly out of control, but Broderick knew that he and Therese had to take their allies where they could get them. “Thank you, Mother,” he said.

His father returned from Severn the next day and visited Broderick in his apartments. “I don’t suppose I could prevail upon you to give the girl up, could I?” he asked.

“I didn’t think so.” His father shook his head sadly. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Lukas. No, actually I do. I suppose what I should say is that I don’t know what’s gotten into your mother. I can’t imagine why she keeps goading him like this.”

“Finster’s balls. He’s the Duke of Severn and Captain General of Myrcia. Stations don’t come much higher than that.”

The king’s next attempt at compromise was to propose a postponement of the wedding—maybe for as long as two years. Broderick refused to consider this, and his mother, just to be contrary, immediately went down to the cathedral to see if the ceremony could be moved up from April to March. Apparently it could.

“There you are!” she said, bursting into Broderick’s room and dropping the bishop’s official letter of permission on his lap. “Let’s see your uncle try to stop us now.”

Therese was already very nervous about being the cause of so much family tension, and the news that she was going to be married a month earlier made her panic. “But my dress!” she cried. “And all the plans for the honeymoon. Broderick, this is going to be a mess. What was your mother thinking?”

“She’s trying to help,” he said. “But she’s doing it in her own unique way, unfortunately.”

He tried to support Therese as much as he could, but most of the actual work was being done by the servants and the ladies-in-waiting. It turned out what she most needed was an opportunity to take her mind off wedding planning and get away from their families for an hour or two every day. So he took her riding outside the city. When it snowed, he took her out in a sleigh, and she curled up close to him under the thick furs and woolen lap blankets.

One morning, as they were reaching the village of Baldock, upriver from the city, and they were about to turn around and head back, a solitary rider trotted up to them. It was a woman with extravagantly curly black hair, and when she took off her wide-brimmed leather riding hat, Broderick recognized Callista, the Immani woman who had been in Rawdon with Elwyn.

“My congratulations to you both,” she said. “I have a gift for you.” She reached into her saddle bag and pulled out a small box wrapped in gold foil paper.

The Immani girl looked around, then smiled and said in a low voice, “Let’s say it’s from a friend in the Empire.”

When they opened the box, they found two gold rings—a man’s and a woman’s—set with rubies. Broderick looked at his and found a name engraved inside: “Edgar S.”

“Mine says ‘Leofled,’” said Therese. She looked about her, confused, then understanding dawned, and she gaped at Broderick. “As in Princess Leofled. Elwyn’s mother.” She grabbed Broderick’s ring out of his hand and tried to give them both back to Callista. “Oh, tell her it’s a marvelous thought, but we can’t possibly take these.”

“She was most insistent,” said Callista. “I really think she wants you to have them. And though I don’t wish to burden you with my own troubles, I spent two weeks riding here to deliver them to you.”

“Thank you so much.” Therese clutched the rings to her chest and sniffled. “And tell Elwyn ‘thank you.’ It means a great deal.”

Callista rode away again, and Therese sat silently, looking at the two rings and occasionally wiping her eyes. Broderick thought of Elwyn and tried to imagine why she had sent the rings to him and Therese rather than keeping them for herself and her future husband. Or for Edwin and his future wife. It seemed to be another grand gesture of friendship, like creating a scandal back in Rawdon so he and Therese could be together. But it also felt like an act of desperation, and he wondered if everything was well between Elwyn and her family.

“No. I don’t think so. Not in a romantic way, at least. It’s a very odd relationship, actually.”

Therese smiled, but then she fell silent again, and didn’t speak until they were back in the city. “Broderick, would it make things easier if I ended our betrothal?”

“No! Not at all. But I don’t want to make things difficult for you. If you needed to marry Anna Ostensen, or...anyone else...anyone you might...prefer, then don’t worry about me.”

He put his hand on hers, resting on the box with Elwyn’s rings. “You’re the only person I want to marry. Remember that.”

He had planned the moment meticulously. It was his birthday, and this was the best present he could ever give himself. There would be an open carriage ride out of the city to a little tavern in a park, where Rada and Walter were supposed to set up a candlelight dinner in a private parlor and then hurry away again. Edwin was pretty sure Irena would want sex after the meal. Or maybe during it. Then, on the way back to town under the stars, that was where he would finally do it.

Unfortunately, there was a massive thunderstorm that night, and they ended up stopping at an entirely different inn because Irena complained the carriage top was leaking. The food there was awful, the wine was worse, and Edwin was about to put things off until another night when she forced his hand.

“You told me there was something important you wanted to ask me,” she said, leaning over the table.

“Ah...um...er....” At that point, he knew there was no choice. “Fine then,” he sighed. “Will you?”

“H’m....” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Well, I suppose it’s not the worst idea ever.”

They got a cheap room upstairs for an hour and celebrated the betrothal. Afterward, she dragged a fingernail idly around his chest and shoulders, humming quietly.

“Yes,” she said, half to herself, “I suppose you will have to do, Edwin Sigor.”

The next morning, Irena came to the Villa Cedra, looking very prim and demure in a blue wool riding dress and ermine cape. Edwin took her to his mother and said, “We have an important announcement.”

The queen sighed. “Edwin, darling. Irena, dear. You are both very sweet, but you are both very young, and I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that you’ve known each other for barely two months now.”

“We’re not that young,” protested Irena. “I’ll be turning 18 this year.”

“And I just did,” said Edwin. “Besides, we know what we want, and I’ve already promised to marry her. A king doesn’t go back on his word.”

“Oh, dear.” His mother ran a hand over her forehead, as if checking for a fever. “This is so very sudden. Irena, why don’t you come have some tea with me?” She smiled encouragingly. “And Edwin, if you are serious about this, you really ought to go see Proconsul Glaucus immediately.”

“She’s going to try to talk me out of this,” Irena whispered, as they said their goodbyes in the front courtyard. “My father is going to do the same thing, I bet.”

“Oh, I wish I could come with you,” said Irena. “He tends to bully people who are weak-willed.”

Edwin ignored the joking insult, as he always did, and gave her a kiss. Then he set off for the inn where the proconsul was staying. The suite was exactly as he remembered it, with all the same gilded furniture. He recalled being there with Irena, the first time they had sex. He had better not think about that at the moment, though. That was all he needed: to have his trousers bulging when he saw his future father-in-law.

Glaucus greeted him warmly and poured him some fortified wine. The genial attitude vanished in an instant when Edwin explained why he was there.

“What are you thinking?” Glaucus demanded. “My daughter is far too young to think about marriage. Especially not to a....” His face contorted, as he struggled to stay diplomatic. “Not to a young fellow with few prospects.”

Edwin took a deep breath. “Sir, I love your daughter, and I promise she won’t live her life in exile. She is beautiful and kind and brilliant. I wouldn’t have asked her to marry me if I didn’t know that she would make a marvelous queen.”

“Queen Irena Sigor,” the proconsul muttered. “Queen Irena. Irena Regina.” Then, louder, “I have to say it sounds better in Myrcian.” He stood and began pacing back and forth behind his desk. “And I can’t deny she deserves it.”

It took a couple more days, and some tears from Irena, but the proconsul finally came around and gave his blessing. Then he sat down with Edwin, some lawyers, and Edwin’s mother, and together they negotiated the dowry. At Edwin’s mother’s request, Sir Presley Kemp sailed up from Presidium to act as their family’s representative in the negotiations.

Edwin’s head was spinning with numbers and contractual clauses by the end of the meeting. He didn’t understand much of what he had heard, but he knew enough to realize he was about to become very, very rich. Not that it made a difference in how he felt about Irena, but it was good to know they would be able to afford nice things.

Now that the betrothal was official, Irena could come and go as she pleased from the Villa Cedra. Edwin hoped this would mean more frequent sex. But Irena said, “control yourself,” and spent most of her time talking to his family. She worked on tapestries with the queen, and she seemed entirely content listening to interminable stories about the old feuds and rivalries of the Myrcian court. She helped Alice and Helena with their lessons and showed them how to draw horses. Soon Irena seemed to be a great favorite with almost all of them, and Edwin worried she would have barely any time to devote to him.

Elwyn, on the other hand, remained steadfastly immune to Irena’s charms. Irena kept offering to go hunting or fishing, or to show Elwyn the shops of the best local armorers. But Elwyn always had a ready excuse, and often she would leave the room whenever Irena entered it.

“She hates me,” fumed Irena one evening, when she and Edwin finally had a little time alone in his room.

“I’m sure she doesn’t,” said Edwin, as he unlaced her dress. “Now let me take your mind off her.”

He didn’t succeed, though. An hour later, after sex, she returned to the topic of Elwyn.

“I suppose so.” He explained how they had spent years in exile together, away from his mother and Alice. “We ended up best friends. We used to talk about everything. She’d come up to my room, or I’d go up to hers, and we’d talk for hours.”

Irena raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, but I’m not sure that sounds entirely...healthy.”

“I mean she’s obviously jealous of anyone who gets too close to you. It would be sweet if it weren’t so obsessive. It’s like she thinks she’s your mother. Or not your mother, exactly. Or even a sister. Something...else.”

Irena looked at him, eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to protect you, that’s all.” Then she smiled and patted him on the cheek. “I promise I won’t mention your dear, sweet Elwyn.”

Smiling, Broderick’s father waved to the cheering crowd from the steps of the cathedral. When he turned to face Broderick, though, his smile faltered. “Lukas sent a message. He’s not coming.”

Broderick’s father had prevailed upon Uncle Lukas to come up to Formacaster to discuss the impending wedding. It had looked for a few days as if they were finally making some headway, but then Broderick’s mother had said something unflattering about Anne Ostensen at supper one night. Almost as if she was determined to keep the feud alive. So then Uncle Lukas had issued an ultimatum: either the wedding would be postponed for six months while talks continued, or he would leave.

Before they could continue the conversation, the Earl Marshal, William Trevelyan, rushed over to corral the wedding party. It was too late to worry about Lukas anymore, and even if it hadn’t been, Broderick didn’t want to think about anything but Therese.

He could hardly believe this was really going to happen. They were really getting married now after nearly a year of struggle. They were going to be man and wife, and once that had happened, no one in Myrcia could do a thing to keep them apart.

Finally, he was up by the altar in a new black surcoat, wearing the sword his future father-in-law had given him. His Uncle Arthur, Bishop of Leornian, stood smiling in his ceremonial vestments. His parents were nearby, in big, gilded thrones, and nearly all the greatest nobles of the land were there, too. There were empty seats where the Ostensens should have been, but Broderick didn’t care about that at the moment.

At the far end of the nave—where the unfinished bits of the massive church had been covered up with banners—thirty trumpeters sounded a fanfare, and then Therese and her father started up the aisle. Everyone turned to look at her, shimmering in diamonds and silver silk. Broderick had never seen anything like it in his life. He was in awe of her, and he couldn’t believe she was really going to marry him.

The ceremony itself went by so quickly he barely noticed it. He kept looking at Therese, and she kept looking back up at him. They were both fighting not to burst out in childish giggles of glee. But then they recited their vows, and it was done. They walked out together into the spring sunshine. Thousands of people were cheering, bands were playing, soldiers were saluting in a huge formal parade. But none of it made as much of an impression on Broderick as the feel of Therese’s hand on his arm, and the way she sometimes rested her head against his shoulder.

“You’re my wife,” he told her, in a tone of wonderment, as they rode up to the castle together.

“And you’re my husband,” she said, grinning. “It hardly seems real, does it?”

They had to endure a feast at the castle, at which everyone got up and gave more or less the same tipsy speeches and toasts that they had given at the betrothal feast. Broderick’s mother’s toast got a bit nasty at the end, when she started talking about how “everyone who truly loves the new couple and our valiant king is here today.”

The shot at her absent brother made some people blanch, but Broderick couldn’t make himself care about that. Not when Therese leaned over and whispered, “Is it too soon for us to go upstairs?”

Probably some people were shocked or offended or scandalized when the Crown Prince and the new Crown Princess got up from the feast after only an hour or so. But those people could go take a flying leap off the castle hill. All Broderick knew was that his new wife wanted him, and he wanted her as badly as he had ever wanted anything.

Traditionally, the bride’s mother’s ladies-in-waiting should have been there to help her out of her dress, but Therese and Broderick managed just fine between the two of them. Their only difficulty was that they couldn’t really keep their hands off each other.

Then finally they were naked, and Therese became suddenly nervous. She got into the bed and pulled up the covers to her chin. “Can we do it like this?” she asked. “At least at first? I promise I’ll try to get used to having no clothes on when you’re around.”

“We can do it however you want,” he said, crawling in next to her and pulling up the blankets to cover them both.

So they did it under the covers, and it felt exactly as good as Broderick had ever hoped it would be. Then they bathed together, and did it again. By midnight, she was over her shyness and insisted on having sex with her on top because, as she put it, “I love the way you look at me.”

In the morning, they had sex yet again, and they only finished just in time. Servants bustled in, bringing robes and towels and setting out clothes. Others arrived and carried down the trunks that had already been packed for the honeymoon.

Broderick and Therese emerged from their bath to find Broderick’s father waiting in the anteroom. While Therese dressed, Broderick went in his robe and slippers to see what was the matter.

“I suppose it could have been worse. He’s not withdrawing all his troops, but he’s sending home his levies, and he’s going to stop subsidizing the mercenaries we hire from Odeland.”

Broderick thought about the numbers of troops involved. “We’d be pretty hard pressed if the Sigors managed to raise an army again.”

“Exactly.” His father sighed, then smiled and patted his shoulder. “I don’t mean to put a damper on a joyous day. We can discuss this later.”

His father nodded, then paused and frowned. “You know...you’ll be going right past Severn when you go down there....”

Broderick bit his lip and clenched his fists. “Are you seriously asking me to stop in and see Uncle Lukas? On my honeymoon?”

“Would you?” his father said brightly, as if the idea had just occurred to him. “It really might help, you know. Lukas might respond to a personal appeal.”

Broderick didn’t think that was likely, but he agreed to try, all the same. It would only be one day out of his honeymoon, and even if Uncle Lukas was a complete ass, he would still have Therese, waiting on the royal barge, to make things all better again.

So, Broderick the younger—son of the usurper—was married now. Edwin had mixed feelings about the news. On a personal level, he had never hated young Broderick, and he knew Broderick thought well of him. A fellow couldn’t help who his parents were, so it wasn’t right to hold Broderick’s parents against him. Moreover, from everything Edwin knew or could remember, Therese Halifax was a very nice girl. Her brother Landon had been at Atherton during Edwin’s brief sojourn at the school, and had been something of a bully. But you couldn’t choose your siblings any more than you could choose your parents.

The problem was that they were on the other side of the civil war. It was an awkward position to be in—wishing for people he liked to be miserable. Especially as he was so close to being married himself, and he could very much sympathize with them.

Irena had no such qualms, though. In the past few weeks, a number of really awful rumors had started. Mostly they were stories about Therese’s chastity, or lack thereof. Edwin couldn’t prove that Irena was the one making up the stories, but he had a feeling she was. He wanted to tell her to stop, but he knew it was a misguided gesture of loyalty to him, so he let her do it.

The evening after Edwin had gotten the news about Broderick and Therese, he was in his room at the Villa Cedra, dreaming of what he and Irena would do when she came to visit. Suddenly there was a knock at the door from Rada and Walter’s suite, and he jumped up to open it, only to find Elwyn there, rather than Irena.

“I’ve been out riding,” she said. There was dust on her green riding dress and on her boots. “Sorry about the mess,” she added, looking at the trail of dirt she had left.

“I know. I was in a hurry. I’ve been thinking a lot, Edwin, and I had to talk to you.”

“About your wedding.” She saw how he grimaced and rolled his eyes. “No, Edwin, I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I can’t leave it alone. You shouldn’t marry Irena.”

“The wedding is just around the corner, Elwyn. It’s too late now.” He went over to his bed and slumped against the headboard.

“The wedding is in June, for Finster’s sake! It’s barely the Equinox! There’s plenty of time to call it off.”

“Irena is bad for you. Marrying her would be bad for you. She brings out the worst in everyone. Did you hear the latest story she’s been telling people about Therese Halifax?” Elwyn crossed the room and sat on the foot of his bed. “She says Therese had an abortion when she was—”

“Come into my room and climb in bed with me to talk. It’s weird.” He had never thought anything of it until Irena had pointed out how inappropriate it was.

“What the fuck are you implying?” Elwyn asked. “No, don’t even answer that. It’s too revolting. Let me guess, that’s something else Irena has been filling your mind with.” She stood and went to the door. “Pardon me, then. I wouldn’t want to stay and give you any impure thoughts.”

She was barely out of the room before there was another knock, and Irena slipped through the door. “I couldn’t help but hear,” she said, grinning. “I have to say you handled that perfectly. It’s almost like you’re growing a spine, finally.”

Edwin was still angry about Elwyn, but he found it difficult to think about his sister once Irena started stripping. He watched her dress slip to the floor, around and over her curves. He saw as she shimmied her way out of her undergarments and her shift. Then she started undressing him, and he couldn’t think of anything but her.

“You’ve been such a good boy,” she whispered, stroking him with the tips of her fingernails. “I want to give you a special reward.”

A quick look through his wardrobe produced two dressing gowns, and then she led the way through the darkened hall, around the courtyard, and into the baths. No one was there at that hour, but the big caldarium, or hot bath, was still full and steaming. They spent a few minutes swimming around, as well as doing other things. Irena proved she could hold her breath for a surprisingly long time, in fact.

She stopped before he finished, though, and jumped out of the water again. “Now, let’s see here,” she said, going to the cupboard where the soaps and towels were kept. A moment later, she was back with a blue jar of oil. She knelt on a bench, facing the wall, but she looked back at him over her shoulder, leering in a most unladylike way.

“Oh, I bet your dear Elwyn could tell you,” she said, as she dipped a finger into the jar. “But then you probably don’t want to talk about her right now, do you? Why don’t you come over here and help me? And then you can have your reward.”

Therese seemed to finally have her breath back. She let go of the sheet that she had nearly twisted into a knot, and crawled back up the bed to rest her head on Broderick’s chest. “Oh, Earstien. How does that keep getting better?”

“When I was a squire, I was told that constant practice was the key to doing anything well.”

“That must be it. If we practiced any more constantly, I’d be rubbed raw.”

They had the servants set up a bath, and then, after they were a bit less sticky and sweaty, they curled up in bed again, with the windows of their cabin open, and watched the riverbanks slide by.

“Oh, let’s not think about him right now. You don’t have to see him until we dock tomorrow. Let’s not think of our families at all.”

She held out her hand next to his, and the rubies in both their rings caught the light of the rising sun. “I’m so glad we used these,” she whispered.

Their parents had bought rings, but as a tiny act of private defiance, they had switched them before the ceremony with the ones that Elwyn had sent them. It felt right, and it felt like a good omen for their marriage. They wouldn’t be forced to do whatever their families demanded. They would chart their own course and make their own path.

“I still wish I could thank Elwyn personally,” said Therese. “I wish I could tell people what she did. Everyone says the most awful things about her, but she’s really very sweet.”

Broderick considered that for a moment. “Well, perhaps she is, deep down, anyway.”

“I wonder what she’s doing right now? I suppose she’ll be helping her little brother plan for his wedding, and I’m sure—”

He gently smacked her hip. “I thought you said we weren’t going to think about our families.”

Therese laughed. “Oh, yes. They’re all your cousins, aren’t they? Well, in that case, we can’t talk about them, either.” She batted her eyelashes. “Now what on earth shall we do to pass the time, my lord?”

“I suppose it’s back to constant practice, my lady,” he said, running a hand down her smooth, lovely body.

They spent the entire day in this pleasant manner, and most of the night, as well. The next morning, the royal barge docked at Severn, along Valamir Square in the center of town. Broderick left his wife in bed and crossed the yellow flagstones of the square to his uncle’s palace. He felt entirely confident that he had done the right thing in marrying Therese. Now he had to make Uncle Lukas understand.

Unfortunately, his uncle refused to see him. The chamberlain said, “His grace is indisposed,” which was almost certainly a lie. Broderick offered to wait a day, but the chamberlain gave him a very haughty look and said, “His grace is likely to be indisposed for some time.”

Broderick wrote a letter for his uncle, explaining that he had meant no offense to the Ostensen family, and had merely been following his heart. He thought about leaving another letter for Anna, but he decided against doing anything that might be misconstrued as a provocation. She probably didn’t want to see a letter from him at the moment. It would seem like he was taunting her. Worse, it might look like he was admitting he had wronged her in some way. Much better to leave it alone for the time being.

When he returned to the royal barge, Therese was awake, and she was indignant on his behalf that Lukas had refused to see him. “Who does he think he is, anyway? He can’t treat you like that.”

“Wait until we get to Haydon,” she said proudly. “My father will give you the sort of welcome you deserve.”

The reception in Haydon was truly grand. A hundred knights and men-at-arms greeted them at the dock, and dozens of housemaids and footmen showered them with rose petals from the gatehouse. The Halifax family had raced ahead of the newlyweds in order to arrange the party, and they had done a magnificent job. The food was rich, the wine was strong, and Therese’s old rooms in the castle had been redone entirely in gold and silver silk, with thick Sahasran carpets from wall to wall.

Things weren’t quite so perfect when Broderick and Therese met her father privately the next day, though. “You’re my son, now, your royal highness,” said the Duke of Haydonshire, “so I feel some responsibility to help you make up what you’ve lost from Duke Lukas.”

Therese put a hand on his arm and smiled, as if to say, “See? He’s going to make everything better!”

“So...,” the duke cleared his throat. “So exactly how many men and how much money have you lost?”

Broderick took a deep breath and told him. It was painful to see the duke’s face turn pale and a little bead of sweat start to form on his forehead.

“Are...are you serious?” The duke swallowed a few times, dabbed at his brow with his sleeve, and looked frantically through his account books.

“Your grace, you needn’t worry,” said Broderick. “My father and I could never expect you to make good the entire loss. But anything you could do to help would be appreciated. He has promises from Duke Marcus Rode of Dunkelshire and William Trevelyan, Earl of Moltzig, as well.”

In the end, Therese’s father could only give the Gramirens a quarter of what his Uncle Lukas had taken away. Thinking about having to defend the kingdom without all those men and all that money—it was a pretty frightening prospect. Broderick tried to put a brave face on it, and he thanked the duke effusively. But afterward, when they were up in her rooms again, Therese could sense the truth.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, huddled up in her robe, and bowed her head. “In the end, you’re going to regret marrying me. I know it.”

He knelt and put his arms around her. “I promise I never will. No matter what happens.”

Her lower lip quivered. “Even if the Sigors attack and we lose and we have to go into exile?”

The next morning, he woke to find that she was already out of bed and sitting by the window. She was turning her left hand one way and the other, entranced by the glittering of the ruby.

She turned to him, beaming. “Actually, I was thinking about Elwyn again. And about the Sigors in general. And I’ve had a marvelous idea.”

“Please don’t say you want me to marry Elwyn, because it’s a bit late for that now.”

“No, you ass.” She launched a pillow at him. “No, your mother was definitely wrong about that. But she didn’t have the wrong idea entirely.”

“The Sigors! Look, we’ve lost your uncle’s family—at least for the time being. But if it looked as if we were going to make peace with the Sigors, I bet your uncle would rush to get back in your father’s good graces. He wouldn’t want to be left out—the only one in the cold. And there are other ways to make overtures to the Sigors besides marrying them.” Therese held up her hand, showing off the ring. “Elwyn made the first step. We should respond, maybe try to meet them halfway.”

She bounced up and down on the seat excitedly. “Thank you! But we can do more than that. We should...I don’t know...invite them to come back for a visit.”

“Um...I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. That didn’t work out so well with Elwyn.”

“Fine, maybe not her. But what about your Cousin Alice? Maybe I’m misremembering, but isn’t she just about old enough to go away to school now? When I saw my little brother Osbert at the wedding, he told me how much he’s been enjoying Atherton. What if your father wrote to Edwin and said he would let Alice go to Atherton? Maybe let all the exile children come?”

“Why would Edwin agree to that? Wouldn’t it seem like we were taking all those kids hostage?”

“Well, yes. But isn’t the idea of hostages that you trade some with the other side? The Sigors are in the Empire. Alice and her little friends can come to Atherton, and then we send...I don’t know, maybe some young knights or nobles to serve in the Immani legions.”

She blushed. “And then, when your uncle sees how your father is getting along so well with Edwin, your uncle will want to be our friend again.” She looked at him, then ducked her head, turning redder. “Or...is that not a good idea?”

“That is...a very, very good idea, dear.” He went over and kissed her, long and passionately. Then he said, “I am so glad I married you.”

“Oh, Edwin, did you see this one? It’s simply exquisite.” Irena held up the swatch of gold-embroidered silk and then let it fall as she rushed on to the next cart. “Oh, this one is perfect, too! Why can’t I have four wedding dresses instead of one?”

A caravan had arrived in Teperum the day before, carrying a whole new load of exotic silks and furs and jewels from the far east. Irena, of course, insisted on redesigning her whole trousseau and the decorations for the wedding feast in order to “showcase the latest fashion.”

They had now been at the market for over an hour, walking up and down and back and forth, and poor Lady Rada finally said she needed a rest. She was pregnant again, and she said her feet were killing her. Edwin smiled and told her that she could go back to the villa. After all, Walter was with them, too, and he could surely handle any threat.

“Actually, I need to sit for a minute,” said Rada, easing herself down at a fountain by the apothecaries’ street. “Why don’t you join me?”

“Join you?” Edwin looked from her, to Irena’s retreating form, and back again.

“Yes, I was hoping to have a quick word, as it happens. Walter, go on ahead and keep an eye on Irena. Thank you.”

When he was gone, and Edwin had sat down, Rada said, “I can’t help but notice that you and Elwyn haven’t been speaking recently. What’s happened?”

Edwin turned to look where Irena had gone. She was at a stall that sold scented oils. Oh, Earstien, this was going to be the best wedding night ever.

Rada had followed his gaze. “Ah. I see.” She tugged at his sleeve until he looked back at her. “Listen, you know your sister better than anyone. You know she can say things that she regrets later on. But you know she loves you, right? She wants you to be happy.”

Edwin turned again in time to see Irena buy a very large purple bottle of oil. “I am happy. I wish she understood that.”

But he didn’t. Not really. They spoke in passing now and again, but whenever Elwyn lingered in his room or looked as if she was going to ask him to come out for a walk, he excused himself and left. Irena noted this and praised him for “showing fortitude.”

A few days before the wedding, he and Irena were seated on the back veranda of the Villa Cedra, looking out at the garden. Irena had mentioned the hedge maze several times now, and Edwin wondered if she was hinting that she wanted to go there and experiment with outdoor sex. But before he could make the suggestion, Callista jogged up from the stables.

“Lovely evening, your majesty,” she said, bowing. “And Lady Glauca. A pleasure as always.”

“H’m...quite,” said Irena, yawning and looking away. She never seemed entirely comfortable around Callista and Vittoria and the other Emissariae.

Unperturbed, Callista handed Edwin a letter. He opened it and gasped when he saw the black seal at the bottom. It came from the Gramiren king and his wife, Muriel. Edwin braced himself for something vile and insulting, but instead the tone was perfectly polite.

Despite our differences, we all acknowledge the importance of Myrcia’s traditions. Noble Myrcian families have always sent their sons and daughters to Atherton. And young Myrcian knights have always gone to the Empire to win their spurs. We therefore would like to propose a mutually-beneficial arrangement.

Edwin read on, with growing astonishment. Looking up at Callista, he asked, “Is this quite serious?”

Irena had the air of someone who had suffered in silence long enough. “What is it? What’s going on?”

Edwin handed her the letter. “The Gramirens want Alice and the other Myrcian children here to go to Atherton.” He rubbed his chin. “I bet Alice would be thrilled. But it sounds like a trap.”

“Oh, I think it’s a wonderful idea,” said Irena. “It’s a marvelous opportunity.”

Edwin couldn’t help reminding her that she had once said that Atherton was “very nearly the equal of some Immani schools.”

“Well, there’s the education, too,” Irena said. Then, lowering her voice, she added. “I was thinking of your little sister’s moral development, though.” Her eyes flickered in Callista’s direction, and then back toward the house. “You don’t want little Alice getting the wrong sort of ideas, do you?”

As Edwin had predicted, Alice was very excited at the idea of going to Atherton. Elwyn, in contrast, was suspicious of the Gramirens’ motives, and that, more than Alice’s enthusiasm, made up his mind in favor of the plan. The exile children would be going to a proper Myrcian school, rather than learning Earstien-knew-what from Immani teachers.

There was still the wedding, though. Alice stayed long enough to be in the wedding party—a privilege that seemed to thrill her almost as much as the prospect of going to Atherton. Sir Walter acted as marshal for the occasion, and in honor of this, and in honor of the help that Walter and Rada had given Edwin and Irena in meeting secretly at the Villa, Edwin made Walter a baron.

Elwyn was in the party, too, though she behaved more like a mourner at a funeral than a loving sister seeing her brother marry the best woman in the world. At the feast, Edwin was desperately hoping that Elwyn wouldn’t give any sort of speech or toast. But then she stood up, and he held his breath, dreading what she might say.

Elwyn raised her glass and said, “I would like everyone to join me in wishing joy to my brother and new sister. A very wise person once said that happiness is valuable because it is rare. Well, Edwin and Irena, I hope that’s not true in your case. I hope you have all the happiness you could ever want. May Earstien bless you both and keep you healthy. Always remember that I love you.”

People clapped, and Edwin felt quite moved. He almost wanted to go sit with Elwyn and tell her how much it meant that she was going to accept Irena as part of the family. But then Elwyn left the dais almost immediately and disappeared from the feast.

“Look how she behaves,” whispered Irena. “She has to be the center of everything, and if she can’t be, then she runs off and pouts. You don’t want Alice turning out that way.”

Irena kissed him. “Darling, you can only have one girl like that in any family.”