Tris glanced at Kiara. "Wonderful idea— especially if it keeps me off the dance floor."

Half a dozen soldiers escorted Tris and Kiara to their rooms. As Tris closed the door and locked it behind them, he wished that they might have the kind of total privacy a king could never enjoy.

"You go hard on your wardrobe," Kiara observed. Tris looked down at the shredded long coat with the glimmer of chainmail that showed through the ruined sleeves and sighed.

"Just one more reason I liked what we wore on the road. Cheaper to replace—and a lot more comfortable."

He laid aside the tattered coat. His shoulder was beginning to throb from the force of the magicked beast's strikes. Tris winced as Kiara helped him remove the torn shirt and the chainmail that clearly showed deep claw marks. His chest and arm were already darkening with bruises.

"Keeping you in one piece is going to be harder than I thought." Kiara's humor didn't reach her eyes.

Tris drew her toward him. "Second thoughts?" His fingers toyed with her long hair, and the scent of her perfume quickened his heartbeat.

"Not at all."

"Something's bothering you."

Kiara reddened. "It's nothing. Just—it seems so... public. The whole kingdom knows we're locked in here, trying to produce an heir!"

"Do you think it would be any different, if we were off in a village somewhere? It's the same for farmers or kings—except that farmers aren't surrounded by guards."

Her silk dress slipped across the bare skin of his chest and she wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder. "Maybe so."

"Be grateful to my grandmother that she ended the whole custom of hanging a bed sheet out the window the next day to show that the bride was a virgin."

"Really?"

He shot her a wicked grin. "Carroway says that in the old days, many a couple brought along a rabbit.to sacrifice in order to bloody the sheet and save the bride's reputation. Grandmother said it was a barbaric custom and not suited to a modern kingdom. So we're spared that, at least." The laughter subsided. "Something else is on your mind."

"I don't want to disappoint you," she murmured. "The whole business of being betrothed from birth...I haven't, I mean, I don't—"

Tris drew back far enough to meet her eyes. "You couldn't possibly disappoint me—in any way," he said. "We're here. Together. Married. It's what I've wanted since Westmarch, even though it seemed too much to hope for." He paused. "I have an idea."

He stepped toward the large four-poster bed and let down the bed curtains, so that they completely hid the bed within. "Close your eyes," he said, drawing her with him toward the darkened bed. "Now imagine that we're back on the road—two nobodies from nowhere. We're at an inn—one of the nicer ones, with a good fire and a nice dinner. We're totally safe. Everyone else has gone out for the evening."

Kiara gave a sharp laugh. "Like that ever happened!"

"You don't know how often I wished it would. So here we are, just two outlaws on the road, nobody important, with an evening all to ourselves. Any ideas on how to pass the time?"

The passion of her kiss surprised him and he pulled her into his arms, letting himself fall backward into the darkness of the bed curtains. His question required no spoken reply.

Late that night, Carina sat by the fire in the empty great room, watching the flickering coals. She looked up as footsteps approached. "There you are," Cam said. "I got your note. What's wrong?"

Carina held out a hand, and Cam settled his bulk next to her on the bench Carina had pulled close to the hearth. The coals had been banked, but the fireplace was so large that even so, it was almost too warm to sit close. "You're going back to Isencroft tomorrow."

"That's not new."

Carina sighed. "No. But until now, it was just an idea. Last year, when we thought you'd died in the slavers' attack, I didn't know how to function. We were in so much danger—the slavers, then the ghosts in the Ruune Vidaya— there wasn't time to think. Everyone had bigger things to worry about. I didn't burden them. But I couldn't sleep. I didn't eat. I missed you terribly."

"I didn't know where you were," Cam said quietly, reaching out to push back a strand of dark hair from her eyes. "Soterius and Har-rtuck pulled me out of the caravan wreckage. I would have died if they hadn't dragged me to a healer. She was one of the Sisterhood, and she took me to a small citadel Jared hadn't found yet. They had the elixir we needed to keep Donelan alive." He took Carina's hand in his. "That was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life—choose between going after you and saving the king. The only reason I found the strength to go back to Isencroft was that Soterius and Harrtuck promised me they'd find you."

"One night, when we were at Westmarch, I had Tris search for you," Carina whispered. "I was so relieved when he said you weren't among the dead. But I didn't know if I'd ever see you again. And now, I'm going away again."

"I didn't like being away from you. You know what we always said—you were the brains and I was the brawn. Without you, I had to figure things out for myself." Cam smiled. "And from the stories Jonmarc tells, you learned to fight."

"It's time, Carina. We need to go our own ways. You've got a life waiting for you in Dark Haven. I've got a job to do guarding Donelan—it's more important than ever with the unrest back home. There's no one I'd trust more than Jonmarc to take care of you." He grinned. "And I'll admit, the daughter of the brewer's guild master is my type of girl." He tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. "In time, you'll get Jonmarc to Isencroft. And I'll come visit—after you've gotten settled in."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ON the morning after the royal wedding, Shekerishet's courtyard was busy as wedding guests made ready to depart. King Kalcen and his entourage left first, with Donelan and the Isencroft retinue leaving just before the supper bells. All day long, nobles took advantage of the unseasonably mild weather to head for home. Jonmarc watched them from his balcony. From the hurry apparent in some of the nobles' packing, he guessed that the attack had done more than an empty pantry might to hurry guests on their way.

Carina had been busy making her goodbyes to Cam and Donelan, taking up most of the day. Jonmarc chafed at the delay to see her privately. It was after the seventh bells when the door opened into the sitting room where he waited.

"I was starting to get worried," Jonmarc said, rising to meet her. She looked tired.

"After I said goodbye to Cam, I stopped by to check on Harrtuck. He's going to be all right—but it may be a while before he's ready for any real fighting."

Jonmarc took her hand. "There isn't any fighting to be done. He's supposed to have a comfortable palace job now."

Carina's eyes darkened. "It's not long before Tris will have to leave for war," she said. "I hope for Kiara's sake that you're right."

Jonmarc folded her into his arms, holding her close against him. Even dressed for court, the scent of her herbs and potions clung to her, a spicy, earthy scent. Her hand slipped up over his shoulder. He'd left the mail shirt back in his room, and her touch against the bruises from the fight made him wince.

"In all the excitement yesterday, I never took care of your shoulder."

"It's nothing."

Carina slipped her hand inside the neckline of his shirt. Her magic eased the pain of the deep bruises and pulled muscles from the battle. Jonmarc realized how much he'd hungered for her touch.

"Last night, when you were healing Harrtuck, I felt something—the way you touched my mind."