“I was delighted by your acceptance,” he said, “and now—” —devastated by your coldness, he could finish, in courtly fashion. But it would be a mistake to enter that ground with this woman, he thought, because she would not quickly abandon the manner he set between them.

“Now,” he said, with utter honesty, “I see that you have reservations that did not at all enter today’s messages. Constraint upon you was never my wish, Your Grace. I swear I shall keep my word. I am sad if you think so badly of me. And I assure you I shall be your ally in war. Common sense constrains that. So—you are not obliged to accept my suit.”

She was not a woman, he had thought, who would use tears. But she turned away in the best tragic style and wiped at her eyes furiously.

He was angry, then, seeing her set upon him with such common tactics.

She stayed with her back turned. Wiped at her eyes a second time.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I had not intended to do this.”

“Please,” he said coldly. It had not yet reached him, how many of his plans were affected by her refusal of marriage, and how many more were threatened if he insulted her pride. He felt more than angry. He felt, rejected, the ground giving way under his feet; he was desperate for the peace that he might yet salvage, and he could not, like a man stung in his personal hopes, answer in temper. “If not your love, Your Grace, at least I hope to win your good regard. I never wished to imply a condition to my help. What do you ask of me?”

She looked slowly around at him, and turned and stared at him as if she by no means believed it.

“That you grant us the camp,” she said. “That you aid my men to cross to Elwynor and gain what help they can.”  “I grant that. Freely.”

“Why?” she demanded of him.

“Your Grace, your enemies as well as your friends will cross the river to find you. They have killed my lord father as well as yours, and just as recently. If your men will hold them at the bridge and remove their legitimacy with their supporters, that would be a great service.”  “And you would let me go.”

“I promised safe-conduct. I give you alliance.”

“I shall not support any claims of territory, Your Majesty of Ylesuin.”

“Nor shall I make any. As I recall, you came to me. I did not seek this.

I did not seek the war which you have graciously brought with you. But it is here, it would have been here eventually on any account, and I had rather support your legitimate claim and far more pleasant countenance than have my father’s murderers as neighbors. So you see—my offer was well thought. I am sorry to have conveyed any other impression. I thought, yesterday, that we understood one another.”

She heaved a small breath, and another, and the tears were still on her face, but her face was calmer.

“Yesterday we did. But—” Another perilous breath. “I thought all night—what your reasons might be.”  “And then sent the message?”

“It seemed a way to be done with it.” She ducked her head, bit her lip, and looked up. “I have no better suitor. And I find you not the devil I thought. With many worse waiting in Elwynor—who would also take arms against Aséyneddin.”

“Pray don’t consider me a last resort, m’lady. I do have some pride You are free to go.”

“I might like you. I think I do like you. —And I don’t consider you last resort. To save my people, I would marry Aséyneddin. And put dagger in him. That is my last resort.”

“Good gods, do you consider putting one in me? I hope not.”

“No.” She walked toward him, hands folded, and looked up at him.

“I do think I like you far better than I thought I would.”

“That’s very gratifying.”

“Perhaps a fair amount better.”

“Still more so.”

“But do you like me at all?”

“I find you—”

“If you say beautiful I shall like you much less, sir.”

“I was about to say, remarkable. Outrageous. Amazing. Gentle. Gracious. Intelligent. A good match for my own outrageous qualities, not least among which they tell me are my looks, and my intellect.”

“You are outrageous.”

“So my accusers say.”

There were the very ghosts of dimples at the corners of her mouth—an attempt at restraint.

“I am accounted,” he said, unwilling to be defeated by a reputation,

“a fellow of good humor. Not quarrelsome. Not meddlesome.”

“My cousins say I’m forward. Moody. Given to pranks and flights of fancy.”

“My grandfather was a lunatic.”

Her eyes went wide.

“I am,” she said, “faithful to my promises, chaste, —not modest, however.”

“I could be faithful. I abhor chastity. I cannot manage modesty.”

The dimples did appear.

“Gods, a smile. I have won a smile.”

“You are reprehensible, m’lord.”

“But adoring.”

“Gods save me. I am a heretic to your Quinalt. I have heard so.”

“I am a heretic to the Quinalt did they know the opinion I hold of them. I may desert them for the Bryalt faith if they annoy me.”

“Six months of the year I shall reside and rule in Elwynor. On my own authority.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “My lady, if I cannot make you wish to shorten that time, I shall account myself at fault.”

Her face went an amazing pink. Her hand rested in his. He kissed three fingers before she rescued it. “I insist on six months.”

“I shall at least make you regret them. Is that yes to my suit? Or shall we commit venial sin?”

“Sir, —”

“I said I was not chaste.”

She escaped a few paces, around the edge of the table. “As regards the defense at Emwy—”  “Yes?”

“Caswyddian is dead, or most of his men are, by whatever means—I think so, at least.”

“Your fortified camp is well thought. But undermanned.”

“What else can I do?”

“Send more men. I’ll lend them.”

“Guelenfolk? Alongside Elwynim?”

“Amefin. A Bryalt priest, if I can pry one out of sanctuary—at least in hopes a priest is worth something. There’s too much wizardry loose. He might be more use than a squad of cavalry. But you aren’t going.”  “I command my own troops!”

“Gods, it seems the fashion of late. Listen to me, m’lady. These are very brave men who came with your father, if I understand accounts, and I believe I do. These are men who had determined to stand by their oaths and give their lives for your father; who are prepared to give them for you—but best for them if the Regent stays safe and lets these good men do what they can, until my men are ready to carry an assault. If the bridge is decked, they will dismantle that decking. If they bring more timbers, the camp as we’ll set it up will have a garrison sufficient to hold that bridge against any force attempting to cross out of Elwynor. We’ll have watches on all the other crossings, including those that might be made by boat. And if we are to go to war, my gracious and wise lady, I command all the forces, unless you can tell me on what fields you have fought, and prove that one of your men has experience to order your forces without me. Otherwise, leave matters to me.

I’ll be accommodating of your command in civil matters. Not in this, and not where a novice’s mistake can expose other forces to danger.”

She did listen. He saw comprehension, however unwilling, in her eyes.

“Are we to be married?” she asked. “! would marry you.”

“I am still willing.”

“Willing?” Clearly that was not enough.

“I said yes, my lady. What more do you want?”

A faint, a diffident voice: “A nicer yes.”

He saw that there was here no exact rationality—nor one called for.

She was alone. She was uncertain at best. He came around the end of the table and took her hand.

“Yes,” he said, and in lieu of kissing the hand, snatched her by it into his arms and kissed her, long and soundly, until with her fists she began to pound his shoulder.

She did not find words immediately. She was searching after breath.