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“But I thought it was a play about a donkey!” she said with a flash of spirit.

He looked back at her. “Are you trying to tell me that you haven’t read it?” he asked softly, narrowing his gaze.

Her gaze skittered away from his. “No, but-”

“Then you have endorsed it,” he said angrily. “At least have the decency to own it!” At his loudly-spoken words, Bors barked behind him, letting him know he didn’t appreciate him speaking to his mistress that way. Oswald ignored him.

Fen’s lips trembled, she bowed her head. “Yes, my lord,” she said.

He nodded, grim-faced. “I will have a general notice put up he said. “Inviting anyone at the palace who wishes to attend to do so.”

Fen swallowed, and nodded again. He turned from her in disgust and exited the room. As he closed the door behind him, he heard his nieces’ little feet thump to the ground and then run across the floorboards toward her. Clearly they thought he was a villain too.

**

Oswald did not return to their chambers that evening. Instead he worked steadily through the itinerary for the royal reception of Princess Una. Fifty tents, he specified, for the attendant nobles and for the entertainers. They would need a goodly amount of soldiers too as the King was so determined to attend himself, fully decked out in armor. Pages, pig roasts, royal guards, scribes and squires. There would be no women present, for the illusion was one of a triumphant war party. The princess would be attended by her aged servant and Lady Mycott and her daughters which would follow protocol for decency’s sake.

Bryce remained attendant and made copious notes, disappearing at various intervals to send out messengers with requests. He sent the invite to Mr Entner and his troupe of players and cancelled the musicians that had already been booked to perform the following evening in the Great Hall. Bryce meticulously wrote out a general notice about “The Tragical History of a Lady Most Foully Betrayed in Three Acts: A Morality Play” being performed at the special request of the Earl and Countess Vawdrey, with all courtiers welcome to attend. A company of soldiers was dispatched to meet with the Mycott party with express instructions for where they would rendezvous with a map, pinpointing the exact point that they would meet the royal party in two days time. He also dictated the notice to be given to the nobles who would be accompanying the King. It was well past midnight by the time the preparations had all been made. Despite his words to the contrary, Oswald found his steps returning to his personal chambers after all. That angered him too. He had no reason to go back on his word. He could easily find a vacant apartment with very little trouble, but instead, he wanted to go and take a look at his sleeping wife and check – what? That the treacherous bitch hadn’t run off to Sitchmarsh and left him? He shook his head. It beggared belief that he should be reduced to this. Him? It was a bitter realization. He wouldn’t stay. He would collect some clothes and leave her there, sleeping in his bed. Where she belonged. The faithless, traitorous wife it seemed he could not do without.

When he reached their rooms, he found Mason up, clearly awaiting him. They eyed each other warily, and Oswald crossed the room to open his bedroom door and look inside. The huddle in the bed did not move and he could see Fen’s dark hair spread across the pillow. He shut the door and returned to the communal room where his brother was pouring him a glass of apple wine. Oswald walked to the table and wordlessly picked up the handwritten invitation on the top of a large pile. It was addressed to Lord and Lady Schaeffer inviting them to watch tomorrow night’s entertainment in the Great Hall. Oswald read it without comment, and dropped it back on top. He threw himself down into a chair opposite his brother and accepted the goblet that was passed to him.

“You’ve been busy,” Mason said, taking a swig of his own drink. “All the plans in place for Friday?” he asked referring to the collection of the princess.

Oswald gave a short nod. “As good as. You will accompany the King, of course.”

Mason grunted his assent. As one of Wymer’s most senior generals he could hardly get out of it. “Lot of fuss and nonsense,” he added. “But I suppose you had to appease the King somehow, as you were so determined to spare her neck.”

Oswald took an absent sip of his drink before replacing it carefully on the table top. He was in infrequent drinker, preferring to keep a clear head. He certainly could not afford to lose his wits over the next few days.

“What’s this business about us all going to watch a play on the morrow?” Mason asked, nodding toward the pile of invites that Fenella must have laboriously written out all evening.

“Seems pretty self-explanatory to me,” Oswald responded, mirthlessly.

“Presenting a united family front?” asked Mason, a pucker between his brows.

Oswald shrugged a shoulder.

“Seems a damned funny time for theatricals,” growled Mason. “When you’ve got all this other business afoot.”

Oswald gazed back at him stonily. “It is the Midwinter festival after all,” he said.

Mason’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to try and pass this off as part of the Solstice festivities?” he asked.

“I am,” said Oswald smoothly.

Mason shook his head. “You can fob off everyone else, but don’t try it with me.” Oswald said nothing. His brother narrowed his gaze at him and took another draught of apple wine. “What did she do?” he asked abruptly.

“I’m not about to discuss this with you,” said Oswald. “Or anyone.”

Mason nodded slowly at this. “What’s between a man and his wife is private,” he agreed, and almost in spite of himself, Oswald felt himself relax infinitesimally. “But if you need a brotherly opinion…” He shrugged. “You know where I am.”

“I do,” agreed Oswald. He took another sip of wine, and made a sudden decision. “I’m sending her down to Vawdrey Keep,” he said in a hard voice. “After the Solstice.”

Mason looked surprised, but held his tongue

“I’ll do better here, without her distracting me,” said Oswald calmly. “I’m in the midst of difficult negotiations at present.”

Mason shot him a strange look. “You’re always in the midst of difficult negotiations,” he said dryly. “If you send her away for that reason, you may as well give up on ever recalling her back.”