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“And as for my own experience,” Konrad continued dryly. “I consider the fact I never married to be a blessing. Grace Fultree would have been miserable indeed this last six years, rattling around Bartree Lodge with you!”

“Any wife of yours would be miserable!” Trude raged. “For you have a flinty heart and a cold, intractable nature!”

Konrad laughed. “Yet my wife seems content enough,” he pointed out with a shrug.

“Oh yes,” agreed Magnatrude. “She is vastly pleased with herself! But mark you, ’tis only because she does not know any better!”

The humor fell from his face. “Watch your words,” he warned in a low voice, and to do her justice, his sister looked instantly contrite.

“I did not mean –” she broke off, before adding in a low voice. “You know I did not mean her lack of breeding, brother.”

“Her breeding is none of your concern. It is thanks to her that the home of our ancestors is to be fully restored.”

“Thanks to her father, the rich merchant, you mean!”

“No,” Konrad corrected her swiftly. “For it was she that picked me out, not him.” His sister was struck speechless for once. He had surprised himself by sharing that fact with her. Was he bragging?

It suddenly occurred to him with uncomfortable clarity that Aimee might have a thing for tragic figures. He stroked unconsciously at his mangled cheek. Could that be why pretty Aimee had picked out the ugliest knight in Karadok for her groom? The notion displeased him. Dimly, he realized his sister was speaking once more. Some rubbish about the company of her fellow countrymen being a balm to her soul.

“Karadok is one unified country now,” he pointed out shortly. It was something he had never actually said aloud before. “You meet with these so-called countrymen in the palace of our former enemy, to whom they now bend the knee. Can you even hear yourself?” When Magnatrude opened her mouth to speak again, he threw up his hand. “Enough! You will show my wife due deference, Trude. Whether you like it or not. I will not have her insulted in her own home. Do you understand?”

His sister’s expression turned mutinous. “I have never –” she started, but jumped violently when he repeated the last two sentences in a thunderous roar. “I understand!” she gasped, clapping her hands to her ears.

“There will be no more hogging of that withdrawing chamber. It is not for your exclusive use. From tomorrow, you will act as a civil guest in her house. Leave now.”

Magnatrude hurried to the door, her face aflame. Once there, she hesitated with her hand on the latch. “What of my visit tomorrow to the palace?” she asked in a sullen voice. “Am I to go or not?”

“It’s a little late in the day to ask me that, isn’t it?”

“May I go?”

“If you wish it, but, Trude …”

“Yes?”

“At the tournament the following day, you will make the necessary introductions to my wife, do I make myself clear?”

An expression of anger entered her eyes, which she swiftly masked by lowering her gaze. “Yes, brother.”

“You may go.”

The door closed after her, and Konrad stared at it a moment with a heavy frown. He should have bundled Trude off to a convent years ago. She had fasted two days a week since girlhood and clearly thought herself some kind of martyr. Kimarne had doubtless known what he was about when he had thrown her over. Last he had heard, the bastard now had three fine sons to bear his name.

On impulse, he walked out of his room and up the corridor, pausing outside his wife’s room. Before he could change his mind, he rapped twice and then pushed at the unlatched door. Aimee was stood by the window holding up a gown to the light.

He cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”

“Of course!” She lowered the gown at once, threw it on top of the trunk, and turned to face him. “Did you like your new tunic?” she asked with a faintly anxious look in her eye.

New tunic? He nodded. For some reason, he couldn’t remember what it was he had been going to say. “It looks different in here,” he observed instead, looking about him.

“Oh yes.” She looked pleased by his comment and pointed at once up at the ceiling. He followed her finger uncomprehendingly. “The carpenter fixed it up for me so I could hang my bed curtains. And there’s more furniture, of course. Did you see I put one of our wedding chests in your room?”

He grunted. What the fuck was a wedding chest? She had put a whole bunch of clutter in his room, he knew that much.

“Would you like a seat?” she asked politely, gesturing toward two chairs she had set before the large fireplace. “Or … are you staying?” Her eyes darted to the bed, and her cheeks turned a little pinker, but she did not drop her gaze from his, and to his amazement, her expression looked more hopeful than otherwise.

She wanted that? He cleared his throat again and made his way over to a chair which he dropped down into. At once, she seemed to brighten right up and bustled over to a side table to pour some wine. When she fetched it to him and sank into the chair opposite, she was practically beaming.