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He nodded absently. “I am here. Thinking. We must convince everyone in this house as well, or our plans are worthless. Let me spend a few evenings away. Lord Vieth invited us to his estates for the hunting season. I’ll go alone.”
“A good idea,” she said carefully. “When you come back, we can have an argument.”
“Very well.” Now he glanced toward her. “Shall I take a lover?”
Again that high fey tone.
“Do you want to?”
“No. Never.”
He reached across the table and gripped her hands.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Too much,” he said thickly. “Why not marry me and forget the world?”
“Because we are Ilse and Raul. Because we must be true to ou
rselves.”
* * *
RAUL LEFT THE next morning for two weeks with Lord Vieth and several of the governor’s household. During his absence, Ilse moved all her belongings to her old rooms. Mistress Denk said nothing, except to ask if Mistress Ilse wished any assistance.
“None,” Ilse said, as calmly as she could. “Thank you. I would rather do the work myself.”
She heard whispers, whenever she passed through the public rooms. Stares, quickly averted. Conversations broken off. A sense of unnatural restraint from those she loved the most. Raul had told her they must lie to their friends. She had not realized how difficult it would be.
The worst, the most difficult moments were with Kathe.
“Why did Lord Kosenmark leave without you?” Kathe said.
She had brought Ilse’s supper tray herself. But her manner was odd and awkward, with none of the friendly chatter from before.
“He went hunting,” Ilse said. “Lord Vieth invited him.”
Kathe frowned as she laid out the dishes. “I know that. Why didn’t you go with him?”
“He wanted time alone. To think about Lord Dedrick.”
“Strange,” Kathe murmured. “Not what I expected him to want.”
She curtsied and withdrew, leaving Ilse to pick at her food without any appetite. There was some truth in what she told Kathe. Lord Dedrick’s death was the reason behind this dreadful charade. If Khandarr had not executed him, she and Raul might be together this very moment.
By afternoon she had recovered her nerve. A courier had brought a packet from Melnek. Ilse reviewed the latest papers from her brother. Her share of the inheritance came to twenty-three thousand gold denier. As she had requested, Ehren had sold off several of their farms and deposited the money with Lord Kosenmark’s agent in Tiralien. He had also signed over several other holdings; she would receive the rents and interest quarterly.
I am rich. I could live wherever I wanted.
She had her wish from long ago, when she had lived in her father’s house. The thought made her queasy. She sighed and poured herself a cup of strong tea, then reviewed the list of agents Raul had drawn up. There were three whom Raul recommended as the most reliable—Maester Harro Stangel, Mistress Emma Beck, and Maester Felix Massow. All of them had connections throughout the eastern provinces. Felix Massow had offices in Duenne as well, while Emma Beck had associates near Károví.
Ilse wrote letters to all three, asking for more details about their businesses, and how they might help her to invest her holdings. She secured the letters in her letter box—she would post them after she and Raul had had their first public argument.
Restless, she left her rooms for the rooftop gardens. It was a fair autumn day, the skies a clear dark blue. The seas were choppy, however, and low clouds obscured the eastern horizon. A summer’s day in Melnek is an autumn day here, she thought. What were the seasons like in Osterling?
She heard footsteps—Raul hurrying toward her. He swept Ilse into a tight and breathless embrace. “I came early. I couldn’t wait.”
She leaned against his chest, breathing in his scent. Horse and sweat and leather and musk. Him. Exactly him. “I’m glad. What did you say to Lord Vieth?”
