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her?
    With a laugh, Daraja said, “It’s less exciting than you might think.”
    Clearing his throat, Brynmor pretended he hadn’t been caught thinking out loud. “How so?”
    “For one thing, my siblings are all married. They have children or don’t, but their lives have begun. They have someone to welcome them home after a good hunt, someone who shares their dreams and hopes.” She snorted. “Or at least my brothers have the sense to pretend that they do.”
    Then they were wise males indeed. “You’re close to your brothers?”
    “Yes.” Her voice softened. “They were— are —protective of me.”
    “They’re good brothers then.”
    “They are.” She asked, “What about you? Do you have any siblings?”
    “No.”
    “What about your son? He’s your only child?”
    “His mother…” Brynmor’s gut tightened. “She has another son.”
    “Good for him.” She gestured with her hand. “An older brother is a good thing for a boy.”
    The words refused to come the first time. “He’s younger than my son.”
    “How is that…?” Daraja’s shoulders tensed. “Oh.”
    Once freed, the story flowed from his memory. “My wife’s clan was indebted to mine. Clan war had broken out on their border, and we protected them. But the war ran long and the cost ran high. At the end, their debt was more than they could afford.” He exhaled. “Instead of gold, they offered me a young female from their clan. Her name was Isolde, and she enchanted me. Though I knew she loved another male, deeply, I was convinced that she would learn to love me in time.”
    Daraja turned. “If she loved him, then why not marry him?”
    “He was a poor Salticidae farmer,” Brynmor said. “He failed to pay her bride price.”
    Her features were carefully kept blank. “Her father sold her.”
    “He did.” Brynmor rubbed his face. “She squared her clan’s debt with mine. She prevented a difficult situation from becoming much worse. My clan was poor, and I couldn’t let their debt go uncollected, or rumors of my mercy would spread until my clan starved to pay for my kindness.”
    “I understand.” She frowned. “Your wife had one of those private liaisons you mentioned?”
    “She did.”
    Her head tilted to one side. “How did you react?”
    “I cut out her lover’s heart, before her and our son.” His voice turned grave. “Then I ate it.”
    Surprise parted her lips. “That was unexpected.”
    “I don’t remember doing it.” He ruffled his hair. “The blood, the taste, came after.”
    Her eyes bored into his. “Do you regret your actions?”
    “To regret meeting my wife is to regret her birthing my son when he was the one good thing born from my life. To regret my actions with her lover is to condone their actions, and I can’t. A vow is a vow, and she broke her promises to me.” He exhaled. “That insult I could not forgive.”
    “I take it she never forgave you, either.”
    “Never.” He met her gaze. “She would have sunk a blade in my heart if not for her son.”
    “Don’t you mean your—?” Daraja’s eyes shut. “She bore her lover’s bastard.”
    “She did.”
    She peered at him through thick lashes. “You let him live?”
    “I did.”
    Her sigh of relief was audible. “That was also unexpected.”
    “He was raised by his father’s people,” he added before she thought to ask.
    The fact he allowed his wife to carry the child to term surprised him as well. After the child was born, Brynmor had their physician announce the babe stillborn. He allowed one of his wife’s relatives to secret the child away to be raised among its father’s clan where Brynmor didn’t have to gaze into its vibrant green eyes and recall the face of the male he killed in a fit of jealous rage.
    The brush of slight fingers across his cheek distracted him from his thoughts.
    “You really did love her.” Sorrow tinged Daraja’s voice.
    “I loved the idea of her at least.” He forced a tight smile.