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this.”
    Aye , David thought. But it is just as well that he cannot. He thought a moment about his dead master and partner, the man who had probably saved him from a life in the alleys. A good man, David Constantyn, whose faith in his young apprentice had made them both rich and permitted David to become the man he was today. He had loved his master more than a son does a father.
    It was out of respect and love that he had bided his time and waited. Waited for his master's death before planting those fields that waited to be harvested now. Better that he is not here, for there is much that honest man wouldn't like , David thought. But then, he was shrewd, and might not be so surprised. He probably knew what he had in me.
    They rode through the town of Westminster to the castle and buildings that housed the court and the government. David led the way to the royal chapel.
    People milled around outside its doors. The King's approach caused no commotion or even much attention. Edward and Philippa led their children and their closest retainers in for the daily mass. David had no trouble locating Christiana in the group, because she wore the redcloak. Her eyes did not seek him out as she silently between Joan and Lady Idonia.
    A page had reserved space for David behind the royal family. At the other end of his row stood the rigid form of Morvan Fitzwaryn. In front of him Christiana focused her attention on the priest at the altar, not once turning her head.
    The mass was brief and after it the priest came down from the altar and called Christiana and himself forward. Christiana, her cloak still on to ward off the chill in the chapel, went to her brother, then the two of them joined David in front of the priest. He looked over at her and saw a vacant expression in her eyes as she trained her gaze on a spot somewhere in the distance. She looked noble and calm and emotionally void.
    Morvan took her hand and placed it in David's. It felt incredibly small and soft. One slight tremble shook her arm, and then they listened to the priest's prayer before pledging their troth. She recited the words like a school lesson, her expressionless chant suggesting that they held no meaning, if indeed she even heard them.
    She turned for the betrothal kiss, lifting her face dutifully but keeping her eyes downcast. David felt an odd combination of sympathy and annoyance.
    In the law of the church and the realm, she belonged to him now, but she had carefully managed not to see or acknowledge him since her arrival. It had been subtle, and he knew that she had done it for her own sake and to control her own pain. She had not deliberately tried to insult him. He simply didn't matter. He doubted that anyone but Morvan had even noticed.
    He suspected that Christiana sought to turn this betrothal into a dream so that she could wake whenher lover came and find that it had conveniently never really happened. That he understood this girl did not mean, however, that he felt inclined to indulge her illusions with the dutiful kiss that she now offered and expected.
    He did not care that the King and Queen stood nearby, nor that the angry brother watched. This was solely between him and her.
    He stepped close to her and laid his hand on her cheek. A small tremor awoke beneath his touch.
    The hood of her cloak still rested atop her head, hiding her hair. He could tell that she wore it unbound, a symbol of virginity, as was traditional for the ceremony. With his other hand he pushed the hood away. The thick black locks cascaded down her back, and his hand followed until he embraced her.
    “Look at me, Christiana,” he commanded quietly.
    The black lashes fluttered. The creamy lids rose slowly. Two diamonds flashed startled alertness and fear.
    He lowered his head and tasted the soft sweetness of her trembling lips.

CHAPTER 3
    C HRISTIANA STUDIED THE chessboard propped on the chest between her and Joan. She shifted a pawn. Joan quickly took one of her knights.