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what was between his legs—just like Lyell. With Moswen leading Halian, and Kiele leading her . . . .
    A shift of light in the mirror caught her attention, and the door behind her swung open to admit her husband. Lyell was an angular, pallid man whose blue eyes and nearly colorless blond hair were more faded than ever by the Waesian colors of red and yellow that made up his formal clothes. Kiele frowned slightly as he approached her, for she had ordered his squires to dress him in a shade of green to complement her own gown. They would have been a matched set, and Clutha would have been honored by their wearing his color. But Lyell was stubborn about his family dignity and wore his own colors on all formal occasions. In some ways his stubbornness had served Kiele well, for she might have made some tactical errors in the past if not for Lyell’s insistence on the rigidities of tradition. Faint gratitude stirred at the memory, and her frown became a smile by the time he crossed the chamber and stood behind her.
    “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking her bared shoulder.
    “Thank you, my lord,” she said demurely. “I had thought to save this gown for the Rialla, but—”
    “Wear it then, too. Not even High Princess Sioned can have anything so magnificent.”
    Mention of Rohan’s Sunrunner wife, who with her fire-gold hair and forest-deep eyes wore green even better than Kiele did, decided her against making the dress part of her Rialla wardrobe. “Did you have something to tell me?”
    “A letter arrived for you from somebody in Einar. You said you didn’t wish to be disturbed while dressing, so I opened it for you.” He produced a piece of folded parchment from his pocket.
    A curse nearly left her lips when she recognized the handwriting and the remains of a dark blue wax seal. Forcing herself to stay calm and casual as she placed the letter aside, she said, “It’s from my childhood nurse, Afina, who married a merchant in Einar.” It was the truth, but she did not add that Afina had been the only servant at Castle Crag to care for her after her sister died of Plague. Afina had wanted to come to Waes, but had been persuaded that she could be much more useful in the vital port of Einar, the first link in Kiele’s chain of informants. Merchants heard everything, and usually passed it on to their wives.
    “A boring letter, really—just family news. I don’t know why you bother with a former servant, Kiele.”
    “She was very kind to me when I was a little girl.” To distract him from the subject, sure to touch soon on the unsuitability of the Lady of Waes corresponding with a mere merchant’s wife, she brought her arms closer together to deepen the valley between her breasts. Lyell’s fingers strayed downward from her shoulders, as she had intended.
    “Let’s go down late for dinner,” he suggested.
    “Lyell! It took me all afternoon to put this on!”
    “It’ll take only a few moments to get it off you.”
    “We don’t dare insult Clutha,” she scolded, winking at him. “On any other night—”
    “But it would be perfect now. I’ve talked with your women. This is the right time to make another heir.”
    Kiele vowed to dismiss whichever of her maids had been blabbing. She had learned long ago that men strayed when their women were child-heavy; her father had never been able to bear the sight of his mistresses during pregnancy. Kiele had fulfilled her duty by giving Lyell a son and a daughter. Conception tonight would mean she would be bulky and uncomfortable by the late summer, when she would need all her wit and charm—and when other women would be at their loveliest in pursuit of the richest and most powerful men. Lyell had been the key to the locked walls of Castle Crag for her; she did not love him and never had. But he was useful, and he was hers, and she did not intend for him to seek other beds. Once she ruled Meadowlord through Moswen and Halian, then Lyell could mount as