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keep your rutting hands to yourself!"
    Again she dissolved into laughter.
    Abruptly, the reality of the situation sunk into his dazed mind. She was right. When trading on his title had not worked, he had actually been about to hit the man—hit an innocent innkeeper! And why? Because some dancer had tossed him aside like so much rancid meat.
    He stared at his fists, still clenched in anger. The innkeeper slipped backwards, his bald pate glistening with sweat.
    "My lord—"
    "No." Kiril's single word was harsh. Then he took a deep breath and continued in a more measured tone. "My apologies to you and to the dancer. I understand your rules and will of course respect them." He glanced sideways, seeing Sabina's disdainful smirk.
    "He will, or he will forfeit his every cent to me," she said, her voice casual as she pushed away from their table and stood.
    The innkeeper shifted, rushing to assist Sabina with her chair. "My lord?" he asked.
    Kiril shook his head. "Nothing. Merely a wager, nothing more."
    Sabina smiled, but her voice kept its hard edge of cynicism. "As delightful as this evening was, Master Talned, I believe I have had quite enough entertainment. Don't you agree, Kiril?"
    Kiril bowed politely, knowing that any other response would be to invite forfeiture of his bet.
    The innkeeper was quick to assist. "I shall have your carriage brought round immediately." Then the nervous man bowed twice before rushing away.
    All around them, the inn's patrons returned to drinking and muttering amongst themselves. They, too, realized that the show was over. They would get no more entertainment from their newest governor. Of course, many kept an eye on Kiril just in case they were wrong.
    Twenty beats later, they were in his carriage, riding along the dark streets while Sabina began her scold.
    "A dancer, Kiril. One dancer tells you to keep your hands to yourself, and you throw it all away." Sabina's voice was bitter, filling the dark carriage with her disillusionment.
    "Do you wish to leave my employ?" Kiril's voice was equally acerbic, though his tone held self-disgust, not anger.
    True to form, Sabina took her time responding, allowing him to fret over her decision. D'greth, he couldn't lose her now, not after just gaining the governorship. It would destroy him, and well she knew it.
    "No. Not yet. But—"
    "Then the wager is not forfeit," he interrupted. "And we will speak no more of it."
    She spun in the confined carriage, her ample body straining the ties that bound her bodice. "Dragon's eyes, Kiril, we will speak of it, and we will speak now! Have you forgotten what is at risk here? You can have everything. Do not throw away your wealth, your power, d'greth, your very ideals for a common tavern dancer!"
    "There was nothing common about her!" he retorted hotly.
    "There never is," she replied just as quickly. "At least not until after her legs have spread and you are pulling on your pants."
    Kiril winced at her crude statement. "Vulgarity ill becomes you."
    "As it does you." She leaned back, her expression softening on a heartfelt sigh. "Kiril, this has nothing to do with the dancer. I don't care if she was the most voluptuous whore in all Dag Radio's kingdom."
    "She's not a whore. She refused me, remember?" His words were mere reflex, a muttered complaint to stave off the coming lecture. And true to form, she ignored him, knowing his words for the distraction they were. But when she spoke, it was not the lecture he had anticipated but something else entirely.
    "My skills are prized the kingdom over. There is no one with my financial ability this side of the three seas." She paused, waiting for him to comment. He did so quietly, warily.
    "I know."
    "I could share my bed and my talents with kings, lords, any man I wish."
    Another pause, and again Kiril responded, "I know that."
    "But I choose you. Do you know why?"
    This time he didn't answer. He had asked himself this very question a thousand times, sometimes of Sabina herself,