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who you were.”
    “Good,” Milisant shot back. “Then when I return to the hall, ’twill be to hear that that silly contract has been set aside.”
    “I am not so sure of that,” Jhone said, biting her lip. “Would he have that power? To break a contract made by his father?”
    Milisant frowned. “Nay, I suppose not. Then I will just have to make sure that Papa breaks it. I was going to anyway, just did not think ’twould be necessary this soon.” And then she snorted. “And why would I think so? He could have come to claim me at any time these lastsix years, but he did not. Truly, I had all but forgotten about
him.”
    That was not exactly true, and they both knew it. Milisant had her heart set on another, yet could not wed him until the old contract that promised her to Wulfric de Thorpe was set aside. So she could not help but think about her long-standing betrothed, even if those thoughts had not been pleasant ones.
    “He may be tardy in showing up, Mili, but he has shown up. What if you do still have to wed him?”
    “I would sooner jump off yonder tower.”
    “Milisant!”
    “I did not say I would, just that I would rather.”
    Jhone leaned against the plank of the stall, not knowing how to make this easier for her sister, yet agonizing over her turmoil. It was cruel of de Thorpe to wait this long, without any communication, without once coming to visit so the two of them could gain knowledge of each other and be more at ease with the notion of their joining. She did not count that time that he did come all those years ago that had left such a bitter mark on her sister.
    With no word, and so much time passed, ’twas no wonder Milisant had turned her thoughts and heart to another young knight, one she approved of and greatly liked, one who did not mind that she was not like other girls. They were even good friends, and Jhone had learned firsthand that being friends with your husband-to-be made a great difference and alleviated much fear on the bride’s part.
    Jhone had been wed herself two years ago to a young man who
had
come often to visit since their betrothal when she reached her tenth year. So she’d had six years to get to know him and had been most pleased with him, and was still saddened over his loss, for he had died not long after.
    But she was the younger, and she had felt strange marrying ere Milisant did, and felt that her sister might feel somewhat embarrassed over it as well—and have yet another mark to hold against her betrothed because of it. Though Milisant had never admitted to any embarrassment, and if she had felt it, hid it well.
    “You really think Papa will agree to set the contract aside after the groom has shown up for you? You no longer have his absence to use as a weapon in your reasoning.”
    Milisant dropped her forehead to the stallion’s in a dejected manner. “He will,” she said so softly Jhone barely heard it and had to doubt the conviction of it, then louder as she looked back up. “He must. I
cannot
wed that—that brute, Jhone! He would smother me, try to break me. And once Papa knows that I love another, he will see reason. Just because Wulfric de Thorpe has finally shown up does not excuse the lateness of it, and ’twas the lateness of it that had me looking elsewhere.”
    That did sound reasonable and was in fact true. Up until two years ago, Milisant had not thought of breaking the contract that had been in existence since the year of her birth. She had hated it, and hated her betrothed, but she had been resigned to her fate—until even more timepassed and Wulfric still had not made an appearance, nor sent any excuses. And their father did often concede to Milisant’s wishes, or more to the point, he would eventually give up trying to make her conform to his.
    But for some reason, Jhone had a sinking feeling that Milisant would not succeed with their father this time. Contracts were a sacred thing that men adhered to, that women could not begin to