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uncommonly romantic. No wonder you have such curious features.”
    Rema smiled. How quaint that these people imagined their pale, broad faces to be the standard of ordinary humanity. “Our life was romantic too. Sometimes we’d lose all our money and have to live in some forgotten kingdom until my parents earned enough to get us moving again. It taught me a little about the world.”
    “That’s a very colorful childhood. But it doesn’t explain how or why you became a diplomat, does it?”
    “She’s a good-looking woman,” said Cedrin, exposing teeth greasy with food. “I’m sure we can guess how she did it, if not why.”
    The comment was too banal to incite any real indignation in Rema, but Talitha narrowed her eyes. “You’re drunk already. Apologize to our guest.”
    “I think she can take care of herself.” Cedrin lifted his fork and shook the ragged piece of meat that hung from its end. “I meant it only as a joke.”
    “Have no fear,” said Rema. “I’ve heard that insinuation so often that it’s ceased to shock me. And it’s not how I earned my position, no.”
    “Well.” Talitha chewed a trembling piece of pudding until its dark juices ran out of the corner of her mouth. “I won’t ask you to tell me everything yet. You can do so later with the breath you haven’t wasted trying to persuade us to accept your ridiculous terms.”
    “I already accepted her terms.” Cedrin stared into his mug as he spoke. “All that remains is to ensure the military provisions are sufficient.”
    “You did what?” Talitha dropped her fork. A metallic shiver rang out across the table, and Cedrin lowered his napkin, revealing the sour cast to his lips. “You agreed to give up Elise? Are you mad?”
    “Are you? We can’t last another month, Talitha!”
    “You won’t last another week unless you recant immediately.” Talitha trembled with anger; how ironic that her fury was directed at her husband and not the diplomat who had arranged the misfortune. “You idiot, do you know what will happen to her over there?”
    “Perhaps she’ll have some sense knocked into her. Get a few children into the world before she’s barren.”
    “Disgusting!” Talitha’s complexion approached a dramatic shade of purple. “You sound like Calan. I doubt you even believe those foul words yourself. You’re just trying to escape into piggish denial.”
    This was clearly a long-running quarrel, best left to those most practiced in it. “Perhaps I should excuse myself,” said Rema.
    Talitha pressed her leathery fingertips to Rema’s hand. “Yes, that would be best. I have some very strong words for my husband.”
    Cedrin poured himself a deep goblet of wine. “It’ll be a long night.”
    Rema bowed quickly before closing the door on Talitha’s heated tirade. She walked back to the front court, her coat keeping out little of the nocturnal chill, and stretched flat on one of the benches. The ceiling above her was wreathed in shadow, and as she stared at it, her tension subsided. It was quiet but for a few servants shuffling through the court and the echoing tread of guards in the hallways. One could almost imagine sleeping here.
    She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, and her thoughts drifted to Elise. A provincial pit like Danosha was no place for an assertive, ambitious woman, especially one attracted to her own sex. There were few things more despicable than these cruel eastern kingdoms, some of which even imposed death upon women for loving one another. What relief was in sight for this defiant princess, for whom even loneliness would be better than a life under Ormun’s cruelty?
    The sound of footsteps roused her, and she sat up. Loric smiled shyly as he approached. “Yorin did arrange you a proper bedroom, didn’t he?”
    “I was just taking a moment to rest. I’ve come from dinner with your parents.”
    Loric sat on the bench beside her. “And I’ve come from dinner with my sister. She’s