The salad was followed by a lamb dish, served with cool mint that contrasted sharply with the lamb’s hot spices in the best possible way. It was served on a bed of wild rice and … two other small grains that resembled rice, but weren’t.

  The spice was strong enough that Aefric had to give his mouth a break every few bites for a taste of soft, flat bread dipped in mint yoghurt.

  Just as well. The fine, strong red wine they shared over the main course was good enough that he didn’t want to distract his tongue from it with spices. And it went well with the yoghurt.

  They spoke about Kivash for a time. About its shipping. The troubles she expected from Malimfar that necessitated keeping six of her warships in the harbor. And Ashling’s plans for north-side expansion and the like. Which brought up an interesting question for Aefric.

  “Will you be renaming it?”

  “The castle?” she asked, glancing about. “I haven’t decided yet. My historians are still researching its origins.”

  “I meant Kivash. Now that it’s entirely yours.”

  “Oh, no,” she said with a smile. “Kivash was the name of the first city at the mouth of this river. Care to guess when that was?”

  “Back when this region was part of the principality of Fyr?”

  Ashling nodded with a smile and savored a bite of lamb.

  “Does Merrek go back to Fyr as well? An old duchy or something?”

  Ashling winced as though the lamb had gone sour in her mouth. Took a hard swallow of wine.

  “I take it that’s a no?” Aefric asked carefully.

  “Merrek Stonghand was the first king of Armyr,” Ashling said. “He named our duchy after himself so the name would serve as a constant reminder to my family of ‘our place,’ even while ‘honoring’ us with the duchy as ‘thanks’ for our help in establishing Armyr in the first place.”

  “I’m sorry,” Aefric said.

  “You didn’t know,” Ashling said waving it away, though her smile wasn’t quite sincere again yet. “It’s not a topic we like to talk about.” Her smile got warmer again as she continued. “For the most part, we don’t even think about it anymore. We’ve very much made the land our own again, and built it into a force to be reckoned with.”

  She drew a long, slow breath. Let it out with a chuckle. “You just caught me off-guard. Asking about its origin that way.”

  “Then let’s talk about something else,” Aefric said, bringing the subject back to Ashling’s plans for Kivash. Which eventually brought them around to the question of Hrafnvigi.

  “How did your knights come to be injured?” she asked. “Temat and Arras aren’t exactly inept. Were they unarmored?”

  “They wore their full plate,” Aefric said, and told the tale of the skeletons hidden in that last cell. “The skeletons attacked from surprise. Near as I can tell, Ser Temat was caught under the armpit because his arm had been extended, opening the door. Ser Arras, under her breastplate, while she was heaving him back to safety.”

  “Two unlucky stabs then,” Ashling said, shaking her head.

  “Possibly,” Aefric said. “But perhaps not. There was more magic involved than was needed to animate the skeletons. They’d been charmed so that only magical weapons could harm them. Which might—”

  “That can be done?” Ashling asked, dropping her fork. “That’s a spell you wizards know? Why aren’t all nobles protected thus?”

  “Because it isn’t easy, because the spell isn’t well-known, and mostly because it can’t be cast on the living.”

  Ashling shook her head. “Surely you could find a way to overcome that limitation, as you have so many others.”

  “Perhaps,” Aefric said. “With enough time, and the right research materials.” He shook his head. “But even so, it would likely take me decades.”

  “Decades?” she said, sounding disappointed.

  “At least,” Aefric said. He tried for a comforting tone when he added, “If it were easily done, someone would have figured out how, by now.”

  “True,” she said distractedly.

  From the calculating look in her startling eyes, Aefric suspected that she would give the research task to her ducal wizard, Sirondfar.

  She looked back at Aefric and frowned. “Still. This happened in a castle I gave you. I apologize for that.”

  “There’s no need,” Aefric said. “I allowed myself to be lulled beyond caution. I should have known better, and I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Ashling raised her wine goblet. “To not repeating mistakes.”

  Aefric raised his glass in solidarity, and they both drank.

  “You’ll sleep here tonight, won’t you?” she asked, suddenly enough that Aefric needed a moment to realize what she’d said.

  “I would be happy to accept hospitality—”

  “Oh, Aefric,” Ashling said, waving dismissively, “I’m not trying to trap you into anything. Don’t be so formal. It’s apparent that your new castle will take some clearing before you can be assured of sleeping in safety there. I’d be happy to host you in the meantime.”

  “This isn’t a way to get me to spend time with Zoleen?”

  “Ah, Zoleen,” Ashling said with a sigh. “I do apologize for her, Aefric. She’s the youngest, and Mother spoiled her. I sent her to Water’s End to charm you. I don’t deny it. I’d love to see you married into my family. But it never occurred to me that she’d act as though you two were already promised to one another.”

  “Did she tell you what she did?”

  “She told me her view of things, and I suspect I can guess the truth.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter whether I know or not. You’re the one she wronged. Tell me. Do you think you can forgive her? With time?”

  “Forgive her?” Aefric said. “Yes. But trust her? No. She still doesn’t seem to understand where she went wrong, even though I’ve been pretty explicit in my explanations.”

  “Of course you were,” Ashling said, shaking her head. “Mother really did Zoleen no favors. With Colm intent on finding a bride for Killian among the princesses of other kingdoms, and her bridges burnt with you, Zoleen’s prospects are not great.”

  “Surely there are foreign nobles who would be thrilled to marry her.”

  “Of course,” Ashling said. “Perhaps as many as want to marry me. But the issue isn’t whether or not she’ll marry, but whether or not we can make her the right marriage.”

  “So it’s not just about title and land?” Aefric asked.

  “She is a Fyrenn,” Ashling said. “We have … more considerations than most nobles require. Which is why I am now two years into my own marriage negotiations.”

  “That’s right,” Aefric said. “You’re unmarried.”

  Ashling fluttered her eyelashes. “Why Aefric, should I consider myself a contender for your hand?”

  “My advisers think you are already, after our conversation last spring. Even though I told them you were joking.”

  “I was,” she said philosophically. “But I do think we’d make a good match, and produce children that could bring the world to its knees.”

  Aefric frowned, unsure if she was joking this time…

  “Relax, Aefric,” Ashling said with a smile. “I’m not proposing. But I do think it’s an option not to be discarded out of hand.”

  “Even though you favor women.”

  “Oh, I think that would work for us,” Ashling said with a smile. “Think of all the willing beauties we could share in the process of your getting me with children.”

  She tilted her head. “In fact, perhaps we should share the noble privilege sometime. The two of us seeking the bliss moment aided by a noblewoman or two. See how we are together.”

  “My point was,” Aefric said, trying to drag the conversation kicking and screaming back where he wanted it, “you aren’t married, either. I’m getting all this pressure to marry, so why aren’t you?”

  “Oh, that,” she said, waving her hand.

  She smiled with her eyes and made Aefric wait while she savored another bite of lamb.

  He took the excuse to eat a little more of it himself. It really was good, if a little…

  Aefric quickly grabbed a piece of flatbread, dunked it in the mint yoghurt and shoved it into his mouth.

  He was already sweating by the time the yoghurt soothed his tongue.

  Apparently that bite had been extra spicy.

  “Now,” Ashling said, taking a swallow of her wine. “You asked why I’m not getting pressure to marry. First, I have heirs.”

  “Mekel,” Aefric said, referring to her younger brother, “and Zoleen?”

  “Yes, them, but they’re in line after my son Dives.”

  Ashling had a son?

  Aefric wasn’t sure exactly what he looked like, as he sat there, stunned by the revelation that Ashling had a son. Slack-jawed, yes. Wide-eyed, sure. But there must’ve been something more to it.

  In the moments following that revelation, Aefric’s mouth forgot the taste of the spiced lamb, the mint yoghurt, even the rich red wine.

  He wasn’t even aware of the softness of the pillows he sat on, or the first hints of approaching sunset, from out over the Risen Sea.

  Ashling’s eyes danced with mirth, and she quirked both a smile and an eyebrow.

  “I never said you’d be the first man inside me, Aefric. I experimented quite a bit around my majority.”

  “That’s not what surprised me,” Aefric said.

  “Oh, I know. You didn’t know about Dives. I don’t draw a lot of attention to the poor boy, because he’ll have more than he can handle soon enough.” She gave a wistful smile. “Gorgeous child, but then, so was his father. Skin like mahogany, and eyes like caramel.”

  She sipped her wine.

  “I came into my duchy when Father died, early in the Godswalk Wars. So much was happening so quickly, that I decided I needed an heir more than I needed a husband. So I saw to it that I got pregnant, and made sure to acknowledge the bastard even before his birth.”

  “But…” Aefric shook his head. “Doesn’t having an acknowledged bastard hurt your marriage prospects? I mean, your future husband will know that his own children will be in line for the duchy behind Dives.”

  “Thus,” Ashling said, spearing some lamb with her fork, “two years of negotiations.”

  She frowned at Aefric as she chewed her lamb, while he sipped a little of his wine.

  “You know,” she said, “that wouldn’t be a concern for you, would it? I mean, my bastard wouldn’t have anything to do with Deepwater or passing down your own lands.”

  “If we married, you mean.”

  Ashling nodded.

  “Well, I’ve had to hear a lot of talk about bloodlines—”

  Ashling started laughing, but it didn’t seem to be at his expense this time.

  “Oh, very good, Aefric,” she said finally. “The essence of nobility in a single statement. It’s not about who rules now, but who rules tomorrow.”

  She chuckled a little more and said, “And you’re quite right. If Dives lives to hold the duchy and sire his own heir, your children would be cut out of Merrek, but mine would be part of Deepwater.”

  “That does make you a less appealing marriage prospect,” Aefric said, hardly able to believe that those words had come out of his mouth.

  How different his life was here from Keifer’s life on Earth. As Keifer, he’d married Andi for love alone, and nothing else…

  “I know,” Ashling said, shrugging one shoulder and bringing Aefric’s attention back to the present. “Capricious youth. If Dives weren’t so marvelous a son, I’d be tempted to declare him unfit to hold the duchy and make of him a knight or ler.”

  “Sounds a bit extreme,” Aefric said.

  “Oh, I’d never do it. Not to Dives.” For a moment, Aefric saw what might’ve been the most sincere smile he ever saw from her pass through those eyes.

  In a flash, it was gone.

  “But since I’m no longer a prospect to marry you,” she said. “If I can get Zoleen to really understand what she did wrong, and swear never to do it again, would you be willing to give her another chance?”

  “If I can believe she’s sincere, I suppose.”

  “Good enough,” she said. “And I understand Eppi has promised to give a title and dowry to Sighild Ol’Masarkor, if you favor her over Zoleen.”

  “She has,” Aefric said, remembering the queen’s promise. “And I do like Sighild.”

  “I don’t blame you. If she weren’t a cousin, I’d probably have bedded her by now myself. Eppi would have to provide quite a bit to make her a worthier bride than Zoleen, though.”

  “She seemed confident that she could,” Aefric said.

  “Eppi has never lacked confidence,” Ashling said. “I think that’s part of what Colm loves about her.”

  She turned a shrewd expression on Aefric.

  “But Sighild isn’t Zoleen’s major competition, is she? I imagine that that magnificent beauty Byrhta Ol’Caran is a leading the way right now. Even though she has almost as many drawbacks as Vercy Ol’Karmak, and no royal patron to see her titled or dowered well enough to make a match for you.”

  Aefric restrained himself from telling Ashling that King Colm had offered to give Byrhta a dowry, if Aefric wanted to marry her.

  Fortunately, thoughts of Byrhta seemed to distract Ashling, and Aefric tried to change the subject.

  “What was the second reason you don’t get the pressure to marry that I do?”

  “We’ll get to that in a moment,” Ashling said, digging around for more lamb. “First, I imagine you still have hopes of making Maev your bride?”

  Ah, Maev. Princess of Armyr, and a wonder unto herself.

  Alas, Maev. Down in Varondam, conducting alliance negotiations with their king that might involve her marrying him.

  But there was no point in denying so obvious a truth.

  “I do,” Aefric said.

  “Well. Then it seems that competition is thick on the ground for the hand of our dear new Duke of Deepwater.” Ashling smiled. “But if I might add one more name to your deliberations?”

  Aefric girded himself through a breath. “Who?”

  “Cyneswith,” Ashling said. “I know she’s young, but she’s heir to a county, and her family is almost as old as mine. She’d be a good match for you. Not as good as Zoleen, of course, but arguably better than Sighild. And if you married Cyneswith, that would make all my vassals happy and give them a connection to you that I can live with.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Please, Aefric,” Ashling said. “At least say you’ll consider her.”

  Aefric cocked his head. “You don’t care if I truly do consider her. You just want me to say that to help defray damage from my kissing her hand.”

  “You’re quite right, of course,” Ashling said, not even looking as though Aefric had caught her at anything devious. “Your expressed interest would only lend weight to what I was saying about your being charmed by her. And it wouldn’t commit you to marrying her, if that’s what you fear.”

  Aefric didn’t like the idea. But he also didn’t like the spot he’d put Ashling in.

  “This won’t hurt Cyneswith, will it?”

  Ashling shook her head. “She’s smart enough to know her chances would be slim, given her competition. But your considering her would make her happy, make her mother happy, and draw favorable attention to her. In truth, you might be helping her as much as me.”

  Ashling smiled winningly.

  Aefric sighed. “So long as you don’t send her or Zoleen to my rooms tonight.”

  “And if I show up myself?” Ashling asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

  Aefric started to say something. Stopped. Started again. Stopped. Frowned. Shook his head.

  “You know,” he finally said, “I don’t know what I’d expect, if you came to my rooms for the noble privilege. But I wouldn’t send you away.”

  “Truly?” Ashling asked, as though surprised.

  “Truly,” Aefric said. “I find that I actually do like you, Ashling. And your beauty is certainly stirring. I’d be as curious to see what we’d be like in bed together as I suspect you would be. If you showed up at my door.”

  Ashling nodded, smiling.

  “In that case, when we’re alone, you can call me Ash, if you like.”

  They spoke of small things as they finished with their lamb. And the dessert that followed was truly a marvel.

  Whipped cream and chocolate and juicy, nearly overripe raspberries, all held together by an almost airy cake that made Aefric feel as though he were eating a dream.

  Reality was the good, strong coffee served with it.

  Ashling slowed down about halfway through her portion of the dessert. Toyed with her fork among the cream.

  “And now,” she said, “I believe you were curious about the second reason you get pressure to marry that I don’t.”

  Aefric nodded. Savored a slow, lingering bite blending the ripe raspberries with the chocolate and cream.

  “In truth, I don’t want to admit this,” she said. “Doing so goes against everything I’ve been taught. But by Elbar’s Blood, I find that I like you too, Aefric.”

  She frowned at him.

  “I do hope that’s not going to cause me problems,” she said.

  “I don’t see why it would,” Aefric said. “Surely we’ll work together better if we like one another.”

  Ashling sighed. “You’re too new to nobility to understand. If you remind me, we’ll discuss the subject again in a decade or two.”

  “The second reason, you mean?”

  “No,” she said with an exasperated smile. “See? By reflex alone I was trying to change the subject.”

  She shook her head.

  “Would it help if you wrote it down?”

  “Are you joking?” Ashling asked, sitting up straight. “I’d never commit these words to paper. And if anyone asks, I’ll deny I said them.”

  “What words?”

  Ashling sighed heavily.

  “The second reason is power. In your first year or so as duke, you’ll make many decisions and commitments that will influence the future of your duchy. More than you can guess.”