Kelena’s heart fluttered as she peered around the bedchamber. During the feast, servants had moved her belongings into her new husband’s quarters in the officers’ barracks. Clarencio’s apartments were comprised of a small antechamber with an open archway leading to the bedchamber. The officers’ barracks abutted the western portion of the redoubt wall, and as such, the central chambers were windowless. That would be a relief for Alaan.

  But through the grafting, Alaan didn’t feel relieved. Her Thorn stalked the utilitarian rooms, searching and securing as if this were any other day. Except that today when he finished, he would step outside and stand guard in the corridor, leaving Kelena alone with her husband.

  She suppressed a jitter of nerves and tried to look happy.

  In a small trunk of household items, the pirate found a set of dining utensils and removed the knives. Soon after, tucked into Clarencio’s clothing, Alaan found a larger, dirty-looking dagger wrapped in cloth.

  “I’d like that one back when you’re finished with it,” the duke said from a chair at the antechamber’s little table. He massaged his lamed thigh absently. “A man only gets so many keepsakes before his would-be assassins manage to finish the job. By the way, don’t cut yourself with it. The poison may still be active.”

  Alaan added the dagger to the growing pile and continued in his hunt.

  When he finally finished searching out all the blades in the apartments, he returned to Clarencio.

  “Your cane.” He held out a hand.

  Clarencio eyed him suspiciously. “What about it?”

  “It is a concealed blade,” Alaan said.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “The scrollwork on the thumbplate is a hidden catch. It must release a rapier or narrow-bladed dirk from the shaft.”

  “Impressive.” Clarencio lifted the walking stick to inspect the bit Alaan had indicated. “How could you tell?”

  Kelena smiled proudly. “Alaan’s very talented at crafting things. He built my sleeping chest in one night. You should see the interior when the lid is closed. It’s beautiful.”

  Rather than lift the pirate’s dark mood as she’d hoped, Kelena felt a stab of pain at her praise. She shut her idiot mouth.

  “Its sides are wearing,” Alaan told Clarencio. “The stationary portion around the catch must rub when you press it. Give me the cane, or I will not leave the room.”

  “And if I need to hobble to the latrines in the middle of the night, should I ring for you?”

  The pirate waited, hand out.

  Kelena swallowed around the lump in her throat. In the grafting, a wound bled and bled. She couldn’t tell whether it was hers or his.

  Matching Alaan’s scowl, Clarencio limped to the bed, his walking stick tapping on the flagstones. With obvious reluctance, he sat and handed over the weaponized cane.

  “I’ll need it back at first dark,” he said.

  Alaan wouldn’t meet Kelena’s eyes while he deposited the blades in the corridor. She could feel him trying to stem the bleeding. When he couldn’t, he drowned the sensation in an ocean of determination, offering that to her instead.

  Gratefully, guiltily, she drew on that endless deep.

  The antechamber door had a bar that dropped into a crude hook on the wall when shut. A leather cord passed through a hole in the door so it could be opened from the outside. If the occupant didn’t want to be disturbed, the cord could be pulled in so the bar couldn’t be lifted from without.

  The pirate turned back in the doorway with his hand on the portal. Stormy gray-green eyes glanced over Kelena and back to Clarencio.

  “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

  Clarencio shifted on the bed. “Not to be crass, but you do know that if she’s a maiden, there will be some pain?”

  Kelena wasn’t sure whether Alaan’s scowl darkened noticeably or she only thought so because she could feel the rush of anger through the grafting.

  “I am not an ignorant child.”

  “Just making sure I’m not going to get a swordbreaker in the back,” Clarencio said.

  Thirst for violence surged. Tension crackled like sparks from a too-hot fire.

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  “Pull in the latch cord,” Alaan suggested, then he stepped into the corridor and jerked the door shut behind him.

  The bar fell into place.

  Clarencio let out a breath. “I’m sorry to ask, Kelena, but would you mind taking his advice?”

  When she slipped the leather cord out of the hole, a short, sharp stab of hopelessness hit her from the other side. Immediately, Alaan forced it down. In its place, that dark endless sea rose again.

  Kelena brushed the tips of her fingers over the heavy oak planks and tried to send him comfort instead of rising tears and the slow seep of blood.

  Then she smiled brightly and went to her husband’s arms.

  ***

  Not long after midday Izak’s aimless wandering brought him into the officer’s barracks. Ondreus had told him that Duke Clarencio and his staff had set up house in the long, low building, and as that was far away from the multiple places Izak was avoiding, he headed inside to keep the perpetually on-duty pirate company.

  Alaan stood guard in the drafty corridor, a small jumble of blades piled nearby.

  Over the years, Izak had come to consider himself an expert in telling his friend’s moods apart. Izak knew which of Alaan’s scowls meant he was set on arguing about honor, the one the pirate wore when he brooded over a problem, the one that said he was feeling uncharacteristically forgiving, and the deadly cold-eyed glare when he was preparing to hack apart an enemy.

  When he saw Alaan’s face in the dim light of the corridor, Izak stopped in his tracks.

  “Who died this time?”

  The pirate glanced his way, then returned his attention to the opposite wall. “No one.”

  Leaning on Loss, Izak took another survey of the scene. The pile of blades topped by the handsome walking stick. The closed door. The pirate’s fist strangling the hilt of his cutlass.

  Izak’s mouth dropped open. “No.”

  Alaan said nothing.

  “But you’re supposed to hate all dirters equally.”

  Silence.

  “That’s my baby sister, Alaan.”

  “I never touched her.”

  Still in shock, Izak fell back against the wall beside his friend.

  “Light burn me.” He dragged a hand down his face. “You swear you didn’t?”

  Alaan glared at him.

  Izak sighed. “Does that make today better or worse?”

  The pirate returned his attention to the stone wall opposite.

  “I suppose there’s no point in suggesting you find some meaningless trollop to bed immediately. Even better, a whole string of them. As many as you’re physically capable of before evening.”

  The leather wrappings on the cutlass hilt creaked beneath Alaan’s grip.

  “I could get a cask of the fortified red they brought from Sangmere. The grafting won’t let you hold down more than a cup, but a good purging might be a welcome distraction. What do you say?”

  What Alaan said was more nothing.

  Izak blew out a long breath. “Then I’m out of ideas, friend.”

  Alaan nodded. He must have come to the same conclusion hours ago—there were no solutions to this sick joke of the strong gods.

  With no effective distractions available, the Thorns stood guard together in silence, one of them unable to escape his post and the other unwilling to abandon his friend.

  The day wore on.

  ***

  It had been longer than Clarencio realized since he’d last been caught up in the passion of a lover’s embrace. Perhaps he only flattered himself, but it seemed as if his new wife enjoyed their time together as well.

  When the fires were sated, however, and the dreamy haze cleared from her dark eyes, Kelena began to cry.

  Clarencio brushed the damp strands of hair from her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

  She tried to speak, but the tears flowed too hard to allow it.

  “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, unable or unwilling to tell him what the matter was.

  Clarencio held her close and kissed away her tears. Kelena buried her face in the hollow beneath his jaw and curled against his side. In time, she fell asleep.

  By then Clarencio had worked it out. He lay awake throughout the day, deciding on his next course of action.

  Raging against her father wouldn’t do any good, nor would cursing the fact that he was the unwanted one once again. Clarencio had spent three years working to beat Hazerial at his own game, obsessing over freeing Kelena from the mother she feared and the gory instruction she hated.

  But, looking at this rationally, odds were low that in those same three years Kelena had thought of him twice.

  Clarencio studied his sleeping wife’s face. He protected you, he shielded you… For months now, he’s been right beside you when you needed him. He’ll give his life for you—willing or unwilling, he’s already given his soul to you. Clarencio allowed himself a wry smile. Talk about an unfair advantage.

  Near sunset, the princess stirred and her dark lashes fluttered. At first she seemed confused as to where she was. Then she realized she lay naked in his arms, and that guileless blush colored her cheeks.

  “It wasn’t just a dream,” she said, pulling up the blankets to cover herself.

  Clarencio smiled. “If it was, it was the best one I’ve had in a long time.”

  Shyly, she let her palm rest on his chest. He covered her hand with his larger one to show her the contact was appreciated.

  “Kelena,” he said gently, “I know there’s someone else. A whole, healthy young man much closer to your age.”

  She pulled away, terror in her dark gaze. “No, Lord—I mean Duke—I mean, I would never—”

  “I’m not accusing you of infidelity. Maidenhood isn’t something you can fake. And I won’t demand that you forget he ever existed. I know that would be impossible when you’re going to see him every day.”

  “We never meant for this to happen! It was the grafting, I’m sure of it. For the longest time, he loathed me, but the grafting forced him to love me. He didn’t have a choice. Without that, he would still hate me.”

  “In three years, I’ve barely spent a full night around you,” Clarencio told her, “and even I can tell that no one in their right mind could hate you.”

  A tear dripped from her lashes. “You don’t know all the awful things I’ve done.”

  “I saw some of the things your mother made you do in the name of becoming an instrument of the strong gods, and I know they weren’t your choice.” Clarencio lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. “All I’m asking is that you don’t shut me out of your heart just yet.”

  Earnestness made her dark eyes blaze. “After the ball, I dreamed about you and your goodness all the time. I thought no one could ever be as kind as you.”

  “That’s only because you haven’t met very many people.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Kelena slid her arms around his neck. “I’m wrong about a lot, but not this.”

  That embrace was answer enough. Clarencio knew it wouldn’t be sudden, and it certainly wouldn’t be simple, but all he needed was the chance. He’d spent a lifetime fighting for others, fighting for his family, fighting for his convictions, fighting to walk, even fighting to breathe, but he would keep fighting if he had to.

  After all, what better cause than to win his wife’s heart?