“Your Majesty.” He bowed. “I’m surprised you’re not dressed yet.”
Markis was a loyal, but sly, man. Even when we’d been children, he’d had an air of artful cunning about him, and a quick enough mind to ensure that he almost always got his way. Qualities that made him an excellent steward of the purse, but a mediocre friend.
Reluctantly, I opened the door to my stateroom. “I suppose it’s time.”
“I’ll pour you a drink.” Markis followed after me. “Dare I ask you how you’re faring in your last hours as a bachelor?”
I dismissed the question with a grunt. “Eftan was complaining to you about the contracts, I take it?”
Wine gurgled into a goblet. “Ahh.” He sounded wary. “He’s in a right mood over them, yes.”
I yanked the fine black shirt over my shoulders as Markis brought me the wine. “What would you do?” I asked, drinking half of it in one gulp. “If the woman you agreed to marry worshipped a monster that hunted your people?”
Markis chuckled gravely. “If that were the only complication, my answer would be simpler. But you ignore the hefty detail of your betrothed’s parentage. One does not abandon the daughter of the empress of Obelia at the altar and hope to survive it.”
My stomach sank low. He was right. Only a reckless fool would offend the empress so gravely.
Markis gave me a sidelong glance from where he’d perched on the arm of the settee. “Eftan’s…upsetstems from something else, though. He believes there’s a different reason for your refusal to wed Halla properly.” He gave an oily smirk and dragged his fingers through his beard. “A certain Siren who’s got her talons in you.”
I pulled on my coat and scowled at the way my chest ached.
“All right.” He popped himself off the settee, his elegant voice taking on a cloying quality. “What I do know is that your power is incomparable.” He swiped the shoulder of my coat and I fought the impulse to drive my fist into his weak chin. “Eftan can gripe all he likes, but you’re both a king and a God, and you can do as you please. I’ve read the amendments. You’ve kept the trade clauses intact; you’ve considered the kingdom and the continent’s overall well-being. The rest is sentimental, inconsequential detail. Obelians don’t care about bindings.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “If you want the princess as your mistress, but not as your divinely bound wife, that is your right.”
“I don’t want her as my—” I cut myself off, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Markis grinned like I was being coy. “I’m no great success in marriage, as you know, but what you have done with these contracts seems a prudent thing to do for all unions. Let her know what she’s to expect. Keep her from getting too wide-eyed and demanding. You’re saving yourself a tremendous headache.”
For a moment, all I could do was stare. His severance from his wife had been a brutal, drawn-out, and public affair. If my memory served, he’d been a prodigious ass through the whole of it. “You’re speaking from experience, I take it,” I said through a tight jaw.
He adjusted his own dusky blue coat in the looking glass. “Lady Gabros and I were a love match, as I’m sure you remember. But it proved harder to tend the flame than I’d anticipated. Perhaps if I’d told her what to expect, as you have, things between us might have turned out differently. You’ve removed all expectation. You’ll be happier for it.”
Happier.I nearly laughed. I had never felt so strangely, simultaneously bursting with fury and utterly hollowed out. The musicians started their playing in earnest, and I felt the first notes of their song—the one Imogen and I had once danced to—pour through me like a Mage’s draught.
It burned, ached, as I envisioned the piercing gold of her eyes. I remembered the way the candlelight had gleamed bronze across her dark hair, how she’d smelled earthy and sweet, like lavender oil and jasmine. She’d taken up the entire room, looking inevitable, even in that Gods-awful gown. I could almost feel the phantom curve of her warm, firm waist in my hand.
I curled it into a fist as if I could grab hold of her.
Markis went on, mindless and too familiar. “But on the brighterside, it doesn’t hurt that the princess is a pretty thing. Makes the agreement a little more bearable, no?” He smirked. “Less likely to tire of her quickly.”
There was no keeping the acidic bite from my voice. “Is that what happened to you and Lady Gabros? You grew tired of fucking her?”
Markis winced. “No. Not entirely, Your Majesty.”
“What then?” Glowering, I crossed to the center table, where my capelet and crown sat.
He shook his head, clearly uncomfortable now. “I… I tired of other things.”
“Ofwhat?”
“Her nagging, Majesty,” he said, quietly, with a new tension. “She wanted my time. I found her need for attention to be greater than what I was able to give.”
A jealous rage beat through me. Markis had had the woman he’d claimed to love—allof her. Then he’d disposed of her, quickly and callously. I forced my crown atop my head. “Perhaps it wasn’t a love match at all, then, Gabros.”
He straightened his gold-threaded doublet, defensiveness strengthening his voice. “I did love her once. I couldn’t get enough of her. I wanted to be with her every second. Wanted to touch her, feed her, bathe her.” The smug way he tilted his head made me feel like a naïve, lovesick adolescent. “But I’ve learned that is simply what new love is like. It’s a vase of fresh-cut flowers. It’s breathtaking and bright and changes the whole room, but only for a time. It fades eventually. It rots.”
I was still for a long time, my head full of crushing thoughts. That Godsdamned song still played, the notes forcing their way through the door cracks. It wouldn’t be wise to tell him he was patently wrong, or to let on that Eftan was right. I had alteredthose contracts because of Imogen, but right now, wisdom was not what guided me.
I clipped my black capelet to my shoulders. “Do you remember the name of Varya’s vines?” I asked. “From your lessons.”
