“I am,” Ethenn confirmed.
“You’re not wearing a wedding band.”
“I can’t,” he said, lifting a forkful of turnip and yam. “It inhibits my fighting.”
Seretta clearly didn’t believe him. Her eyes narrowed as though pleased with the challenge. “What’s her name?”
Evylin blanched, but Ethenn answered without hesitation, “Eina.”
Ilain glanced over again, a small smile on her lips as she sipped her wine.
“It’s easy enough to invent a name, Serrie,” Prince Caspar chimed in amusedly. “Laurette. Mina. Eileen. See? If you want to discover the man’s honesty, you have to ask more pointed questions.”
“Why should I lie?” Ethenn asked with blunt calmness.
“Because, as I’m sure you know, my good man,” Caspar tipped his wine glass in Ethenn’s direction, “it’s more fun to play games than to give in too easily.”
“Do aid me in my investigation, cousin,” Seretta said pleasantly.
Caspar leaned forward. “Tell us: What’s your Eina’s deepest fear?”
Evylin frowned, sure that Ethenn would flounder under their questioning. Not even she could provide an answer regarding Deckard’s deepest fear.
But Ethenn said, “Sea travel. And abandonment, but that’s less tangible.” He raised his brow then. “Would you like me to tell you the number of freckles on her nose? It’s forty-seven. I’ve counted them many times.”
Thom, Rafferty, and Caspar laughed at the quip, while Seretta pursed her lips.
At Evylin’s side, Henriette set a hand to her chest. “I don’t think we can doubt him any longer,” she remarked merrily. She smiled brightly at Ethenn. “You must love her very much.”
“I do,” he said without hesitation.
“Sap,” Caspar muttered into his wine glass.
Henriette ignored her husband. “It must be quite difficult, being parted from her for so long,” she said.
Ethenn shifted to reach for his wine. “It is.”
“And you,” Henriette said, turning to Evylin. “You must be so happy to have your husband with you on your journey.”
“Oh, yes,” Evylin confirmed. “I wouldn’t want to be without him. Not even for a day.”
Evidently bored, Caspar turned to Rafferty. “You’re not married, are you?”
“No,” Rafferty said in blatant confusion.
“And you’re not in love?”
“No.”
“Excellent.” Caspar tossed back the rest of his wine before holding it up for the servants to refill. “Tell me about Wauld. Are the women as shapeless and foul-tempered as the one traveling with you?”
Pitying Henriette more and more, Evylin smiled at her gently.
Upon the encouragement, the woman continued. “Your husband,” she said. “How long has he been a soldier?”
Evylin paused, searching her mind for the number. She turned to Thom on her other side, who was clearly listening in as the king, Deckard, Auden, and the duke discussed dull politics. “Twelve years?” she asked, and Thom nodded.
She turned back to Henriette. “Twelve years.”
