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“Besides what?”

“That girl believes herself to be in love with you, Konrad,” she said heavily. “So long as she is by your side, I believe there are few experiences she would not relish.”

Her words struck him dumb for a moment. “Perhaps in the beginning that was so,” he said harshly. “But you heard what she said that day.” To both their surprise, he broke off, his words half-choked. He could not quite bring himself to repeat Aimee’s claim she no longer loved him.

Magnatrude snorted. “She has some pride. What did you expect the poor girl to do? How do you imagine she must have felt in such exalted quarters? She must have been quite sick with nerves, without having to sit by and watch you favor another.” Konrad threw up a hand to stem the flow. He did not wish to hear the words aloud. His sister sucked in her cheeks and paused before proceeding. “Lord knows, the difference in your stations in life is insurmountable enough without you flouting it in front of everyone!”

“You know nothing about it, Trude. That is not what I was doing!”

“Very well,” she retorted. “I will admit my knowledge of tournament etiquette is slim. However –”

Konrad drew back his chair. “You have delivered your lecture, sister,” he said. “I can assure you that I have no intention of repeating the offense.”

She eyed him doubtfully a moment. “I did not mean to lecture you, Konrad,” she sighed. “I am well aware that my own conduct toward Aimee has not been beyond reproach.”

They sat a moment together in awkward silence. “You really want to become a courtier?” he asked gruffly. “It seems an odd choice for you to make at this time.”

“You mean with the estate being restored to you?” she asked. “Your wife will be mistress there, Konrad,” she said almost gently. “Not I.”

“I know,” he answered, though he vaguely remembered a time when he had not thought this would be the case. He had thought it would be in name only. “I could dower you now,” he pointed out. “Handsomely.”

Magnatrude’s smile was wry. “I do not want you to buy me a husband, Konrad, though I thank you for the offer. I have been given an opportunity to make my own way in life. On my own merit.”

Konrad grunted. He wasn’t so sure that bowing and scraping and constantly flattering a monarch would be an easy existence. “You wouldn’t rather be set up in your own household?” he suggested. “Able to call your soul your own?”

“At the constant beck and call of a husband?” Magnatrude asked dryly. He blinked, having never really considered it in that light. “No,” she said shaking her head. “That is not the life for me. You were right about Kimarne,” she said, taking him by surprise. “We would have dealt very poorly together. Things worked out for the best there.”

“You could always remain at Bartree,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “No,” she said resolutely. “Already, Ingrid has started checking my orders with Aimee. It is only natural that she should do so. Your wife is not the sort to be ridden roughshod over. She will be mistress in her own home and rightly so.”

They both lapsed into silence. “If you are sure this is what you want,” Konrad said after a moment. “Then I will support you in it.”

“Thank you.”

A footfall in the hallway alerted them to Aimee’s approach. She appeared in the doorway wearing a plum-colored gown with her new pearls worn in a double-strand and pinned to her bodice by a small brooch in the shape of a portcullis.

“Good morning to you both,” she greeted them brightly before turning to Konrad. “Husband, I am ready depart when you are.”

“You have not yet eaten,” he pointed out with a frown.

“Oh yes, I have,” she assured him. “I took mine earlier with Freda when you were from the house.” She turned to Trude, and they exchanged some small talk as Konrad reached into his tunic to extract the newly restored brooch.

“Here,” he said placing it on the table and sliding it toward her. “I’ll go and check on the horses. Join me outside when you are ready.” He left the room before she had the chance to do anything other than reach for the wrapped package. Twenty minutes later they had set out and were on the road for Beres Caple.

To his surprise, Konrad found that he experienced none of his customary emotions when exiting the walled city of Caer Lyoness. Usually, riding out of the armed gates felt like shrugging a heavy cape from his shoulders. Today, he felt none of the usual relief and cast an uneasy glance back over his shoulder as the city retreated further into the distance.

Was it possible, he pondered, that his feelings toward the place had undergone some sort of miraculous change? The notion that the southern capital could ever be anything other than detested by him was a startling one. He glanced uneasily across at his wife, but Aimee’s concentration was focused solely on staying in her saddle.

His wife was not a natural horsewoman, which perhaps he should have expected in a city girl born and bred. She clung grimly to her reins and stared doggedly ahead as they trotted along. In truth, she would be far happier on an older, placid mare, but Ankatel had purchased her a showy mount with plenty of spirit. Each time the horse tossed its head or kicked out, poor Aimee braced herself and held her breath.

“Your horse could do with a gallop,” he commented, lifting his voice so she could hear him above the horse’s hooves.

Aimee frowned. “She will be tired enough after a five-hour ride without galloping.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “But it might take the fidgets out of her legs.”

Aimee shrugged. “Maybe so,” she agreed straightening her shoulders as though steeling herself to an unpleasant task. He was pleased she did not argue, however little the idea appealed to her. “Why don’t you swap seats with Jakeman for a while?” he heard himself suggesting. “He could ride on ahead for a while and let her stretch her legs.”