The prince nodded gravely. “A man will come to you tomorrow to negotiate the bridal contract,” he said, turning back to his goblet and his dogs.
Patton, dismissed, was left to make his way back to his place at the long table and tell his sons the news. He found Ayah sulking into his cup. The dark-haired stranger had left, and the woman was staring in the direction he had gone, with a look of such terror and agonized longing on her pale face that Patton, for all his troubles, found his hand darting almost involuntarily for the sword he was not wearing.
Patton Vladimirovich took his bride’s cold hand, squinted at her small, clenched face, and wondered if he could have been mistaken. It had taken a headlong week to negotiate the details of his marriage (so that it might be celebrated before
