Ysmaine was a wretch.
Or perhaps she was wicked.
For she failed to be satisfied with all the blessings that came to her. She had a husband, who was hale, handsome, and heir to a holding close to that of her own parents. She had food aplenty and a good palfrey to ride. Her husband was indulgent, letting her purchase whatsoever she desired in the opulent markets of Venice. Her room was comfortable and comparatively large, complete with a large window, a fine view of the building’s interior courtyard, and many fat candles. She was safe and she was possessed of good health herself. She even had a priceless relic secured for its own safety.
Yet she wanted more.
On their second night since arriving in Venice, she lingered in the common room, finishing her wine. Radegunde was in her chamber a
