“Of course, Venette,” said Maris, but instead of instantly withdrawing, she shifted her gaze back to him. “You think to scold, sir, so I am meek and biddable. But would you breed a son from a woman with blood like watered milk?”

He could feel Venette’s intent stare, unwelcome, and made sure not to look at her. “No.”

Maris smiled. Not sultry now, no banked desire, only anger and pride. “No. So perhaps you should not be so swift in your temper. This will be a marriage of equals, Morgan, or no marriage at all.”

“I hope,” said Venette, watching Maris leave, “that you provoke her because you’re bored, and for no other reason.”

“I don’t provoke her at all,” he said, reaching for his glass of inferior brandy. “She provokes me.”

“Oh!” Venette laughed. “Well, then. Good. You sound married already.”

His mood was just sour enough that he could easily start a quarrel with her. Since that wouldn’t be wise, he drank the rest of the brandy.

“I know that look, Venette. Say what you came to say and be done.”

While she’d never stoop to striped cotton, Venette had relaxed her standards far enough to wear a luscious silk daffa, patterned after the royal robe favoured by the Iringan court. He had to admit it became her. The abundant fabric rustled richly as she avoided answering him by turning to the nearest bookshelf and inspecting its unexciting contents.

“Venette—”

Her glance was full of censure. “You shouldn’t have threatened Sallis Arkley, Morgan. That was foolish of you. And very clumsy.”

Glass met side table with a crack as he set down the emptied brandy snifter. “That’s not your concern.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she snapped, glaring. “You’re my friend.”

“I’m more than happy to relieve you of the burden.”

“And at times like this I’d be more than happy to be relieved! But even were we sworn enemies, I’d still be involved.”

He almost wished he’d never constructed those incants. “I’m sorry if my personal business interferes with your house party frivolities, Venette.”

She slapped the bookshelf. “I give you fair warning, Morgan. Continue to treat Sallis like an underling and he will interfere with your Council frivolities! Do you imagine he’s toothless, simply because he’s old?”

“I imagine it’s been too long since someone stood up to his bullying.”

“And you’re the mage to make the difference? Oh, Morgan. While I must deplore your lack of tact, I suppose I must also admire your nerve.”

“You’re too gracious,” he said, with a mocking bow. “And how is it you know what transpired between me and Sallis?”

“Parnel told me, just now.”

“And how would Lord Garrick know?”