Their relationship was a trifle complicated. Oh, not in the fact that they were husband and wife, nor that it was an arranged marriage. That was normal enough. No, it was due to his own upbringing, which was decidedly not normal, at least insofar as his own experience deeper in Imperial territory went. His father and his grandfather had both been adamant that sex was not a husband’s “right,” no matter what other people in the Empire said. Nor was it his right to order women about as if they were pet dogs. This, of course, was in direct contradiction to all the examples he’d had at the Emperor’s Court. But—

She sighed, and he felt her tears on his chest. Ah, well, all right, then. No midnight romping tonight. Good. I need the sleep, he caught himself thinking.

Instead, he moved his free hand to dry her tears with the sleeve of his robe, and continued the conversation about their son. “As soon as he’s old enough that we know he can keep secrets, we’ll tell him, I promise. And in the meantime, you can act like any of those silly cows in the Court and dote on your pretty page-boy. He’s an affectionate little chap, and he’ll thrive on all the love you give him.”

“It would be so much worse if the Emperor had demanded him,” she agreed, though her voice trembled a little with emotion. “And I know I am ridiculously lucky. I have my boys within my household, and I can see them whenever I like. I didn’t get married off to someone three times my age who I didn’t even know. I didn’t get the treatment that Delia did when Father died.”

“But this is still hard,” Kordas replied. He did understand. She liked him, and he liked her; they were ridiculously compatible. But this was much, much different. This was mother-love; she adored her children with all the passion of a warm-natured woman, and to be denied so much of their lives . . .

Well, it went against instinct, which did not answer to logic and reason.

She never complained about it, that was the remarkable thing. For the last nine years, she had not complained about it. At most, she had given way to a few tears, like now. She’s braver than I am, he thought soberly.

“Well, I’ll tell Hakkon tomorrow to put Restil in the page corps and assign him to us. No—to you. There’s no reason you can’t have a personal page.” She gave a shuddering sigh, and patted his hand.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to go to bed early,” she said, as thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. And since she did not add “and why don’t you come with me?” he just nodded.