Elody took him in without a word. Perhaps she could see in his eyes how haunted he was by what he was about to do. She led him to her own private rooms and gave him wine to drink and a plate of fresh fruit. “Your generosity is welcome, but I know you can’t afford this,” he pointed out as he stabbed an apple with his bodkin and brought it to his mouth. “I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“Oh, Malden, just having you around is payment enough. You get the girls all excited when you turn up. That makes them frisky and they earn more, so in the end I have a net gain.” Elody laughed. “You can have any of them you like, on the house. You just have to ask.”

Malden shook his head. “The woman I want isn’t here,” he said, even though he knew what that would elicit. Elody’s face lit up and her eyes glowed as she descended on him, demanding gossip, wanting to know all about this new sweetheart.

“She’s not mine,” Malden said, a bit glumly. He had come here to cheer himself up but suddenly he was in a foul mood. “Most like she never will be. She was betrothed to a knight, of all things.”

“Was?” Elody asked. “But she isn’t now?”

“I don’t think so—it’s all so confusing. I think she might have been trying to tell me something the last time I saw her, but . . . I just don’t know. How can I compete with a man like that? He has a castle, Elody. A castle.”

“Not every woman is so mercenary with her favors as the ladies who raised you,” Elody replied. “Some, I hear, would rather have love than money.” She looked almost wistful when she said it. “You need to give her what he can’t. Is he handsome? Does he have strong arms and golden hair and a noble bearing?”

“Yes, all of those,” Malden agreed. “He is a bit dim,” he added, though, because he couldn’t help himself.

“Then try being clever. It shouldn’t be so hard for the likes of you,” Elody told him.

“When I’m around her I feel an utter fool. I feel as if I’ll never be clever again,” Malden confessed.

“Then it must be true love,” Elody said, and they laughed together.

She kept him there late that night and plied him with wine. He told her everything—of Cythera’s cursed skin, of Croy’s pledges and vows. She gave him what advice she could, then sent him home very drunk and a little less fearful. He fell into bed thinking he almost had a chance.

In the morning the early light convinced him otherwise. It was the day before Ladymas. His head was pounding, and he had work to do.