They’d been together almost a full turn of the seasons. She’d seen the worst of him—no, not the worst; she’d never seen him walk off a killing field, but she’d gone through a rut with him—and, hopefully, he’d also shown her the best, had shown her she could grow in a marriage with him, that she could be everything she wanted to be.

Maybe it was time to ask her to share her life with him, not just as a lover but as a wife. He wanted, fiercely, to be her husband.

He closed the box and vanished it. Soon. Very soon.

First, he had to decide what to do about Roxie.

TWENTY

TWENTY

Lucivar took a deep breath before knocking on the front door of Roxie’s house. The street was too quiet for midday, even in the aristo part of Doun. He could almost feel all the eyes peering at him from behind sheer curtains. They would have heard some version of what happened yesterday, so they knew why he was here. To pass judgment. To draw a line between what would be accepted in Ebon Rih and what would not.

Jaenelle had been right about that. It was more than his own life at stake in this decision. He’d let his dislike of Roxie color his sense of justice, had avoided her because she reminded him too much of the bitches who’d used him in Terreille—and hadn’t gone after her for using other men as he’d done when he was a slave because, he’d told himself, those men had had a choice about being with her. He wasn’t sure of that anymore, but the Queens in both Doun and Riada had informed him with wary formality that no complaints had been lodged, no man had come forward to say Roxie had mistreated him. Didn’t mean much, although the Queens here could be naive enough to believe it did. As long as an aristo witch didn’t play with an aristo male whose family would protest if his reputation was damaged, the Queens would never know about the others—youths, now ashamed that lust had overruled common sense, who were considered “sluts.” Good enough when a woman wanted a warm body in bed, but too “experienced” to be considered for a public, long-term relationship—or a marriage.

He didn’t like Roxie, which is why he’d given himself a full day to think hard about what was just—and, thank the Darkness, his Queen had approved of his decision.