Karath’s chattering, usually about things that interested her only vaguely, like hawking and the recent exploits of his friends, tended to pass through her head at the best of times like an express coach, without stopping to unload any information. This morning, as preoccupied as she was with keeping her scant breakfast down, she almost missed what he was saying entirely. Except that one word caught her distracted attention, forcing her to bring her mind back to the breakfast table, and she blinked and finally looked at him.

“Forgive me—I was woolgathering for a moment,” she said apologetically. “What was it you just said?”

He pouted a little. He pouted, as he did everything, beautifully. It was distinctly unfair. If she’d been able to pout that prettily, she would never have to fight her Council.

“Sometimes I wonder if you ever hear anything I say in the morning,” he complained. “You always seem distracted at breakfast. I said, I think I’d like to have that handsome black stallion that just came into the Royal Stables as our wedding gift from Lord Ashkevron for my coronation mount.”

Coronation mount? Hadn’t he been paying attention at all?

“I thought that was what you said,” she replied, choosing her words with great care. “You can certainly have the stallion all to yourself since I have no use for him, but Karath, I thought it had been explained that there won’t be a coronation for you. You can’t be crowned King of Valdemar.”

“Why not?” he asked, pouting even more, though his eyes were getting stormy. “Don’t you Valdemarans crown your Kings in a public ceremony?”

“We do.” She felt a cold nausea that had nothing to do with pregnancy as she realized that they were about to have their first fight. Good gods—she knew all this had been explained to him! It had been in the marriage contract! Hadn’t he even read it? “But you can’t be King.”

His mouth suddenly went from a pout to a hard, angry line. “Why not?” he asked tightly. “You are the ruler here. Your Council doesn’t have any power except to advise you. I’ve seen what you can do when you want to. You’ve handed out properties and titles to anyone you choose without even telling them. You can make me King if you wanted to. You can tell your Council, just like you told them that you were going to marry me.”

“No, I can’t,” she said, the nausea rising into her throat. “And it has nothing to do with the Council. It’s the law that’s keeping you from it, and not even the Queen is above the law. You can’t be King, because you aren’t a Herald. Only a Herald can be a King or a Queen in Valdemar.”