Perhaps she is right. Here, at least, I can keep some kind of watch over her. 'Very well, I bow to your reasoning. Or I would, if my back allowed it.'

She settled herself opposite. 'And how is life in the corridors of power?'

'Chilly. As corridors often are.' Glokta stroked his lips with a finger. 'I find myself in a difficult situation.'

'I have some experience with those.'

'This one is… complicated.'

'Well then, in terms a dull wench like me might understand.'

Where's the harm? I stare death in the face already. 'In the terms of a dull wench, then, imagine this… desperately needing certain favours, you have promised your hand in marriage to two very rich and powerful men.'

'Huh. One would be a fine thing.'

'None would be a fine thing, in this particular case. They are both old and of surpassing ugliness.'

She shrugged. 'Ugliness is easily forgiven in the rich and powerful.'

'But both these suitors are prone to violent displays of jealousy. Dangerous displays, if your wanton faithlessness were to become common knowledge. You had hoped to extricate yourself from one promise or the other at some stage, but now the date of the weddings draws near, and you find that you are… still considerably entangled with both. More so than ever, in fact. Your response?'

She pursed her lips and took a long breath, considering it, then tossed a strand of hair theatrically over her shoulder. 'I would drive them both near madness with my matchless wit and smouldering beauty, then engineer a duel between the two. Whichever won would be rewarded with the ultimate prize of my hand in marriage, never suspecting I was once promised also to his rival. Since he is old, I would earnestly hope for his imminent death, leaving me a wealthy and respected widow.' She grinned at him down her nose. 'What say you to that, sir?'

Glokta blinked. 'I fear the metaphor has lost its relevance.'

'Or…' Ardee squinted at the ceiling, then snapped her fingers. 'I might use my subtle feminine wiles…' thrusting back her shoulders and hitching up her bust, 'to entrap a third man, still more powerful and wealthy. Young, and handsome, and smooth of limb as well, I suppose, since this is a metaphor. I would marry him and with his help destroy those other two, and abandon them penniless and disappointed. Ha! What think you?'

Glokta felt his eyelid twitching, and he pressed one hand against it. Interesting. 'A third suitor,' he murmured. 'The idea had never even occurred.'

Skarlings Chair

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