Calenne had disliked Anastacia from the first, though Josiri had never been clear why, and the passage of time had done little to heal the one-sided divide. Anastacia seldom reciprocated the antipathy, though whether that was because she considered herself above such things, or did so simply to irritate Calenne, Josiri wasn’t sure.

“Because that’s her wish. I don’t call you Enna any longer, do I?”

Blue eyes met his then returned to the book. “What do you want?”

Josiri shook his head. So very much like their mother. No admission of wrong, just a new topic.

“I thought you’d be with me to greet Makrov.”

She licked a fingertip and turned the page. “I changed my mind.”

“We were discussing the arrangements for your wedding. Or do you no longer intend to marry at Ascension?”

“That’s why I changed my mind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

A rare moment of hesitation. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I see.” Steeling himself, Josiri edged closer. “What are you reading?”

“This?” Calenne stared down at the book. “A gift from Kasamor. The Turn of Winter, by Iugo Maliev. I’m told it’s all the rage in Tressia.”

“Any good?”

“If you admire a heroine who lets herself be blown from place to place like a leaf on the wind. It’s horrendously fascinating. Or fascinatingly horrendous. I haven’t decided yet.” She closed the book and set it on her knee. “How did the meeting go?”

“I’m to make a speech tomorrow, on the topic of unity.”

She scowled. “It went that badly?”

“I didn’t have my sister there to charm him,” Josiri replied. “And . . . he reacted poorly to mother’s portrait.” No sense saying the rest. Calenne wouldn’t understand.

She sighed. “And now you know why I stayed away. If Makrov reacts like that to Katya’s image . . . I didn’t want complications. I can’t afford them. And I do want this marriage.”

Josiri didn’t have to ask what she meant. Katya in oils was bad enough. Her likeness in flesh and blood? Even with Calenne at her most demure and charming – a rarity – there was risk. With every passing year, his sister more resembled the mother she refused to acknowledge. Perhaps she’d been right to stay away.

“You think Makrov has the power to have it annulled?”

She shrugged. “Not alone. But Kasamor’s mother isn’t at all pleased at the match. I’m sure she’s allies enough to make trouble.”

“Kasamor would truly let her interfere?”

On his brief visits to Branghall, Kasamor had seemed smitten. As indeed had Calenne herself. On the other hand, Josiri had heard enough of Ebigail Kiradin, Kasamor’s mother, to suspect she possessed both the reach and influence to thwart even the course of true love, if she so chose.