She paced as she worked it out, but actually worked out nothing at all. She wondered if her design was on its way north, and whether anyone would find out, and what that might mean when she was judged. She saw herself, again and again, kneeling in front of the block, and it sent a terrible shiver dancing down her spine each time. Marcus had been right about that too. No favor from the King would spare her.

She knew why she was so cold. The chill came from within, from her soul.

The door’s movement had her awake at once.

Backing up on her pallet, she groped for her garments and began pulling them on. The vulnerability of being alone here, of being isolated in a place where no one came, pressed on her. Any man could slip up during the night, and she would be defenseless.

A tall figure slipped into the chamber. She sensed who it was, and her heart flipped with relief.

“I am sorry that I did not come sooner, Nesta.”

“I did not expect you to come at all. The King’s man put me here, not my lover. I understand how it must be.”

“Then you are of calmer spirit than I am.”

Her heart grasped hungrily at the suggestion that he had not been nearly as indifferent as he had appeared when he closed this door on her. “How long have I been here?”

“Two days.”

Only two days. It had felt like two weeks. Two lifetimes.

“How goes your war, Marcus?”

“There has been no war yet. It appears there will be, however. I sent a herald to Carwyn, asking to parlay, but he refused.”

“Of course he did. What can you offer him, to make negotiating worthwhile? Only a king can give him what he wants.”

“I can offer you, Nesta.”

“Even my father would not have accepted that bargain. When a people decide to fight for their freedom, the life of one woman, one person, becomes meaningless. Put yourself in their places, and imagine the fire burning in them, or you will never understand what is at work.”

He did not reply. She sensed him over near the door, looking in her direction. His spirit filled the tiny space, submerging her in a rising pool of emotions that both soothed and frightened her.

He reached for her, as if he could see her as clearly as if a hundred candles burned. “Come with me. Do not speak or argue. Just do as I say.”

A cloak billowed and fell around her shoulders. Taking her hand, he pulled her to the door.

She snatched her hand away. “You must not. I will not allow it. You will be blamed, and—”