“I take it that’s a no.”

He put his glass down on the low table beside the sofa. As he straightened up, Miriam laid one hand on his arm. “What you told me the other day—he wants you nailed to a perch, just an obedient little branch on the family tree,” she said urgently. “Angbard wants you to make an appropriate marriage and breed lots of little Thorold–Lofstroms to look after him in his old age. With Olga.”

“Yes.” Roland shook his head. He didn’t seem to notice her hand on his arm. “I thought he was at least still interested in—shit. Olga’s loyal. It means he’s been stringing me along with his warnings to shut up and play the political game—all along, all the time.” He stood up and paced across the room agitatedly. “He’s been keeping me here on ice to stop me getting my point across.” He reached the fireplace and paused, thumping the heel of his right hand into his left palm. “Bastard.”

“So Uncle Angbard has been messing you around?”

“‘Uncle’—” he shook his head. “He’s much more your uncle than mine. You know how the family braids work? There are several deaths and remarriages in the tree.”

Miriam stood up. Don’t let him get distracted now. This is the point of no return, she realized. Do I want to go through with this? Well, the answer that came to mind wasn’t “no.” She screwed up her courage and walked over to him. “Olga would lock you in and throw away the key.”

“She’d—no, not deliberately. But the effect would be the same.” He didn’t seem to notice her standing a few inches in front of him, close enough to feel her breath on his cheek. Is he completely blind—or just too distracted to notice what his eyeballs are seeing? Miriam wondered, half-turning to face him and pushing her chest up as far as she could without being blatant about it—which was difficult, given what she was wearing. “He wants to tie me in with children, a family. I’d have to protect them.”

On second thoughts… he was looking her in the eyes, now, and he’d noticed her, all right. “That’s not the only option,” she murmured. “You don’t have to surrender to Angbard.”

“I don’t—” He trailed off.

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. “What you said earlier,” she tried to explain. “You offered to help.” She looked up at him, still maintaining eye contact. “How serious are you?” she asked, her voice a whisper.