“Yes, that’s what’s wrong. Stand up.” She stepped into the bathtub with him and pulled the shower curtain across.

“Hey! This wasn’t in the rules either!”

“Where’s the soap?”

“It does, doesn’t—ow!”

Morning came late. Miriam stirred drowsily, feeling warm and secure and unaccountably bruised. There was something wrong with the pillow: It twitched. She tensed. An arm! I didn’t, did I…?

Memory returned with a rush. “Your apartment is too big,” she said.

“It is?”

“Too many rooms.”

“What do you mean?”

She squirmed backwards slightly until she felt his crotch behind her.

“We managed the living room, the bathroom, and the bedroom. But you’ve got a kitchen, haven’t you? And what about the back passage?”

“I, uh.” He yawned, loudly. She could feel him stiffening. “Need the toilet,” he mumbled.

“Oh shit.” She rolled over and watched him stand up, fondly. Aren’t they funny in the morning? she thought. If only… Then the numb misery was back. It was tomorrow, already. Damn, she thought. Can’t keep it together for even a night! What’s wrong with me?

“Would you like some coffee?” he called through the open doorway.

“Yeah, please.” She yawned. Waking up in bed with him should feel momentous, like the first day of the rest of her life. But it didn’t, it just filled her with angst—and a strong desire to spit in the faces of the anonymous sons of bitches who’d made it so. She wanted Roland. She wanted to wake up this way forever. She’d even think about the marriage thing, and children, if it was just about him. But it wasn’t, and there was no way she’d sacrifice a child on the altar of the Clan’s dynastic propositions. Romeo and Juliet were just stupid dizzy teenagers, she thought morosely. I know better. Don’t I?

She stood up and pulled her dress on. Then she padded into Roland’s small kitchen. He smiled at her. “Breakfast?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She smiled back at him, brain spinning furiously. Okay, so why don’t you give him a chance? she asked herself. If he is hiding something, let’s see if he’ll get it off his chest. Now. She knew full well why she didn’t want to ask, but not knowing scared her. Especially while Iris remained missing. On the other hand, a plausible bluff might make him tell her whatever it was, and if it was about Iris, that mattered. Didn’t it? So what can I use—oh. It was obvious. “Listen,” she said quietly. “I know you’re holding out on me. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. You haven’t told Angbard. So who knows about us?”