Bitterlich’s eyes widened in anticipation of a verbal slap. A nigh-immortal fanatic had spent millennia breeding sorcerers in order to create Isabelle, who was meant to be the mother of the Savior, a fate she emphatically rejected.

Isabelle, though clearly annoyed, was dry and understated. “I’ve already stopped a war and foiled a coup d’état. Strange how no one ever seems to remember that. Instead it’s, ‘That’s nice, dear, now why don’t you go have children?’”

Eulalie, never one to take a hint not applied with a sledgehammer, said, “Well, of course you can do other things, too, but imagine how much easier it would be if you had a husband to stand up for you.”

“If that becomes a problem in need of a solution, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Eulalie asked.

Bitterlich’s heart seized up. What if Isabelle mentioned his name? What if she didn’t? No good either way. He lurched through the crowd, waving his hat high, “Capitaine Isabelle!”

Isabelle and Eulalie looked up. Eulalie’s eyes rounded. Isabelle started to smile, but it froze halfway there. Had Eulalie told her about their ill-fated tryst? What version of the story had she been told?

“Madame Comtesse, good evening. Capitaine Isabelle, if I may have a word alone, I have news pertaining to our mission.”

He did not look at Eulalie, but kept his gaze locked on Isabelle’s. Her unscarred eyebrow rose in a question. He kept on his courtier’s face, the one that had served him best through a lifetime of taunts and jeers.

Isabelle said, “If you will excuse me, Madame Comtesse, duty calls.”

Eulalie stepped up and Bitterlich tensed in dread. Would she denounce him again, in public this time, or would she try to apologize for her betrayal? A thousand times he had tried each scenario in his head over the years, putting different words in her mouth.

None of them were the words she actually spoke. In a delighted voice, Eulalie said, “Ewald, is that you? Oh my, what a dashing fellow you’ve become, and a major too! Do you know Capitaine Isabelle?”

Bitterlich’s jaw nearly came unhinged. Half a lifetime ago she’d betrayed him to his very root. How could she, how dare she greet him like an old friend? As if what she’d done to him was nothing. As if it had never happened.

Isabelle intervened while he was still reeling. “I owe Major Bitterlich my life, and he was instrumental in stopping Lael’s coup. Now he’s the commander of my ship’s marines.”

Eulalie clasped her hands. “That’s wonderful. Oh, Ewald, I knew you’d do great things.”