“And far too trusting,” I agreed.

“He knew his place.” His rebuke was unmistakable.

Clearly, I didn’t know my place. Then again, Aroth had always felt my “place” was married to his son Oreth.

I would rather eat dung.

My fists clenched. “Perhaps because you never tried to force him into an unwanted marriage.”

“Insolence is unbecoming.”

“So is foreclosing on the liens of someone under your idorrá.”

“Oreth would have returned those debts paid as a wedding gift.”

“Was that supposed to be a comfort or a threat?”

He sucked in his breath, exhaled it as a low growl. “I’ve protected you in ways you can’t understand.”

I bit back on the impulse to say something rash. I wanted to say a great deal to the man. I wanted to ask how he’d managed to sire a creature as vile as his son Oreth. His older son, Ilvar, was as different from Oreth as night from day. I wanted to know why Aroth had betrayed my grandfather’s trust.

I didn’t ask. I’d already pushed further than decorum allowed. He’d be well within his rights to tether me right then.

I tilted my head, looking at him as much as I could without turning my face from the altar. “Oreth believes his right to command me is the natural order. He thinks he’s the stallion and I should be the mare. That is not and never will be who I am.”

He gave a hard look to the side, past me to where Dorna sat, not moving and barely breathing. “You should have gone to the Festival of the Turning Leaves, then.”

Anger spilled into me, anger with Oreth, anger with his father, anger with my own grandfather for putting me in this situation. The Markreev’s suggestion burned. Not because I had any problem with those who spent their year in the nature goddess Galava’s service, in exchange for the gift that followed. If Dorna lived happier as a woman than as her birth sex, who was anyone to question it? If the Markreev had chosen to become male, that was his right too.

But I wished to remain female.

Whereas the Markreev seemed to think I could only be a stallion if my sex and gender matched. Suddenly, I understood where Oreth had acquired his vile opinions.

The pillow underneath my fingers started to feel warm.

No … no, no. Not here. Not now.

I inhaled and tried to calm myself. I prayed to Khored, chanting the Litany of Challenges under my breath.

I inhaled and closed my eyes, feeling a deep bitterness welling inside me. “How little you know your son, if you think changing my sex would change his need to control me.”

“Oreth is very fond of you.”

“And Oreth thinks his choice is the only choice that matters.”

I heard Aroth stand. “That does not excuse your failure to meet your obligations—excuse me?”