Oh, that was an ugly realization. I wanted someone better than Duke Xun to rule Jorat. I wanted the Markreev of Stavira to acknowledge my idorrá. I wanted—

“That took a long time,” Veixizhau said, interrupting my thoughts. If she intended to sound nice, she didn’t try hard.

“Did it? I lost track. Where is the kitchen? I’m starving.”

“Segra, go fetch our guest something from the kitchen, would you?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said. “No meat, please. I’ll take bread. Porridge if you have any.”

Segra, a young woman with large violet eyes, gave me an awkward, nervous smile before leaving.

Veixizhau offered me a chair. “Please, sit. Tell me all about your conversation. I so seldom have a chance to hear about what’s going on outside our halls.”

Her sweet tone made me pause. “The duke—sorry, the Hon—doesn’t give you any access to outside information?”

“Books. Old books. It’s nothing current.”

That drew another wife’s attention. “I rather like the books, mind you, but it’s not the same as fresh news.”

“Where’s Bikeinoh?” I looked around, but I didn’t see the Hon’s oldest wife.

“Gone off on some chore, I suppose. I don’t keep track. What did the Hon say?” Veixizhau leaned forward.

I realized she didn’t think we’d talked. She hoped to catch me out by forcing me to fabricate a conversation.

“He wants my help conquering Jorat,” I told her.

She blinked, surprised. “What?”

I sighed. I wasn’t in the mood. My temper had soured from talking to the duke, and given the way my lower back was aching, I was about to start my flow. I had no patience for a jealous wife who thought I’d made a play for her husband.

“Your husband wants me to help him conquer Jorat. We spoke about it at length.” I pulled out a different chair from the one Veixizhau offered and flopped into it. “Something about killing a dragon, which strikes me as a task a smart ruler would delegate to someone else. Oh, and he wants to use me to pressure my father into leaving Yor alone. Also lovely.”

I’d closed my eyes so I couldn’t see her expression, but she made a surprised sound. “Oh, my poor girl. I’m so sorry! Believe me, I know what it’s like to be taken from your family against your will.”

I raised my head, opened my eyes, and looked up at her. “Nothing about what you said sounds the least bit sincere. Except the part about being taken from your family.”

“You’ve misjudged me.” Her expression was innocence personified.