“Who knew it would be so hard to reconcile being assassinated? Besides, I didn’t think you’d be happy with me if I slaughtered your entire court. But I really wanted to.”

“And now?”

She cocked her head to the side. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He swept her into his arms, twirling her around him even as the crowd stepped back in ill-concealed horror at this show of affection.

A wife fainted, or at least pretended to.

Brother Qown, no longer guarded, made his way to Janel.

She grabbed at his arm. “Oh, thank the Eight you’re all right.” She touched his face. “Although you’ll need to do something about those bruises.”

“It’s you I’m worried about. You’re bleeding.” He glanced over at the other woman. “I’m going to look at her leg, if you don’t mind.”

“Please.” The second woman, also Khorveshan, looked past him and waved her hand to someone behind Qown as if greeting a long-lost friend.

Thurvishar, he realized. She was waving at Thurvishar. He wrested his attention back to Janel. “What did you do—”

“I tripped on the ice,” Janel explained, “while running from Aeyan’arric.”

Since only the duke and duchess had been talking, and their words had turned to whispers, Janel’s pronouncement echoed with perfect clarity throughout the entire hall.

The duke refocused his attention on Janel. “And why were you on the ice?”

“You’ll want to ask Veixizhau,” Janel responded.

The wife in question put heel to toe with commendable vigor. It didn’t save her. Long flowing dresses don’t make for good running attire. Soldiers caught her and returned her to the duke.

Xivan looked at the woman, raised an eyebrow, and turned back to her husband. “You can thank Veixizhau for my presence; I’m reasonably sure she tried to sacrifice your young guest to Suless. Isn’t that interesting?”

Qown knew Suless had once ruled Yor, as goddess of witchcraft and betrayal, along with her god-king husband, Cherthog. Then after Quur invaded and conquered Yor, the empire outlawed their religions. Unusual for an empire typically happy to fold conquered faiths into their own.

While Duke Kaen might hate the empire, he wouldn’t tolerate anyone breaking that law. Not when his own grandfather had helped slay Suless and Cherthog. Worshipping either of those old god-kings was the equivalent of openly declaring rebellion against Kaen, not just Quur.

Which might explain why Duke Kaen’s expression became a scowl. He gestured to some of his soldiers. “Search the wives’ quarters. Bring back any signs of the witch-queen you find. Don’t take your time.”

They bowed quickly and then ran out of the room.

“Please!” Veixizhau threw herself to the ground before the duke. “Please have mercy! I’m carrying your child!”

A murmur carried through the hall.

The duke’s expression turned cold. “Wyrga!”

An old woman tottered forward, dressed in stained tatters. “Yes, my Hon?”