She wondered if he was already trying to tempt her husband with courtesans.

She could not think long on that.

She was angry with her husband. She was often frustrated by her husband.

But she loved her husband.

If he strayed, in her heart, she would no longer have a husband.

Just a king.

“However, I will always be mother to the heir to the throne,” she finished.

“I’m uncertain how important that is when we have a robust sitting king,” he retorted.

“Really?” she inquired. “This surprises me as you’re always so keen to share with my husband how well you read the pulse of the people.”

None of his points had been veiled for he lacked the skill to do such a thing.

None of hers had either, for he lacked the intelligence to gather her meaning if she did.

They stared into each other’s eyes.

She couldn’t do that all night, not only because it was ridiculous, but because she actually did have a number of things to do.

Thus, she queried, “Are you quite done?”

“I have a feeling you are,” he replied, the double meaning behind this also not veiled.

“We shall see,” she murmured, dipped her chin and turned away.

Fortunately, he didn’t call out to her.

Unfortunately, their chat meant she had to seek her chamber, and not go to check the progress of the seamstresses before she returned to her study to read through the updated response list and continue to devise and revise the seating in the temple and at the reception for the wedding.

Opportunely, Helga was in Mercy’s boudoir, seeing to some mending of lace on one of Mercy’s gowns.

Her maid’s attention came to her the moment Mercy entered the room, but Mercy did not speak until she had the door closed behind her and she and her maid were close.

“The ravens were sent to Prince True yesterday, yes?” she asked.

“Of course, milady, as you requested.”

“And Sir Bram?” she went on.

Helga nodded. “The messages direct from your hand, written twice each. Two birds for each message sent to two men. Four birds. I watched them fly away myself.”

Mercy nodded.

“I need you to bring paper and pen, Helga. I’ll need another message sent tonight. Not a bird, a messenger on a steed,” she instructed.

“Oh no,” Helga whispered.

“Yes, my friend,” Mercy muttered. “As my son is far away, we need reinforcements. I need to send for Silence,” she paused. “And Mars.”

Helga held her mistress’s gaze for but a moment before she nodded, dipped a curtsy and then strode off quickly to do as she was asked.

Mercy stared at the gown Helga had left behind on a fainting couch upholstered in forest-green velvet.

The nap of the couch was worn and at the bottom lip, there was a fray.

Her gaze wandered around the cozy, warm room with its merry fire.