I asked him to send for Tril.

I needed to prepare for bed in order to attempt to sleep in preparation for taking on another day as wife of Mars Laches.

But mostly as Queen of Firenze.

I had left the lamps glowing on the squat tables on either side of our bed for Mars’s return.

But I was abed, in my nightgown, one that Tril brought with a stubbornness that was disquieting, which meant it was one Tril refused to go back to my trunk in her tent to exchange for another that was more to my liking.

Not that I didn’t like it. It was beautiful.

A bodice made entirely of lace (and thus you could see through it, not completely, but you didn’t have to look hard get a clear-ish picture) with a skirt that fell to my knees, was somewhat sheer, but provided full coverage. That was, it did in the sense of material. The slits at the front of either leg went all the way up to some satin bows at the edge of the lace at either hip, and they exposed a good deal.

If I moved, that good deal was everything.

It was mauve.

The color complimented my skin.

It was nothing of the like I’d ever worn before I was married.

The lace was a bit scratchy so it wasn’t all that comfortable.

And it was an invitation I did not want to give.

Tril, who was less patient with the distance growing between Mars and I than Kyril was, essentially demanded her queen wear it.

However, for Tril, I was not queen.

I was instead, and always would be, Silence. Tril was my only true friend and had been the only one I could faithfully count on my entire life.

Thus, half fearing Mars would return before we were done, and half not wanting to have an argument with another being who meant something to me, I’d donned it.

And wearing it, I had one more obstacle to climb before being able to go to sleep so I could be refreshed to take on whatever came on the morrow.

That obstacle had arrived, I knew, when I heard the tent flap open.

I lay in bed, my back to Mars’s side, and I did it with my entire body tense.

I heard him moving about. I heard his leathers drop to the rugs. I heard the swish of him pulling on the silks he slept in. And finally, I felt the mattress shift as he laid his great bulk on it.

Only then did I brace to face what was next.

What always happened right before we went to bed. What I both looked forward to with wistfulness for what I’d hoped it could be but never would, and I dreaded because it never would be what I needed it to be.

My husband and I taking off each other’s marital chains.