“No,” she said. “He will.”

And with not another word, but he did hear her swallowed sob, his wife swept from the room.

She was gone nary a second before a tall, straight, good-looking young man in Dellish constabulary greens walked into the room.

Johan pulled the bedclothes tighter about him and announced, “I will have privacy.”

“You will have notice, sir,” the man returned, “that there is irrefutable evidence, as witnessed by me, your wife, and another member of the constabulary.” He tipped his head to the opened doorframe, in which stood another man, less tall, less good-looking, but also wearing constabulary greens. “Of committing adultery.”

Johan’s blood ran cold.

It was not strictly against the law to commit adultery.

However, it was significantly looked down upon.

And if the betrayal was repeated, or longstanding, and a spouse wished to press matters, and had proof, the law there was could make it financially inconvenient.

“Your wife can press dissolution of the household,” the constable told him something Johan knew. “Which she has already charged us with doing. And if you do not understand what that means, it means, with the extent of your infidelity, which management and workers of this establishment alike have shared has lasted years, your wife can petition as her wont for restitution.”

As her wont.

This meant, if his adultery was proved, the length and the extent of it especially, which had been witnessed, and discussed, thus it would be proved, Vanka could make the wildest demand.

And he would be forced to grant it.

This did not happen very often.

Mostly because it was difficult to prove and that was mostly because establishments such as this did not often share about their clienteles’ penchants. If they did, they would find themselves without a clientele.

Something this particular establishment might not have to worry about, if those in it were compensated by the wealthiest bloody king on the gods-damned continent.

Johan fought seething and opened his mouth to try speaking, “I—”

“This, however, is the least of your worries,” the man carried on.

The least of his worries?

The constable continued, “For we are here not only on that errand, as charged by your wife, but on the report that you hired three women, who did not wish to take on this task, but had no choice due to life circumstances, and pressure from you with your title in your position, to spy on the king and queen of a nation allied with Wodell. And that, sir, is an act of treason.”

Johan’s entire frame froze.

“Now, it would be good of you to get dressed and come with us,” the man finished.

“I…they…I…” He pulled himself together. “They, the whores, had no issue taking my money.”

“You can share your version at the tribunal,” the man said. “Now, please, dress.”

“I cannot stand tribunal,” Johan whispered.

The shame alone…