Gahalatine smiled and bowed his head. “I will do what I can to alleviate the suffering I have caused.” He looked at Trynne, who felt a smile of gratitude tug at her lips. Gahalatine beamed when he saw it.

Drew noticed the subtle interplay between them and arched his eyebrow. “How will your people react to this news, my lord?”

Gahalatine leaned back against the window, looking thoughtful. “The Mandaryn will be violently opposed. They control the bureaucracy. But the military is loyal to me. I can also be very . . . persuasive, King Andrew. My people may need some time to accept this change. But I do not doubt that they will come to see the advantages as I have. I would like to invite you to visit us in the Forbidden Court. To see for yourself what the East Kingdoms offer to your splendor.”

Drew arched his brow again. “You used the word us. And I’ve noticed the way the two of you have been looking at each other.” He scratched the corner of his mouth as if trying to subdue a grin. “You said your surrender was unconditional. But is there an understanding between the two of you? I sense that there is.”

Gahalatine said nothing, but he looked at Trynne with a pleased and humble smile. She stroked the warm fabric on her arms, savoring the sensation and the feeling of calm assurance in her heart. She walked over to the window seat and sat next to Gahalatine, taking his hands in hers. He caressed her fingers with his thumb, and she gave him a shy glance.

“When I went to Chandigarl,” Trynne said, looking over at the king, “Gahalatine promised me his troth and I declined it by fleeing his presence. My first loyalty and duty has always been to you and your wife. But I did promise him, when we were discussing terms, that I would be his wife if he swore fealty to you. Truly, my lord, he has no guile. He trusted my word just as I trusted his.” She heard the door open as she turned to Gahalatine and spoke the next words. “I do accept your troth.”

Drew turned at the intrusion, and they all saw Fallon standing in the doorway, leaning on a crutch. The look in his eyes filled Trynne with pangs of regret. He did not look startled. He did not look angry. He looked defeated. But he rallied himself, putting on a complacent mask.

“My timing is always infallibly, imperturbably, and impressively punctual,” Fallon said, forcing a chuckle. “I nearly missed the best part.” He hobbled inside, wincing at the pain in his leg, and shut the door. His mask of affability was firmly in place, but Trynne knew him well, and she saw the pain in his eyes. “Well, my lord Gahalatine, let me be the first to wish you both well. When are the nuptials? Did I miss that part?”