His expression of total shock as the blunted point of her long steel tickled him under the chin was positively delightful.

“Would that be a touch to me?” she asked, all innocence.

He slowly lifted his head. “I have a strange sense you’ve fenced before.”

“I never said otherwise.” She stabbed her long steel into the turf and offered him her hand. “That was your assumption.”

“You could’ve corrected me,” he said as she helped him up.

“I just did. I’ve been fencing since I was a girl. My father taught me.”

He bent to collect his steels. “So… not only have you fenced before, but you were trained by one of the best swordsmen the Union ever produced?”

She gave an artless shrug. “It’s fine exercise.” The moment he was up she came at him again, but this time he was ready, parried and stepped watchfully back towards the edge of the circle.

“I expected to be giving a lesson,” he muttered. “I should have realised I’d be taking one.”

“Not at all. I gave up playing with knives, after Valbeck…” The well-worn memory of her sword sliding through that man’s back. The faint pressure of the grip in her palm. The look of shock on his face. But she found she could dismiss it much more easily now. She had warned him, after all. If he had not wanted to be stabbed he should have fucking left her alone. “Pregnancy and motherhood are hardly compatible with the fencing circle. I am awfully out of practice.”

“That was my first thought just now as I lay on my back with your sword at my throat. How awfully out of practice you seem.”

He jabbed warily at her and she flicked it away. Her legs felt heavier than they once had, her breath came harder, but it felt good to be back in the circle. She had spent too long curled up with her babies, growing soft and motherly. It was high time that she exerted some discipline. That she competed. That she won. And not just with a sword.

“I confess I was not looking only for a fencing partner,” she said.

“An ulterior motive?” Jurand eyed her steels warily as they circled. “You shock me again.”

“I wanted to talk to you about the future.”

“To me?”

“To you first of all.” She danced in, their blades rang together prettily enough but with no real fire, and they broke again. “The new Closed Council must represent the new Union, and you will be its heart. You should be confirmed as Lord Chamberlain.”

Jurand looked pleased, flattered and slightly flushed, precisely as she had intended. “I… would be honoured to serve Your Highnesses however you decide.”

“Please. I need you at that table every bit as much as Leo does. You are a clever man, Jurand. Subtle and loyal. You have a gift for organisation. I wish you had been at Stoffenbeck with us. I begged Leo to bring you, but… well.” She jabbed again, and again, left her wrist limp and let him parry easily. Nowhere near as sharply as she could have done. Nowhere near as sharply as her father once made her, again and again until her whole body was on fire. “Glaward must have a seat, too, of course. As lord marshal, maybe?”