“But you cannot stay here and…and…”

“What?” Her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. “Become his wife in word and deed?” As she spoke, her voice rose, and I shushed her, but she didn’t listen. As if I really expected her to. “Well, isn’t that a quandary, because that is what will happen, Kammani. He’s going to try. He can’t be the man he’s so desperately trying to be without giving it a whirl.”

“Iltani, Dagan is trying to pay Gala off for you this instant. Lower your voice.”

But she kept speaking, her voice rising with every word. “And there is nothing I will be able to do about it but try not to murder him.” Her voice caught as her chin quivered. “If I did that, they would find me and kill my parents. So I’ll have to take it or fend him off as best as I can.” She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together until they were white, misery making her writhe.

I clutched her hands in mine, staring hard down the side of the house, praying to Selu that Dagan was making headway in his conversation. She squeezed me with all the ferocity she had in her, hanging on to this brief connection with me like a drowning woman about to sink under the river.

My voice broke. “My friend…,” I whispered.

She laid her forehead on my hands, but she did not cry. She breathed in the scent of my fingers interlaced with hers and, after a moment, laid a loud kiss on top.

“It’s okay. Get Arwia on the throne. Once she’s restored, she’ll have Gala put to death, and I can choose who gets the supreme privilege of sharing my bed.”

“I may be able to help you before then, if Dagan does not succeed.”

I reached down into my healing satchel, buried under thick robes padded to disguise my shape, and pulled out a clay bottle.

“Add a fingernail of this to his food, but be careful not to eat it yourself. Wash your hands after you touch the powder.”

Her eyes glittered as she took the little bottle, squinting at the contents. “What is it? Will it kill him? As long as it looks like an accident, I am more than willing—”

I swallowed nervously. “No! No, but it might make him wish to die, at least for a little while. It’s a mixture of aloe vera juice, senna, and turmeric. It should cause severe stomach cramping and loose bowels.” I shrugged. “A man in pain will have a difficult time performing his husbandly duties.”

“A fingernail, huh? What about the whole vial?”

My smile wavered. “Well, he’d likely die, as his blood would thicken and slow in his veins because he’d lose so much water.”

She took the cask and put it in the waistband of her tunic, her face thoughtful. “Hmmm.”

“Iltani, please don’t murder him.”

“We shall see. If he contracts a deadly illness, who am I to question the gods?”