"Slow down, dammit, Miles. Look. You said her first marriage was dire, yes?"

"Not bruises and black eyes bad, no. Draining the blood of your spirit out drop by drop for years bad, maybe. I only saw the very end of it. It was pretty gruesome by then."

"Words can cut worse than knives. The wounds take longer to heal, too."

She didn't look at Roic. Roic didn't look back.

"Isn't that the truth," said m'lord, who wasn't looking at either of them. "Damn! Should I go over there or not? They say it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. Or was that the wedding dress? I can't remember."

Taura made a face. "And you accuse her of having wedding heebie-jeebies! Miles, listen. You know how the recruits got pre-combat nerves, before they went out on a mission the first time?"

"Oh, yes."

"Now. Do you remember how they got pre-combat nerves before they had to go out on a big drop for the second time?"

After a long pause, m'lord said, "Oh." Another silence. "I hadn't thought of it like that. I thought it was me."

"That's because you're an egotist. I only met the woman for one hour, but even I could see that you're the delight of her eyes. At least consider, for five consecutive seconds, the possibility that it might be him. The late Vorsoisson, whoever he was."

Oh, he was something else, all right. I've cursed him before for the scars he left on her soul."

"I don't think you have to say anything, much. Just be there. And be not him."

M'lord drummed his fingers on the banister. "Yes. Maybe. God. Pray God. Dammit..." He glanced across at Roic, ignored like Vorkosigan House furniture, a rack to hold coats. A dummy. "Roic, scrape up a vehicle; meet me back here in a few minutes. I want you to drive me over to Ekaterin's aunt's and uncle's house. I'm going to run up and change out of this armor-plating first, though." He ran his fingers across the elaborate silver embroidery upon his sleeve. He turned away, and his boot-steps scuffed up the stairs.

This was way too alarming. "What in t' world's going on?" Roic dared to ask Taura.

"Ekaterin's aunt called him. I gather Ekaterin lives at her house—"

"With Lord Auditor and Professora Vorthys, yes. She's been going to University from there."

"Anyway, the bride-to-be seems to be having some sort of awful nervous breakdown, or something." She frowned. "Or something . . . Miles isn't sure if he should go over and sit with her or not. I think he should."

That didn't sound good. In fact, it sounded about as not-good as it could be.

"Roic . . ." Taura's brows knotted. "Do you happen to know . . . could I find any commercial pharmaceutical laboratories open at this time of night in Vorbarr Sultana?"