And yes, he had been in that situation. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d been on both sides of that situation. But it was hard to trust his own best instincts in giving her advice, since in those moments, it became achingly clear to him how badly he wanted her to jettison whatever man she was talking about.

But he considered the question seriously, because she looked unhappy, and because she trusted him.

“I know it’s hard to feel like you’re being kind,” he said, “when the truth you need to tell is going to be hurtful. There’s just no way around that. But when I look back, I most appreciate the people who were straightforward about it, you know?” Even a little merciless, if he was being honest, but he didn’t say that out loud. He didn’t trust his own intentions in advising Bitterblue to be merciless with some man she was kicking out of her bed. “It’s good to avoid ambiguity,” he said. “It helps everyone move on.”

And then he waited, with various levels of agitation and self-enforced patience, until the man in question stopped being talked of, disappeared from court, and seemed unmissed. And then the next one came along, and he felt his age, the small income the Council granted him, his unworthiness, again. She was probably going to marry Katu Cavenda, once they figured out where he’d gone. Or she’d marry some earl, or at any rate, some man with a fortune and an unblemished past who deserved her, as much as anyone could deserve her. A good man.

Giddon had discovered, in his Council travels, that he could be many different men, depending on whom he was with and what they needed from him. He didn’t like all the Giddons he could be. Some were manipulative or forceful. Some were even violent, which always reminded him uncomfortably of his past, for in his life before the Council, Giddon had been a bully on behalf of King Randa. Long, long before the Council had made him understand some things about himself, and kings, and power, and bullies, he’d been a small-minded man who did small things. Bitterblue knew. He didn’t have many secrets Bitterblue didn’t know. He was lucky she considered him a friend.

This is enough, he thought. A life where I’m helping people, tricking corrupt kings, even dismantling monarchies is enough. What sense would it make anyway, for a queen to marry a lawbreaker? And then he would tell himself that it was time to write to Raffin and Bann, Katsa and Po, and propose a new assignment for himself, somewhere else.

Somehow, though, he never found the time to write those letters.

—

Late one morning in August, three months after Saf’s letter had arrived, Bitterblue came to Giddon’s door.