The current problem was that it was intensely difficult to find time and quiet to write, and she needed to write. She had commissions for long poems. Paying ones, from nobility who saw a work by her as adding to their own stature. And the queen, who wanted her by her side, did not actually pay for her company. Marina had a pleasant suite of rooms in the palace, ate with Queen Bianca most nights, had the drama of being close to great events, but…

But none of that paid for her château, or anything else. Nor was the queen the sort to take it well if asked for money. If Marina wrote a poem-cycle for her, it would be expected to be a gift. The queen was profoundly resistant to paying anyone for anything. It was well known. They were like that in Macera, she thought. Could not help but think. A deep city-state rivalry.

So she snatched, as a thief might, whatever time she could to work in her rooms. She had promised the Duke de Varelle an epic verse on his ancestors’ heroism by autumn. It was late summer now and she had a long way to go.

Accordingly, when her maid knocked and reported visitors, she was not pleased.

“Who?” she asked shortly. You were permitted to decline visitors here. Or make them wait.

Names were given. She smiled, stood up from her desk. “Show them in,” she said.

There were some people she did like. Not many, but there were.

—

Marina kissed them both, Silvy first, as was to be expected, really. But she also drew Thierry into an embrace and kissed him on both cheeks. She had ink on her hand. He liked seeing that. Said as much.

“I am taking what chances I can find,” Marina said ruefully. “I have a poem due too soon.” She glanced at what he was holding. “You have brought me something to read?”

“What I wrote in your château. For the use of which I will always be grateful.”

Marina smiled. “I learn from the children that they loved having you.”

“I told them stories in the garden.”

“No one else does,” she said. “They’ll remember.” She tilted her head. “I should like to be told a story.”

Silvy grinned. “Don’t get him started!” she said.

Marina looked at her a moment, then back at Thierry, and then she smiled again.

“Oh, good!” she said. “You two have finally figured out what was obvious to everyone else.” And laughed to see them both react.

She gestured them to chairs. Sat at the writing desk again, as if proximity might produce words, somehow, even while they talked.

“Obvious?” Silvy said. “Really?”

“To anyone paying attention,” Marina said.

“Why would anyone pay attention?” Thierry asked.

Marina made a face. “I did.”

“An entirely different thing,” Silvy declared.

Marina smiled again. “Are you going to be one of those unpleasant couples who join together against everyone?”