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Aiken’s jaw grinds together, as if he cares that I’d been poorly treated by my husband.
“I’d been troubled since our betrothal was announced. No young lady wishes to marry a man of his age or reputation.”
“But your father sought an alliance with the border lords?”
“Aye.” I drink, remembering that day. “I knew as the future queen of Meria I’d not choose my own husband. Even still, I could not keep the disappointment from my face. Father had been furious with me, but what was I to do? Feign excitement at the prospect?”
I drink again.
“I took no pleasure in being his wife, but neither did I shirk my duties. At least we remained at court. I had Cettina, and my ladies.”
I do believe I may be getting drunk.
“And then the affair,” he finishes.
“Whitley had been furious, of course. When my father disavowed me, when we were exiled, his anger knew just one restraint. Surprisingly, he never struck me. But for bringing dishonor to his family name, for marrying a disgraced princess instead of the would-be queen . . . I think it may have been easier for me had he beaten me if it could have spared me from all the rest.”
Aiken fills both of our mugs.
“Those scars may have healed,” I finish lamely, not wishing to detail my confinement. Or the shame of being made to sit with the servants, who resented me as much as their master.
“Why did you not allow your sister to grant you a divorce after the king died?”
“I told you,” I start, but he does not accept it.
“To feed her information? I cannot think the queen would allow you to endure such treatment for the purpose of having an informant.”
Not wishing to discuss my husband, or my marriage, any longer, I break off a piece of bread.
“You overestimate Cettina’s will and underestimate mine.”
I look back toward the door as I chew.
“Is that normal, to have someone standing guard. At an inn?”
When he doesn’t answer, I look back to my companion. His expression is answer enough. Suddenly, it makes sense.
“You know the innkeeper. You have scouts. That man, he is also in your employ?”
No damned answer. Of course.
“Do all Elderman wield such influence?”
Nothing.
“Or just the Prima’s personal guard?”
I could be wrong, but it seems as if Aiken is staring at my lips.
“Fine, you keep your secrets, and I shall keep my own. Stubborn bugger.”
The corners of his mouth lift.
“Is that a smile I see? Such a rare sight indeed. A pity that. You are much more handsome when you smile.”
His mouth continues to curve upward. A miracle.
“I do believe I am getting drunk,” I inform him.
