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“We may be seen,” she said, nodding to the stairs they had just climbed.

“I would take you in my arms, uncaring who sees us.”

“As would I,” Freya said. But they did not. Already she was sure her name was whispered for having arrived at Bristol with two men, alone, and with no escort. “You are alive,” she said, sounding silly. But mere hours ago, Freya could not be certain of the fact. “Will you tell me what occurred?”

He seemed surprised by her question. “Of course.” Rory cocked his head to the side, as if thinking. “My parents,” he said, “have an unconventional marriage, I suppose. My mother makes no fewer decisions than my father, though defers to him and the marshal on training and Bristol’s defenses. But I am not a man who wishes for his wife to be kept in the dark, Freya. Surely you realize that?”

“Nor am I a woman who would allow it. Surely you realize that as well?”

“I do. Though I do not know if you will wish to marry me any longer.”

Freya had prepared herself for this already. Last eve, she’d told Lady Catrina everything. Of the attack, their journey to Shenworth. Of her son’s offer of marriage and support. At first, she had been hesitant to do so, not wanting to speak to her without Rory present. But as the night wore on, the two women remaining in the solar, where Lady Catrina had invited her to sit and speak . . . it had seemed appropriate.

Which was how Freya already knew how this conversation would go.

“You cannot help me.”

“You spoke with my mother?”

“I did.”

“And she told you that I would not get permission to speak to the council?”

“She told me she would be surprised to see such a thing happen given that no circumstances have changed since their last decision.”

“But they have,” Rory argued. “They have changed.”

Freya did not wish to admit it, but she’d thought much last eve, coupled with the worry for Rory’s life, and Lady Catrina’s words rang true. “Nay, you have. Your feelings for me have, perhaps. But the circumstances have not.”

“If we held Edyington . . .”

Freya did reach out then and laid a hand on Rory’s forearm, never taking her eyes from his. “The benefit of doing so does not outweigh the risk to your family.”

“Freya, do you realize what you imply?” He covered her hand with his, twining his fingers with hers. She did not wish to move them, his touch something she’d craved all eve and into the morn.

“I do. But being here, thinking you might have been dead . . .”

“I am alive,” he said, responding to the pain in her voice. “I am alive and here with you.”

“For how long?” she blurted. Surely he understood the implications of what he’d been about to tell her. “Your father will not give you permission to seek the council’s aid once again?”

His jaw ticked. “He will not.”

“Which means . . . there is no need for us to marry, Rory.”

“What are you saying, Freya?”

She did not want to say the words aloud, but ’twas necessary. “You would have married me for protection. A way to claim the fight against my brother, for Edyington, justified. If there is no fight—” she took a deep breath, “—there is no need for marriage.”

“No need? Freya, what do you say? There is more of a need than before. If you do not return to Edyington, your brother will still wish to claim you as his ward. As will your grandmother and even the king. They will search for you.”

“They will not need to search.” It was as if her heart were being torn from her chest. Listening to Lady Catrina tell the tale of how she met Rory’s father . . . the love she bore for him was palpable.

Theirs would be a very different sort of marriage. One Rory felt compelled to enter into because he felt sympathy for her. In exchange, he would not have Edyington to further control this part of the border for the Brotherhood. He would have, well, nothing. Except a very angry king and a wife he did not love. “I will return to Shenworth.”

Rory pulled his hand away. “You would prefer to be married to a man of your grandmother’s choosing over me?”

He did care for her, Freya realized. It was not simply desire, though there was much of that as well. He cared for her, but did not love her. Even his own mother questioned whether or not her son could ever love again. When Freya had admitted Rory had told her about Alys, Lady Catrina had opened up to her, told her some of what Rory had been like when Alys left. It was then that she knew for certain Rory did not love her, because he would never open his heart to anyone ever again.