Cassandra let out her breath in a long, hissing sigh. She had never seen Amber like this, both sad and fierce, haunted and bold, vibrant and shuttered.
“Or perhaps by next spring or summer,” Amber said, watching Duncan, “Lord Robert will finally realize that Erik must have more knights. Or perchance Erik will arrive at some understanding with Dominic le Sabre. ’Tis said he prefers peace to war. A true Glendruid Wolf.”
“’Tis also said he asks no quarter—and gives none.”
“The same has been said of Erik.”
“Sometimes it’s true,” Cassandra said.
“And sometimes it isn’t.”
Laughter erupted from the knights at some sally neither woman had heard. Nor could anyone overhear them. The babble of festivities provided a haven for private conversation.
Cassandra meant to take full advantage of the opportunity. She had cast the stones for a fortnight, and for a fortnight the answer had come back the same.
A choice among evils.
“What,” Cassandra asked carefully, “does Erik believe will happen when Duncan discovers his true name?”
“If Duncan is simply told, he will know it, but he won’t feel it. He will be angry, but his feeling for me will outweigh his anger.”
Amber’s words were uninflected, the monotone of someone repeating an answer that was memorized rather than understood or believed.
“Do you think that?” Cassandra asked.
No answer came from Amber.
“Whatdoyou believe?” Cassandra asked in a clipped voice.
“I believe I love the man who came to me in shades of darkness,” she whispered. “I believe he desires me all the way to his very soul. And I hope…”
Amber’s voice faded.
“Tell me,” Cassandra said, but her tone was as compassionate as it was insistent.
Long, dark gold eyelashes swept down, concealing eyes that held more shadows than light. When Amber spoke, her voice trembled with the force of her tightly held emotions.
“I hope and I pray that Duncan will learn to love me before he knows his true name,” she said. “Then, perhaps…”
Amber’s voice splintered. Hidden beneath the table, her nails dug heedlessly into her palms.
“Perhaps?” Cassandra asked.
A visible tremor went through Amber.
“Perhaps he will be able to forgive me for not telling him,” she said.
“That is why you will go to the marriage bed,” Cassandra said, understanding at last. “You hope to win him there.”
“Yes.”
“You go knowing that you will give more of yourself each time he touches you.”
“Yes.”
“You go knowing that you will likely wake one day and find yourself hated by the very man to whom you gave your heart, your body…and your soul.”
“Yes.”