Kovrim was there, surrounded by perhaps a dozen men. Several of them were pointing crossbows at the priest.

"I can't believe he would do this to me!" Emriana sobbed, her face buried in her pillows. "He never even talked to me about it!" Jaleene sat beside her charge, gently stroking her hair and trying to soothe the girl with soft sounds.

"Your grandmother would never let this happen," the handmaiden said. "When she finds out, she'll put a stop to it."

Emriana sniffed and said, "Grandmother Hetta doesn't seem to know what's going on."

The thought occurred to her then that perhaps her grandmother was in agreement with Dregaul, that the two of them had made the decision together that she should marry Denrick. As ridiculous as that seemed, especially after the conversation the girl had had with the elderly woman only two short days before, the notion left a cold hole in the middle of her stomach. She began sobbing again, feeling like her world was crashing down around her.

When Emriana had first pieced together what her uncle had announced, she didn't believe it. She didn't think that she was remembering correctly. But there was Denrick, climbing the steps and greeting Dregaul warmly, that sickly wolfish smile on his face. And she knew. In her heart, she realized that Uncle Dregaul had sealed the business relationship with her life. He had promised Denrick that the boy could have her, as though she were some prized horse or plot of land. And she understood, too, then, in that terrible moment of realization, that Jithelle Skolotti had been slain, had been murdered with Denrick's unborn child in her womb, because the heir to House Pharaboldi was to wed Emriana. The poor servant girl had died because Emriana Matrell was waiting in the wings. It made her physically sick.

She ran, then, turned and fled the balcony, dashing past both Dregaul and Denrick, who looked on with a mixture of surprise and amusement. Dregaul called to Emriana, shouted at her, demanded that she return and show proper deference, or some such nonsense, but she ignored him and ran, all the way back to her rooms.

Jaleene had arrived a few moments later, having been a witness to the whole thing, and was trying to calm her.

"Hush, Em," the woman soothed. "It's going to be all right."

Emriana sat up and looked at her companion.

"How can you say that?" she wailed softly, her eyes burning with tears. "They killed that poor girl because of me. Uncle Dregaul probably knew about it. He probably insisted on it before he would agree to the merger. What am I going to do? He's already planned my future for me, with that, that-"

"That what?" came a voice from the doorway to the balcony. It was Denrick, standing there looking in, a faint smile on his face. "What am I?" he asked.

Emriana physically recoiled from the boy, even though he was halfway across the room leaning casually against the frame of the door.

Jaleene got up and moved to stand between the intruder and her charge.

"You shouldn't be here," the handmaiden said, her hands on her hips. "It's not proper to visit a young lady in her private chambers. Leave now, or I'll call the house guards to remove you."

Denrick simply chuckled, making no move to go in either direction.

"Will you, now?" he said. "And do you think they'll respond to you, a servant, when the man they actually answer to is of a far different mind? I've already been told that I was welcome to come up here and visit my fiancee, and that is exactly what I've done. No house guard is going to throw me out, I can assure you."

"Don't you talk to her that way," Emriana said, rising from the bed to stand beside her handmaiden. "You might treat your own servants like dirt, but you will not do so here."

Denrick laughed again.

"You're still convinced I did something to Jithelle, aren't you? Well, my dear, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I did no such thing." He took a step into the room, interlacing his fingers and thrusting them out, palms downward, to crack his knuckles. "She was a comely one, and I'll admit only to having a weakness for falling into her wonderful eyes and a need to nestle against her other womanly charms from time to time. But that was the extent of it."

"You sorry bastard," Emriana sneered. "The sorrow by the cistern was just an act, wasn't it? You didn't feel anything about her loss, or the fact that she carried your baby."

Denrick smirked.

"She was a diversion, that was all," he admitted. "A man of my tastes has a variety of needs, and she fit some of them nicely, but that was all it was, and all it would ever be. If she believed there would be more to it, that was her mistake, not mine."

Emriana glowered at the pompous man, but he ignored her and continued, "As for the child, I truly did not know about it." A brief grimace passed over his face, but it faded again just as quickly. "But no matter, I'm sure you'll provide me with plenty of children to dandle from my knees," he finished, taking another step into the room.

"I will never lie with you," Emriana snarled. "You can lust for me all you want, but it will never happen."

At nearly the same time, Jaleene stalked forward, with the obvious intention of physically pushing Denrick back out through the door.

"I told you," she said, planting her hands against his chest and shoving, "that it is not proper for you to be here. Now leave, or I-"

Denrick swung a fist up, smacking the servant hard with the back of his hand. The blow snapped Jaleene's head around, and with a grunt, she stumbled backward and tumbled to the floor, sprawling full out. She moaned once softly and lay still.

"Don't ever lay a hand on me again," Denrick said coldly, walking to loom over her. "You need to learn to remember your place."

Emriana gave an animal cry and lunged forward to punch at the callous, hateful man, but Denrick was ready for her, bringing his arm up to ward off the blow, then reaching out and grasping her by her wrists. He jerked her around, twisting both of her arms up behind her back, and walked her forward, toward the bed.

In a flash of realization, Emriana came to understand that he was leading her toward a bed, and the images of what he would do to her there began to cascade through her mind's eye. She panicked, fighting for all she was worth, digging her heels in and trying to jerk her arms free. In her desperation, Emriana managed to slam the heel of one of her boots against the man's shin. He yelped in surprise and released her.

The girl darted away, thinking to charge out the door, but Denrick was too fast, and he cut her off, forcing her to turn away from him or be caught again. She angled away, looking to double back around, but Denrick simply sidestepped several times, slowly working her into a corner.

"There's no place to run," the man said, settling into a position facing Emriana, keeping her pinned in the corner of the room. "And this time, you don't have a cistern or your fool brother here to protect you."

Emriana glanced furtively around, looking for a means of escape, or a weapon with which to defend herself, but there was nothing. She glared at the man, hoping her fiery gaze made it clear that she would not go down easily, and he would be better served to find some other woman with whom to dally. In her heart, though, she feared that it was only a matter of time. She stole a quick look toward Jaleene, but her only ally at the moment was out cold.

"If you touch me, I'll tear your eyes out," Emriana warned the predator in front of her. "You think you had problems before, trying to figure out what to do with Jithelle, but you don't know the half of it, if you get any closer to me."

Denrick smiled that wolfish grin.