An Intimate History of the Greater Kingdom

Temmin slid his arms around Anda from behind until his hands closed on her breasts, so soft and heavy, heavier than Arta's, kneading until she tilted her head back against his shoulder with a low growl. Under his fingers, her nipples grew hard, the wide circles of brown skin around them puckering and pebbling. "Are they supposed to do that?" he asked shyly. "It's not because I'm hurting you?"

"No, you're not hurting me, it means I like it--or that it's cold out," she laughed. "It's normal. Don't yours do that?"

He rolled her nipples between his fingers; he remembered Emmae liked it. "I hadn't really thought on it. So...it means you like my doing this?"

"Very much." Anda turned over in his arms.

The war of the wardrobe began. In the end, Temmin and Jenks reached a compromise: correct but comfortable clothes, not too formal, in exchange for the finest new small clothes the favored royal tailor could make on short notice. "If you're going to sit around in your underthings..." mumbled Jenks, letting the thought go unfinished.

On the day, Brother Mardus and his men escorted the Heir through the city and down the Promenade, handing him off to the Temple's Own at the top of the pink marble stairs. In their midst stood the ridiculously handsome Senik. To his surprise, the postulant kissed Temmin full on the lips. "That's how we say 'hello' here. It's also how we say 'goodbye,' 'thank you,' 'you're welcome'..." Senik waved an encompassing hand. "This way."

Two days before Farr's Day. Hendas of Holset was making pointed remarks to the Dowager now, and several Leutan lords gave up their wooing and were preparing to return to Leute: time to raise their armies. The day was warm and pleasant, and Warin took Edmerka out into the gardens for what he feared might be the last time. He'd made it clear that he waited only for word from her, but she had done nothing more than walk with him. Though they usually spoke in general pleasantries, today they spoke of past times, even the time in the cottage. There was a wistfulness in Edmerka's voice that struck both dread and hope into the King's heart; on the one hand, she might finally be reconciling past love with present, but on the other, she might be taking her leave, though with a certain sadness.

As for Edmerka, she had made up her mind.

From that day, Edmerka rejoined the daily life of the Keep. She walked more often in the garden, ate in the Great Hall, and dressed in colors, if drab ones, but she rebuffed every attempt Warin made to engage her in conversation. "I am not inclined to speak privately with you, Your Majesty," was all she would say, until finally Hendas of Holset came to her in frustration.

"Lady, I am here to tell you that you will either marry King Warin, or you will marry the Leutan lord of your choosing," he said, settling his thick frame into an equally thick chair in her bower.

"And if I choose none?" she said.

"Then you bring civil war to your kingdom, or worse. The lords ruling in your name will only do it for so long before their ambition overtakes them. And if you reject him, the King may decide to take Leute by force in his anger. Either way, you will destroy your people. Thousands will die, either by the sword or from the starvation and sickness that always follow war."