Three days after Mihael's funeral, a trading party coming west from Sundell was attacked. Nearly all the guards and merchants were slaughtered by outlaws. The ones who escaped fled west to Nimbus Castle.
They were bathed and rested, with their wounds dressed before they met with Peto. But the royal treatment they received did nothing to dispel their anger, which seemed to be fueled more by the loss of gold and goods than that of their porters' lives.
'You must do something to end these attacks, or the alliance between our lands is meaningless.' Ilsabet had quietly listened to the merchants describe the attack. Now she leaned forward, getting Peto's attention before saying, 'The rebels were strong in that area. They may be leading the thugs.'
'She's right,' Jorani said. 'If they are challenging our alliance, we need to make a strong showing.'
'A united one,' Ilsabet added.
Peto agreed and ordered Jorani and Shaul, the two highest-ranking officers of the Obour and Casse families, to ride out together at the head of a group of united troops.
In the days the troops were gone, Peto saw much of Ilsabet. She dined with him, sitting at a distance that managed to be both polite and cautious. He saw how she eyed his food taster, now one of the cook's children, a stout boy of twelve with a crippled arm and a placid disposition. Peto suspected he had volunteered for this position not to be useful but because the food would be better.
Peto found the thought so amusing that he requested that portions served him from the kitchen be increased by one half. From then on, he simply placed half on the second plate for the child and sent him to the far end of the table to go about his work.
His only demand was that the boy learn to eat faster. Since it seemed unwise for Peto to begin before the boy had finished, he'd begun to long for a warm slice of meat or a steaming potato.
'Do you suppose he'll need more as he gets older?' Ilsabet whispered to Peto one evening after the boy had moved out of earshot.
'Probably, but nonetheless it's good to see someone so well-matched to his chosen profession,' he replied, thinking how good it was to laugh again.
At least the news from the east was good. In the four days since the soldiers had set up camp in the border forest, they had killed half a dozen outlaws and took twice as many prisoner. Of the forty soldiers sent out, two were killed and three wounded. The wounded men were recovering well, tended by the healer and Ilsabet, who eagerly used what she had learned to make them rest easier.
She'd shown particular patience in working with the most painfully wounded of the men, sitting by his bed, feeding him poppy extract and holding his hand while the surgeons removed his gangrenous leg. Later, when Peto came down to the makeshift hospital to see how the man was doing, he found Ilsabet still sitting at the bedside, holding the man's hand though her own had been bruised by the force of the man's grip. He thought she had never looked so beautiful as she did then.
There was much to admire in her, so much that he sent a letter home to his mother explaining his feelings and asking her permission, as his surviving parent, to wed Ilsabet.
The answer came two days later, brought by the same messenger. It was not as understanding as Peto had hoped.
You know exactly what people will think, his mother wrote. Kislovans will assume you are so anxious for a marriage with their rulers that when you could not have one Obour bride, you picked another. As for myself, I speak for most of Sundell when I wonder why you cannot find a bride among your own. Come home, Peto, I'm sure if you look again you'll find someone more than suitable here.
Peto showed Ilsabet the letter almost apologetically. 'I thought it best to ask her before speaking to you,' he said. 'But as you see…'
Ilsabet frowned and looked away to hide her disappointment. This was exactly the reaction he'd hoped for.
'… she'll have to be reminded who is ruler and why I would make such a decision. Will you come to Sundell with me as my bride?'
'Bride?' Ilsabet had her terms all prepared, but now that the matter was in the open, she wasn't certain how to proceed. 'When Mihael died, I became the last Obour. Do you understand?' she said.
'If you don't marry, you'll certainly be the last.'
'I made a vow. I can't give up my name.'
He considered this. 'Then keep it,' he said.
Ilsabet went into his arms and kissed him, astonished at how much pleasure she got from the touch. Cinder other circumstances she would find him a charming man.
He pushed her to arm's length, looking at her face with the same adoration her father had. Ilsabet realized that he loved her, as well as desired her. Someday, she vowed, he would know the truth about how Marishka had died.
'And our son will have both names?' Ilsabet asked, pressing her case gently.
'It is done in some of the northern provinces when the mother's family is of high noble blood. The move will undoubtedly cause some talk in Sundell, but once the nobles meet you they'll understand why I agree to this. Besides, it is fitting for a man who will rule both countries.'
'And who will rule Kislova for our son?' It was the heart of her demand, but to say it outright would seem too mercenary. She couldn't risk that.
'I've never thought of Kislova as mine,' he said. 'When Mihael was alive, I considered it his. Now that he is gone, I have consulted with Lord Jorani and Lord Ruven. They tell me that there are women running estates in this land. Why can't a woman rule it?'
'Me?' Ilsabet looked no more shocked than she felt, though for a different reason. She'd expected the bargaining to be more difficult.
'I return it to you as my wedding gift.'
Ilsabet closed her eyes, wanting to laugh and cry.
'Isn't it what you want?' he asked.
'Oh, yes. But Peto, it means that we'll be apart,' she said, trying to sound upset by that prospect.
'Not so often. Shadow and Nimbus are close enough. And when you are with me, Lord Jorani or Ruven or whomever you wish can rule in your place.'
She kissed him again.
'What kind of a wedding would you like?' he asked.
'None.' She laughed at his sudden shock. 'I mean I wish no feast, no dancing, no complex ceremony. I experienced all that with Marishka. I don't think I could bear to stand in her place. There would be too many memories.' She touched his cheek. 'I'd like to wed soon,' she said.
That evening, with not even Jorani to confide in, she opened her journal and made a single entry. 'It seemed to be so right to kiss him. It occurs to me I will have to make an effort to keep my wits about me when dealing with him. It would be easy to forget he is the enemy.'
Two nights later, just as the sun was setting, Peto and Ilsabet exchanged their vows in a small ceremony attended only by Jorani and Shaul and a handful of Sundell officers. Afterward, they drank a toast with Sundell wine, a second from the vineyards west of Pirie. Jorani had brought his lute and played a slow wedding song. He managed to smile as he did so. The expression always looked out of place on him, so he doubted anyone noticed how strained it really was.
While he played, he noticed that Ilsabet was staring past him, her expression so intense that he could only assume she was having second thoughts or her conscience troubled her. He moved quickly to her side and brushed his lips against her cheek, whispering quickly, 'A bride should not look so pensive at her wedding ceremony.'
'I was thinking of my sister,' she said, her expression softening somewhat as she turned her attention back to her husband.
Jorani left the hall before the wedding couple. He'd considered carrying up a bottle of brandy to his tower but decided against it. There were safer potions to bring him sleep if sleep had been what he desired. Instead, he sought out one of the serving girls who'd given hints of being attracted to him.
