Lady Mora did not know what to expect of Venrax. She’d never seen Lord Kedar’s realm, but has his power had grown and her late husband had spoken of his rival’s ambition, she’d imagined the land to reflect the man whose image had been fixed in her mind before she ever faced him on the battlefield in her husband’s stead.

She expected a brutal place - cold, barren and unyielding as the man who now held her captive. But just as he’d surprised her by departing from his disciplinarian role to show concern for her, so did the land surprise her now. It was much like Adwin which- she was forced to remind herself - yet another conquered holding of the man who owned her as surely as he did the land upon she once lived.

Would she ever see it again? She did not know. What Mora did know was that her life had taken a drastic turn since her decision to save her elderly husband’s life by invoking a law allowing her to take his place on the battlefield. She’d thought that day that her life would end, but Lord Kedar had other plans. Rather than kill her, he’d taken her life in a different way. He’d deemed her his property, and the Noble Council had agreed. For Mora, the news had been devastating. Lord Kedar was so different than the kindly Lord Desmond, who - broken by the news, decided to try to reclaim his wife.

But he never made it. The elderly lord fell from his horse and died on the road.

And now Lord Kedar decided that the Lady Mora needed to be under his protection and had announced that he intended to wed her. It was not a proposal, but a statement. Now as Mora looked around at the lush fields and comfortable cottages, it was clear that Kedar was a ruler who took care of his own. She would be protected. But would she be happy?

He was strict. Already he’d spanked her twice for defying him. One of the spankings came after she’d offended his right hand man, Creed. Mora hated Creed. She hated his haughty look, and the constant needling. He was forever reminding her of how helpless she was to Kedar’s will. He seemed to delight in seeing Mora struggle to be obedient.

But did she hate Kedar? She didn’t know. She’d made love to him, and was still try to sort out how that could happen. It shamed her to recall how easily she’d yielded to him, just as he’d confidently predicted she would. Mora told herself it was because he’d saved her children when he did not have to. A mother’s weakness is her children; his compassion in getting them out of the land he was conquering until it was stabilized was a kindness she did not expect. Her gratitude, combined with her grief over Desmond had created a fertile situation for an emotional reaction.

Her physical reaction was another matter, but she would not allow herself to ponder it. She glanced at Creed, who looked over at her and gave his arrogant half-smile. His eyes were knowing; had Kedar bragged of mastering her in bed? Had Creed heard through the walls of the inn? She could not think on it. So Mora turned her mind to other matters, chiefly how to recapture some of the power missing from her life. She was to be wed to Kedar. She was resigned to that fact and there was nothing she could do to change it. But she was not resigned to the assumption that she would be some docile creature who obeyed his every command. Mora decided she would bide her time, and while she didn’t plan to be disobedient for the sake of disobedience, when the opportunity presented itself she would show both her husband and his arrogant second-in-command that she was no lackey.

“You’re lost in thought.” Kedar pulled his horse beside hers. Mora startled at the sound of his voice and looked at him, hoping her expression did not betray what she was thinking.

“I was just thinking on random things,” she lied. “It’s beautiful here. I didn’t think…”

Lord Kedar smiled a cynical smile. “You thought it would be a land of broken people?”

Mora blushed and looked down. “I don’t know what I thought, really…”

They rode in silence for a few moments.

“I’m making arrangements for us to be married in the morning,” he said.

“Is it to be so soon then?” asked Mora. Her heart was pounding suddenly.

“It’s for the best,” he said. “The sooner we are wed the sooner the people of Adwin will realize that I intend do honor their lady.”

“So that’s why you’re marrying me, then?” she asked. “To appease the souls under my husband’s watch? To soothe them? Buy their loyalty?”

His answer surprised and angered her. “Yes,” he said. “Yes to all. There are enough vultures circling upon news of your husband’s death. They would swoop in to challenge my hold on Adwin. I do not need to risk the ire of those who were loyal to Lord Desmond.” He paused, looking at Mora. “And to you.”

“I was not their leader,” she said coldly.

“No,” he said. “But you were - and are - loved. Word of the decision by the Noble Council to give you to me spread quickly by all reports. The people of Adwin, while upset, approved. They did not want to hear of your death. My decision to marry is another positive political move.”

“So I am a pawn,” she said.

“I would expand my holdings peacefully,” he said. “If our union makes my growing realm stronger and lessens the chances of bloodshed, then it is a wise move for more than just the two of us.” “If you wanted to lessen the chances of bloodshed, then perhaps you should try being content with what land you have,” Mora said angrily.

“Not yet wed and already trying to run things.” Creed appeared on the other side of Lord Kedar. “She talks of hating battle, but her tongue suggests she’d bring the battlefield to your house.”

“True,” Kedar said. “It appears that the lady’s used to venturing her opinion where it is not wanted. And that she’s gotten away with it.”

“And it appears that your second-in-command does the same,” Mora said sweetly “My Lord Kedar cannot breathe but for his second appearing at his should to remind him how to do it better.” She paused. “Sometimes I wonder who is really the second.”

She spurred her horse then, not waiting to see if Kedar would follow. But she did not have to look back to know that this time, her words had hit home. Kedar did not come to her side again on the journey, and later when Creed passed her his expression was angry and he did not look at her. Would she pay later? She did not know, but she would not allow herself to dwell upon the matter. They were getting closer to Lord Kedar’s castle. It was an imposing place, and construction was under way to make it even larger.

“It looks like a city!” Her son Liam trotted up on his pony, his brown eyes wide. At thirteen, he was a gangly and studious lad who preferred studies to hunting and riding. He held on to the pony’s mane with one hand as he gawked at Kedar’s castle.

“Yes, it is,” she said.

“Will we be here long?” he asked. “I miss school.”

She smiled indulgently. “When it is safe, you may return. It will be for Lord Kedar to say.”

Her son looked down. “They say you are to be married, but our stepfather is but just dead. Is it true? Do you love again so soon, mother?”

She’d already talked to her older children about the matter and had hoped to find a quiet place to explain the situation to her youngest son, who was the least practical and most sensitive of the lot. But it seemed then that it was as good a time as any.

“No,” she said. “But he gives me no choice.”

“Because you forfeited your life to him on the battlefield. Then that is true, too?”

To hear her son say the words made her sound and feel rash.

“It is,” she sighed. “I thought I could save Lord Desmond.”

“I am glad Lord Kedar took your life,” her son said.

Mora looked at her son, hurt.

“And why?”

“Because I still have you,” he said.

Mora colored with shame. Sometimes she forgot that Liam still was just a lad.

“I am glad, too,” she said.

They could hear the welcoming cries from the castle now, and the groaning of the gates as they opened to admit the riders. Liam was right. It was almost like a small city within the castle walls. Underneath the turrets were all manner of structures. A blacksmith worked at a forge, an armorer sat working on chainmail nearby as another pulled a sword from a fire, placed it on a piece of metal and pounded it into shape. Liam gawked when the man plunged the still-glowing blade into a vat of water. Steam hissed from the surface and the man looked up through it and smiled at the boy.

A “thunk” caught Mora’s attention and she turned to see archers on the other side of the yard. They were firing at a padded target fashioned in the shape of a man. It was full of holes, and the straw and stuffing poked through them. It seemed everyone within the walls was preparing for some sort of combat, and those who were not were preparing to feed the fighters. A tired looking man pushed a wheelbarrow full of cabbages; another servant followed carrying two freshly killed geese by the feet. The birds heads flopped on the end of their long necks, striking the ground.

“At least you’ll feel a bit more at home now,” Lord Kedar was speaking to her again, and she started to tell him that “home” was never like this. Lord Desmond’s castle was far smaller, far less bustling than this place. She’d underestimated the wealth of the man who had claimed her.

“I’ll feel more at home after a hot bath and a nap,” she said. “If your Lord would be so indulgent…”

“He would.” Lord Kedar got down from his horse, walked over and lifted up his arms so that Mora could slide into them. She did not want to, but had no choice. He took her waist as she dismounted and held her there.

“I will have a maid show you and your Dagmar to our chamber. You will have your bath and your rest. And then you and I shall have a talk about the little barb you slung my way today. It did not go without notice, lady.”

Mora dropped her eyes. She did not want him to see the fear in them, or the frustration of knowing that he apparently planned to make her accountable for every slight, regardless of how cleverly she cloaked it.

A maid was summoned to show her to her quarters. Or, as Kedar had called them, “our chamber.” It was obvious he wasn’t going to hide his hold on her by giving her private quarters.

As they walked, Dagmar remarked continuously to her about the scope of the castle, the richness of the tapestry, the carvings in the beams. Even the rushes on the floor were remarkable to Mora’s maidservant and she bit her tongue to keep from snapping at her trusted friend. She knew that Dagmar was simply voicing what she herself felt about the castle, but in Mora’s mind she could not help but feel a sting of disloyalty at how the place invited comparisons between Kedar’s wealth and the wealth of the man she’d been married to.

The bedchamber was in the west tower. It was huge, with a large bed in the center of the room hung with heavy drapes. A fireplace filled the room with a warm glow. Servants were already hauling in a tub and buckets of warm water to fill it. As soon as they’d done their work Dagmar shooed them out and began to help Mora out of her clothes.

“There’s no need to feel guilty,” the maid said as if reading Mora’s mind. “It’s not as if you chose all this over Lord Desmond, God rest his soul.”

Mora felt the gown fall from her shoulders. She stepped out of it and stood as Dagmar helped loosen the ties of her undergarments.

“He plans to marry me tomorrow,” she confided.

Dagmar stopped in mid-untie and glanced up. “So soon?” Then she shrugged pragmatically. “Great men such as he do not wait for what they want. They take it. But it could be worse, my lady. He could have killed you, or just made you his lover until he tired of you and handed you off as a prize to one of his generals. Perhaps you should feel fortunate…”

“If I were a man, I would have more choices,” Mora said.

Dagmar stood now and looked her mistress right in the eye.

“Now you listen to me. You are not a man. I’ve known you since you were just a wee thing, and you’re as stubborn now as you were then. I’ve seen you through two indulgent husbands who spoiled you rotten. But I can tell this one will be different, Mora. He will love you, but he will not coddle you. Best you put away notions of what your life would be like if you had a cock, because you don’t, lady. Best you start seeing things for what they are.”

Mora shook her head and gave a sad laugh.

“You always did have a way of telling me the truth, whether I wanted to hear it or not, Dagmar.” She stepped into the tub and slid into the brimming water as she spoke. “You are right about my lot, of course. I cannot change my gender. And you are also right about Lord Kedar. He is a strict man. Does it surprise you to know that he has now twice beaten me?”

“No,” Dagmar said. “I caught sight of your bottom before you got in the tub and know this, my lady. Had I seen marks on any other part of your body I’d drive a dagger into his heart myself. But the man spared you, and he seems fair enough. So what if he’s a bit strict. Some women have it far worse.”

“Good Lord,” Mora said. “Has he charmed you now as well? The maid at the inn went on an on about my good fortune. Perhaps this is no mortal man, but a sorcerer who has glamored every woman but me.”

Dagmar tugged the hair she was now washing. “Fie,” she said. “I’m too old to notice such things. I care for naught but you, and you know that. And I am not suggesting that you become a quiet mouse of a woman, only that you stay mindful that you are now matched with a man as stubborn as you are, but with less tolerance for your willfulness.”

Mora looked back over her shoulder. “Am I really so willful.”

The maid rolled her eyes and dumped a pitcher of water on her lady’s soapy head.

“Yes,” she said. “Stand.”

Mora stood.

“Both your husbands asked me for advice on your stubbornness. Neither had it in him to do anything but spoil you, however.” The older woman chuckled and Mora frowned at her for it, for she was perplexed. She was stubborn, but was she really that bad? She thought back on the day of the battle, how she’d mentioned invoking the law to Lord Desmond, and how he’d laughed at the idea that she could stand in her stead. She was forced to admit to herself now that this had made her angry. Who is he, she’d asked herself, to tell me what my decision should be if the law allows it? Now she was forced to wonder how much her own defiance had played into her decision. She’d not had a history of defying her husbands, but only because - as Dagmar pointed out - they’d always given Mora her way. With this man, it was indeed different.

She stepped out of the bath and let the maid rub her dry. A new gown lay on the bed, put there by one of the servants. Mora wondered if it had belonged to Kedar’s first bride, the young woman who had killed herself after being forced into a political marriage with the wealthy lord. She recalled how pained Kedar had looked when he spoke of her, and how hard his expression had grown when he talked of taking revenge on the father who assured him that the girl was willing to be his wife. Had Kedar thought to get a sweet, obedient wife. Had he hoped to train her? Did he see Mora as something different altogether - a challenge? Was he so strict with her because she was older, more headstrong, more set in her ways? And then Mora wondered if part of her didn’t want to be tamed. She’s never had a man do anything but spoil her, as Dagmar said. No, she’d never secretly desired it. But then when she thought to how she’d responded so passionately to Kedar’s touch she wondered if it was not because he was so different from her other husbands, so dominant….

“You’re flushed,” Dagmar said, handing her the gown. “Are you over-warm?”

Mora shook her head, embarrassed. “No,” she said. “I’m just rosy from the bath.”

“Well get dressed,” Dagmar said. “You’ve only got a little time to rest before the Lord calls on you.”

Mora nodded. And what, she wondered, would happen then. Time would tell…