Mother said flatly, after the Icthari had been led away to their chambers. We were drifting back towards the Keep after the reception. Arran held my hand very tightly, and Mother was on my other side, while Cal strode in front, his long legs swifter than the rest of us. Cryalla walked behind me, her gear clunking and chinking, and off to one side, with the casualness common to mage guards, Millan and Tisha chatted together. “Of course he likes her,” Cal said, spinning round. “He’d be a fool not to. The question is whether she likes him.” “Well, it hardly matters,” Mother said with a lift of one shoulder. “It’s a political marriage, they don’t need to like each other.” Cal exhaled sharply, half laugh and half exasperation. “Of course it matters! Would you want to share a bed with someone you don’t like?” Another shrug. “I’ve done it before.”
