She moved and gestured as she spoke, almost dancing as if she were still the graceful dark-haired woman who smiled sweetly from her wedding portrait on the wall behind his father’s desk. His father was smiling at her, as he always did when she swept into his study, but a slight narrowing of his eyes indicated that, also as always, he did not approve of her melodramatic sympathy for Hest.

Hest did. It had always played to his favor. Three sons had died before him, carried away by the Blood Plague, leaving him to step into the role of eldest son and heir. There had always been speculation that the Blood Plague came from the Rain Wilds, either as a curse or as an infection caused by the handling of Elderling artifacts. His mother believed that and had never forgiven the Rain Wilds for the deaths of her three little sons. Sealia was perfectly ready to blame it now for the collapse of her son’s marriage and the defection of his “best friend.” And he was perfectly willing to let her. He fixed her with a soulful gaze and saw her brim with sympathy. “Would it were so, Mother.” He spoke softly. “But I fear that someone else has claimed her heart.”

“Then claim it back!” she exhorted him, her voice rising in the challenge. “Go to her. Show yourself side by side with him. Remind her of all you have done for her: the beautiful home, her own little study, the priceless scrolls, and the evenings you have had to spend alone while she fussed and stared at them. She owes you her loyalty. Remind her of the oaths of your marriage contract.” His mother’s voice deepened and slowed as she added, “And remind her of the costs, both social and financial, of breaking those oaths.”

His father steamed out a breath through his nostrils. “My dear, do you not fear that Alise may in her turn remind Hest of all the weeks she has spent alone while he was off on his trading voyages? All the evenings when he has chosen to entertain his friends at places other than his home. And the lack of a babe to cherish . . .”

“How dare you place that blame on our son?” His mother sprang to his defense before Hest could say a word. “It may well be that she is the barren one! And if she is, well, then perhaps he is the one who is doubly wronged! And if she has been faithless in the hopes of proving that the fault is in him, then let her bring the little bastard up on her own! The Finbok family is not so destitute of honor that we must put up with that sort of thing. Her running off has given Hest ample reason to set her aside if he chooses; surely such a long absence violates her marriage contract. And it isn’t as if Bingtown is lacking in lovely, eligible, well-brought-up young ladies who would be delighted to have him as a spouse. Why, when we announced he would wed, all I heard from every quarter were cries of dismay! Every one of my dearest friends had a young woman in mind who they had hoped to present to Hest! If I’d only known that he had decided he was ready to settle down, I could have presented him with a dozen, no, a score of eligible women! And of better houses and fortunes, I might add!”

She crossed her arms on her chest as if she had just proven something. And perhaps she had. Hest had not stopped to consider that a runaway wife might offer his mother a chance not only to saddle him with another inconvenient spouse but one who might not be as easily dominated as the missing Alise. Having rid himself of one wife, he had no desire to acquire another. In truth, he had no desire at all to regain Alise . . . unless, of course, she came with a fifteenth of an unlooted Elderling city attached.

His father looked both weary and stubborn; his mother, determined. It was a familiar stance for both of them. When, as a youngster, Hest had broken or lost a toy, his father had always expected him to deal with it, while his mother’s strategy had always been to replace it quickly with something more expensive or interesting. He thought of that applied to a wife and felt a wave of dread. Time to stop her, time to divert her. If his father challenged her will on this, she’d never give in!

“I chose Alise,” he said heavily as his mother opened her lips to speak. “I chose her, Mother, and I married her. I signed a contract. And perhaps my father is right. I might be wisest to first make peace with the wife I chose before shopping around for a new one. I have spent many nights away from her, in my ambition to improve our fortune. I meant it to be for her benefit, but perhaps she did not understand that and felt neglected. And while our efforts to have a child have not proven fruitful yet, well, I am not so hard-hearted a man as to blame that on her. Perhaps, as you have said, she is barren. But is she to be blamed for that? Poor thing. Perhaps she feels shame on that account, and that is what has led her to flee our home. First, I shall take Father’s advice and see if I cannot win her back. Later, if that does not avail me, when my heart has healed, we can think of other courses.”