“You are lazy!” Althea retorted. “Help your master in and see to his needs, instead of stuffing your belly in his absence. Promptly, now.”

The footman reacted to her tone of command. Gingerly, he extended his arm to his master. Slowly Davad took it. He took a few steps, then halted. Without turning, Davad spoke. “Take a horse from my stable to get home. Shall I send a man with you?”

“No. Thank you. I don't need one.” She wanted nothing from him anymore.

He nodded to himself. He added something quietly.

“I beg your pardon?”

He cleared his throat. “Take the boy, then. Stable boy. Go with the lady.” He took a breath and spoke heavily. “You are free.” Davad walked into the house without a backward glance.

SHE HAD A MINIATURE OF HIM. SHE HAD BEGGED HIM TO SIT FOR IT, shortly after they were married. He had told her it was a foolish notion, but she was his bride, and so he gave in. He had not been gracious about sitting for it. Pappas was too honest an artist to paint Kyle Haven with patient eyes, or to leave out the small fold of annoyance between his brows. So now as Keffria looked at Kyle's portrait, he regarded her as it seemed he always had, with annoyance and impatience.

She tried to cut past the layers of hurt in her heart to discover a core of love for him. He was her husband, the father of her children. He was the only man she had ever known. Yet, she could not honestly say that she loved him. Odd. She missed him and longed for him to return. It was not just that his return would mean the return of the family's ship and her son. She wanted Kyle himself. Sometimes, she thought, having someone stronger to depend on was more important than having someone you loved. At the same time, she needed to settle things with him. Over the months that he had been gone on this trip, she had discovered there were words she had to say to him. She had decided she would force him to respect her, even as she had learned to demand respect from her mother and sister. She did not want him to vanish from her life before she had wrung that respect from him. If she did not gain it, she would always wonder if she had ever been truly worthy of it.

She closed the miniature's case and set it back on the shelf. She badly wanted to go to sleep, but wouldn't until Althea was safely home. She found her feelings for her sister closely mimed those she had for her husband. Every time she felt that she and Althea had regained some remnant of sisterly closeness, Althea would reveal that she still played only for herself. Tonight, at the meeting, she had made it clear that the ship was what she cared about, not Kyle nor Wintrow. She wanted the ship back in Bingtown so she could challenge Keffria for ownership of it. That was all.

She left her bedroom and drifted through the house like a wraith. She peeked in on Selden. He was deeply asleep, careless of all the problems that beset his family. When she came to Malta's closed door, she tapped on it lightly. There was no reply. Malta, too, slept with the deep ease that children had for rest. She had behaved so well at the meeting. On the ride home, she had made no mention of the near riot, but had put Grag Tenira at ease with her casual conversation. The girl was growing up.

Keffria went down the stairs. She knew she would find her mother in her father's study. Ronica Vestrit, too, would not sleep until Althea returned. If they were going to stay up, they might as well do it together. As she passed through the hall, she heard a light footfall on the front porch. That would be Althea. Keffria frowned in annoyance when she knocked at the door. Why couldn't she go around to the unlocked kitchen door? “I'll get it,” she called to her mother and went to unlatch the big front door.

Brashen Trell and that bead merchant stood on the porch. He was wearing the same clothes as when she had last seen him. His eyes were bloodshot. The bead merchant looked composed. Her expression was friendly but offered no apology for the late hour. Keffria stared at them both. This went beyond the boundaries of all courtesy. It was rude enough of Brashen to come calling so late, unannounced, but he had also brought an outsider with him. “Yes?” she asked uncomfortably.

Her restraint didn't seem to bother him. “I need to talk to all of you,” he announced without preamble.

“About what?”

He spoke quickly. “About getting your ship and your husband back. Amber and I think we've come up with a plan.” As he nodded toward his companion, Keffria noted a sheen of sweat on his face. The night was mild and pleasant. The feverishness of his face and manner was alarming.

“Keffria? Did Althea come in?” her mother called from down the hall.

“No, Mother. It's Brashen Trell and ah, Amber, the bead-maker.”