‘You’re asking silly questions, Ehlana,’ he told her gently. ‘I’ll admit that you startled me at first – probably because I had no idea that you felt this way. I’m not much of a catch, Ehlana, but I do love you. I’ve never loved anyone else, and never will. My heart’s a little battered, but it’s entirely yours.’ Then he kissed her, and she seemed to melt against him.

The kiss lasted for quite some time, and after a few moments he felt one small hand slide caressingly up the back of his neck to remove his crown. He drew his face back and looked into her lustrous grey eyes. Then he gently removed her crown and let her veil slide to the floor. Gravely, they unfastened each other’s ermine-trimmed robes and let them fall.

The window was open, and the night breeze billowed the gauze curtains and carried with it the night-time sounds of Chyrellos far below. Sparhawk and Ehlana did not feel the breeze, and the only sound they heard was the beating of each other’s heart.

The candles no longer burned, but the room was not dark. The moon had risen by now, and it was a full moon that filled the night with a pale, silvery luminescence. The moonlight seemed caught in the filmy net of the curtains blowing softly at the window, and the glow of those curtains provided a subtler, more perfect light than that of any candle.

It was very late – or to be more precise, very early. Sparhawk had dozed off briefly, but his pale, moondrenched wife shook him awake. ‘None of that,’ she told him. ‘We only have this one night, and you’re not going to waste it by sleeping.’

‘Sorry,’ he apologized. ‘I’ve had a busy day.’

‘Also a busy night,’ she added with an arch little smile. ‘Did you know that you snore like a thunderstorm?’

‘It’s the broken nose, I think.’

‘That may cause problems in time, love. I’m a light sleeper.’ Ehlana nestled down in his arms and sighed contentedly. ‘Oh, this is very nice,’ she said. ‘We should have got married years ago.’

‘I think your father might have objected – and if he hadn’t, Rollo certainly would have. Whatever happened to Rollo, by the way?’

‘His stuffing all came out after my father sent you into exile. I washed him and then folded him up and put him on the top shelf in my closet. I’ll have him restuffed after our first baby is born. Poor Rollo. He saw some hard use after you were sent away. I cried all over him extensively. He was a very soggy little animal for several months.’

‘Did you really miss me all that much?’

‘Miss you? I thought I’d die. I wanted to die, actually.’

His arms tightened around her.

‘Well now,’ she said, ‘why don’t we talk about that?’

He laughed. ‘Do you absolutely have to say everything that pops into your head?’

‘When we’re alone, yes. I have no secrets from you, my husband.’ She remembered something. ‘You said you were going to tell me about that music we heard during the ceremony.’

‘That was Aphrael. I’ll have to check with Sephrenia, but I rather strongly suspect that we’ve been married in more than one religion.’

‘Good. That gives me another hold on you.’

‘You don’t really need any more, you know. You’ve had me in thrall since you were about six years old.’

‘That’s nice,’ she said, snuggling even closer to him. ‘God knows I was trying.’ She paused. ‘I must say, though, that I’m getting just a bit put out with your impertinent little Styric Goddess. She always seems to be around. For all we know, she’s hovering unseen in some corner right now.’ She stopped suddenly and sat up in bed. ‘Do you suppose she might be?’ she asked with some consternation.

‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’ He was deliberately teasing her.

‘Sparhawk!’ The pale light of the moon made it impossible to be sure, but Sparhawk strongly suspected that his wife was blushing furiously.

‘Don’t concern yourself, love,’ he laughed. ‘Aphrael’s exquisitely courteous. She’d never think of intruding.’

‘But we can never really be sure, can we? I’m not sure I like her. I get the feeling that she’s very much attracted to you, and I don’t much care for the notion of immortal competition.’

‘Don’t be absurd. She’s a child.’

‘I was only about five years old the first time I saw you, Sparhawk, and I decided to marry you the minute you walked into the room.’ She slid from the bed, crossed to the glowing window and parted the gauze curtains. The pale moonlight made her look very much like an alabaster statue.

‘Shouldn’t you put on a robe?’ he suggested. ‘You’re exposing yourself to public scrutiny, you know.’

‘Everybody in Chyrellos has been asleep for hours now. Besides, we’re six floors above the street. I want to look at the moon. The moon and I are very close, and I want her to know how happy I am.’

‘Pagan,’ he smiled.

‘I suppose I am at that,’ she admitted, ‘but all women feel a peculiar attachment to the moon. She touches us in ways a man could never understand.’

Sparhawk crawled out of bed and joined her at the window. The moon was very pale and very bright, but the fact that its pale light washed out all colour concealed to some degree the ruin Martel’s siege had inflicted on the Holy City, although the smell of smoke was still very strong in the night air. The stars glittered in the sky. There was nothing really unusual about that, but they seemed especially brilliant on this night of all nights.

Ehlana pulled his arms about her and sighed. ‘I wonder if Mirtai’s sleeping outside my door,’ she said. ‘She does that, you know. Wasn’t she ravishing tonight?’

‘Oh yes. I didn’t get the chance to tell you this, but Kring’s completely overwhelmed by her. I’ve never seen a man so bowled over by love.’

‘At least he’s open and honest about it. I have to drag affectionate words out of you.’

‘You know that I love you, Ehlana. I always have.’

‘That’s not precisely true. When I was still carrying Rollo around, you were only mildly fond of me.’

‘It was more than that.’

‘Oh, really? I saw the pained looks you used to give me when I was being childish and silly, my noble Prince Consort.’ She frowned. ‘That’s a very cumbersome title. When I get back to Cimmura, I think I’ll have a talk with Lenda. It seems to me there’s an empty duchy somewhere – or if there isn’t, I’ll vacate one. I’m going to dispossess a few of Annias’s henchmen anyway. How would you like to be a duke, Your Grace?’