“Bertram has no desire for power.”

Zusa lifted an eyebrow. “Can you know for sure? He is old, but not dead.”

Alyssa sighed and drained the rest of her glass.

“What should I do?” she asked. She felt tired, lost. She badly missed her son. She’d sent Nathaniel north to Felwood Castle, to foster with Lord Gandrem. At least there he was safe from the thief guilds, and the training he received would help him later in life.

“Bertram’s question…are there any you have taken a fancy to?” Zusa asked.

Alyssa shrugged.

“Mark Tullen was attractive, though his station is probably lower than Bertram would prefer. At least he was willing to talk to me instead of staring down my blouse. Also, that noble who runs our mines, Arthur something…”

“Hadfield,” Zusa said.

“That’s right. He’s pleasant enough, and not ugly…little distant, though. Guess that’s just a product of being older.”

“The older, the less likely to cavort with other women.”

“He’s more than welcome to,” Alyssa said. She stood and turned away, trying to voice a silent fear she’d held onto for years, a fear that had strangled her relationships and kept her unmarried. “But any child we have…that will become the Gemcroft heir. Too many will shove Nathaniel aside, deem him unfit, unworthy. I can’t do that to him, Zusa. I can’t deny him his right. He’s my firstborn.”

She felt Zusa’s arms slip around her. Startled by the uncommon display of emotion, she accepted the hug.

“If your son is strong, he will claim what is his, no matter what the world tries,” she said. “Do not be afraid.”

“Thank you,” Alyssa said, pulling back and smiling. “What would I do without you?”

“May we never find out,” Zusa said, bowing low.

Alyssa waved her off, then retreated to her private chambers. She stared out the thick glass window, beyond her mansion’s great walls, to the city of Veldaren. She found herself hating the city, hating every dark corner and crevice. Always it conspired against her, waiting with poison and dagger to…