And the others that much less, she thought, but did not say it.

Exhausted by grief and tumult, Marishka left the hall early. By the time she reached her chamber, she was once more in tears. As she stepped inside, she saw Ilsabet waiting for her. Ilsabet pointed at her.

Marishka flinched, expecting to be struck. Though Ilsabet was smaller than she, Marishka had no taste for fighting and had been beaten often when young.

"I saw how you looked at him after you kissed his foot. Peto may be handsomer than your pet in the guards, but you didn't have to gape at him with such obvious longing when your father's ashes were still smoldering outside."

"I wasn't gaping at him, at least not that way."

"No? It didn't once cross your mind that you could make a match like Lorena's with father?"

Marishka's face reddened. "Get out," she said.

"Your son would inherit Sundell and Kislova," Ilsabet continued.

"Get out! I have no intention of marrying him or my 'pet' in the guards, or anyone."

Ilsabet gripped her sister's wrist, squeezing hard enough to bring tears to Marishka's eyes. "See that you stay away from him. The Obour family has its pride."

"I may have no choice!" Marishka blurted. "Mihael commented on the way the baron looked at me. If he gives me in marriage, what can I do?"

"A simple thing-refuse. Be certain you do."

"What if I'm forced to marry him? Mihael has that right."

"Then be certain Peto never loves you."

Even after Ilsabet had gone, Marishka wept, only now she had one more reason to add to the rest. If

Lorena were still alive, she could go to the woman for advice. Without her, Marishka felt utterly alone, for she'd had no other friends.

SIX

Two nights later, Peto and his generals sat in places of honor at a feast hosted by Mihael. Though the food had been prepared by Peto's own favorite cooks, it seemed dry and tasteless to him.