"Was the rebellion so terrible?"

"The rebellion!" Mihael looked ready to laugh, and for the first time Peto realized that the thin youth had consumed far too much ale. "No, it was what we did. We…" Mihael stopped abruptly and looked down into his flagon, as if the amber liquid could drown his memories rather than make them more acute. "No need to speak of it. Though I'd hoped to one day rule in my father's place, I'm glad the fighting is over."

"And I, as well," Peto agreed. His estimation for the young man was growing. "What will happen to your sisters now?" he asked.

"Marishka's life will change, and not for the better, I think. She was raised to understand that she would one day marry for reasons of state."

"So now she can marry for affection."

"It's not what Marishka expected. Do you understand?"

Peto stared openly at the girl, saw her glance his way, then looked down again. A blush was spreading across her cheeks. He signaled a servant to pour Mihael another flagon. "Elaborate if you would," he said.

"She has put all her likes and dislikes on hold while she waited for someone to be chosen for her. Then, she would have become exactly the sort of person her husband desired."

"She doesn't seem as passive as that," Peto commented.

"Believe me, it was a survival technique. I think she tolerated the isolation of our upbringing far better than I did."

"And Ilsabet?"

"You confined her to the castle. There'll be no change in her life because of that. She spends most of her time in her own chambers or the tower studying who knows what with Jorani. She never leaves unless she is… that is, unless she was asked to by Father or Jorani. Neither of my sisters really knows what happened out there during those months of war."

"You were there?"

"No, but I made it a point to hear, if only to understand the problems I would have inherited had he fallen in battle. Over half the people of Kislova are dead, two villages were completely wiped out-children and women as well as men. Yes, I'm glad the fighting is over."