In Which Ellona Does Dare

August 24, 1180

"You got married?!" Well, so much for subtlety being to a prince's advantage. For a brief second, Ellona found herself entertaining the shocking wish that Elarys had spent the night here instead of at the inn; surely she would have been mortified with her co-conspirator's unrestrained rage! "What the fuck, Ellona? Who the hell would marry you?"

"I don't know--a man who realizes the hypocrisy of his own sleeping around while shaming any woman who dares do the same, maybe?" As if what she'd done could even be called 'sleeping around'. Ring around her finger or not, she'd only fucked one man in her life before the previous night's obligatory consummation. Her main mistake had been in choosing the prick who stood in front of her now, or it would have been if not for her children. "Leave me alone, Ietrin. My husband and my brother are both better fighters than you are, and don't assume either of them care that you're the crown prince."

"Oh, I'm sure both of them would care! You robbed me--you robbed the kingdom--of my heir!"

"My son was never your heir! I didn't sign your damn papers!" And of course he remembered that! Why involved Elarys if Ellona had cooperated? Unless maybe he'd just wanted a sexual favor. If that was the case, they deserved each other. "Maybe my mother would have, but that's hardly her right now, is it?"

"It would have been, if you hadn't fucked everything up!" For a second, she thought he might smack her. She was almost disappointed that he didn't. If he'd laid a hand on her, she could have called on the guards and had him removed, possibly banned from her presence for the rest of their mutual lives, whatever his position was. It was against the law to strike another man's wife. "Damn you, Ellona! I loved you for years. I loved you so damn much. And you gave me a son when my wife couldn't! By right, I should be able to do as I please!"

"Don't try to guilt me! If you think love means ownership, find yourself a fucking dictionary! I owe you nothing! And I didn't give you Kaldar; God damn it, if I hadn't wanted him myself, it's not like it's impossible to find herbs in this country!"

"And you wonder why I thought you'd never marry! My God, you are the most vulgar, blasphemous, uncultured woman east of London! You know what? Thank you for making me appreciate my wife a little more! She might be barren as the Sahara, but at least she never speaks to me of herbs!"

"Who says she's barren at all?" And for all she'd always been more or less indifferent to Jeda, it felt damn good to finally say it! "She has as many children as I do, in case you're too stupid to count. Maybe you're the one with the problem!"

She'd done it--she'd finally gotten him to shut up, staring and struck-dumb like she'd pulled out a blade and stabbed him in the gut. If only for a second. "How dare you."

But she did dare. Oh, did she dare. "No, sir. How dare you. How dare you try to take away my say in Kaldar's future--and Kaldar's say, for that matter. How dare you go behind my back and rope my scheming bitch of a mother into our private affairs. How dare you barge into my brother's castle, a castle where I've been effectively lady for nearly a year now, and scream at me like some unruly child? How. Dare. You!"

A wad of spit flew from her mouth and landed squarely on his shoe. She doubted he even noticed. He'd reached his threshold of comprehension; a wad of spit was a mere formality. "Get out."

"This isn't over!" He stomped the foot that she'd defiled, perhaps hard enough that the soul might have stung.

She felt much worse for Neilor's floor. "It damn well better be! Now really--get out. If I have to look at your face for another minute, I swear to God, there won't be a woman in this kingdom who hasn't heard about the size of your cock."

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