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suitable without even meeting me?”
    “You’re High Lord Elaasar’s daughter,” Randon said wryly. “That makes you suitable.” He hesitated, then said frankly, “Stevann examined you while you were unconscious—in the presence of your midwife, of course—and confirmed your virginity. I beg your pardon for that, but—”
    “No. I would have expected as much under the circumstances, although in Bregond a midwife would have performed such a task.” Kayli flushed with embarrassment, but perhaps it was best; at least she had been spared the indignity of such an examination by a stranger—and a man!—while she was conscious. And at least her fast would soon end. “When would you like to have the wedding?”
    “Tonight, if you don’t object.” Randon shrugged. “I know it’s short notice. But if you’re well enough—”
    “I am well,” Kayli said quickly. “But are there no banns to be posted, none of the noble families to witness?”
    Randon grimaced.
    “We can’t be crowned until you’ve demonstrated that you can bear my heir,” he said. “Technically, until that time I could set you aside in favor of another woman, or pass the line of succession to Terralt. By our custom, we’d have a formal wedding when you became pregnant, inviting all the lords to witness both the wedding and the coronation. A private wedding now confirms the alliance between our countries and ensures the legitimacy of my heir.” He shrugged, embarrassed. “I’m sorry to speak so plainly. As Terralt is ever reminding me, I’ve spent too much time among peasants.”
    “Thank you, but I prefer your honesty.” Kayli took a moment to master herself. So, despite having left behind her life, her dreams, she could still be set aside, renounced as a failure if she failed to bear a child with expected promptness? But of course, if Randon’s Heirship required a successor, he could not afford a wife who would endanger his claim.
    “Very well. I can be prepared for our wedding tonight.” Kayli spoke without emotion; in fact she felt empty and numb. “If it reassures you, my midwife Endra and my father’s healers have examined me and assure me that there is no reason I should not bear strong and healthy children.”
    “Stevann said the same.” Randon sighed ruefully. “You have no idea how I resent the businesslike nature of this whole arrangement. When Terralt was married to Ynea, at least they’d met a few times at feasts and festivals, and there was no real need for Terralt to hurry about fathering an heir. Not that he was slow about it anyway.” He sighed again. “Forgive me, lady. I’m sure Terralt’s told you what a dreadful husband I’ll make. I can only promise my best effort, and my respect, which will be all the greater if you can bear with me through this nastiness.”
    He said this in such an earnest, almost pleading manner that under other circumstances Kayli might have laughed. How different he was from the cocky, self-assured Terralt! As it was, she couldn’t quite keep a smile from her lips.
    “I have no doubt that there will be harsher tests of our mettle than a hasty wedding,” she said quietly. “Nonetheless I have spent my life learning to accept and meet challenges presented to me. When failure is unacceptable, the motivation to success is greatest.” She chuckled to herself; she’d repeated that adage over and over as she prepared for her first firewalk.
    Then she glanced at the door again.
    “Where is Brother Santee?” she asked. “I thought you sent Terralt for him.”
    “Not for him,” Randon said. “Your priest was injured in the raid. He’ll recover, Stevann says, but he’s not well enough to perform the ceremony.”
    Kayli’s heart sank. She’d fully expected to be wed in a proper Bregondish bloodbonding; would her people even recognize some outlandish Agrondish rite? Would her children be considered illegitimate in Bregond?
    “I sent our priest to see him,” Randon continued.