“Why did you kill that man?” Eleyna asked.

“Oh, that. For amusement I suppose. And politics. That would be secondary, though.”

“Politics?”

“There are stranger things, girl, much stranger things. Anyhow, it’s no matter. There’s no lasting harm.”

She was not enamored of the idea of being ritually sacrificed, but she hadn’t yet had much time to become accustomed to it. At the worst, it seemed not much worse than her previous predicament.

The innkeeper spat in Arden’s face and brought his other hand to rest on the back of the knife, preparing to push the blade into Arden’s windpipe. Eleyna imagined the two men’s breath mingling in the little space between them, she imagined how their blood might mingle if they both died on the same bed. The two men held their bodies together like that for long minutes, the innkeeper’s round torso and one leg up on the bed, pressed against Arden’s smooth skin.

“Once we cross the border of Ixthan and catch sight of the glittering walls of Ixthalia, it’s flags trembling in the evening breeze like impatient maidens, then you will be my queen. For now, you are my chattel, and should behave as such.”