Lamentation

Chapter 29

Rudolfo

The Li Tam estate was a flurry of activity when Rudolfo reached its unguarded gate. The large building towered above the palm trees, squatting over a green sea and white-ribboned beaches. Half of the iron armada was docked; the other half lay a†€…t anchor further out in the bay. Rudolfo saw crates, barrels and boxes stacked along the waterfront as servants loaded the ships.

He’d made the trip in six days-a wonder to be sure-and he’d only stopped when necessary. Riding alone and anonymous had its privileges-one of them was the relative ease of finding accommodations along the way. Rudolfo used that time to plan out the confrontation ahead.

But when he arrived to find the gate unattended, the estate’s doors flung open wide and servants and children hauling boxes and crates through the gardens and down to the docks, it gave him pause.

They are preparing to leave. But why? He looked around again. They moved with methodical urgency and occasionally someone would shout out a question or a direction. There was a system, an underlying strategy, to how the work was laid out. And the workers were divided into crews.

Rudolfo singled out a middle-aged man with long red hair. “I am Rudolfo, Lord of the Ninefold Forest Houses and General of the Wandering Army,” he said as he bowed slightly. “I would speak with Lord Vlad Li Tam.”

The middle-aged man nodded. “He is expecting you.” He pointed to the far side of the estate. “Follow the smoke.”

Rudolfo sniffed the air, catching the faintest hint of smoke-and he could see it rising beyond the house. He set out across the garden, the smell growing stronger as he went. As he rounded the corner of the estate’s north wing, he saw the bonfire.

Vlad Li Tam stood by it, feeding it slender, bound volumes from a wheelbarrow. His back was to him, and Rudolfo thought how easy it would be to kill him.

Still, he could not. Because Vlad Li Tam would only put himself in that position if he had weighed it carefully and seen a favorable outcome.

Perhaps death was the favorable outcome he saw.

Rudolfo closed the distance between them as Vlad Li Tam tossed the last book into the fire and turned to the handles of his wheelbarrow.

He looked up. “Lord Rudolfo,” he said. “You’ll forgive me if I continue my work while we talk? I have much left to do.”

Rudolfo nodded.

“Very good,” Vlad Li Tam said. “Follow me then.” He pushed the wheelbarrow down a narrow path lined with bright flowers and through the open doors of his estate. Rudolfo followed him through the side entrance, walking just behind him as Li Tam rolled the wheelbarrow across the thickly carpeted hallway. They turned to the right and‹€ the rig then to the left past walls that were now bare but still showed the outlines of the art that had recently hung there.

“You are leaving?” Rudolfo asked.

Vlad Li Tam looked over his shoulder. “I am.”

They slowed and entered a vast library, its shelves scattered with a few leftovers-common books of little value orphaned on the shelves by hasty hands. “Where will you go?”

Vlad Li Tam shrugged. “I do not know. Away from the Named Lands.” He gave Rudolfo a hard look. “But my personal activities are of no concern to you. The Ninefold Forest Houses has a great deal of work and responsibility ahead.”

They moved past the shelves that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, stopping before one massive bookcase that stood slightly askew. Vlad Li Tam took hold of it with both hands and pulled. It swung open to reveal a room within a room-a smaller library decorated with a large rug, a small table and a single armchair. All but one of the shelves was now empty, and Rudolfo tried to calculate how many trips the man had made to the fire outside. All the books were identical-small, black-bound volumes standing neatly in a row. Vlad Li Tam started at one end, lifting a single volume as if weighing it in his hands.

Rudolfo’s eyes narrowed. “Regardless,” he said, “I am beginning to believe that your personal activities concern me very much.” He paused. “What relationship existed between House Li Tam and the heretic Fontayne?”

Vlad Li Tam balanced the book in the palm of his hand and remained silent for a moment. He carefully placed the book in the wheelbarrow. “Very well,” he said. Then, he straightened and turned to face Rudolfo, smoothing his silk robes. When he spoke, his words were clear and firm. “I sent him to instigate insurrection in the Ninefold Forest Houses and to murder your parents.” Then his voice became quiet. “He was my seventh son.”

Rudolfo’s hands curled around the hilt of his knife. He felt heat rising in his face. “Your son?”

Vlad Li Tam nodded. “I loved him very much.”

The words struck Rudolfo like a blow, and he did not know why. Perhaps it was the way the old man said it. “Why would you do such a thing?”

Vlad Li Tam sighed. “You of all people should understand why. Certainly, you know the First Precept of the Gospel of P’Andro Whym?”

Change is the path life takes. Rudolfo nodded. “Yes.”

“And T’Erys Whym’s First Assertion?”

It was the credo of his Physicians of Penitent Torture. Change can be forced by careful design and thoughtful effort. They carved their Whymer Mazes into the flesh of their patients and hoped, by traveling those labyrinths, to bring about lasting change-true repentance. “You know I am familiar with it.”

“A river can be moved,” Vlad said, “with enough time and pressure.” He turned back to the bookcase and took down another book. “So can a man… or a world.”

Rudolfo drew his knife halfway from its sheath. “You killed my family to effect some kind of change upon me.”

Vlad Li Tam nodded. “I did. But it is about far more than just you. It is about protecting the light.” His eyes were suddenly hot with quiet anger. “I’ve done my part for the light, Rudolfo. I’ve paid my price to its service. If you need to see some kind of justice to move beyond the injustices done you, you can certainly have that. But after you kill me, go and do your part.” He turned back to the bookshelves and pulled down another volume. “I would also appreciate it if you would allow me to finish with these.”

Rudolfo released the hilt of his knife, letting the blade slide back into place. How many trips to the bonfire had the old man already made? Twenty? Thirty? It was hard to say, but Rudolfo imagined that the shelves had been full when he started. An ugly realization dawned on him. “These books…?”

Vlad Li Tam answered before he finished asking. “They are the record of House Li Tam’s work in the Named Lands, commissioned by T’Erys Whym during the First Papacy.”

Rudolfo studied the unmarked spines. The magnitude of it awed him. “They go back that far?”

“Yes. To the Days of Settlement.”

Vlad Li Tam pulled down the last volume and passed it over to Rudolfo.

He opened it and saw the script-it was a House language that he was not familiar with, though some of the characters were familiar to him. The words were crowded together, and there were numbers in the margins that he assumed must be dates. This book was only partially finished, and he realized with a start that it must be his book, this last volume. He remembered Vlad Li Tam’s words.

It is about far more than just you.

He weighed it in his hand, and thought for a moment that perhaps he should keep it. If Jin Li Tam would not translate it, perhaps Isaak or one of the other mechoservitors could, with time. But did he truly want to know? And what would knowing change?

In the end, he handed the book back to Vlad Li Tam.

Now that the wheelbarrow was full and the shelves were empty, they returned to the fire. They didn’t speak until they were outside again.

Finally, Vlad Li Tam looked up and met Rudolfo’s eyes again. “I was asked by the Order to secure a new location for the Great Library under a strong caretaker.” He paused. “You are the new shepherd of the light.”

“But why me?” Rudolfo asked.

Vlad Li Tam shrugged. “Why not you?” The old man tossed a book into the fire, and Rudolfo watched the flames consume it. Whose lives were those? What deeds had been done, there on those pages? How had that river been moved and at what price?

It was a Whymer Maze that Rudolfo wasn’t certain he could navigate. And each question only drove him in deeper. “And what is your forty-second daughter’s role in this?”

Vlad Li Tam’s face became a mix of sadness and pride. “She’s my best and brightest, an arrow that I’ve sharpened since the day she was born.” His voice sounded paternal. “She was made for this time, just as you have been.”

One last question called him deeper into the maze. “What of Sethbert? Was Windwir part of your work?”

Vlad Li Tam’s eyes narrowed. “Why would I snuff out the light in order to save it? Sethbert’s actions are Sethbert’s responsibility.”

But Rudolfo heard no answer in his reply, and saw the care with which the old man avoided the question. And there was anger in his tone… maybe even fear. He knows more than he tells me.

“If I am your so-called Shepherd of the Light, perhaps you should be more forthright in your answers,” Rudolfo finally said.

But Vlad Li Tam said nothing. Instead, he dropped another book into the fire.

They stood by the fire and said nothing for a time. Vlad Li Tam continued methodically tossing in books, and Rudolfo watched secret history upon secret history go up in flames. All of the work of House Li Tam over the centuries, first under the guise of shipbuilders and later as the greatest bank the Named Lands had known.

Finally, Vlad Li Tam reached the last book. The Book of Rudolfo, Shepherd of the Light. He held the book gently in his hands. “You don’t ha‹€don?ve any children, do you, Rudolfo?”

“You know I do not.”

Vlad Li Tam nodded, slowly, staring into the flames. “Our friends in Windwir could’ve helped you with that,” he said.

Could they have? Perhaps, but he doubted it. Rudolfo shook his head. “Androfrancine magicks are often greatly exaggerated.”

“Nonetheless,” Vlad Li Tam said. Then his voice went quiet. “I have had many children.” His eyes shifted from the fire and met Rudolfo’s. “I’ve given sixteen of them to make you the man you are. Seventeen if you count the daughter who denounces me because of her love for you.” He looked away. “If you had children,” he said, “you would appreciate how seriously I take my appointed work in this world.”

Rudolfo nodded, his fingers slipping to the hilt of his scout knife. “I do not have children,” he said. “But if I did, I should not treat them as game pieces.”

He would have drawn his knife then and killed Tam where he stood, but something stopped him. Something he’d seen a long time ago when he was a boy standing with a very different man by a very different fire. He’d seen it there by his brother Isaak’s pyre where he stood with his parents. He saw it now here with Vlad Li Tam.

It was a tear running down the line of a grieving father’s face.

Rudolfo watched that tear, his fingers caressing the hilt of the knife. Each question had taken him in deeper, and now, at the heart of this labyrinth, he found himself uncertain of what to do next. And that uncertainty revealed another discovery-that somehow, not being sure-footed was more alarming to Rudolfo than the idea that this old man before him had cut this Whymer Maze into his soul with a physician’s salted knife, changing the course of his life by carving away pieces of it at key moments. How far had it gone? A twin, older by mere minutes, dies in childhood of a treatable disease and the youngest becomes heir. Two strong and loving parents are murdered, thrusting that young child into leadership at a fragile age. At a place of intersecting alliances, a close friend-a last anchor to innocence long lost-is murdered, and a strong partnership of marriage becomes rooted in the fertile soil of grief comforted, and blossoms into something like love.

Inquiry had led him into the center of this maze, and from this place, Rudolfo could see clearly now that he could drink an ocean of questions, and find himself adrift in doubt and thirsting for yet more answers.

Vlad Li Tam did not meet his stare. He raised that last book up over the fire, and Rudolfo turned away.

He did not want to see this grieving father burn the book Rudolfo’s l‹€olfoRife had written. “If I see you again, Lord Tam,” he said over his shoulder in a tired voice, “I will not hesitate to kill you.”

As he mounted his horse, he did not look back.

Behind him, Rudolfo heard the book land in the fire and heard the hiss and crackle as it ate the pages of his life.

Petronus

Petronus looked at the storm of paper that had gathered over the surface of his desk and sighed. Through the open window behind him, a warm breeze carried the smells of the town mingled with the scent of flowers blossoming in Rudolfo’s gardens.

He rubbed his temples. His eyes ached from the steady march of cramped script he’d read over the last few months, and in the past week the headaches had started up. His hand hurt, too, and he’d even sent Neb to the River Woman for salts to soak it in. The amount of paper was daunting even when he’d first arrived here, but it had increased steadily from that point and so had the hours he’d needed to put in if he was to untangle the knots and tie off the loose ends before the council. It was dark when he entered his office and started each day, and it was dark when he left.

Today would be no different.

He heard Isaak’s approach beyond the partially closed door-the clicking and clanking of his gears and motor, the heavy footfalls and the slight hiss of escaping steam preceding the metal man’s tinny voice. He poked his head into the room. “Father?”

“Hello, Isaak,” Petronus said. “Come in.”

Isaak walked into the room. In one hand he held the cage containing the golden bird that Petronus had asked him to investigate, and in his other he carried a small stack of paper.

“I’ve finished my work with the mechanical bird,” Isaak said. He placed the golden bird on the corner of the desk, and Petronus noted that he set it in exactly the place he had picked it up two or three weeks earlier.

Petronus stared at it. Isaak had wanted to repair it, but Petronus had not wanted to take that step until they knew more about it. The bird lay in the bottom of its cage, its head twitching and its one good eye rolling loosely in its socket. One of its charred wings still lay bent and sparking, and its metal talons opened and closed mechanically. He forced his gaze back to Isaak. “Did you learn anything?”

Isaak’s eye shutters flashed. “Its memory and behavior scrolls were significantly damaged by fire. Any more recent instructions are beyond retrieval, but it is indeed the property of House Li Tam. I found an inscription from Pope Intellect VII, gifting it to Xhei Li Tam.”

Surprised, Petronus looked from Isaak to the bird. Intellect had been Pope centuries before the Order had begun its research in Old World mechanicals. “It’s not Androfrancine work, then?”

“No, Father. It is a restoration, not a reproduction.”

Petronus chose his next words carefully; Xhum Y’Zir’s spell was a sensitive subject for the metal man. “Is the damage consistent with the… events… at Windwir?”

Isaak’s eyes darkened, first one and then the other. He turned away. “Yes, Father.” A gout of steam whistled, and his mouth flap opened and closed. Petronus had learned early on how to read these behaviors. Isaak was troubled. Finally, the metal man spoke again. “I do not understand it, though. It is certainly of durable design, and it was significantly damaged.”

Petronus nodded. “Yes.”

Isaak’s voice lowered. “The other mechoservitors and I were on the ground in the midst of the Desolation. Why weren’t we damaged?”

The old man shrugged. “Your leg was damaged.”

Isaak shook his head. “Sethbert’s Delta Scouts damaged my leg. The spell itself did not damage me or the others of my kind. I do not understand this.”

Petronus felt his eyebrows raise. He hadn’t realized the injury was not a result of the spell, and he wondered why he’d not thought about this sooner. There were fourteen mechoservitors in total, and all but Isaak were in the library when Windwir fell. He’d seen the blackened wreckage, the ruined remains of the few Androfrancine artifacts the gravediggers had collected in the wagons. Very little of it would be salvageable. And yet the metal men had emerged unscathed for the most part. “I do not understand it either.”

Isaak placed the stack of paper on the one remaining bare surface of Petronus’s desk. “That brings me to the other matter you asked me to investigate, Father.”

Petronus rubbed his temples and tried to remember. His head felt full and he could feel the ache behind his eyes. “Which matter?”

“I have reinventoried the Order’s holdings regarding magicks and mechanicals adaptable for military use. My process and findings are in this report.”

More paper. Petronus looked at it but did not pick it up. “Can you summarize your findings for me?”

Isaak nodded. “Certainly, Father. In short, there are none remaining.”

Now Petronus reached for the report and scanned the first page. “None?”

“No, Father. Though it should not be a surprise. Brother Charles was very careful to remove the most sensitive knowledge from his mechoservitors.”

Petronus sighed. That part of the light was now lost, but perhaps that was a buried blessing in all of this. If it weren’t gone, they would have been forced to make hard choices. After seeing what the worst of that war-making magick could do, he could not bring himself to grieve the loss of that darker light. His stomach sunk, suddenly, and his head snapped up. He fixed Isaak with a hard stare. “What about the Seven Cacophonic Deaths? What has become of it?”

He’d expected a reaction, but when it played out before his eyes, Petronus jerked backward in his chair. Isaak’s entire body started shaking, his jeweled eyes rolling as his mouth flap whistled. His long metal fingers opened and closed, and his helmetlike head rolled on his slender neck. A low whine grew in pitch, and a gout of steam shot from his exhaust grate. Water leaked from his eyes and mouth. His chest bellows pumped furiously. “Father, do not ask me-”

Petronus felt a desperation edge into his voice, lending it an angry tone. “Under Holy Unction, Isaak, I compel you: What has become of the Cacophonic Deaths?”

Suddenly, Isaak stopped shaking and his shoulders went slack. When he spoke, his voice was flat and reedy, as if far way. “That portion of my memory scroll was damaged in the casting of the spell, Father.”

Petronus leaned forward, his voice more calm. “Damaged beyond any possible recovery?”

Isaak nodded. “Yes, Father.”

Petronus nodded, relief flooding him. Still, it broke his heart to bring it up. Over the months he’d worked with Isaak, he saw more and more how that deep wound within shaped the metal man’s soul. “I’m sorry to be so forceful, Isaak. But some things should never have come back from the Churning Wastes. Some parts of the so-called light should stay in darkness.”

Isaak looked away and said nothing. Petronus couldn’t tell if the metal man looked relieved, troubled or both. He decided to change the subject. “So has there been any further news on Lord Rudolfo?”

Isaak shook his head. “No, Father. Lady Tam has heard nothing. First Captain Aedric and the Gypsy Scouts have sent birds back-they’ve made inquiries along the coastline, but have no news as of yet.”

Petronus nodded. The Gypsy King surprised him, abruptly vanishing after Sethbert’s capture. Rudolfo was a wily one, but like his father, his sense of duty anchored him. When he concluded with whatever private matter he attended to, Rudolfo would be back to finish the work he’d started here, because like Petronus, he would do what he was made for. “I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Petronus said.

“Yes, Father.” Isaak turned to the door. “If that is all, I have a meeting with the bookbinders to discuss logistics.”

Petronus forced a smile. “Thank you, Isaak.”

The metal man left, and Petronus relaxed in his chair. Outside he heard a child laughing, and for the briefest moment his nose filled with the smell of salt water and freshly caught fish as the laughter evoked unexpected memory. His feet could nearly feel the warm wood of the boat docks slapping at them as he raced a young Vlad Li Tam for his father’s waiting boat.

The sudden image of his friend as a boy flooded Petronus with sadness. Beneath that sadness, he knew, lived a terrible wrath toward someone he once loved as a brother.

“I was made for this,” Vlad Li Tam had told him long ago when Petronus had asked him if he ever wondered what his life would’ve been if he weren’t Lord Tam of House Li Tam. Afterward, they’d gone fishing together for the last time, and it had almost touched the magic of earlier days, before destiny had found and chained them.

I should go fishing, he thought. Surely one of the servants or Gypsy Scouts could point him toward rod and tackle. The river that cut through town was not very wide, but he’d seen deep patches of green beneath the shade of the trees that lined its edge, and he knew that trout rose in it, their brown backs rippling the water as they fed.

But in the end, Petronus stayed at his desk and worked until his eyes blurred and his hand ached, unshackling himself from the desk long after the sound of frogs filled the forest-scented night beyond his window.

“What I was made for,” he said quietly to that dark.

Jin Li Tam

Jin Li Tam awoke in the middle of the night to commotion in the halls, and crept to the spyhole in her suite’s sitting room to look out over the stairwells and landings of the seventh manor. She saw servants and scouts rushing about as quietly as they could up and down the stairs, in and out of the doors.

She’d slept lightly these last two weeks, apprehension growing inside of her. It was unlike Rudolfo to simply vanish without a word. He’d turned Sethbert over to his Physicians of Penitent Torture, then ridden off without escort and without letting anyone know where he went or why.‹€or why.‹

One of the Gypsy Scouts had brought word back of Sethbert’s capture, and she’d practically interrogated him. The Overseer had surrendered personally to Rudolfo.

Sethbert said something to him. But what? Something about Windwir? Something about the motive for his terrible crime?

Whatever it was, Rudolfo had left without a word and without the Gypsy Scouts whose sworn duty was to protect their king at all times and all costs.

And now, she surmised, he had returned. She slipped into a light silk robe and went to the door that led to the bathing room. She could hear movement in the suites beyond her. Low voices whispered hurried instructions as his room was readied.

He must have caught them unawares. She chuckled. He’d probably used one of the many concealed halls, and now they were scrambling to dress out his room, despite the fact they had done so each and every morning in expectation of his return. Of course, he would’ve never asked for such a thing. But they knew their king.

The commotion quickly dissipated, and after a few minutes of silence, she heard soft footfalls in the hall. They fell in a measured stride she’d grown to anticipate over the months, and she listened as Rudolfo paused by her door before continuing on down the hall. She heard a door open and close, and she waited another ten minutes.

Quietly, she slipped through the bathing room and into Rudolfo’s bedchamber. He wasn’t there.

Jin Li Tam moved from room to room, not finding Rudolfo in the den or the sitting room. She went to the main door of his suite and opened it onto the wide hallway that encompassed the row of children’s rooms and the main entrance to her own suite.

Of course, she realized. She walked to the door of that first room, the one that had belonged to his brother. She raised her hand to knock and then lowered it. Gently, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Rudolfo sat on the small bed. He was wearing nondescript clothing, his curly hair framing his face. He looked younger without the green turban of his office, despite the salt and pepper of his beard. He was holding the small sword in his hands, and he looked up at her.

I will not ask him where he’s been. “I’m glad you’re home.”

His eyes met hers for a split second and then darted away. They had been angry eyes, she saw, and he had not wanted her to see them. “I am glad to be home.”

I will not ask him where he’s been.

But he started talking as if she had asked him. “I’ve been to the Emerald Coasts to speak with your father,” Rudolfo said. “I’ve had a lot of time on the way back to think about what I would say to you, the questions I would ask.”

More than the words, the very tone of his voice struck her like a fist. It was flat and distant, almost devoid of emotion. She’d heard it before, but only during the worst of his grieving over Gregoric. And those times, it was not so calculated.

He knows now. Some part of her had hoped she was wrong about her father. Some part of her that surprised her, that had never existed before meeting this man.

Before, she would have left no room for flights of fancy. But now she realized how desperately she’d hoped she’d been wrong about what her father had done to Rudolfo to make him the man he was.

She didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry.”

“How long have you known?”

She stepped into the room and pushed the door closed. “I’ve pieced it together since I’ve come here.”

Rudolfo nodded and stroked his beard, his eyes again meeting hers. “And would you have ever told me?”

She shook her head. “I would not.”

“Did you know that your father is leaving the Named Lands?”

“I wondered when I saw his library arrive,” she said. “I am no longer in communication with my father.”

Rudolfo looked away again. “They are loading the iron armada with livestock and goods. There is another library-a secret library-and your father has burned all of its books.” He looked back to her and his eyes narrowed. “You should know that I have vowed to kill him if I see him again.”

Jin Li Tam blinked and nodded. I might help him, she realized. She felt anger and sorrow on Rudolfo’s behalf, and anger and sorrow of her own. She did not see how her father wasn’t involved in the Desolation of Windwir. He had used Sethbert in the same way that the mad Overseer had used Isaak-dancing him on a string. She believed it with all her being.

The flatness in her own voice surprised her when she spoke. “I think he was behind Sethbert’s genocide.”

Rudolfo looked up, his eyes slightly wider. “You believe your fathe‹€eve yourr brought down Windwir?”

She nodded slowly. “I do.”

The Gypsy King stared at the child’s sword in his hands, then sheathed it and hung the belt back over the peg on the wall. Finally, he looked up at her. “I do not think he did. But he has done enough.”

Jin Li Tam swallowed. “What does this mean?”

Rudolfo stood. “Nothing. The Androfrancines will hold their council. We will plan our nuptials. We will rebuild what we can and we will safeguard it.” He touched the small turban, tracing his finger over it. “I have another question,” he said.

“I will answer it if I can.” She shifted, her feet suddenly eager to move.

His eyes were hard and his jaw clenched. “Your father claims you denounced him. He says it is because you have love for me in your heart. Is this true?”

The directness of his question tangled her tongue. She felt small and naked suddenly. Finally, she found words that she had never imagined saying. “It is true,” she said in a quiet voice. “I do love you.” His silence told her that he could not say the same, but she laid that aside. “What my father did to you is wrong,” she continued. “I see this very clearly. But the man you became-he is formidable and strong. He is able to ruthlessly pursue what is right and appropriate.”

He nodded. “What you say is true. But it is a hard truth.” He picked up the turban and held it to his nose, inhaling. “You know about my brother, then?”

“I do.”

He opened his mouth to ask a question, and she knew what it would be. Was my brother’s death a part of this, too? But then she saw him change his mind. “This was his room,” Rudolfo said. “Tomorrow, I will have it emptied and have his belongings disposed of. I’ve held on to it for too long.”

Tell him. But part of her thought she should wait for a less somber time. Part of her was unsure of how he would react. But tonight was a time for truth. She cleared her voice. “Actually, Lord Rudolfo, I have another idea for this room.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

She leaned closer to him. “You were wrong about your soldiers.”

He looked at her blankly. “My soldiers?”

Jin Li Tam offered a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been to the River Woman,” she said. She watched as the realization dawned on his face. “It is a boy. I would like to name him Jakob if you will permit it.”

Rudolfo opened his mouth and then closed it again. His brow furrowed. “You’re certain?”

“I am certain. You are to be a father. We will raise a strong heir to guard the light you rekindle here.”

“This,” Rudolfo said slowly, “is unexpected and fortuitous news.” He looked at her with something like wonder on his face. Gradually, it faded.

He knows it was my father’s design.

She wanted to ask him if he thought that he could love her beyond this terrible knowledge. Certainly, he’d felt something then-she’d seen it on his face, heard it in his voice. But it wasn’t love. It was need masquerading, based on the careful manipulations of House Li Tam. She wanted to ask, but she would not.

Instead, she would wait and see what honest thing could be built between them without deception. Jin Li Tam realized she knew very little about love.

But this much she knew-those who truly love should not require reciprocity.

Inclining her head toward her betrothed to show her respect, she slipped out of their future nursery and returned to her solitary bed.