“My clothes are still in cases in my reception room, except for what I am wearing.”

But Ion was already pulling a suit from tissue paper. “His Majesty—”

“I hazard to guess,” said Sounis. “The tailors still had my measurements?”

“Indeed,” said Ion, and helped him out of his clothes and into a linen shirt so fine that it was easy to see the shape of his arms right through it. It was covered by a sleeveless tunic in dark blue.

“Boots, too?” said Sounis.

“He likes to think of everything.”

“Yes, yes, he does.”

“An opal earring, Your Majesty? Or would you prefer onyx?”

When Sounis was finally presentable to Attolian standards, Ion opened the door to the reception room and bowed. Xanthe, the oldest of Eddis’s attendants, was standing just outside. She turned away and said to someone not in view, “Your Majesty, the king of Sounis.”

Eddis was waiting for him on a carved seat by the window. She stood. Her dress was of linen as fine as his own. It had an overdress decorated in knotted cord and a waist of satin covered in tiny beads in the same pattern as the knots.

Sounis swallowed. “I did not realize,” he said. “I would have come to your rooms to speak to you.”

Eddis smiled. “I intrude?”

“No,” said Sounis, trying to breathe. “Of course not.”

Ion had excused himself to the anteroom, but the door was open, and Xanthe as well as the queen’s other attendants came in and left from time to time. Eddis’s attention never wavered. When Sounis finished, she said, “Your mother was right, I think.”

“She usually is,” said Sounis.

“Did you think I would change my mind?”

“I failed to persuade my barons, and I fell back on violence and murder.”

“You made your choice,” said Eddis.

“I did. I hope you understand why I cannot back away from it.”

“Even if I condemn you for it, as you condemned Nomenus?”

“Even then,” said Sounis.

“Sophos,” said Eddis sadly, “I sent my Thief to Attolia, and when she had maimed him, and knowing the risk, I sent him back. I have started a war of my own, sent my cousins to die, taken food from the mouths of widows and children to feed my army.” She took his hand. “We are not philosophers; we are sovereigns. The rules that govern our behavior are not the rules for other men, and our honor, I think, is a different thing entirely, difficult for anyone but the historians and the gods to judge. There is no reason I can see that I would not be honored to join Eddis to you. But it is complicated by many things that I must tell you about first.”

“Of course,” said Sounis, his grin too boyish to be reminiscent of his uncle. “More talking!”

“Yes, and some of it important. I would ask—”

But Sounis was too pleased to register any nuance. He only knew that he was happy. He interrupted her. “I thought, when I first met you, that you would marry Gen.”

“I would sooner have strangled him,” said Eddis.

“I didn’t see that,” said Sounis. “I still don’t, honestly. He has saved Attolia.”

“Gen and I are too close to marry. If he has saved Attolia, then she has saved him as well, and I’ve told her as much. But—”

“Your Majesties.” Ion bowed in the doorway. “Please forgive me. The king and queen of Attolia ask that you join them.”

Eddis sighed and let the matter go, thinking there would be time enough to reveal her plans to Sounis after he had sworn his loyalty to the king of Attolia. She and Sounis rose and walked to the anteroom, where they were greeted by the beaming attendants and Sounis’s magus, who stood with a broad smile splitting his face. Eddis felt the blood rising in her own face as the magus bowed.

“Our felicitations, Your Majesties,” he said.

“We thank you,” Eddis said to the magus, and kissed him on both cheeks.

“We certainly do,” said Sounis, and kissed him as well, before being kissed in turn by Xanthe. Then, in response to Ion’s polite prodding, the room was emptied out into the passageway.

Eddis and Sounis parted on the way to Attolia’s throne room. Eddis was to enter by the main doors and wait with the rest of the court. The magus and Sounis continued on to a retiring room where the king and queen of Attolia waited.

Eschewing ceremony, Eugenides said, “You shot the ambassador?”

“You gave me the gun,” protested Sounis.

“I didn’t mean for you to shoot an ambassador with it!” Eugenides told him.

“Oh, how our carefully laid plans go astray,” murmured the magus.

“You shut up!” said Gen, laughing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and there was no time to say more. Those awaiting the sovereigns observed their smiles and smiled in turn.

Attolia took no part in the ceremony, not even ascending her throne, but standing instead to one side of the dais while the complicated oath was read out by the high priestess of Hephestia.

Sounis swore his personal loyalty and his obedience to Attolis. He swore his state to Attolis’s service in the event of war, external or internal. He pledged his men to Attolis’s armies and his treasury to Attolis’s support. He swore on behalf of himself and his heirs loyalty to any heir of Attolis, binding the two nations together permanently. Attolis, in his turn, promised to protect and defend Sounis and his state, to preserve Sounis’s autonomy in all matters internal to the state, to make no interference in Sounis’s authority except as it affected the needs of Attolia.

Sounis bowed over the king of Attolia’s hands, kissed the backs of them both, and held the real one to his forehead. Attolis pulled him close to kiss him on the brow, and the court clapped in congratulations.

Stepping back, Sounis said, “Congratulate me, My King. I am to be married.”

Eugenides smiled. Attolia looked sharply at Eddis, who shook her head. The room quieted.

“She is your subject?” asked Eugenides.

“Indeed not,” said Sounis, insensible to the significance of the question.

“Well, then,” said Attolia, drawing his attention as she stepped onto the dais. She seated herself and laid her hand over Eugenides’s, forestalling him. “It would not be a matter wholly internal to Sounis. You would have to bring it to your king for approval.”

His expression changing, Eugenides looked from his wife to Eddis, and then back to Sounis, who stood confused and uncertain before him.

His easy manner yielded. “Indeed,” said Eugenides quietly, “I would not see your loyalty divided between myself and your wife. There is an easy answer, though, if she is also sworn to me.”

“No,” said Sounis, swallowing misery whole. “She is not.”

“Then perhaps you should broach the subject with her before we speak again.”

“Indeed,” Sounis managed to say in the bleak silence.

He bowed, and the ceremony was wrapped like a package and hastily sealed by the priestess of Hephestia. The sovereigns retired without meeting one another’s eyes, and the rooms were cleared. The court withdrew to change out of its sumptuary and into less precious clothes. With the magus’s hand under his arm, Sounis stumbled back to his own apartments to find the queen of Eddis and her attendants waiting there.