Morwen sat on the bed; huddled under her robe, her arms wrapped protectively around her legs. She longed for the oblivion of sleep, but her mind had dissolved into a perpetual whirlpool that wouldn't stop.

Wynflaed knocked and let herself in. She frowned at Morwen's nightdress.

"Going to bed already?"

Morwen shook her head. "Not yet. I'm thinking."

Wynflaed came in and shut the door behind her. "About what?"

"What do you think? Wynflaed, I'm terribly confused."

Wynflaed kicked off her boots before shimmying out of her dress. After she shoved her things into her pack, she climbed into bed in her shift.

"I admit your cousin is deranged and his conversation hard to follow," she said eventually. "But I thought maybe my Westron isn't as strong as I thought." She huddled down under the covers then turned on her side away from Morwen, pulling the blankets up so that her feet stuck out in the cool air.

Morwen stared down at Wynflaed. "I meant your brother is confusing."

"Oh? I always found Thengel's behavior predictable." She rolled over to look at Morwen. "Although I guess you did look surprised tonight."

"I was!"

"I would've thought you'd have an idea. He told me all about it back in Minas Tirith."

"What! He did?"

"Well, more or less. Sort of." She contemplated a callous on her big toe. "Come to think of it, he didn't realize he did."

"Well, I had no idea," Morwen grumbled.

"So? Now you do. Good night." She rolled over so her back faced Morwen, pulling the blankets over her head.

Morwen dragged the blanket off. "And did you know he was going to, to…"

"What? Kiss you and raise a stink? I thought he'd wait until after you accepted the betrothal gift. Maybe he thought a horn was too suggestive and he wanted to warm you up to it?"

Morwen blushed. "Wynflaed!"

"Isn't that the proper order? I'm an outsider, so you'll have to excuse my ignorance of betrothal customs in the south."

"It's not that. You knew what that horn meant all along?"

"Of course. Oswin brought it especially for that purpose. Mind you, he had to pry it from Fengel King's claws first. Father doesn't like to share his toys with Thengel."

Morwen exhaled, scattering the strands of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. "But Thengel can't mean for me to accept him, surely."

Wynflaed rolled back over. "Why not? Oswin gave Thengel his blessing to marry you."

Morwen's mouth fell slack again. "Me! The marshal and I have only met twice."

Wynflaed snorted. "He's a decisive man, Morwen. Although, it helped that the Steward sanctioned the match."

Morwen hopped off the bed as if Wynflaed had brought a snake in with her, dancing over the cold stone on smarting toes. "Turgon!"

"He is the Steward," Wynflaed told Morwen slowly, in case she'd grown suddenly daft.

"Why on earth would he do that?" Morwen wailed.

"Idhren gave you a glowing review."

Morwen shivered where she stood in the middle of the floor. She had thought she understood Adrahil's reaction to Thengel better after the kiss, but this revelation felt like being swallowed by a sinkhole in comparison.

Thengel acting alone was one thing, but Oswin, Turgon and Idhren created a menacing trifecta. No doubt Turgon had sent Adrahil to Dol Amroth to clear the way for the match. Morwen bunched her fists as white-hot anger flowed through her limbs, dispelling the cold. How busy they had all been! Although she figured largely in their plans, none of them seemed to think she merited an opinion — or even the courtesy of open debate! And now she owed Adrahil a very humble apology for her words in the stable yard.

And someone certainly owed her an apology! How tired she felt of other people forming plans for her without taking her into consideration. Was she a woman or a rag doll? Morwen cast a sour look at one of the conspirators within reach.

"How do you know all this?" she asked.

"It's my job to know. I'm Thengel's bridal council — or I used to be."

Morwen felt her stomach drop to her ankles and she had to sit down on the bed again. "And why you're in Lossarnach?"

"For the opposite reason, actually. This match would be a mistake." Wynflaed boosted herself upright on her elbows to squint at Morwen. You aren't going to accept him, are you?"

Morwen recoiled. "Of course I can't accept him."

"Fine. Tell him in the morning, will you, so we can go home?"

"I certainly shall!"

"Good. The whole thing would be a nightmare."

"It would?" Despite herself, Morwen felt piqued. Then she shook herself. "Well, you don't have to worry about that."

"Not in your case, truly," Wynflaed sighed. "But it means my work isn't over yet." She frowned. "It'll take forever. How anyone could countenance marrying Thengel is a puzzle to me."

"You're his sister. It's not something you should countenance."

"So? I can be objective, particularly when it comes to Thengel's lack of merits."

"What lack of merits?"

Wynflaed eyebrows drooped low like disbelieving rainclouds. "You can't think of any on your own? Not even after tonight?"

"Up until now, I would have said no," Morwen answered truthfully. "Now? I'm disappointed and angry that he's taking advantage of what's happening here."

"Thengel's taking advantage of you?" Wynflaed surprised her by hooting with laughter. "Don't make me laugh again. It gives me a cramp in my side."

Morwen crossed her arms over her chest. "Wynflaed, I'm serious."

"Sorry, what exactly is it you have to offer that he needs so badly?" Wynflaed chortled. "Any other woman could give him an heir. You're only marginally related to some princes; you have no wealth to speak of, and you would be completely useless in Meduseld. If anything, you'd be a handicap to his status and reign."

Morwen felt her temper rising again. Wynflaed made her sound like the last fish at market. "Then why did he ask, if it's so terrible? Turgon and Oswin don't seem to think any of those things are a weakness."

"Are you even old enough to get married?" Wynflaed sat up and squinted at her.

Morwen scratched her arm. "I expect so. I'll be twenty-one…eventually."

Wynflaed snorted. "Twenty-one. I am old enough to be your mother. Lord, why can't anyone else think about these details besides me?"

That was another doubt Morwen felt. "Wynflaed, do you think that Thengel really knows what he's asking — or why?"

"Who can answer for an idiot?"

"But he's not an idiot."

"Sorry. I forgot." Wynflaed jabbed a finger at her. "You phrased it better. Two-faced orc has a nice ring to it. Not a bad epithet for someone who never grew up with any brothers of her own."

Morwen covered her face. "I shouldn't have called him that, especially in front of all of you. He's not an orc. He's just making a mistake."

"That's putting it mildly," Wynflaed said as she shook her head at the ceiling. "He's got strange notions about right and wrong and it just makes a mess. He's a rescuer, but he doesn't use his head." Then she muttered under her breath, "if he did, he wouldn't be in exile."

"Wasn't he young when that happened?"

Wynflaed gave her a wry frown. "Can you tell me he's changed since then?"

"In twenty years, I expect he has. I do know that he's well respected in Minas Tirith."

"Just a second ago you were throwing things at his head. Now you're making excuses. Béma," Wynflaed said with a cunning grin, "you must be in love with him too."

Morwen felt her skin burn from her throat to the tops of her ears. "Me?" she sputtered. "Don't be ridiculous. I've never been in love in my life!"

"And you aren't going to start now, is that it?"

Morwen swallowed. "It's the principle of the thing."

"Oh, principles. Never had much use for those myself."

"Excuse me, my house is falling down around my ears. It's not the time or the place. And he shouldn't have surprised everyone like that!"

"My girl, you're the only one who's surprised, remember."

Morwen shivered as her anger returned. If she returned to Minas Tirith any time soon, she would find greater missiles for her frustration than a paltry horn. Steward Turgon had better just brace himself.

"Let me be clear, Wynflaed, if I'm to marry anyone, it's not because a bunch of old men or busybodies like Lady Idhren have decided it behind closed doors!"

Wynflaed shrugged. "Fine with me. Just so we're clear, I don't want you to be queen. Your feelings for Thengel won't help me any."

"I'll think or feel whatever I like about your brother, without any reference to you or anyone else."

"Whatever you like. I still think we're of one mind."

"Are we?" And what was that? The conversation had grown so circular she didn't know which way they had landed.

"Yes, thank you. You've lifted a weight from my mind." Then Wynflaed rolled onto her stomach, leaving Morwen to look at a pile of straw colored hair. The woman began snoring within a minute.

"You haven't lifted one from mine," Morwen muttered into her pillow.

…

Wynflaed's snores kept the time as the evening wore away into the early hours of the morning. Shaky from lack of sleep and an anxious spirit, Morwen climbed out of bed and felt around for her robe. Quietly, she padded her way to the kitchen, careful not to wake the men sleeping in the hall.

Hareth and Gildis were awake, sharing a pot of tea together. They looked at her with surprise, but masked it quickly. Hareth poured her a fresh cup of tea while Gildis pushed Morwen onto the bench.

"So," said Gildis, after Morwen had taken a sip or two of her drink, "It's been an eventful two days. Now you know about the trees."

"I wish someone had sent me word," Morwen answered.

Gildis's eyebrows descended low over her eyes and she looked sour. "You think we didn't want to?"

"I know. I'm sorry. It's been horrible for everyone."

The cook and the housekeeper glanced at one another and seemed hardly to know what to say to her.

"You must have seen a lot of Prince Thengel in Minas Tirith, then," Hareth ventured.

Morwen flattened her palms on the table and stared at the white tips of her fingers. "Listen, the pair of you, I'm as surprised as everyone else by what occurred last night."

All her life, courtship, romance, and marriage - these were things that happened to other women. She had grown up in a happy home and had entered womanhood with a vocation and a purpose. She worked alongside men in the fields - did she need one in the house, as well? She simply hadn't thought about it.

And now she had to drink a bitter cup for her disregard.

Gildis snorted. "I'm not surprised."

"What? Don't tell me you knew!"

"I didn't know a thing, but I have eyes," Gildis insisted. "I remember the way he looked at you when they arrived here. As soon as you walked in the Prince's eyes followed you wherever you went as if you were the only thing in the room."

"What was his alternative? Guthere's wound?" Morwen retorted. She hoped she was a pleasanter sight than that.

"Well, I'm only saying that I thought it very interesting and maybe if he knew you more, anything might happen."

Hareth piped up, "Oh - don't forget about the barrel - he's none too found of Lord Halmir, that's certain. I swore to Nanneth right on the spot that he must be jealous."

Jealous! Morwen listened with growing dismay.

"Why shouldn't he want to marry you? You're not just some backwoods girl, no matter what Lord Halmir said. You're the daughter of Lord Randir and Lady Hirwen."

"That's as good as a princess, to my mind," Hareth chimed in.

A ringing endorsement after Wynflaed's analysis of her status. Morwen had to pinch her fingers together to hide her growing agitation. Neither of the older women realized how little they were helping her frame of mind.

"And we all know you'd be wasted on a fool like Halmir."

"Imagine our Morwen courted by a prince. It's the wonder of the age," Hareth mused unhelpfully. "Though it wasn't very kind of young Halmir to go on about the dirt. For all her gadding about the fields she's very clean."

"No, she isn't," Gildis croaked.

Morwen glared, but they remained dauntless in their assessment of the evening and of their mistress's merits.

"What's the matter, Lady Morwen? Aren't you happy?"

Morwen blinked at them. "Happy?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Hareth. Remember, Lady Morwen didn't answer him yet," Gildis continued gravely. "There's a lot to consider. It would be a tidy end to Lord Halmir's plans, that's certain, and I, for one, would like to know what you will choose to do."

Morwen fought the urge to lay her head down on the table as she listened. It was the sort of sulking Ioneth would indulge in - though truth be told, Morwen had begun to feel like Ioneth. Irritable, squelching, and distracted. It didn't help that the key members of her household chose to raise their banners alongside the prince's. Why couldn't they be on her side? Whatever that was.

She liked Thengel. Up until now, he had treated her kindly. He reminded her what it felt like to be teased and to be thoughtful, not working all the time, not so mechanical. That's it, she realized. Since her father's death she had grown mechanical. Thengel had helped shake her from the mind-numbing routine she'd adopted in order to cope with loss and new responsibility. That had to have a value. But did it mean she could love him?

A feeling like ice water flooded her belly. Was she afraid to answer the question? What would happen if she did? Morwen felt like she was losing her balance. She wanted to shut her door against all the change coming at her like a devouring wave. Whatever control she might have had slipped through her fingers like grains of sand, no matter how tightly she tried to grip them.

The secrecy and the plotting disgusted her, not to mention the way Thengel had surprised and embarrassed her, just the way Halmir had. She resented him for accentuating her difficulties when he had asked her to trust him. She wished she had used more caution and followed Adrahil's advice!

And that was another thing. If forced to choose either Halmir or Thengel, she would still lose her home. What could Thengel be thinking? Would he refuse to return to Rohan for her? Of course not. And did he assume she would pack up and follow him? Had he thought this through at all? She could blame him for that, but then, the truth is she had to blame herself for blindly trusting him in the first place.

She needed to stop being so naive. How did one do that? Was there a book she could read? Or did she have to keep making mistakes to learn? A book sounded less time consuming and more practical.

"I don't know, Gildis," she finally answered.

"My." Hareth clucked her tongue, oblivious to Morwen's distress. "I remember the to-do when Lady Hirwen brought home a lord of the house of Belfalas. That was news then."

"It was, wasn't it," Gildis replied with the wistful air of one remembering fond, but long distant memories. "Lord Hathol accused him of putting on airs. Remember? He always thought the lords of Belfalas were a bit stuck up."

"He was blessed tall, wasn't Lord Randir? I always said Lady Hirwen matched his height in temperament." Hareth chuckled to herself. "It's been a long time since we've had a wedding in Imloth Melui like to theirs."

Morwen listened to the interlude with a jaundiced heart and mind. The memories of her parents' happy marriage did the opposite of soothe her spirits. The current situation did not portend half so well for her prospects.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, interrupting their reminiscing. "I mean, to get rid of them and go on as I have done?"

"Who?" Hareth asked.

Morwen rolled her eyes. "Halmir and Prince Thengel, of course."

"What, you don't want either of them?" Hareth gasped. "Not even Prince Thengel? That is a surprise. Guthere speaks so well of him."

"How is Guthere these days?" Morwen asked crisply.

Hareth bit her tongue. Then she said, "I've been meaning to speak to you about that…"

"Not tonight, Hareth. It's late and Lady Morwen has other things to worry about." Gildis rose, then patted Morwen on the shoulder. "Let them fight it out, my lady. There's nothing you can do that's worse than what they can do to one another. Who knows? Perhaps they'll knock each other both out of reckoning."

"And if not, what then?"

"Then you will have to decide what you want." Gildis opened her mouth, and then shut it again, the better to think. "If I can give you one piece of advice, Lady Morwen," she urged, "I think you might want to consider what you can gain rather than what you might lose."

That sounded too much like something Adrahil had told her. The question wasn't if she meant to keep Imloth Melui or lose it — but how she meant to keep it, or how she meant to lose it. She didn't know the answer, only that it would be harder to puzzle out - no thanks to Thengel, his sister, and their stupid council!

"Besides, Lady Morwen, not matter what you decide, you'll always have us. We're your home and family more than any old house or garden." Then Hareth added, hastily, "And I've grown curious about Rohan myself lately." Morwen heard the door open behind her and saw Hareth's eyes widen like an owl's. "Good gracious, it's the Prince."

…

Morwen's shoulders bunch as she slowly turned in her seat to look behind her. Thengel had halted on the threshold and looked ready to back out again. His undershirt hung loosely around his thighs and his trousers looked rumpled, as if he too had climbed out of bed after little sleep.

Seeing him in person rather than in theory rekindled her earlier ire. Couldn't she sit in her own kitchen without being plagued?

Hareth rose quickly and the two women dismissed themselves, though Hareth poured out a new cup of tea and shoved it at him before going.

"Sit down, please, my lord," Gildis politely ordered. When she passed Morwen on the way out, she squeezed her arm as though willing Morwen to speak to him.

Thengel sat down in Gildis's seat at the head of the table where the tea had landed, looking like a bow ready to spring at a moment's notice if he had to vacate the chair. The mug looked dwarfed by his hand as he automatically reached for it. They said nothing. He drank tea and seemed to study the leaves floating around the bottom of the mug. She stared out the window and drank her own tea. The reflection in the glass allowed her to look at him without actually looking. She noticed the drawn weariness in his face.

Morwen's heart jumped into her throat when she saw Thengel's glass counterfeit look up at her finally. He tried to smile.

"I didn't mean to stay," Thengel began. "Just looking for a drink."

"Hm." Morwen supposed he had a right to be thirsty. She poured herself more tea and set the pot on the far side of the table.

"So…you couldn't sleep either?" he ventured.

"A strange day makes for poor sleeping," she answered coldly.

Thengel eyed the tabletop again.

"Wynflaed told me a very interesting story," she went on. "Do you know what is was about?"

Thengel rubbed the side of his jaw. "Morwen…"

She held up her hand to silence him. "The chief characters are your uncle Oswin, Steward Turgon, and Lady Idhren. The chorus parts were supplied by a city of gossips and Wynflaed. The villain of the piece —"

"Morwen, listen…"

"I'm afraid to," she snapped. "You say such odd things."

Thengel leaned back in the chair, resting his hands on his knees. "I'm sorry."

"For which part? Sorry that you're courting me or sorry that I'm the last one to know about it?"

He winced.

"Or is it both?" she drawled. "I think I could make it both."

"I can explain."

"I'll be very surprised if you can," she countered.

Thengel's eye squeezed shut with exasperation. "Let me get a word in edgewise, then see for yourself."

Morwen relented enough to hold her tongue. She listened in icy silence for him to produce anything like a rationale for his behavior.

"Remember I mentioned Thunor and the suitors?" he asked.

Morwen frowned. That wasn't the tack she'd expected him to take. She tried to recall the morning in the orchard when Thengel had read to them from that book of Northern tales. An idea struck her.

"Do you mean to say that another hundred suitors are going to show up," she asked sourly, "because two will suffice!"

Thengel's eyes brightened with impatience. "No," he groused. "Remember, when I asked you how Thunor defeated the suitors?"

"He set up a contest."

"Yes, but more importantly, he took on a disguise," he explained. "If the suitors knew Thunor's true identity, they would've killed him outright and his plan would've failed."

Morwen wrinkled her nose. "You're afraid Halmir will kill you?"

Thengel scoffed. "No, but if he knew I returned to help you oust him, he'd dig in his heels about the orchard. Now he believes I'm here to woo you instead, orchard be damned."

"Aren't you?" she retorted. "That's certainly the impression that you've given everyone."

"Morwen, consider it a disguise. Can't you see a little misdirection will halt more felling of trees?"

"You think pretending to be my lover will make him back down?" she asked skeptically, absentmindedly soothing her wrist. "Halmir is very determined."

"It'll embarrass him, more like. A man like Halmir doesn't take humiliation easily and I think it will lead him to do something stupid."

"That's all very well for you to deceive him, but what about me? What will be the consequences for us? From what Wynflaed has told me, this isn't a charade to anyone else in Minas Tirith. How am I supposed to answer you?" she pleaded.

Thengel started to reach for her, but then thought better of it and withdrew his hand. "Listen, you don't have to tell Halmir positively that you've accepted me, just as long as you don't positively reject me either. Showing indecision would work best. As long as there's a rival, there's time. "

"Time for what?"

"Time for Lady Ferneth to assume her right to govern Lossarnach as Forlong's guardian and for her to come assert herself here."

"Ferneth?" she breathed.

Thengel nodded. "I started mulling it over in Minas Tirith. See, unless Hardang specified otherwise in his will, or if she chose to forfeit her right to a male relative, the child's mother could become regent. If she's forfeited to Halmir, then there's nothing we can do. But if she hasn't, you have a chance to protect the orchard through her."

A chance? Morwen leaned forward on her elbows as a doubt rose in her mind. "But that would mean Halmir has been acting out of turn this whole time." She cupped her forehead in her hand. "He wouldn't have any actual authority to do what he's done."

"None whatsoever, if my suspicions are correct.

"But he has! She must have forfeited. Not even Halmir would be that audacious."

Thengel's expression twisted in disgust. "Don't be so sure. If she hasn't, then you'd be out of Bar-en-Ferin by now. If Ferneth has her son's authority, she will always be a threat to Halmir's ambitions for this place."

"Ugh." Morwen could taste the disgust on her tongue. "I never thought to question his word. He said Ferneth had no say in the matter."

"You mean he doesn't wish her to have a say."

"But what sort of idiot would lie about facts that could be verified so easily?"

"Because he only needed you to believe him long enough to fall into his trap. If you marry him, then he'll have a claim to the estate through you, under the agreement with your parents. The more I think it over, the more I'm convinced this is what happened."

Morwen turned her cup in her hands while she took in this new frame for Halmir's behavior. Then she looked at Thengel. "How can you be sure?"

"Adan and Beleg said something at Lossemeren that I recall. Ferneth's been too quiet, not herself. He's exactly the sort of man to use her convalescence to his advantage. We need to find out what's really going on at the Garth, but in the meantime, we also need to distract Halmir so he leaves you and your house alone."

It made sense. The show of power. The paranoia. Halmir's obvious lack of any real regard for her contrasting with his insistence that they marry. Then another idea occurred to her.

"It isn't just Ferneth who's a threat to his ambitions," she said. "It's you."

"I know," he mumbled. "That's the plan."

Morwen shook her head. "No, no. I mean before now, even before Lossemeren."

He looked surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Did I tell you Halmir sent me gifts around the time you arrived with Guthere? He's never done so before and I had them returned. He found out by gossiping with the courier." She scoffed. "He made some wild accusations about you the night of the feast, that you would prey on me. He must have made his announcement that day because he feared he would lose his opportunity to take over here while you remained." She groaned into her hands. "It makes sense. He'd all but admitted it."

"He's an opportunistic rascal," Thengel snarled.

Morwen glared at Thengel through her fingers. "That's rich, coming from you."

"Me?" He had the gall to look surprised again.

"Everyone seems to be ten feet ahead of me these days, especially you. If you knew all this, why didn't you explain it to me beforehand?"

"It's Wynflaed who put the idea in my head, but frankly, I've been thinking on my feet."

"So what am I supposed to do with this thing you've set in motion?"

"Halmir has to believe my suit. I don't want him to force your hand, Morwen, if he becomes desperate. Once you're married to him, Ferneth's hands are tied."

"I will never marry Halmir," she vowed.

"He'll try to take the decision away from you." Thengel told her with brutal honesty. She shuddered and looked away, knowing he was right. "Now at least his attention will turn away from badgering you or creating further damage to the orchard."

"Toward you?"

"As his rival, yes. Unless you positively reject me."

That sounded very well, except for what Wynflaed had told her earlier. "You aren't really in love with me like your sister believes?"

"I promised to help you," he said stiffly. "In a hand fight you use your opponent's momentum against him. As you say, Halmir already suspects a degree of relationship between us." His expression softened to something like regret. "Don't look so worried. I'd never try to trap you."

Morwen hadn't used that language, but she realized now that Thengel's ruse felt like a trap and that her resentment stemmed from that source. He wouldn't be the first to use her naïveté and trust against her. Halmir had done so with spectacular results. But the trap Thengel had laid wasn't for her; it was for her cousin all along. At least, partially.

"What about Turgon and Oswin?" she asked.

He frowned. "What about them?"

"Wynflaed didn't make them up."

Thengel studied the leaves at the bottom of his mug. "Morwen, this is the Third Age. What does it matter what two old men want? Once they find out how good your aim is they won't push anything."

Morwen's hand flew to her mouth.

A smile ghosted over his lips. "That's the Horn of Eorl, by the way, an heirloom of my house."

That was an heirloom? What had Thengel done? She thought it was a well crafted, but common hunting horn. A relic of the house of Eorl, and she'd thrown it at his head!

Morwen cringed. "At least I missed."

Thengel leaned forward and laughed into his hands. "Barely. I may be older than you, but fortunately my reflexes are still good."

"I wish you had told me," she groaned. "It would have spared us both some unflattering behavior."

"I thought I played the part handsomely. You did get a few punches in, didn't you?" he reminded her.

Morwen glared at him.

"Listen, you drove that point home, Morwen," he said earnestly. "I promise to keep you abreast of any new developments."

"Very considerate of you," she said dryly.

"Do you forgive me, then?"

"Did I hit you very hard?"

"Well, I won't say I didn't miss my hauberk at the time."

Impulsively, Morwen leaned over the table and kissed him on the cheek.

The laughter drained from Thengel's face as he searched hers. "Is that how they show pardon in Lossarnach?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready to pardon you yet," she said pointedly. "But we'll call it a truce. Shake hands and please don't tell your uncle what I've done."

He shrugged. "No harm done."

"I'm serious," she said.

His eyes flicked toward the closed door, then back down at her. He took her hand and kissed it. His eyes narrowed on her hand. Instead of releasing her hand, his fingers gently slipped back the cuff of her sleeve, revealing the bruises.

"There's a story in that."

Morwen released her hand from his hand laid it in her lap. "The sooner Halmir leaves, the better."

Thengel's eyes narrowed dangerously, his suspicions confirmed. "I knew it." His right hand moved to his hip, as if feeling for the sword he had left behind in his rooms. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Wynflaed came." She shrugged, hiding her hand in her lap again. "What could you have done after the fact? Besides —"

"Stringing him up in the meat-house would be too good for him!" Thengel growled. "Scatha's teeth, Morwen. He's walking around free right now. Why didn't Wynflaed shred him to ribbons?"

Morwen leaned away from the heat of his anger. "There. You see? He's the acting lord of Lossarnach — or the next in line. You can't just kill him without repercussions. Yes, I know it's disgusting, but it's true, even for a prince."

"Then we'll have him arrested and tried. You have a witness to the assault."

"Oh yes, so his friends can smirk at me from the jury bench," she hissed. "Remember who he is, Thengel, and who he is in Lossarnach, especially."

Thengel's eyes burned as he listened to her. "That shouldn't make a difference."

"I know very well what my chances would be!" she choked. "His peers will acquit him out of pity for not getting all that he came for! Meanwhile I'll walk away with a smear on my name because of what could have happened."

"Ferneth wouldn't allow that, Morwen, and we shouldn't let him get away with it."

"Thengel, suppose Ferneth does claim her right, but what if Lossarnach doesn't back her claim?"

Thengel looked doubtful. "I'll think of something."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she sighed.

His eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"I can't handle more of your surprises."

Thengel glanced away quickly, but not before she noticed something like hurt in his eyes. He knew she was teasing him, surely. She felt a seed of unease germinating in her belly and she reached for him.

"Thengel…"

He pushed the chair back and rose. "It's late, Morwen. We should both get some rest." But he waited at the door when she didn't follow.

"You go on. There's still some tea in the pot," she told him.

He nodded. "Good night, Morwen. We'll talk again in the morning."

"Good night."

When the door closed behind him and she felt sure he wouldn't come back, she crossed her arms on the table and finally rested her head down with a loud groan. She wondered if they weren't back where they started before he explained everything.