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Home was calling her.

“Here, my queen, something to keep you warm,” a familiar honeyed voice said.

Mer turned to Mazie and took the fur cloak and tossed it over her shoulders, the heat enveloping her immediately. “Thank you.”

The duchess had rejoined the group, cleaned up and dressed in a new green gown.

“How old is the duchess?” she asked softly so only Mazie could hear.

“Fourteen.”

Mer’s stomach churned. Just a child. “How long have they been married?” she forced herself to ask.

“For a little over a year.”

Depths below, she was going to be sick.

Mer studied the gathering of women.

Womenwas generous. They were girls. All fresh-faced and young.

Too young.

“They’re all children.”

Mazie grunted but said nothing else.

Revulsion filled her the longer she stared at the group of girls. “Is this a common practice among your people?” Mer rasped. Half the girls didn’t look old enough to have had their first bleed.

The warrior’s lips thinned. “It’s more common among the highborn than lower classes. You’ll see families sell off their daughters to others, but they’re not married until they come of proper age.”

“And what is proper age?” Her stomach lurched as Lady Keventin caressed her belly.

Trenches bite. No. Please no.

Mazie hesitated for a second. “Fourteen.”

Bile burned the back of Mer’s throat, and she stumbled farther out onto the veranda. Mazie caught her elbow, but Mer shook her off. “Fourteen is too young,” she rasped, clutching the stone railing. “Lady Keventin is with child?”

“She is.” Mazie’s voice was flat.

Mer tilted her head back, staring at the crescent moon that gave just enough light to illuminate the waves in the distance.

“How are you so calm?” she asked fiercely, glaring at Mazie.

The warrior turned lady-in-waiting leveled a heavy gaze upon her. “Don’t mistake my stoicism as acceptance for what is happening. But some things are out of my control, my queen.”

“And your king allows this?”

“It is not for me to judge what my king does and doesn’t do.”

“If the duchess is fourteen, how is it that she’s been married to the duke for a year?”

“Nobles always find a way to get what they want,” Mazie practically growled. Her gaze flickered to the salon and back to Mer. She bowed her head. “Duchess Keventin comes.”

Mer snapped her mouth shut and schooled her expression as the young girl floated to her side, the green silk dress outlining her little protruding belly. The duchess wrapped her arms around herself and stood quietly beside Mer. Mazie melted into the background, leaving them alone.

A shiver wracked the girl, and Mer found herself pulling the cloak from her shoulders and laying it over the young woman’s thin frame.