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IN THE TRAINING ARENA, Rharreth faced Vriska, gripping his sword and trying to keep his anger in check. It was just the two of them. Melantha was arranging her new healing room to her satisfaction, and the rest of the shield band had been tasked with guarding her.

But Rharreth needed to have it out with Vriska. Her actions toward Melantha had been unacceptable for some time, and her failure that day had placed Melantha in danger.

Vriska faced Rharreth, a stubborn set to her jaw, her eyes flashing.

“You failed to protect my wife. As was your duty to your queen and to the wife of your shield brother.” Rharreth advanced on Vriska.

She held her sword in an easy grip. “If she were a troll warrior worthy of standing at your side, she wouldn’t have needed protecting. Don’t you see that?”

“If she had been a troll warrior, she wouldn’t have been able to heal all those people.” Rharreth whipped his sword at Vriska’s head. She parried and turned the movement into a strike of her own. Rharreth blocked, pressing his taller height for the extra leverage it gave him. “More than that, Melantha is my wife. Your disapproval isn’t going to erase the vows I spoke.”

“Maybe not. But I would think the disapproval of your shield band would keep you from falling in love with her.” Vriska ducked away from his attack, taking a few steps back to give herself space. “Don’t think we all haven’t noticed those looks you’ve been giving her. It is disgusting the way you look at that elf.”

Rharreth gritted his teeth, and it was an effort not to turn his strike into something more deadly. “She is my wife. Would you have me remain in a cold and loveless marriage? What kind of wish is that for your shield brother? Besides, not all of the shield band disapproves. Nirveeth and Eyvindur are more or less neutral. And Zavni heartily approves.”

Vriska parried his thrust and turned her grunt of exertion into a huff. “Zavni is a foolish, hopeless romantic, and we all know it. He’s just brainless enough to support your marriage to an elf.”

“More like loyal enough.” Rharreth swung his sword harder, satisfied when Vriska stumbled back a step under the force of his blow.

“I am loyal, Rharreth. I would gladly give my life at your side if it were necessary.” Some of the stubborn look faded from Vriska’s eyes as she parried yet another blow. “You are my shield brother. That’s why I’m worried about you. I’m worried about what your loyalty to this elf bride of yours will do to you and your reign.”

If Rharreth didn’t believe that, he would have taken Vriska off guard duty long before this. But he needed to hear her out now, much as he didn’t like it. He backed off, letting Vriska get in a series of strikes as she unleashed her anger and questions.

Vriska’s voice was almost pleading, her eyes focused, as she swung her sword and her words. “What were you thinking when you agreed to marry her? Did you really think Kostaria would accept her? That they will eventually allow your half-elf children to inherit the throne? Why didn’t you even discuss it with your shield band before you allowed the elf king to bully you into marriage to his disgraced sister? We could have come up with a different way to appease the elf king that would not have sacrificed the rest of your life or your honor.”

If Rharreth told Vriska that the idea to marry Melantha had been his, not King Weylind’s, would he lose Vriska’s loyalty completely? He definitely wasn’t about to tell her that he had volunteered to marry Melantha because he had already begun to fall in love with her, there in the dungeons of Gror Grar, though he had not been able to name the depth of the emotion at the time.

“What’s done is done, Vriska. I cannot change the fact that I am married to Melantha.” Rharreth caught her sword with his and struck with the right force, knocking the sword from her hand. He pressed the blade to her throat, meeting her gaze. “Now I need you to trust me. I know what I am doing. I know the danger it places me in. But I firmly believe that not only is this the best way forward for Kostaria, but it is the only way. Now, do you yield?”

Vriska met his gaze, her jaw working. Finally, she blinked and sighed. “Yes, I yield.”

It was not as wholehearted as Rharreth would have wished, but he withdrew his sword, wiped it clean on his trousers, and sheathed it. “Good. You are still relieved of the duty of guarding Queen Melantha until such a time that you redeem your honor where she is concerned. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Vriska kept her eyes down, a hint of a growl to her voice, as she sheathed her sword as well and stalked from the arena.

Rharreth crossed his arms as he watched her go. The thought of Melantha being in danger—of losing her—sent a stab through him unlike anything he had ever felt before, even when he had faced Laesornysh and been sure the elf warrior was about to incinerate him. Without his shield band’s support, could he protect Melantha from the storm that would come?