Elin yawned and stretched until she felt like a taut rope. Coiled tension, accumulated since their return to Letun, bled out of her muscles. When she deflated, last night's euphoria buzzed under her skin.

For once, Walter took charge. He took her.

With few exceptions, she always initiated, which, by itself, didn't bother her. As an ex-paladin, leadership was no chore. However, no matter how many times Elin dragged Walter into the bedroom, he hesitated and held back his satisfaction because of misplaced respect. Again, this did not spark her concern. Kindness was his nature. Only after their trip to the Sanctuary did her insecurity take root.

Prime Minister Asibridel's beauty matched Elin's, and the elf hunted Walter like a wolf. The elf's erotic proportions and submissive behavior contrasted against Elin's balanced and classical looks and threatened her place. Moreover, both knew it. Walter's struggle not to stare at the elf's breasts exposed how much he wanted to. If it wasn't for the prime minister's sensuality, then Elin doubted Walter would have committed his help. The Scales of Love and Lust trained Elin to be quick to recognize Walter's arousal.

The question wormed its way into her thoughts, "Would he enjoy himself more with her?"

Elin clamped her mouth shut and contented herself with punishing the political prostitute. She didn't know what else to do. If Elin made a fuss, then Walter might not assist at all, and others would suffer. Could she be that selfish? Should she even bring it up? Elin's life limited her experiences to combat, and it felt like Asibridel displaced her with no effort. Her offer to sell the prime minister to Don Undmuth was not in humor. She wanted the interloper gone.

Her mother, the late Lady Jeanne Agi, often repeated Minvera's, the founder of the Temple of the Witness, tenet. "To best love a man, share him." The statement was usually interpreted to defend polygamy, a necessity to keep magic potent, but the viewpoint ignored Idrun's faithfulness. After recent events, Elin couldn't fathom Minvera, the Healing Saint, sharing Idrun's bed. Her mother buckled under that pressure as well.

Impossible. I won't, and I can't.

Elin's heart calmed when Walter lost his temper with the prime minister; Walter never grew angry with Elin, even when she nearly caused his death. Asibridel had no chance.

I owe him too much to repay.

Elin turned over, and her hand landed on Walter's stomach instead of his chest, so she peeked. He sat against the headboard in the dim pre-morning light.

"You wake before me? This is a pleasant surprise."

"Yeah, thinking about you," Walter said.

"While I dream? How sweet."

She stretched up for a kiss. Instead, Elin yelped at Walter's sudden movements. His hands yanked her waist and dragged her underneath him. On instinct, she reached for her pillow, and Elin clutched it between the two of them. His hips pinned hers.

With him, like this, Elin's strength diminished, as if he reclaimed the magic she stole. In a fight, as a seasoned veteran and duelist, she could confidently best her lover with no risk, even weakened. Now? She could only get away if he allowed it.

"Walter?!"

"Now what," Walter overpowered her, and the pillow, her shield, slipped away. He whispered in her ear, "do you think I was thinking?"

Elin wiggled to confirm; Walter wanted her.

"You said so already," her eyes closed halfway, "Me."

Prince Peterby arrived protected by a convoy of armored wagons. Each royal progeny possessed their own personal transportation and styled them accordingly. He didn't add many frills, and the wagons were sturdy. Each one maximized privacy, with tiny covered windows designed to prevent peeking.

The guards themselves behaved according to different protocols. Unlike before, where Princess Roselynde's guards made a show but stayed respectfully out-of-the-way, Prince Peterby's guards immediately spread out and established a perimeter. At any rate, they didn't dare march carelessly on Elin's land, so she didn't say anything, but Elin doubted they refrained from trampling the neighbor's homes.

When Prince Peterby stepped down from the wagon and looked at Elin, he paused and studied her with a frown.

Clearly, Elin's clothes lacked the prince's approval. It was the same frayed tunic Elin wore when she started living with Walter, trimmed and hemmed to expose her midriff, and her pants were cut above the knee, now. Nothing else covered her. It kept Walter's attention, so she kept it. The attire was inappropriate to greet a visiting prince, to say the least of it.

Elin wanted to make a statement. She didn't care about Prince Peterby's presence, and, more accurately, she was comfortable at home. Elin took advantage of her power, and Prince Peterby could do nothing against the disrespect.

In her mind, they asked too much of Walter, already, even though his magic clearly demanded deference. Walter's policy was to allow the world to move on its own power. They knew this yet pestered him.

Everyone continuously requested, no, begged, for him to increase his interference. In their own favor, of course. He stated his case. It makes sense. Did they not have their own pride? Were they unconcerned with weakening themselves?

"I have come to speak with Walter, and yourself, regarding official matters of the kingdom."

Elin curtsied and opened the door for Prince Peterby. When his guards moved to follow him inside, she raised a hand to stop them. With a lift of his chin, they backed up and kept a watch over the building. Someone posted a flag by the door to signal the prince's visitation.

How long has it been since I carried a guidon?

Prince Peterby scanned the room. "Is Lord Walter here?"

"Yes, he will return soon. He wanted to double-check the depot's inventory to prepare for your arrival."

Without permission, the prince seated himself. "The matter is not regarding monstraculture." She remained standing.

Elin's lips pressed together.

"May I ask you a personal question?"

Elin nodded.

"Why did you not return to the Necropolis to continue your fight?"

"As you are, no doubt, aware," Elin said, "I volunteered for a two-year extension beyond my original year of conscription. I contributed prior, for four years, in a non-combat capacity. Do I need to point out my additional augmentation to this kingdom's wars, as well? If not for myself, then Walter, excuse me, the Black Mage of Eovamund, would have perished in the city of the dead, or worse. I fulfilled more than my share of obligations. Do you claim otherwise?"

"No, I read your records, and I won't argue you performed admirably. You have certainly suffered under-rewarded. However--"

"However?"

"If we can do more, shouldn't we?"

Elin didn't respond.

When is enough, enough? Keeping the faith proves difficult when the nobility spent so little to maintain Camp Wolf, to keep their defenders alive, and so much on feasts.

Prince Peterby, I want to stay home.

Walter returned from the barn.

While Prince Peterby explained his request, Elin listened and watched Walter. The prince didn't appeal to duty. Simple logic formed the foundation of his argument, and Elin dismayed. Walter, a thinker, considered it and, from the look on his face, agreed.

Prince Peterby needed to travel to the Rangville Empire to interview a woman for marriage. While his own guards could handle the danger, King Wilhelm II suggested he travel with Walter and herself to deepen their bond.

Elin scrutinized Prince Peterby's explanation, but it left his mouth so blunt and stripped bare of the usual obsequious adornments that she found no contradictions. Without a chance to repudiate him, his words stood, and she remained quiet. If Walter decided to assist, then it was her place to follow him.

"Alright," Walter said, "May as well. After all, we may as well help out. Give me a little time to figure out what to do here, first."