“Lady Pheresa—”

She abruptly curtsied to him and whirled away with a swish of her long skirts.  The implacable servant in church livery waited at the door, but did not open it for her.

She was forced to halt, trembling and feeling sick to her stomach. Her open defiance both amazed and frightened her. So much for telling herself to take care. She realized she had let her emotions sweep all caution away. She’d said things she had no business saying, for none of it could she back up, least of all the threat of her father’s marrying her to the sovereign of another realm.  Thod forbid that she should end up bound to King Muncel’s sickly little boy or to some ignorant Klad chieftain for the rest of her life.  “Lady Pheresa,” Cardinal Noncire said from behind her.  The servant would not open the door, and she could not flee. Unwillingly, Pheresa turned back to Noncire.

He stood there in the candlelight, the Circle of diamonds flashing against his white clothing. “Thank you,” he said softly.

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

He stretched his fleshy lips in a smile that never reached his tiny eyes. “A little provocation was all I needed to force you to reveal exactly what lies behind your placid facade. You are indeed your mother’s daughter, as I have suspected all along.”

Pheresa’s frown deepened. She found herself annoyed and confused, for she did not wish to be likened to her mother at all. “Was this conversation a sham, then?”

“Not at all. Consider it a lesson, however. You cannot and will not force Gavril’s hand. Should he decide to wed you one day, it will be at a time of his own convenience. You and the king are far too optimistic in having you reside here at court with all your expectations aired before the world.” She flushed at that. She hadn’t wanted to come here until things were settled.  Her father hadn’t listened. Her mother had told her to be quiet and do as she was told.

The cardinal tilted his blocky head to one side. “I do not think Gavril will desire a bride as opinionated and defiant as you. But I will discuss this with him later.”

Pheresa felt as though she’d been poleaxed. Her mouth opened, but there was a moment of struggle before she could get out any words. “You mean you ... he sent you to judge me?”

Noncire bowed his head.

Flames consumed her. She wanted to stamp her feet and hurl things, the way she had when she was a child. “He couldn’t be bothered to speak to me in person, to grow acquainted with me. Instead he sent you!”

Noncire’s chuckle infuriated her even more. “Of course. The Prince of the Realm is far too busy to waste his time with idle dalliance.”