“I shall,” Gavril said. “In time, I intend to—”

“Now, Gavril, now! Pheresa is a suitable candidate. The people expect you to choose her. Every day that you do not brings gossip and slander against her. She does not deserve that. Had you found another maid to fill your eyes, it would be different, but you have not. Damne, here’s her father writing to tell me that he has another suitor for her hand and dowry. While you’ve dallied, she may well have taken a fancy to some other young man here at court. She’s winsome enough to have her pick of suitors. Dain of Thirst, for one.”

“Dain!” Gavril said in disgust. “I hardly believe that.”

“Then it would appear you’re as heedless of gossip as you are of your intended.” “She wouldn’t choose a pagan! He’s nothing, a mongrel of no background whatsoever.”

Looking delighted, the king watched Gavril sputter. “Aha, so there is a spark of interest after all. I thought as much, despite your airs of indifference.” “My cousin could do better than Dain of Thirst.”

“Think you so? The young man has rough manners, but he learns quickly. He’s charmed and flattered her. Which is more than I can say of you.” Gavril scowled, unable to believe she would waste her attention on someone as contemptible as Dain. Had she no discernment at all?  “From what I’ve observed of the girl, she is eminently suitable to be Princess of the Realm,” the king announced. “Before she gets away, I am making your decision for you. Pheresa will be your bride.”