The one thing that had puzzled her was why Derwyn had agreed to the match. Perhaps Michael had given him no choice. He knew she had been a spy for Arwyn. Perhaps he believed it was because she had loved his father. Yes, she thought, that must be it, but she had soon discovered otherwise. After the Festival of Seven Days, which became an annual celebration, she had departed for Boeruine, where she had married Derwyn. And it was on their wedding night that she discovered his true feelings and motivations.
“Let us have no misunderstandings between us, my lady,” he had said, his posture stiff and his voice extremely formal. “I know exactly what sort of woman I have married—and do not think to protest your innocence to me. My father had possessed a vast network of informants, and through them, I now possess a wealth of lurid detail about your past. You have changed lovers as a post rider changes mounts, and you have employed your wiles to destroy those whom you have seduced. Make no mistake, this marriage is nothing more than a political arrangement. I do not love you, and I never could.
“You may wonder why I did not denounce you to your brother as a spy,” he had continued coldly. “Some of the reasons you have doubtless already inferred, but here is the chief reason of them all. It is up to me to rebuild the tarnished reputation of my house. An alliance by marriage to the House of Roele will do much to increase the diminished standing of the House of Boeruine. Your duty as a wife is to give me sons to carry on my family name. Two shall be sufficient, I should think. They shall be the issue of a union between our houses, and they shall once more raise the Duchy of Boeruine to its once preeminent status as first among all the nobility. The bloodline will be strengthened, and our kinship with Roele, the champion of Deismaar, will be reaffirmed. Beyond that, I want nothing from you.
“You shall sleep in your own chambers. Save for the purposes of procreation, I have no desire to share my bed with you. You shall have ladies-in-waiting to keep you company. I have no wish to be troubled with it. You shall be kept cloistered and under constant watch to ensure your faithfulness. Once you have given me two sons, you shall be free to choose whatever lovers you may wish, subject to extreme discretion. Bed the stableboys, for all I care, but if so much as one whisper of gossip should ensue, I shall have you exiled to the farthest reaches of the empire to serve as a priestess in the Northern Temple of Haelyn in the province of Ice Haven on the rocky coast of Talinie, where you shall have your head shaved, dress in simple robes of coarse black wool, and spend your days in constant prayer and solitary meditation.
“When necessity demands that we appear together on formal occasions, you shall play the part of the obedient and loving wife, deferring to my judgment in all things. Otherwise, you shall not try me with your conversation or your presence. On these matters, I shall remain as rigid as the rock on which this castle stands, so save your breath and plague me not with your entreaties. Such is your lot, and you shall accept it without question. Disobey at your own peril.”
She had listened with stunned disbelief and mounting fury. Who was he to speak to her in such a manner? She was a princess of the royal house, and he merely some loutish provincial raised to the status of dukedom, even so, beneath her. And how could he know so much about her? Informants, he had said. Spies, he meant. Spies everywhere. She had been betrayed. Which of those servants in the palace had betrayed her? She had paid them well, the traitorous ingrates! And this was how they had repaid her kindness and largesse, by double-dealing and betrayal. If she ever found out who they were, she would have them lashed until the skin fell off their backs. Then she would string them up by their thumbs and roast their feet with coals. She would throttle them with her own bare hands! She wanted to scream and launch herself at her new husband, to scratch his eyes out, but some instinct of self-preservation had restrained her. That was not the way. Rebelling against Derwyn would only give him an excuse to rid himself of her—after she had borne him children.
Children! The thought of lying with him filled her with loathing now. He was much more handsome than his father, and when Arwyn had proposed the match, she had thought she could certainly do much worse. Derwyn was attractive, and his manner seemed to suggest he would be a gentle, thoughtful lover. But now this! Somehow, somewhere, he had found a backbone. She could see his method clearly. Exert forceful control at once, the better to maintain it. Well, she would let him think he had his way.
She had wept and cast her eyes down, meekly submitting to his will, playing up to his masculine power. And she had begun to form a plan that would reverse their roles. And as she considered how she would bring that about, she became filled with delightful anticipation. If Derwyn would use masculine force, she would employ feminine cunning. She would lull him into a false sense of security and then she would neatly turn the tables. It would take time, but she would thoroughly enjoy every moment of it.
That had been three years ago. Since then, her plan had progressed steadily and surely. She had accepted all of Derwyn’s directives without question, at first merely acting sullen and stoic about it, but gradually, she had allowed him to perceive her mood begin to alter. This gradual warming trend she had timed to coincide exactly with the frequency of their efforts at procreation. The first time, about a week after their marriage—she could not tell if he was merely giving her time to get used to the idea or if he was working himself up to it—she had acted stiff and unresponsive initially, as if she were suffering in silence through an experience she could not avoid. But as he neared climax, she had begun to thrust against him slightly and had allowed a small moan or two to escape her lips, as if she were enjoying it despite herself. That seemed to both please and excite him, though he had tried not to let it show. She remembered laughing inwardly, thinking that men were so transparent.
The next time, as before, she greeted him as if what they were about to do was a trial for her, but once more, as their lovemaking progressed, she began responding, displaying a bit more excitement—but carefully, not too much. She couldn’t let him think she was enjoying the act for its own sake. She wanted Derwyn to believe it was him she was responding to, that his male prowess was getting through to her despite her resistance. And little by little, she gave a little more, and then a little more, until eventually her entire demeanor had changed when he came to her.
After a few weeks, she greeted him with eyes meekly downcast, submissive instead of quietly defiant, but when she looked up at him, it was with hopeful anticipation. She always quickly averted her gaze whenever he noticed it, as if she did not mean for him to see how she truly felt. And out of the corner of her eye, she would see the smug little smile on his lips as he noticed what she had pretended to hide and she would think how easy it was.
They were really all the same. Cater to their sense of self, to their pride and illusions of power, and soon they all became putty in her hands. But with Derwyn, the game was more drawn out and considerably more elaborate, in part for its own sake, because she was bored and there was little else to do, and in part because the end result she planned for was ambitious and complex.