“Return Saiman to me.”

“No. Also, this is utterly ridiculous. Why do I have to choose between the meat and vegetarian option?”

“What?”

“You are the princess of Shinar. Your line stretches back beyond known history. You shouldn’t have to make your guests choose a single option. Your wedding should be a feast.”

I pried the wedding card open. Inside a smaller RSVP card said, Please indicate if you prefer a vegetarian course.

“If he can’t pay for a suitable meal for his own wedding, I will provide the kind of feast that will make the tables break. I will make sure that your guests will have a banquet they will never forget. Greater than any your eldest guest can remember and more magnificent than the youngest will ever experience again.”

So help me, I would murder Roman. I’d hack him to pieces with an axe and then hack those pieces into smaller pieces. He’d sent my father an invitation to my wedding.

“Father, you are sending mixed signals. You dispatched a woman to murder me today and now you’re upset about my wedding reception?”

“It’s not my fault you decided to marry a pauper. Besides, you enjoy a challenge.”

“I can’t talk to you anymore. I had a rough day and I’m going to bed.”

“Kate—”

“Stay away from my kid.”

“Perhaps you should ask the child what she wants.”

“I did ask her. She’s right here and now I’ll have to explain to her that Grandpa is evil and enslaves people. Good night.”

I hung up and looked at Julie.

She recoiled. “He isn’t my grandpa!”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s more disconcerting to him than it is to you.”

I drained the rest of my tea and went to bed.

Chapter 8

EIGHT HOURS OF sleep felt like pure heaven. I woke up and lay on the bed for a long time, happy to not move. Curran sprawled next to me. He’d come home after I went to bed. I must’ve been more rattled than I thought, because when he walked into the bedroom, I woke up, grabbed Sarrat, and made it two whole steps toward him before I realized what was happening, which earned me a round of applause and calls for an encore. Then he saw the scar and acted as if half of my face had been hacked off. He almost dragged me to the Guild’s medmage, but I threatened to stab him and I must’ve been vigorous enough to reassure him I was in good health. Of all the people I could’ve decided to marry, I had to choose him.

Afterward he took a shower and fell into bed next to me and we passed out in a happy exhausted tangle. Now I didn’t want to get up.

Teddy Jo would be here soon. Ugh.

I rolled out of bed. A hand fastened on my ankle and pulled me back in. I landed next to him. Gray eyes laughed at me.

“How’s my face?”

“The scar’s looking better.”

“It’s a scratch.” It’s good he didn’t see it before the medmage spent half an hour on it. According to Ascanio, he would’ve been able to see into my face.

“So, Julie’s home,” he said.

“She is.”

“Have you come to an agreement on Roland?”

“No. The only way to stop her from talking to him is to order it, and she called my bluff. I won’t do it.”

“She knows?”

“He told her,” I ground out. “She’s known for months.”

The look on Curran’s face was priceless. All cold concentrated fury. If he could’ve gotten his hands on my father in that second, Roland would regret ever learning Julie existed. I kissed him. I loved him for that.

“According to her, she’s gathering information on Roland for us,” I said. “There’s nothing I can do. I have to trust that she’s learned enough in the time we had her and that she’s independent enough to fight off his influence.”

“We need to do something about your father. Soon.”

“Yes. He called the house upset about the reception dinner.”

“I know. He called the Guild as well.”

“Really?”

Curran nodded. “He and I had a conversation. I told him that it was a bit late to play father of the year, but if he behaved himself, we would make sure to save him a seat at the wedding.”

I laughed.

The doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock. Eight. Too early for Teddy Jo.

“I got it!” Julie yelled. Quick thumps announced her running down the stairs. “Kate! Kate, it’s for you! Kate!”

The urgency in her voice jerked me right out of bed. I grabbed Sarrat and dashed out of the bedroom onto the landing. People filed into our lobby, carrying bolts of white fabric. A short Asian woman in a black dress looked up at me and arched her eyebrows.

I realized I was standing on the landing in a tiny T-shirt and underwear, holding a sword.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Fiona Katsura.”

Clan Nimble. “Why are you in my house?”

“I’m here to fit your wedding dress.”

“I didn’t—”

“Of course, you didn’t. You didn’t mean any disrespect.” Fiona put her hands on her hips. “Our family has been designing wedding dresses for three generations. We don’t just sew, we create art. Designers come all the way from as far as Los Angeles and London for a chance to look at our work. Customers take out loans to purchase one of our gowns. Your dress has been on our project desk for months, back when you were still the Consort. Many sketches have been made and rejected. Countless hours of thought and consideration went into planning. Four appointments have been made, the last only three weeks ago, appointments you have failed to keep, no doubt because of your busy schedule. So when a strange man calls the Keep, and asks if we have your measurements and notes on your dress, and inquires if we would be willing to part with whatever we had already made so he could have his tailor”—she said the word so sharply, I checked myself to see if I’d been cut—“finish it in time for the wedding, we all knew that there must’ve been some horrible misunderstanding.”

I would strangle Roman. There was no way around it.

“Well, ex-Consort, if you can’t come to our studio, we have brought the studio to you.”

“I’m sorry. I really am but I don’t have time to—”