In the drowsy contentment of first waking, Kamoj reached for Vyrl, her husband. She found only empty air. Opening her eyes, she looked up–at Jax Ironbridge.

Her serenity vanished. She was lying on Jax’s bed, her arms free now. The tent was empty except for the two of them. It was also dark; the only light came from dimly glowing braziers. She had no idea how long she had slept. A heavy, slumbering night had fallen outside.

Jax was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning his weight on one hand while he watched her. His hair hung around his face, straight and black, with streaks of grey. He wore a governor’s clothes, rich and well-tailored: violet shirt, black suede pants, and black knee boots edged with silver fur. The silver-thread design of a bridge decorated the cuffs and collar of his shirt. Kamoj wondered which of his mistresses had embroidered it.

"How long have you been there?" she asked.

"A while." Leaning forward, he stroked her hair away from her eyes. "You looked so pretty sleeping. An Argali rose."

Argali. Argali. She jerked away from him. "You burned it."

His smile vanished. "Perhaps next time you will think before you humiliate Ironbridge."

She pulled herself into a sitting position. "How could you do it?"

Jax watched her with focused intensity. "If your former husband has any wits about him, he will evacuate the villages in time."

Former? "Lionstar and Argali have a merger."

A muscle in his cheek twitched. "It’s being dissolved."

"You can’t do that."

"Of course I can." He trailed his finger across her lips. "I have a gift for you."

The change in subject disoriented Kamoj. "What?"

"I had intended it as a wedding gift." He paused. "But I will give it to you tonight, even if we won’t sign the contracts until tomorrow."

"Contracts?"

His voice hardened. "I learned a great deal from the Ascendant delegation that came to Ironbridge. This Drake Brockson, the man they call an anthropologist–he and I talked a long time. He has concerns about what he calls ‘our native sovereignty.’ Lionstar’s actions here disturb him."

Although Kamoj knew the judges of her own people would side with Jax in this, she had expected disinterest from the Ascendant, perhaps even help. It hadn’t occurred to her that Vyrl’s behavior might have offended his own people as well as hers. At least they had been helping with the fires. Was Argali burning even now?

"Are the–" Kamoj stopped when she saw Jax’s mouth tighten. She recognized the warning signs.

Jax stood up, the dim light casting shadows across his body as if he were a living statue. He had Vyrl’s height and musculature, but the resemblance ended there. Where Vyrl was tawny, alive like the land in autumn, Jax evoked stone and iron.

A tanglebirch chest stood at the foot of the bed, carved with bridges and rivers. Jax went to it and took out a black lacquered box. "Ten years ago I traveled with some of my stagmen to the Thermali Coast, where the ships sail in." He came back and sat next to her again. "I got this from a merchant who sailed from another continent." Setting the box in her hands, he added, "I’ve kept it for you."

Kamoj almost flinched. Given the circumstances, how could she accept a gift from Jax? Painfully aware of him watching her, she lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of gold velvet, lay a porcelain egg, exquisitely designed, with silver filigree curling over it like lace.

She spoke awkwardly. "It’s lovely. But I can’t accept–"

He touched his finger to her lips. "Look inside."

Still she hesitated, but when irritation flashed across his face, she undid the latch on the egg. Gold velvet lined the interior, and jewelry sparkled within it, two earrings and a long necklace, all made in the Argali design, gold vines inlaid with ruby roses.

"Sweet saints," she murmured. "They’re beautiful."

"Indeed." Jax picked up the earrings. Holding back her hair, he inserted the earrings himself, with an expertise that suggested a long practice of putting jewels on women. The rubies dangled against her neck, clinking together, their tiny bells making soft chimes.

He held up the chain next, letting its rubies glitter in the dim light. "Kamoj, you’ve truly a lovely stone as your namesake."

She swallowed. "You are kind to offer me such a necklace. But I can’t–"

"It’s not for your neck." He laid his palm against her waist. "It goes here. Actually, with a waist as small as yours, it will rest on your hips. Women in Thermali wear them under their clothes. It’s very pretty."

"Oh." She didn’t want to know how he saw what women in Thermali wore under their clothes.

Jax set the egg and the box on the floor. He let the chain slide through his hand, until it pooled on the velvet spread in a shimmer of gold and rubies. Then he got up again and went back to the chest. This time he took out a braided cord made from glittering scale-hemp, with tassels on each end. Threads of beaten gold and bronze wove through the braid, and jeweled dust powdered its surface. It resembled the old farm belts she often wore, except instead of being functional, this was designed for beauty.

Jax stood by the chest, watching her with a shuttered look. "I had this made when you and I were betrothed."

Kamoj had no idea how to respond. Never in a decade of Long Years would she have imagined Jax indulging in the sentimentality of these beautiful gifts. "You are too generous."

"Am I?" He returned to the bed with slow, deliberate steps and sat next to her. Taking her hands in his, he wound the cord around her wrists. Then, with a jerk, he tightened the belt. "Am I, pretty rose?"

Kamoj flinched as the cord bit into the rope burns on her wrists. "Jax, don’t."

"Why?" He twisted the belt tighter. "Is what I have for you not good enough now you’ve had his wealth to play with?"

"I didn’t mean that." Her eyes watered from the pain. "What are you doing?"

"Giving presents to my love." His voice sounded clenched. "To the woman who humiliated me the moment a richer man made her a better offer."

"You know I had no choice."

"You had a choice. You could have said no." His lower eyelid twitched. "You think it was hard for you, being carried through my camp like an unwilling bondsgirl? How do you think it was for me, having you walk away, knowing you were going to another man’s bed after I had waited almost your entire life for you?" Incredibly, his voice shook. "It happened so cursed fast. One moment I was looking forward to seeing you and the next you were gone."

She stared at him, stunned by the depth of his reaction. "I–I’m sorry."

"It doesn’t matter. You’re mine again." Gritting his teeth, he added, "Except he had you first."

"Jax, please–"

"Please, what?" Then he slapped her across the face.

"No!" Kamoj tried to lift her arms, to protect herself, but he held her wrists down with the cord. "Don’t!"

"You want me to stop?" He hit her again. "How could you do it?"

"Jax, no!" Kamoj stuttered as he struck her a third time. "Stop. Please."

Reaching to his boot, he pulled a knife out of it. "Whether it happens again is up to you."

"What are you doing?" She tried to jerk away from him, but he held her in place by the belt around her wrists. With methodical strokes he sliced up the belt, shredding the gift until it was no more than a pile of raveled glittering threads.

Her voice caught. "Jax–"

"No." The blade glinted as he lifted it in front of her. Then he cut the shoulder straps of her dress. "I will hear no more."

Staring at the knife, Kamoj swallowed and remained silent. Jax laid her on the bed. His blade felt like ice as he cut away her dress. She stared at the tent overhead, at the cloth shaking with falling snow. A tassel hung from its highest point, bobbing back and forth. She focused on it, trying to numb her mind to the blowing snow of Jax’s touch.

Some time later he fastened the gold chain with its ruby roses around her hips. His hair brushed her face, the scent of his astringent shampoo wafting in the air, mixed with the tang of his sweat. His clothes scratched her skin, the buckle of his loosened belt scraping back and forth on her thigh. She built a dome of ice in her mind, a place where she hid in numbing cold.

Later, he lay still. Eventually he rolled off her and sat on the edge of the bed, his booted feet planted on the ground, his elbows on his knees while he stared across the tent, lost in thought. Then he undressed and laid his clothes in a neat pile on the nightstand. Numbly, Kamoj wondered if he always undressed afterward instead of before, or if this was a game he played with her emotions.

When he saw her looking at him, he smiled. "Curious?" His voice had quieted, as if he had spent his rage with his passion. He pulled down the covers under Kamoj and slid into bed with her, then drew the soap-scented velvet over them both. She felt an absurd relief that the blankets were Argalian wool and the sheets spice-cotton, instead of exotic silks.

That was when she started to shake. Why, she didn’t know. It was over. Done. Yet now her icy protective numbness cracked wide open and she shook like a vine during a storm.

"It’s all right," Jax murmured absently, pulling her into his arms. After a while he added, "Perhaps Lionstar did me a favor."

"A favor?" Her voice sounded hollow.

"I got you two years earlier than I expected."

"Oh."

"What will he do now, do you think?"

"I don’t know."

"Attack Ironbridge. Perhaps he will be killed." A chill edged his voice. "Imagine it, Kamoj. Your marauding lover from the stars stabbed through the way he stabbed my stagman."

She knew the Ascendant would never let Vyrl risk his life. But she couldn’t rid her mind of the image: Vyrl in agony on the battlefield, bleeding to death.

Jax turned her over onto her side, with her back spooned against his front, a bitter parody of her wedding night. He drifted to sleep with his thumb hooked in the chain around her hips.

"Something is wrong with her," Jax said. "She won’t wake up!"

Another voice said, "She’s tired, Governor Ironbridge."

Kamoj opened her eyes. Sunlight filtered through the sides of the tent. A rumpled Jax stood by the bed, looking as if he had thrown on the first clothes he found, a white shirt, black pants, and black boots. She recognized the stocky man with him: Elixson, an Ironbridge healer.

"When did she last eat?" Elixson asked.

"Yesterday morning?" Jax asked. "I don’t know."

Elixson stared at him. "That’s at least sixty hours. Probably longer, I would guess. She needs food."

Jax looked unconvinced. "I’ve gone longer without eating and not even noticed."

"She only has one stomach. She’s needs sleep too. If you keep her up–"

"Your opinions are noted," Jax interrupted, his voice cold.

The healer flushed. "Yes, sir."

"You may go."

Elixson bowed to Jax, then headed for the entrance of the tent. But as he was lifting the flap, Jax said, "Healer."

Elixson turned back. "Yes, sir?"

"What should I feed her?"

Relief flickered over the healer’s face. "Bland foods, for now. Bread. Tea. Anything more exotic and she could get sick."

"Very well," Jax said. "Go tell the cook."

After Elixson left, Jax sat on the bed next to Kamoj. When he saw her looking at him, undisguised relief poured across his face. He hadn’t even fastened his shirt yet, leaving it open to the icy air. Had her inability to wake so rattled him? Whatever the reason, it relieved her that his mood had gentled.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Hungry," she admitted.

"When did you last eat?"

"The day before yesterday."

"When did you last brush your hair?"

Her hair? What was wrong with her hair? "I don’t know."

"Rest as long as you need. The cook will send breakfast." He kissed her, then stood up next to the bed. "I’ll be back this afternoon."

Kamoj fell asleep even before he put on his cloak. She woke when a bondsgirl left her a tray with food. She ate the grain, rolls, and soup, then went back to sleep.

Cramps woke her the next time. Curled under the covers, she held her stomach until the pain subsided. Then she slept again. When next she awoke, the light had dimmed, and the roof sagged, heavy with snow. The braziers had gone dark. The air on her cheeks felt cold, but under the covers she stayed warm.

She rolled over–to see Jax sleeping on top the covers. It wasn’t his presence that surprised her: many people slept during early afternoon. But his cloak had fallen open and all he wore under it were his thin clothes. He still hadn’t laced his shirt, leaving his chest exposed to the chill air. Did he even feel the cold? Such people existed, those almost unaffected by the killing climate. Vyrl claimed they had been bred for it, to better serve their owners. It suggested part of Jax’s heritage came from slaves. No wonder Vyrl’s people dreaded these Traders they fought, if Jax was a watered-down version of them.

He opened his eyes. For a moment he simply watched her. Then he sat up, rubbing his face. He got off the bed and went to the chest again, this time pulling out an armload of clothes.

Self-conscious, Kamoj sat up, holding the covers around her body. Jax came over and dropped the clothes on the mound of her body in the bed. The scent of spice-soap and new cloth wafted around her, fresh and clean.

"I need a bath," she said.

He nodded, then went to the tent entrance and spoke to someone outside.

Soon a bondsgirl appeared, carrying a vat of steaming water, towels and wash cloths, and a tray of soap. After the girl left, Kamoj looked at Jax, wishing he would go too.

"What’s wrong?" he asked.

"Can you–" She stopped. Would he hit her if she asked him to leave? "I’m cold."

Jax touched her arm. "You’ve ice-bumps." He slopped a cloth in the steaming water, then wrung it out and pressed it against her face. Warmth spread its relief through her skin. But then Jax pulled away the blankets, letting in the chill of the air.

As Jax soaked the cloth again, Kamoj crossed her arms over her torso. "You don’t have to wash me," she said.

"I know." He soaped up the cloth. "I like to."

He washed all of her, from her face to her feet, and dried her off with a towel. Then he chose a black silk scrap from the clothes, an underdress unlike anything she had ever worn, all bows and lace, its top a corset that pushed up her breasts and whittled her waist. He pulled the corset so tight she could barely breathe. Then he chose a velvet dress made from the same dark purple as his shirt and pulled it over her head. The dress covered her from neck to wrists to knees. Its flared skirt swirled around her legs, but the bodice fit so tightly she couldn’t raise her arms. He finished with grey leggings made from Argali wool, then smoothed her hip chain into place over the wool and pulled down her skirt.

Leaning back on his hands, he surveyed his work. "You’re beautiful, Kamoj. Ironbridge colors suit you."

She gritted her teeth. "Thank you."

He gave her knee-boots, purple suede-lined with silver fur. After she put them on, he pulled her up to her feet by the bed and drew her into an embrace, folding his cloak around her body. It came to just under her eyes, like a veil of dark Argalian wool. As always when his mood eased this way, she felt intense relief mixed with another emotion harder to define. It ached within her, so extreme it hurt. Hate? Or love? It felt far less pleasant than anything she had experienced with Vyrl. But no one had ever promised love would be pleasant.

A chime came from outside, a mallet hitting a small gong. Jax raised his voice. "What is it?"

His stagman stepped inside the tent. "The panel be here, sir."

Jax motioned Kamoj at the bed. "You can sit there."

Uneasy, Kamoj sat on the edge of the bed and folded her hands in her lap. The stagman let two people into the tent. The man she knew, a