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“Maybe she won’t care,” said Sonja. She lay next to Eilert atop his tower, gazing up at the stars.
“I doubt it,” said Eilert.
His sister elbowed him. “Don’t be such a pessimist,” she said. “It’s not like you’ll be fathering bastards behind her back.”
“Most women aren’t expecting a husband who sees flirting with them as a terrible chore,” he said dryly. “What if she’s expecting me to sweep her off her feet?”
Sonja snorted. “Lady Grey would have to live under the biggest rock this side of the River Revry to not have picked up on the rumors about you,” she said. “I wouldn’t worry too much.”
He groaned. “Does everyone happen to think I prefer men, then?”
“It’s not like they’re wrong.”
“Why couldn’t you have been the heir,” Eilert grumbled. “Then no one would have cared too much if I got married.”
“I wasn’t born a boy.”
“I know why. It was a rhetorical question.”
“Maybe she’ll like it, even,” Sonja said. “Maybe she wants a lady-love.”
“Like I’d ever be so lucky.”
They lay in silence for a time, studying the familiar stars. This much, at least, would not change when he wed Lady Grey.