walked out quietly and shut the door. They’d always had an arrangement, the queen and he. He isn’t sore. But now propriety’s abandoned, and in the stories they will write of him, in centuries hence, is this how they will tell it? That he’s a cuckold, old and weak? And why? Because a woman dared to choose her own affections? He knows she doesn’t love him. And as for him, he has no love for anyone but the sword.
