The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two by Gail Z. Martin Page A

worried for a moment that he had scored more deeply than he intended. But the look on Gethin’s face kept him from inquiring. He had no desire to batter the prince’s pride any more than his loss in the salle had already done. Despite himself, Jonmarc found that he liked the young man.
    He put on his shirt and turned, only to find Gethinlooking at him as if debating whether or not to speak. Jonmarc raised an eyebrow, inviting comment.
    “You’ve known Princess Berwyn for a while, haven’t you?” Suddenly, Gethin sounded every bit as young as his years. Whatever assurance Gethin had in his sword skills and his royal lineage, he seemed flustered by his new role as a peace-offering groom for a politically arranged marriage. For Jonmarc in his position as Champion for the princess, that boded well.
    “I met Berry when we’d all been captured by slavers who’d been sent by Jared to hunt down Tris Drayke,” Jonmarc replied, dipping a cup of water for himself. He took a long drink. “They’d captured Berry when she had traveled into Margolan to visit family, but they didn’t know they had nabbed a princess. They thought she might be noble, and that someone might pay a ransom.” He chuckled. “They got more than they bargained for.”
    “She’s a fighter?” Gethin’s voice revealed skepticism.
    “Not exactly, although Berry understood the ‘no rules’ part before I ever met her. She slipped me a blade, poisoned the slavers with bad mushrooms in their stew, scalded the leader with a pot of hot soup, and in a brawl to the death with slavers, vengeful ghosts, and more magic than I care to remember, she was hopping from ledge to ledge dropping boulders on their heads.”
    Gethin smiled, and Jonmarc guessed the other was forming a mental picture of the events. “Then I’ll try not to make her angry,” he said with a grin. Just as quickly, he grew serious.
    “I must admit, my lessons were a bit thin on how to woo a headstrong bride for a marriage of necessity.” Gethin looked decidedly uncomfortable. “But just in theshort time I’ve been here, I can see that Princess Berwyn won’t be forced into something she doesn’t want.”
    “Look, Gethin, I’m really not the best person to ask for advice about women,” Jonmarc said, setting his cup aside. “My way of winning over Carina involved nearly getting myself beaten to death by a Nargi commander who was overdue for revenge.”
    “Truly?”
    Jonmarc grimaced. “Yeah. Truly. So as I said, I’m maybe not the best person to consult.”
    “I have no one else.” Jonmarc met his eyes and saw Gethin the young man, and not the self-assured Eastmark prince.
    “All right,” Jonmarc said and sighed. “Ask. But it doesn’t mean I know any answers.”
    Gethin hesitated, and Jonmarc had a flash of insight. Gethin had been presented as a trophy groom to seal an alliance, accompanied by priests, ambassadors, and staff. None of his companions would be suitable for personal questions. “Am I correct in guessing that Princess Berwyn didn’t know about the pact our fathers made—at least, not about me?”
    “She knew they were working on an alliance. She didn’t know it involved marriage.”
    Gethin sighed. “Is there a rival? Is her heart already taken?”
    “Not to my knowledge.”
    At that, Gethin relaxed, just a bit. “That’s for the best. I left no one behind, either. Perhaps that, at least, is in our favor.” He dared to meet Jonmarc’s eyes. “I’ve seen quite a few arranged marriages at court. At best, the couple grows fond of each other. Most merely tolerate a charade whereeach goes separate ways. At worst, they spend the rest of their lives ripping each other to shreds.” He looked away. “I’m the extra heir. That meant chances were high that I would be sent somewhere for a political marriage. I’ve always hoped to manage the best of the three options, if love isn’t one of the choices.”
    “Marrying for love almost started two wars in