Charles thought the event had been a spectacular misfire, and was enjoying its last pitiful minutes.

The whore had left, after a fight with his brother, who was sullen, at their table, drinking like their father used to: determined to end the night without memories. It was time to attack.

“About to marry at twentyfour, before any of your older brothers,” he started, and then his courage increased when he saw that Mathias made a face as if his interruption was the last thing he needed. “You look like a man who needs that wine.”

“Have you seen her? The day cannot come sooner,” his brother replied, but there was no urgency in his voice. He then grinned into his glass.

Just as Charles was about to give up, he saw his brother make a strategic mistake: he glanced at him, looking for a reaction. He was doing it on purpose.

Charles could play that game, easily. He relaxed into his chair, ”She needs much less than a wedding ceremony.” He stretched his arm out, holding an empty glass. In seconds, it was filled with wine. “You can still catch her, if you hurry. ”

“If I'm going to take advice from my brother on this matter, I’ll ask the one who actually took her into his bed.”

Charles's only regret was that the whore was not there to hear it, it would have made for an awkward wedding night. He smiled and tilted his glass in a mock cheer, which Mathias imitated, with slower movements.

“I guess she'll have to turn to her trusted guard.” And, because he finally got his brother's attention, Charles explained, “She's been having an affair with one of the castle’s guards, it's been going on for some time now, since she and I were engaged.” He added, “Louis Julien. Low level, but handsome, just how she likes them. She’s visiting him in the night, about once a week, leaves in the morning. Like a common whore.”

“You had her followed?”

“Unlike you, I do not count on her word, unless I personally verify it. She lies with every promise, and I know that because I used to believe her.”