"Are you alright?"
Ivian let out a sigh. "No, not really. It's been a long day."
"Would you like me to distract you?"
"In your condition? No." Ivian looked out the window. "I doubt that'd be a good idea."
"Then maybe if you took in one of your Ladies outside? I wouldn't mind."
"I would." Ivian replied. "And you would, too, despite what you say. Besides; I made a promise. And an oath."
"Then maybe you should just sleep it off. You'll probably be better in the morning."
"Most likely." He turned around. "But..."
Yvonne blinked. "Yes?"
"I don't know." Ivian sighed. "I don't... want to hide anymore."
"But--"
"I'm not planning on keeping that Baudelaire girl around. I'll have her marry some other nobleman who still has a few years on him to ensure the peace. Everything's put in place; all the forms are signed, all the estates are bound, all the deals are struck." Ivian took her hands and stepped up close. "And there's only so long we can hide, Yvonne. At this point, who can say no?
Yvonne smiled. "The church, for one. Marrying a concubine is illegal, near as I can tell; especially when you're under treaty to marry someone else."
"I'm the king of Mendahar, dearest," Ivian said, leaning forwards and kissing her on the cheek. "We'll be fine."