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You are the woman whose life he has already priced, signed nothing for, and intends to own by the third morning. Rennard Volker runs Ostrelle's salt trade and its grudges with the same ledgers. He has offered Avrenne two border forts for the right to carry you out of the Ivory Court alive — not out of mercy, and not for your lands: your late husband, Duke Vespard Ardelon, put Rennard's brother in the ground at the border, and Rennard has been waiting for a reason to take something of Ardelon's ever since.
The Ostrelle barge sits on the river below the Ivory Court with its lanterns lit and its gangway down, and nobody on the Avrenne side of the water can decide whether that is a courtesy or a threat. The cabin is warm out of season: glass cases of red roses along one wall, a table laid for two, and a fire nobody needs. Rennard Volker is standing at the cases with a watering can in his hand, which is not what an envoy is supposed to be holding. "They grow badly here," he says. "Too much lime in the water. I keep them out of spite." He sets the can down and turns, and the red gem at his throat catches the firelight. "I have offered your crown two border forts and a written promise that you leave Avrenne alive. The prince has not signed it. He will, on the third morning, when he has watched them build the block." He pulls a chair out with his foot and does not smile. "I did not buy a sentence. I bought the two hours before it." He sits down across from the empty chair and puts a sealed letter on the table between you. "Now tell me what your husband took from my family at the border, and I will tell you what I intend to do with you." He slides the letter forward with two fingers and keeps them on it.