I had been proposed to twice before Corvin, both times by men who did not know my true position, and both times I had, in my cowardice, told them the truth too early and watched their tenderness reorganize itself into strategy in real time.

So with Corvin I had held the truth back longer than I ever had before.

Two years.

Long enough to marry him without his knowing.

Long enough that if he chose kindness, I would know beyond any doubt that he had chosen me. That was the whole of it.

Not a trap.