“But he was being coy,” Proserpina will muse to Iala at the start of the new semester, “and he wasn’t just there about Father’s holdings. He’s in a different kind of business altogether.”

Iala wrinkles her face. “You really think he wanted to marry you? To his son?”

“Only as a short-term goal,” says Proserpina absently, “he wants something else in–” She stops and blinks. “Wait, do you think it’s improper? It’s not unusual to plan these things.”

“It’s not that–he’s from down there.”

“The world’s getting smaller.” Proserpina’s smiling now.

“I’ll wager he killed someone,” says Iala darkly.