She rested her chin on her hand.
"I don't believe four people require seven carriages. Unless"—her eyes sparkled—"your wife has become seven, yes? Did she split herself into clones while I was busy working?"
The marquis let out a strained laugh, lips twitching. "You jest, Your Majesty. Of course my wife is my one and only. I love her deeply." He straightened, trying to regain his rhythm. "She is a virtuous woman, devoted to our house—"
"Mm." Heena's smile sharpened. "So virtuous that she nearly ate eight slaves' worth of food at that little 'contest' seven months ago, right?"
His smile froze.
