“Will you chain me to the bed, sir?” she sneers at him on the first night of their marriage, when her heart is still filled with rage and fear, with the spinning sense of her world gone out of her control.

But he merely gives her a long, level look, and says, “No - we have played a game with honor, you and I, and I trust that your honor will continue to hold firm.”

Honor is a cold blanket to cling to, she thinks, lying there dry-eyed in the darkness, when one is used to enchantments and the companionship of one’s choice; but for now, let it suffice.