Aslan let himself laugh.

“She sounds a little like me.”

Which was exceedingly weird, if he ignored the part where he flew back to Malachi after he’d implied he’d kill and eat him mid-blow.

Yeah. He had no room to judge … until Nisa had the audacity to extoll how ‘she’ was using him. Of course he was using him. That was all he dared make room for with Nisa’s knife-hand in his life. He lowered his hand.

“Nisa – we’re not middle class any more. A nice marriage with someone who would stick around is not in the cards for a man of my means. I’m lucky I get paid most weeks without having to rough it in a workhouse. Besides – if she’s happy to demean herself on me, that makes two of us.”

And they were lucky he took full advantage of tourist season’s pockets.

“Father never should have married you off without your input. If you get three tries – so do I.”

Would Malachi last two decoys before Aslan figured out what rules she could be held to, if any? Allah knew. It was nice to fantasize, though.