One evening, Duke Leto and his concubine had been shouting at one another for more than an hour, and Thufir Hawat was troubled. He stood in the ducal wing, just down the hall from the closed door of Leto’s bedroom. If either of them emerged, Hawat could slip down one of the side passageways that honeycombed the Castle. No one knew the back corridors and secret ways better than the Mentat.

Something crashed in the bedroom. Kailea’s voice rose over the Duke’s deeper, equally furious tones. Hawat didn’t hear everything they said . . . nor did he need to. As Security Commander, he was responsible for the Duke’s personal well-being. He didn’t want to intrude, but in the present atmosphere his primary concern was the potential for violence between Leto and his concubine.

The Duke shouted, exasperated, “I don’t intend to spend my life arguing with you about what cannot be changed.”

“Then why don’t you just have Victor and me killed? That would be your best solution. Or send us away to a place where you don’t have to think about us— like you did to your mother.”

Hawat couldn’t hear Leto’s response, but he understood all too well why the young Duke had banished Lady Helena.

“You’re no longer the man I fell in love with, Leto,” Kailea continued. “It’s Jessica, isn’t it? Has the witch seduced you yet?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. In the year and a half she’s been with us I’ve never visited her bed once— though I have every right to do so.”

Several moments of silence ensued. The Mentat waited in a state of tension.

Kailea finally said with a sarcastic sigh, “Same old refrain. Keeping Jessica here is just politics. Refusing to marry me is just politics. Hiding your involvement with Rhombur and the rebels on Ix is just politics. I’m sick of your politics. You’re as much a schemer as any in the Imperium.”

“I’m not a schemer. It’s my enemies who plot against me.”

“The words of a true paranoid. Now I understand why you haven’t married me and made Victor your rightful heir. It’s a Harkonnen plot.”

Leto’s reasonable tones slipped into open rage. “I never promised you marriage, Kailea, but for your sake I never even took another concubine.”

“What does it matter, if I’m never to be your wife?” Choking laughter punctuated the scorn in Kailea’s words. “Your ‘faithfulness’ is one more show you put on to appear honorable—just politics.”

Leto sucked in a sharp breath, as if the words had been a physical blow. “Perhaps you’re right,” he agreed in a voice as icy as a Lankiveil winter. “Why did I bother?” The bedroom door slammed open, and Hawat melted into the shadows. “I am neither your pet, nor a fool, Kailea— I am the Duke.”

Leto strode down the hallway, muttering and cursing. Behind the partially open door, Kailea began sobbing. Soon she would call Chiara, and the plump old woman would comfort her through the long night.

Remaining out of sight, Hawat followed his Duke down one corridor and then another— until Leto stepped boldly into Jessica’s apartment without knocking.

Instantly alert from her Bene Gesserit training, Jessica summoned light from a blue glowglobe. The shadowy cocoon retreated around her.

Duke Leto!

Sitting up in the four-poster bed that had long ago belonged to Helena Atreides, she made no attempt to cover herself. She wore a pink nightgown of slick merh-silk, cut low. A faint scent of lavender hung in the air from a pheromone emitter cleverly concealed at the ceiling joint. This night, as always, she had prepared carefully . . . in the hope that he would come to her.

“My Lord?” She saw his troubled, angry expression as he stepped into the light. “Is everything all right?”

Leto’s gray gaze darted around, and he breathed deeply, trying to control the adrenaline, the uncertainty, the determination that warred within him. Beads of perspiration covered his brow. His black Atreides jacket hung askew, as if he had tugged it hurriedly over his shoulders.

“I am here for all the wrong reasons,” he said.

Jessica slid out of bed and draped a green robe over her shoulders. “Then I must accept those reasons and be grateful for them. May I get you anything? How can I help you most?” Though she had waited so many months for him, she felt little triumph— only concern at seeing him so distressed.

The tall, hawk-featured man removed his jacket and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m in no condition to present myself to a Lady.”

Moving close to him, she massaged his shoulders. “You are the Duke, and this is your Castle. You may present yourself in any manner you please.” Jessica touched his dark hair, and ran her fingers sensually along his temples.

As if imagining a dream, he closed his eyes, then snapped them open again. She drew her finger down his cheek and placed it against his lips to silence any words. Her green eyes danced. “Your condition is perfectly acceptable to me, my Lord.”

When she loosened the clasps on his shirt, he sighed and allowed her to nudge him toward the bed. Mentally and physically exhausted, torn by his own guilt, he lay face-down on the rich coverings that smelled of rose petals and coriander. He seemed to sink into the soft, pliant sheets, and allowed himself to drift away.

Her delicate hands slid across his bare skin, and she worked her fingers into the tight muscles of his back, as if she had done this for him a thousand times before. To Jessica, it felt as if this moment in eternity had always been meant to be, that Leto was destined to be here, with her.

At last, he rolled over to face her. When their eyes met, Jessica saw fire there again, except it did not smolder with anger this time. Nor did it fade. He took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers in a long, passionate kiss.

“I’m glad you are here, my Duke,” she said, remembering all the methods of seduction the Sisterhood had taught her, but with the realization that she genuinely cared about him, that she meant what she was saying.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long, Jessica,” he said.

As Kailea wept, she felt more anger at her own failure than sorrow at feeling Leto slip through her fingers. He had disappointed her so much— Chiara had reminded her again and again of her own worth, her noble birthright, the future she deserved. Kailea despaired that these hopes were gone forever.

House Vernius was not entirely dead, and its survival might very well depend on her. She was stronger than her brother, whose support of the rebels was little more than a pipe dream. Deep inside she felt a steely will: House Vernius would only survive through her efforts, and ultimately through the bloodline of her son Victor.

She was determined to gain royal status for him. All of her love, all of her dreams, rested on the boy’s fortunes.

Finally, far into the lonely night, she fell into a fitful sleep.

In ensuing weeks, Duke Leto sought Jessica more and more often, and he began to consider her his concubine. Sometimes he came into her room without a word and made love to her with feral intensity. Then, sated, he would hold her for hours and talk.

Using Bene Gesserit skills, Jessica had studied him for sixteen months, educating herself in the concerns of Caladan. She knew the daily difficulties Leto Atreides faced in running an entire planet, managing the affairs of a Great House, attending to Landsraad matters, keeping pace with the political and diplomatic machinations in the Imperium.

Jessica knew exactly what to say, precisely how to advise him without pushing. . . . Gradually, he came to see her as more than just a lover.

She tried not to think of Kailea Vernius as her rival, but the other woman had been wrong to push this proud nobleman too hard, trying to bend him to her will. Duke Leto Atreides was not a man to be forced into anything.

He sometimes spoke of his hardening feelings toward Kailea as he and Jessica went for long walks along the cliffside path. “You are within your rights, my Lord.” The young woman’s tone was soft, like a summer breeze over a Caladan sea. “But she seems so sad. I wish something could be done for her. She and I might have become friends.”

He looked at her with a perplexed expression as the wind blew his dark hair. “You’re so much better than she is, Jessica. Kailea feels only venom toward you.”

She had seen the Ixian woman’s deep pain, the tears she tried to conceal, the dagger glares she hurled at Jessica. “Your point of view can be distorted by circumstance. Since the fall of House Vernius, she’s had a difficult life.”

“And I made it better for her. I risked my own family fortune to keep her and Rhombur safe when their House went renegade. I’ve shown her every consideration, but she always wants more.”

“You once felt affection for her,” Jessica said. “She bore your child.”

He smiled warmly. “Victor . . . ah, that boy has made every moment with his mother worthwhile.” For several minutes he gazed out to sea, without saying anything. “You are wise beyond your years, Jessica. Maybe I will try one more time.”

She didn’t know what had come over her, and regretted sending him back to Kailea. Mohiam would have chastised her for that. But how could she not encourage him to think kindly about the mother of his son, a woman he had loved? Despite her Bene Gesserit training, which required keeping a tight rein on one’s passions, Jessica found herself becoming deeply attached. Perhaps too deeply.

But she had another attachment as well, one going back much longer in her lifetime. With her Bene Gesserit reproductive skills, she could have manipulated Leto’s sperm and her eggs during their very first night together, thus conceiving the daughter her superiors had instructed her to produce. Why, then, hadn’t she done as she’d been commanded? Why was she delaying?

Jessica felt an inner turmoil over this issue, that forces within her were warring for control. Clearly the Bene Gesserit were on one side, a whispering presence insisting that she fulfill her obligations, her vows. But what opposed them? It wasn’t Leto himself. No, it was something much larger and more significant than the love of two people in a vast universe.

But she had no idea what it might be.

The next day, Leto visited Kailea in the tower apartments where she spent most of her time, widening the gulf between them. As he entered, she turned toward him, ready to flare with anger, but he sank down beside her on a settee. “I’m sorry we see things so differently, Kailea.” He took her hands firmly in his. “I cannot change my mind about marriage, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you.”

She pulled away, instantly suspicious. “What’s the matter? Did Jessica turn you out of her bed?”

“Not at all.” Leto considered telling Kailea what the other woman had said to him, but reconsidered. If she thought Jessica was behind anything, she wouldn’t accept it. “I have arranged to send a gift to you, Kailea.”

Despite herself, she brightened; it had been a long time since Leto had brought her expensive baubles. “What is it? Jewelry?” She reached for the pocket of his jacket, where he used to hide rings, brooches, bracelets, and necklaces for her; in earlier days, he had made her search his clothes for new baubles, a game that often turned into foreplay.

“Not this time,” Leto said with a bittersweet smile. “You are accustomed to a family home much more elegant than my austere Castle. Do you remember the ballroom in the Grand Palais on Ix, with its indigo walls?”

Kailea looked at him, puzzled. “Yes, rare blue obsidian— I haven’t seen anything like it in years.” Her voice grew wistful and distant. “I remember as a child, being dressed in my ball gown and looking into the translucent walls. The layers within layers made reflections look like ghosts. Light from chandeliers gleamed like stars in the galaxy.”

“I have decided to install a veneer of blue obsidian in the ballroom of Castle Caladan,” Leto announced, “and also here in your chambers. Everyone will know I did it just for you.”

Kailea didn’t know what to think. “Is this to salve your conscience?” she challenged, daring him to contradict her. “Do you think it’s so easy?”

He shook his head slowly. “I have gone beyond anger, Kailea, and feel only affection for you. Your blue obsidian has already been ordered from a Hagal merchant, though it will take a few months to arrive.”

He went to the door, paused. She remained silent, then finally drew in a long breath as if it required a great effort for her to speak.

“Thank you,” she said, as he left.