Shortly after the noonday meal, Leto sat on the carpeted floor of the playroom, bouncing his four-and-a-half-year-old son on his knee. Though he had grown big for the game, Victor still squealed with unbounded glee. Through armor-plaz windows the Duke could see the blue Caladan sky kissing the sea at the horizon, with white clouds scudding above.

Behind him, Kailea watched from the doorway. “He’s too old for that, Leto. Stop treating him like a baby.”

“Victor doesn’t seem to agree.” He bounced the dark-haired boy even higher, eliciting louder giggles.

Leto’s relationship with Kailea had improved in the six months since he’d installed the fabulously expensive blue obsidian walls. Now the dining hall and Kailea’s private tower chambers echoed the splendor of the Grand Palais. But her mood had darkened again in recent weeks, as she brooded (no doubt egged on by Chiara) over how much time he spent with Jessica.

Leto no longer paid any attention to her complaints; they ran off him like spring rain. In sharp contrast, Jessica demanded nothing from him. Her kindness and occasional suggestions energized him and allowed him to perform his duties as Duke with compassion and fairness.

For Kailea’s sake, and for Victor’s as well, Leto would not harm her reputation on Caladan. The people loved their Duke, and he let them maintain their illusions of fairy-tale happiness in his Castle— much the same way Paulus had feigned a pleasant marriage with Lady Helena. The Old Duke had called it “bedroom politics,” the bane of leaders all across the Imperium.

“Oh, why do I make the effort to talk with you at all, Leto?” Kailea said, still standing at the playroom doorway. “It’s like arguing with a stone!”

Leto stopped bouncing Victor and looked over at her, his gray eyes hard. He kept his voice carefully neutral. “I didn’t realize you were making much of an effort.”

Muttering an insult under her breath, Kailea whirled and stalked down the corridor. Leto pretended not to notice she had left.

Spying her blond-haired brother carrying a baliset over one shoulder, Kailea hurried to catch up with him. But upon seeing her, Rhombur just shook his head. He held up a wide hand to forestall what he knew would be a flood of complaints.

“What is it now, Kailea?” He touched one hand to the baliset strings. Thufir Hawat had continued teaching him how to play the nine-stringed instrument. “Have you found something new to be angry about, or is it a subject I’ve heard before?”

His tone took her aback. “Is that any way to greet your sister? You’ve been avoiding me for days.” Her emerald eyes flashed.

“Because all you do is complain. Leto won’t marry you . . . he plays too rough with Victor . . . uh, he spends too much time with Jessica . . . he should take you to Kaitain more often . . . he doesn’t use his napkin right. I’m tired of trying to mediate between you two.” He shook his head. “To top it all off, it seems to irritate you that I’m completely content with Tessia. Stop blaming everyone else, Kailea— your happiness is your own responsibility.”

“I’ve lost too much in my life to be happy.” She raised her chin.

Now Rhombur actually looked angry. “Are you really too self-centered to see that I’ve lost as much as you have? I just don’t let it eat at me every day.”

“But we didn’t have to lose it. You can still do more for House Vernius.” She was ashamed of his ineffectiveness. “I’m glad our parents aren’t here to see this. You’re a pitiful excuse for a Prince, brother.”

“Now that does sound a little like Tessia, though the way she says it isn’t so grating.”

She fell silent as Jessica emerged from a passageway and turned toward the playroom. Kailea flashed the other concubine a dagger-glare, but Jessica smiled congenially. After entering the playroom to join Leto and Victor, she closed the door behind her.

Looking back at Rhombur, Kailea snapped, “My son Victor is the future and hope of a new House Atreides, but you can’t understand that simple fact.”

The Ixian Prince just shook his head, deeply saddened.

“I try to be pleasant to her, but it’s no use,” Jessica said, inside the playroom. “She hardly says a word to me, and the way she looks at—”

“Not again.” Leto heaved a perturbed sigh. “I know Kailea’s causing damage to my family, but I can’t find it in my heart to just send her away.” He sat on the floor, while his son played with toy groundcars and ornithopters. “If it weren’t for Victor—”

“Chiara is always whispering something to her. The results are obvious. Kailea is a powder keg, ready to explode.”

Holding a model ’thopter in his hands, Duke Leto looked up at Jessica helplessly. “Now you’re showing spite of your own, Jessica. I’m disappointed in you.” His face hardened. “Concubines do not rule this House.”

Because he knew Jessica had spent years in Bene Gesserit training, Leto was surprised to see all color drain from her face. “My Lord, I . . . didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry.” Bowing, she backed up and left the room.

Leto stared blankly at the toy, then at Victor. He felt completely lost.

A short while later, concealed like a shadow, Jessica observed Kailea in the Castle foyer, whispering to Swain Goire, the household guard who spent much of his time watching over Victor. Goire’s loyalty and dedication to the Duke had always been clear, and Jessica had seen how much he adored his young ward.

Goire seemed uneasy about receiving so much attention from the ducal concubine; seemingly by accident, Kailea brushed her breasts against his arm, but he pulled away.

Having been schooled in the intricate ways of human nature by the Bene Gesserit, Jessica was only surprised that Kailea had taken so long to attempt this petty revenge against Leto.

Two nights later, unnoticed even by Thufir Hawat, Kailea slipped quietly into Goire’s bedroom.