I brushed my fingers against his tear-damp face, then took his hand, lacing my fingers through his. "Don't tarry too long, your majesty," I said to Dain.

"I'll see you soon," he said, smiling.

I gave him a nod, and drew Alluin out of the war room, and away from battle.

The Antlered Palace listened to me in the same way it had listened to the Queen, and I took Alluin through a doorway directly into my and Dain's suite. I didn't even bother asking him what he wanted, or needed. My friend had been awake for three days straight, fighting the dead, watching the people that had been given to him to protect and lead being injured and killed. He was exhausted and broken-hearted, and he needed sleep and comfort.

I undressed him while he stood there, wavering, tears tracking down his face, and washed his face and hands. I put him in a pair of Dain's pajamas, brought him to my bed, and tucked him under the sheets. Then I sat with him, stroking his hair while he laid there weeping silently, my heart breaking for him. When at last Alluin had cried himself out, and was starting to fall asleep, I pressed a kiss on his temple and went to go see how else I could be of use.

Outside my door was Zhiolas, looking haggard.

"Alluin," he said, his lavender eyes full of torment.

I looked at him for a long moment, considering him, remembering all those nights spent in his company, and the way he and Alluin laughed together, their comfort and companionship. "You're in love with him," I said, a little wondering, a smile spreading across my face.

Zhiolas looked away, his throat working, then nodded.

"Does he know?" I asked, reaching out and turning Zhiolas' face back towards mine.

"I've never told him," he said, his voice thick. "How could I? He's noble and kind, the sort of man who deserves someone serious by his side, to be a pillar alongside him. And I'm..." Zhiolas shook his head, a bitter smile flickering across his face. "I haven't had a lover who lasted more than a few months in centuries, Leah. I'm the sort of man who falls over waterfalls and writes atrocious love poetry. Hardly a paragon of virtue."

"Uh-huh," I said. "Have you considered that perhaps Alluin would enjoy someone writing him atrocious love poetry?"

Zhiolas looked away again, pain on his face.

"My friend," I said gently. "How long have you loved him?"

"More than two hundred years," he answered dully.

"And did you ever think that maybe your mayfly lovers last only a few months because you already love someone else?"

His eyes flicked over to mine, hurting and afraid. I knew that fear. I'd seen it a thousand times on Dain's face, the terrible fear of rejection.