And then she was inside, and there was the Lady Cerelinde, tall and shining. All the light in the room seemed to gather around her, clinging to her as though it loved her. It shimmered down the length of her golden hair, clung to her silken robes, rested on her solemn, beautiful face in loving benison. Unfair; oh, unfair! It filled her with a terrible yearning for all the lost beauty of the world, all that might have been, and was not. No wonder General Tanaros’ face softened when he gazed upon her. Meara ducked her head and ground her teeth, remembering how he had spurned her advances.

She was a fool; no, he was a fool. She would have been content with a little, with so little. Was there madness in it, or a desperate sanity? She could no longer tell. Love, soup, poison, loyalty, folly. Which was which?

The Lady smiled at her as she placed the tray upon the table. “Thank you, Meara.”

What did it cost her to be gracious? It was all the same in the end. She was one of the Ellylon. They had turned their back on Lord Ushahin when he was no more than an innocent babe, because he was not good enough, though their blood ran in his veins. Tainted by violence, tainted by the seed of Arahila’s Children, who had accepted Lord Satoris’ Gift. No one was good enough for them. For her.

Not Meara, who was only to be pitied.

Not General Tanaros, who protected her.

Not even his Lordship, no; Lord Satoris, who turned no one away. Whose Shaper’s heart was vast enough to embrace all of them, even though he bled. Who saw in Ushahin Dreamspinner something rare and wonderful, who understood his pain and respected it. Who offered all of those whom the other Shapers had abandoned this sanctuary, who gave them a reason to live and to serve, who valued the least of their contributions.

Meara loved him; she did.

And still her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth as the Lady of the Ellylon lifted the lid from the crock, steam escaping. Was it right? What was right? Did it matter? The thought made her uneasy, setting a tide of gibberish rising in her mind, the words she had spoken echoing in the vault of her skull.

You should kill her, you know. It would be for the best.