“Really? I’ve never met o—I mean, never talked to one for long.”

He half-smirked at a memory. Feremont took a sip of his drink as he looked at the young woman, who was so agreeable to find in a place like this.

“Then again, I know some who love to play at swords and sorcery. I had a—friend who used to strut about with a rapier.”

“Really?”

They had rapiers? Cara was tickled and grinned. He shrugged.

“Ah, well. It always comes to one or the other in any case. That man wanted to silence you with a blade since you bested him with words. Fools often do.”

He sighed. Cara nodded slowly. He seemed to have his own axe to grind, but she was just relieved he’d saved her.

“You heard my argument? You must not be from around here.”

She glanced around the tavern. It was slowly emptying; not many people wanted to be up so late before the banquet, and besides, that last altercation had made most decide it was time for bed. The man nodded.

“Your words were truly spoken.”

She shrugged uncomfortably.

“I’m just a performer. Those weren’t my words. I just recite better people’s speeches.”

He grinned at that.

“You still brought a tavern to silence. Did you mean it?”

“To hell with the monarchy?”

The [Barkeep] looked up, then decided he’d better wipe down all the tables. He left the two practically alone at the bar. Feremont nodded. He took another long, long drink.

“…Yes. Did you mean that literally?”

Cara looked around.

“What, overthrow the monarchy?”

He nodded. Cara hesitated, then, after a moment, she leaned in and whispered.

“If only I could.”

She smiled. He actually laughed. He threw back his head and laughed, a huge guffaw that was so pleased she liked him in a moment. And vice versa. He raised the cup to her in a salute.

“A woman after my own heart. It’s just—it’s never easy, is it?”

In a second his expression changed to maudlin again, and he rubbed at his side as if he was hurt. Cara nodded, then shook her head at the entire argument that had passed behind them.

“Easy? What, to change Noelictus or those idiots from…Calanfer? Impossible. And then it’s all ‘slow change,’ but nothing changes. Some days it’s enough to make me want to…”

Moodily, Cara sipped at her drink, leaving the rest darkly unsaid. Feren though—he nodded.

“It never is easy. But you’re right. Those people—they don’t understand. But when you spoke about the cracks…”

His eyes flickered. His fingers drummed on the table, slowly, restlessly unhappy, trying to express something far larger within him.

“I know what you meant.”

Cara looked up.

“You too?”

They looked at each other. She was searching for…what? Bitterness? Anger?