No. Pain. Feren’s lips twisted. He snarled silently at something, and for a moment he was blindingly furious. But then he was dragged down by his drink and memory, and his shoulders hunched. He sat there, like someone sitting in a blizzard. She recognized that too, and the way he looked up at her.

He said none of it, though, but if he were an [Actor], he played his part beyond doubt. Cara recognized him; they’d had the same scene. Only different, in different worlds and different times. Feren’s voice shook slightly as he replied.

“I have known the raw side of the kingdoms of Terandria. The thorns on the crown. It’s hard to believe in the justice of monarchies then. The event…I would rather not talk about it. Forgive me.”

Just that. Cara nodded. She cleared her throat and found she couldn’t say it either. But—she looked Feren in the eye.

“I’m sorry. Me too. Not the crown but…yes. I wish something could be done. But you saw that. I can’t even give a speech without getting stabbed. I wish…”

She stopped. That was all. I wish.

Feremont waited. But she said nothing more. They were at that point in the drinking where words became so hard to…word. And, in truth, they’d gone further in understanding each other in this short conversation than Cara had with Dalimont or anyone else in this world.

They did understand. Too much of what the other had been through, even without the details. Feren looked at Cara.

“Did the crown itself let you down? Or simply the powers that represented it? I have known the cruelty of laws enforced by petty little tyrants. And you. May I ask…what happened?”

Slowly, the [Actress] stiffened, until she turned into a statue made of cracked wood. She looked over, and Feremont instantly waved a hand.

“Forget I asked, please.”

He took a drink and so did she. Cara swilled it about before taking another huge gulp. She exhaled.

“No. I—I don’t talk about it. I’m told I should by my ther—by people. I can’t. And, no, what happened wasn’t that I was attacked by the law itself. Just that when I was—everything that was supposed to be government, justice—let me down. In the end, everything boiled down to the quality of your blood. Or wealth in your pocket.”

Cara felt hot behind her face, like she was wearing a mask. She smiled, teetering on the edge of truth.

But she pulled back.

“It—it’s old history.”

She made a gesture as if brushing away the issue, but the other man didn’t let it go. He looked at her, and she saw his hands twitch. She wanted to pull back, step away from the bar. They were both…going backwards. Only, he didn’t try to avoid it. Feren’s voice grew deeper.