He jerked his hand back. 'No! Of course not! I mean… I would like you to be…' What did he mean? He fumbled desperately for a better word. 'My lover?'

'Ah. I see. And when you take a wife, what will I be then? What word do you think your queen might use to describe me?' Jezal swallowed, and looked at his shoes. 'A whore is still a whore, whatever word you use. Easily tired of, and even more easily replaced. And when you tire of me, and you find other lovers? What will they call me then?' She gave a bitter snort. 'I'm scum, and I know it, but you must think even less of me than I do.'

'It's not my fault.' He felt tears in his eyes. Pain, or relief, it was hard to tell. A bitter alloy of both, perhaps. 'It's not my fault.'

'Of course it isn't. I don't blame you. I blame myself. I used to think I had bad luck, but my brother was right. I make bad choices.' She looked at him with that same judging expression in her dark eyes that she had when they first met. 'I could have found a good man, but I chose you. I should have known better.' She reached up and touched his face, rubbed a tear from his cheek with her thumb. Just as she had when they parted before, in the park, in the rain. But then there had been the hope that they would meet again. Now there was none. She sighed, and let her arm drop, and stared sulkily out into the garden.

Jezal blinked. Could that really be all? He yearned to say some last tender word, at least, some bitter-sweet farewell, but his mind was empty. What words could there possibly be that could make any difference? They were done, and more talk would only have been salt in the cuts. Wasted breath. He set his jaw, and wiped the last damp streaks from his face. She was right. The king and the peasant-girl. What could have been more ridiculous?

'Gorst!' he barked. The door squealed open and the muscle-bound guardsman emerged from the shadows, his head humbly bowed. 'You may escort the lady back to her home.'

He nodded, and stood away from the dark archway. Ardee turned and walked towards it, pulling up her hood, and Jezal watched her go. He wondered if she would pause on the threshold and look back, and their eyes would meet, and there would be one last moment between them. One last catching of his breath. One last tugging at his heart.

But she did not look back. Without the slightest pause she stepped through and was gone, and Gorst after her, and Jezal was left in the moonlit garden. Alone.

Picked Up A Shadow

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Ferro sat on the warehouse roof, her eyes narrowed against the bright sun, her legs crossed underneath her. She watched the boats, and the people flowing off them. She watched for Yulwei. That was why she came here every day.