On another day, Greave might have stood there, examining all the ways that the playwright worked at his craft, all the subtle tricks used to make the language flow and the scenes contrast with one another. He would have felt like a man apart, understanding but not truly enjoying any of it.

Here, now, with Aurelle there, he laughed. He actually laughed, at stupid jokes about a man who couldnt see the truth in front of him.

And will it jump? the noble asked the peasant. Ive a mind to race it over hedges and fences.

Aye, it will get past all those, the peasant said, and then stage whispered to the audience, if you get off to open the gates for it.

Greave laughed along with the rest of them, and glanced over to find Aurelle looking at him with apparent joy at the sight of him like that. She seemed to be taking as much pleasure in his presence as he was in hers, and that seemed almost like a miracle. Greave was about to say how impossible it seemed that someone so perfect should appear in his life so suddenly, but he got no chance to do so, because Aurelle was already glancing in a different direction.

Do you hear that? she asked. Theyre starting a dance. Come on.

She pulled at Greave and he went with her, because he didnt want to break contact with her, didnt want to break that slender connection to everything that seemed good, and right, and real. He watched Aurelle as they walked, and she was perfection itself in every movement, so that it was hard to imagine being anywhere but there with her.

Was this what love was like? Greave had no point of comparison except the things that had been written in plays and books. His brothers had always treated him as a kind of failed brother, who didnt do the things they did. His sisters possibly loved him, but Queen Aethe had always emphasized their separateness and difference to him. His father… no, while his mothers death had robbed Greave of even that love.

This was different. It was sudden and sharp, like lightning across his body.

Will you dance with me? Aurelle asked.

I dont dance, Greave said.

I find that hard to believe. You must be beauty itself when you move. Please, for me?

Greave could have countered any other argument. He could have provided a dozen objections to dancing based on everything from the works of sword masters to philosophers, religious writers to poets. But he couldnt simply say no to Aurelle in this, or anything else.

I dont know what Im supposed to do, he pointed out.

Thats all right, she said. Ill show you. Here, you hold me like this.