She lowered the mask in surprise. “Gods help us, do not say such things! Do not even go near him. He…you do not know. You cannot guess what evil is in him.”

Tinwright still held her sleeve. “I…would not treat you so, Lady Elan. If you were mine, that is. I would love you. As it is, I think of you day and night.”

She stared at him. Tears welled in her eyes again. “Ah, but you are a boy, Master Tinwright.”

“I am grown!”

“In years. But your heart is still innocent. I am filthy and I would begrime you, too. I would stain you as I myself am stained, corrupted…”

“No. Please, do not say such things!”

“I must go.” She gently pulled free of his grip. “You are kind—you cannot know how kind—to say such things to me. But you must not think of me. I could not bear to have another’s soul on my conscience.”

Before she could turn away again he stepped forward and took her shoulders, felt her trembling. Could it be she had some feelings for him? She looked so startled at his touch, so frightened, as if she expected to be hit, that he did not kiss her mouth, although he wished to at this moment beyond any dream of riches or fame he had ever coveted. Instead he let his hands slide down her arms. As if his fingers stole her vitality where they passed, she let the mask drop clattering to the walkway. He took both her hands in his, lifted them to his lips, and kissed her cold fingers.

“I love you, Lady Elan. I cannot bear to see you, and to know you are in pain.”

Her cheeks were wet, her eyes bright and frightened. “Oh, Master Tinwright, it cannot be.”

“Matthias. My name is Matthias.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then pulled his hands up to her mouth and kissed them in turn. “Would you really help me? Truly?

He was soaking with rain, but he could feel her tears on his hands like streaks of hot lead. “I would do anything—I swear by all the gods. Ask me.”

She turned to look out into the darkness. When she turned back her face was strange. “Then bring me poison. Something that will cause a quick death.”

For a moment Matt Tinwright could not breathe. “You…you would kill Tolly?”

She let go of his hands and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “Are you mad? With my sister married to his brother Caradon? The Tollys would destroy her. They would burn my parents’ house to the ground and murder them both. Not to mention that Southmarch Castle would be left in the hands of Crowel and Havemore and others almost as blackhearted as Hendon, but not as clever. The March Kingdoms would be drowned in blood in half a year.” She took a breath. “No. I want the poison for myself.”

She pulled away from him again, bent and picked up her mask. When she stood, she was again a phantom. “If you love me, you will bring me that release. It is the only gift I can ever take from you, sweet Matthias.”