I looked around, confused, hearing her as if through a fog. I took in her sweet even features. Dark, intelligent eyes, too big for her face. The kind of eyes that appreciated minute details, imagined grand scenarios, recorded every slight. Her small lower lip was bitten raw with worry. I shook my head, to clear it. I noticed more. She was soaked with water and shivering. How long had she been here? Long enough for the bath water to have grown cold. “No, my hair is fine,” I said, finally. She was freezing; I had to get her dry. I stood and stepped out of the tub.

I found two nightgowns made of thick warm cloth. Donning one, I wrapped the other around her shoulders. I heard her teeth chattering and felt ashamed. She spoke of disease, death and suicide. She was too young for such things. Robin had been her friend as well. And yet, here she was, taking care of me. The unfairness of her situation struck me anew.

“It’s dangerous out there,” I said. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

She seemed surprised but, unlike Jay, she boldly accepted my offer. I heated more water for washing and tied a colorful scarf around her head to hide its nakedness. Finally, I settled her in my bed with a portion of nuts. I found the dried orange wedges in the locked compartment of my desk and gave them to her.

“You look to be about seven years old,” I said. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”

She smiled mischievously, but said nothing, sipping her tea.

My heart flipped. I remembered Robin at seven—fluffing a pillow and setting it back in its place. She smiled. “If you are seven and I am seven, maybe we were born the same year!”

I pressed my lips together. I could not save anyone, not even myself. But, I would keep pain away from this one girl, for this one night, if I could.

She loosened up quickly, chattering like the child she was, as I watched her eat. I heated more water and brought her tea which she slurped, greedily. At one point, another knock sounded at my door, but I ignored it and whoever it was went away.

It was late when the little maid fell asleep, mid-sentence. Her eyes drifted shut and her hand clasped reflexively around mine. I held it for a long while.

Later, I sat at my desk with the fine leather journal, thinking of the future. William would likely come to me after the Joust. The Kongo Guard would march from Cobane and I would finally be a Senator—with power of my own. I would use it to help my people. I would join the Assembly, but I would be different. I would be a true First Brother.