But she’d lashed out with words that had hurt, because they’d been a version of the truth. “So nice to be big,” she’d said. “It gets you whatever you want, doesn’t it? What a hero you are, Giddon. Sanctimonious. Righteous. Superior. Get your hands off me!”

Was there something he should say now? Should he apologize? Should she apologize? Where was the line between bullying Hava and consenting to be emotionally bullied by her?

I think it’s a moving line, Bitterblue said to him as he walked. It’s complicated by your ages, positions, and histories, and the fact that you’re a man. She’s right that your size is an unfair advantage. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ever use it.

I miss you, said Giddon, with a small laugh that was really a sob. You’ve always told me what you think and feel and need. I’ve taken that for granted.

“What?” said Hava sharply.

“What?” he responded, startled.

“You laughed.”

“Oh. Private thoughts.”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Of course I am,” he said, trying sarcasm. “Everything is about you, brat.”

Perversely, this made Hava smile, with a warmth that communicated to Giddon that her emotional blockade was over. “Good dinner party, hm?” she said.

“Oh, wonderful. Especially the part where the host’s daughter found you snooping in the host’s desk and you almost attacked her.”

“I bet she won’t tell anyone. She doesn’t seem to care about zilfium, or anything else that matters, so hopefully she’ll just assume I have light fingers and a bad temper and leave it at that.”

She was speaking in that non-caring tone that always impressed Giddon. He often pretended to be someone other than who he was in his Council work, but he almost always played someone likable. He had difficulty doing otherwise. Hava, in contrast, seemed to have no problem playing a role that left people thinking badly of her. Was it the shadows from his past that stopped him? Giddon had tortured a man for information once long ago, for King Randa, tied him up and hit him, and it hadn’t been a role. He remembered every noise that man had made. The man was probably still alive somewhere, remembering that experience. The people who thought badly of Giddon had reasons.

Giddon, said Bitterblue, in the gentle voice that meant it was time for him to stop wallowing.