Kastali Dun

Claire collapsed on the sofa, laughing, trying to catch her breath. Her head turned almost as quickly as her feet had, just moments before. Her heart raced too, hammering blood through her ears. Giggles from Desaree, Jocelyn, and Saffra mirrored her own.

They were dancing.

Furniture had been pushed aside to leave a large area for practice. Friends-turned-dance-instructors advised her on all of Dragonwall's formal dances. She learned the steps, the etiquette, the bows. How to flounce and prance and simper. All of it.

"I'm not sure I can breathe if we're circling that fast!" She gasped, hand on her stomach. "Especially in my ball gown." She half sat, half sprawled across the sofa. They'd just gone through a Spiral, Dragonwall's most exhilarating dance, with lots of turns and sweeps. Apparently expert level. Most people bowed out of this one.

"You'll be expected to perform it perfectly, if asked," said Saffra. "And believe me, the musicians perform it at least once every ball, for those who are daring enough to attempt it. There are always a few."

If King Talon challenged her to this particular dance....

"I'll be ready," she assured them. She would not fail in front of the court.

"Let's stop for something to eat," said Jocelyn. "I'm famished!" Jocelyn and Saffra had partnered up together while Desaree and Claire made a second pair. They'd spent nearly two hours that morning—since dawn—practicing. For the opening number, Claire would be expected to dance a variation of a waltz with Talon. Lots of bowing, curtsying, and stepping about, circling each other. Its formal title was a Tromp, and it was a fan favorite.

Their breakfast had long since been delivered, but they hadn't touched it. "Right. Breakfast. Good idea." Claire glanced at the table. "I'm famished too."

It was a stretch. With the tournament's ball taking place later that evening, they had all but run out of time to get her ready. She was coordinated, decent on her feet. Her lessons with Jovari and Koldis had gone a long way in that regard. And she'd had some dance lessons growing up, when her mother wasn't sure what her calling was. A few years of jazz, ballet, and tap. Of course, that was before her teen years. But she'd gained a good sense of self, a good sense of coordination.

Would it be enough?

The idea of being on display for the first dance of the evening set her nerves on edge. She was determined to perform it flawlessly. As an outsider now favored, she had to prove herself. Prove she was able to adjust to Draongwall's customs.

"If you're still feeling uncomfortable, we can run through everything again after we eat," Saffra said, releasing Jocelyn from the embrace they had shared as they acted out a Gallop. "Another hour and you should be as good as the rest of us."

Claire snorted. "I very much doubt that. You've got a lifetime of experience on me. But...we'll see."

They gathered around the table, laughing and speculating over how the night would go. She'd just filled her plate when a knock came at the door. "I'll get it," Des said, jumping to her feet. Bedelth swept into the room.

Claire dropped her fork, starting to rise. "Bedelth? Is everything all right? Talon?"

"Our king is fine. Please, sit. Forgive me for the unexpected interruption." He hesitated, taking in the scattered furniture and table full of food. His gaze settled on Saffra as he said, "Might I have a word?" His posture was rigid, perhaps even a little uncertain.

The four of them glanced at each other across the table.

Saffra frowned. "Surely it is nothing that cannot be said before the others."

Bedelth glanced between them. "Right. Very well. I understand that this is rather last minute, but I have found myself without a partner for tonight's ball. I was hoping that...well, I understand that you do not plan to attend. I thought perhaps you might...?"

"Oh..." Saffra's blink was her only show of surprise. "I had not planned on going. But Jocelyn doesn't have a partner yet. She would be more than happy to accompany you."

"Actually, I..." Jocelyn hesitated before sinking lower in her chair. "Forgive me, my lady, but I do already have an escort for tonight. I just didn't tell you as I thought the reminder of your—I thought it might be painful."

"I...see." Saffra fell quiet.

Bedelth adjusted the collar of his tunic, then fidgeted with the sleeves, as if they were too tight. "I apologize for making this awkward. Forgive me, I should not have come." He turned to leave.

"Bedelth, wait." Saffra stopped him. "It is...I appreciate you thinking of me. You have always been thoughtful." She opened and closed her mouth. "I don't have a dress commissioned for the occasion. But never mind about that. I'm sure one of my other gowns will do."

Bedelth's face changed, his only show of emotion thus far. "You...you're sure? It is not too much trouble?"

"It is no trouble at all. I would be honored to attend with you." Saffra paid him a kind smile. Something unspoken passed between them.

Claire watched, entirely curious. "I think I have an idea," she decided, catching Saffra's eye. "I know where we might find you something better suited for the occasion."

Saffra lifted an eyebrow before turning back to Bedelth. "Very well then. As you can see, it shouldn't be a problem. Thank you—for asking."

He smiled then. "That's...excellent. I look forward to it, very much. Oh—" He hesitated again. "I almost forgot." He handed a folded note to Claire. "From Verath. He asked that I deliver it since I was already on my way here." Claire took it, frowning. "Well, that's it, then," he said. "I'll collect you from your chamber at dusk, Lady Saffra. Until then..." He nodded at the rest of them before making a quick exit.

"Uhm..." Claire glanced at the empty place he'd left behind, then at the note. "Did that just happen?"

"It did." Saffra's voice sounded far away, as if she too couldn't believe it.

Claire handed the note to Desaree. "He probably meant to give this to you, not me. Verath doesn't send me letters."

Desaree took the note and scowled. "No, it has your name on it." She handed it back. "Why would he be writing to you, I wonder?"

"Only one way to find out." Claire unfurled it and read over its contents, frowning deeper. "Hmm...weird. He requests I dine with him for today's midday meal. As if we don't have enough going on already. But...why me? Why today? I don't..."

"Let me see." Desaree took the note, reading over its contents as she chewed on the skin of her bottom lip. "Now that I think of it, I do recall him mentioning something off hand—needing to talk to you about another Drengr, I think."

"Another Drengr?" Claire took it back and read the contents again, trying to find any hidden meanings she might have missed.

Desaree shrugged, unconcerned.

"Very well then." A wicked smile came to Claire's face. "I'll join him for lunch. But only because I bet he wants to talk to me about you, Des." She poked her friend in the shoulder. "Maybe he wants ideas for tonight. Or...I don't know...something."

"About me?" Desaree shook her head. "I doubt it. But you had better answer his reply and indulge him. I'll be busy this afternoon anyway, getting everything ready for us for tonight. And now that Saffra's going, we've got to get her ready, too."

"Jocelyn can attend to me," Saffra murmured. A set of lines had formed between her eyebrows. "You two worry about yourselves."

"Oh, right! That reminds me. A gown. Did you know that the king's tower has a whole wardrobe set aside for the queen?"

Everyone in the room fell quiet.

"I'm serious! An entire room!"

Saffra opened and closed her mouth. "The queen? You're sure? But there is no queen."

"Well, duh." Claire's smile was wicked. "But that's not what I meant. Remember when I found the passageway to the queen's private parlor, the one we used that night the Vodar attacked? Well, I had a peek around the first time I found it. Let's just say, the king probably isn't the only one who has an extensive wardrobe. Wait till you see it. I only had a moment to sneak in, but it was full of gowns. I'm positive we can find something for you in there. And you'll look like a queen!"

"Oh." Saffra hesitated. "I'm not sure I should...but...well, it would be fun to have a look, wouldn't it?" Her eyes danced.

"We'd be caught, wouldn't we?!" Jocelyn glanced between them, obviously worried. "Everyone would know your gown belonged to the queen."

"Jocelyn, there hasn't been a queen in hundreds of years," Desaree said, surprisingly open to the idea. "Most of the nobles attending the ball were not alive during the last queen's reign. Those that were, probably didn't pay close enough attention."

"Yes, but..." Jocelyn frowned.

They argued over it for several more minutes before Claire convinced them to organize an expedition through the passages. After they finished their breakfast, she sent a hurried note of acceptance to Verath, then they set out straight away. So long as they were quiet and didn't get caught, everything would go off without a hitch.

They arrived in the queen's parlor to find it deserted—naturally. The room was semi-circular in shape, but only along its outer perimeter. The furniture had been draped with white sheets to protect against dust. This was a room that suffered from many, many years of disuse. It almost gave Claire a pang of pity to think of it, to think of Talon's predicament, how long he'd gone mateless.

The light through the windows was enough to see by, casting square patterns of light across the floor. "What level of the tower is this, I wonder?" Jocelyn asked. Everyone knew that the king's tower consisted of numerous levels, all stacked on top of one another within the large cylindrical shape. Like a fancy birthday cake.

"One of the lower levels," Claire said, glancing around. "If I recall correctly. We had to climb several flights of stairs to reach the main floor last time we were here." It had been dark then. She spotted the door she wanted. "Here, this way." It led to another portion of the tower floor—an entire floor devoted to the queen's use.

They found a staging room with mirrors and padded stools. Likewise, everything was covered to protect against dust. "This must be where the queen's handmaidens would get her ready. The wardrobe is through this door."

Everything beyond the wardrobe door was dark. The dusty smell left their noses crinkling. Saffra sneezed before sending out glowing orbs to light their way.

Claire's eyes widened. "I almost forgot how large it was. By far the biggest walk-in-closet I've ever seen." She stepped inside. "Fit for a queen, that's for sure."

"The queen's wardrobe," Desaree murmured, awed. Her voice took on a dreamy tone. "Can you imagine, Claire? If you were the queen and this was yours? I'd have something new to dress you in every day!" Des let out a little squeal of delight.

Claire's face burned. She hated that none of them knew of her bond with Talon. Desaree's words were a mere coincidence, but they struck hard. "Yes, I can only imagine," she found herself saying. And another realization struck at almost the same instant. If she and Talon acted on their bond, if she became Dragonwall's queen, this, along with the entire floor of the tower, would become hers. Or perhaps it already belonged to her by default, simply for being his mate?

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's have a look." Desaree pushed past the rest of them, leading the charge.

The wardrobe was indeed full of gowns...and so much more. There were drawers for articles of clothing. Wooden jewelry boxes stacked at the far end, one of which had probably held the blue sapphire necklace Talon had gifted her. There were shoe racks, racks for shawls, and everything a queen's attire might need. Most of it was protected, shielded from dust.

"There must be so many magical enchantments on this room...to keep things from falling apart, I mean." Claire ran her fingers over everything, needing to touch it, to feel it. To connect with it. Hers...what if all this became hers?

They rustled through the contents of the wardrobe for what felt like hours, gushing over the beauty of the fabrics, the elegance of the gowns, and the sheer collection that had amassed over time, over multiple reigns. "These gowns were definitely worn by multiple queens," Jocelyn pointed out. "Look at this one." She had uncovered a dress of black lace. "This style is positively archaic." Her nose wrinkled. "I would never dress Saffra in something like this. Perhaps it was relevant thousands of years ago. Gods, certainly not now. Who wears high collars that cover the neck in such a way? Not a single measure of chest showing."

"Hmm, you're right." Saffra eyed it. "Dragonwall's queens must add to the collection over the course of their reign. I bet some of the gowns date all the way back to Queen Isabella."

Claire's heart raced at the thought. Something to connect her to the ancient queen. A woman who might possibly be her ancestor. She stifled the thought and said, "Well, let's find something and get out of here. I don't want Talon catching us." They'd have a right time explaining why they were sneaking around if Talon did catch them. Though, he wouldn't be overly upset with her, surely. "We're stealing from the queen's wardrobe, after all."

"Not stealing," Desaree amended. "Only borrowing."

Claire hardly heard her. Something else had caught her eye. "Look at this!" Triumphant, she removed an orange and red brocade, the colors of the setting sun splashed across a blue sky. It looked almost identical to Bedelth's scales. Perhaps a sign. "This is the one. It's perfect! An excellent match. Saffra, you were meant to wear it."

Jocelyn examined the gown. "There are ties. I should be able to adjust it this afternoon to fit her as it ought." She took the dress from Claire and held it up to Saffra. "Yes, this should do nicely. Perhaps you were meant to find it."

Satisfied, they cleaned up and tiptoed back through the queen's floor to the stone door disguised in the wall of the parlor. When they arrived back at Claire's apartments, Saffra and Jocelyn bid them goodbye. Desaree had just enough time to get Claire ready for her lunch with Verath. They were still too busy talking about all the gowns to speculate over Verath's reasons for his invitation.

Midday found Claire—trailed by guards—standing outside Verath's chamber door. She knocked. Verath answered, a pleased smile on his face. He wore a sleeveless blue and gold brocade doublet, with a long-sleeved white tunic beneath, and casual tan pants. Her eyes lingered over his bare feet. This was his apartment after all, and one did go barefoot in one's own living quarters. She liked his dressed down, informal appearance.

"Leave us," he said to the guards. "I will escort her back when we are through." They nodded and departed.

He turned to her then. "Good afternoon. I appreciate you joining me under such short notice." He stepped aside.

She smiled but otherwise remained silent as she slipped into his living accommodations, taking in everything before her. It was smaller than her own quarters, but no less comfortable. There were separate living and sleeping areas, and a door off to the side for his bathing chamber. She immediately approved of his love of books when she saw a full wall of shelves. Everything was neat and tidy. Clearly someone who appreciated organization. His room also had doors out to a balcony. All the rooms along the outer wall of the corridor had such a luxury.

A small table in the center of the room had been set and furnished with their meal. Verath rushed to pull out a chair and motioned for her to sit. She took her seat but remained silent, continuing to eye him. He did not appear to mind her silence as he took up the seat opposite her.

His hulking frame was nearly too large for the table and chair.

When he appeared comfortable, she spoke, "I admit, Verath, you have me at a loss. To what do I owe the pleasure of your invitation?" Her words came out more formal than intended. Once again, she was reminded of how much Dragonwall's customs and mannerisms were rubbing off on her.

"Direct and to the point," he said, nodding. "Shall we not dine and indulge in a few snippets of small talk before we get to business, my lady?"

She snorted. "Cut the bullshit, Verath. We both know I'm not a lady by Dragonwall's standards. Let's not forget that. And really, call me Claire. I did not hesitate to call you Verath, as I'm sure you noticed."

His lips twitched. "I admit, I have never met another woman with so little fear of speaking her mind. Not an ounce of timidity in your bones."

"Modern words for a modern gal." She offered him a sugary-sweet grin. "Besides, how else does one learn to handle a great king like Talon?" She glanced down at the table. Their plates were covered with silver platter covers. Out of curiosity she lifted hers to find sliced ham, potatoes, and honey wheat bread.

"I do appreciate modern words," he mused. "Our formalities can be exhausting. That's why I have decided that I like you, Claire, a great deal."

"Oh! Is that so?! But it did take some winning-over on my part, no?"

He fought back a smile. "Not much. But I tend to mistrust strangers, especially outsiders."

"You've met a fair few of them, I take it? Outsiders?"

"Ha. Very funny. None as outlandish as yourself. But you understand my point?"

"I do. But you still haven't answered my question." She eyed him, eyebrows raised.

"Indeed." He lifted his glass and took a sip of water. "I wanted to speak with you regarding a certain matter that has come to my attention."

"Oh? Me?" She placed a hand over her breast and feigned surprised flattery.

"Yes. I need your help. Or at least, I believe you to be a suitable person for the job."

"This isn't in regards to Caterina, is it? Because I want nothing to do with that witch."

"Caterina?" His head tilted. "Oh. No. Not at all. No." He hesitated. "As you know, the king's collection of Shields is short in number. Cyrus was a crucial part of our circle."

"Oh..." This definitely wasn't going where she'd expected. She exhaled, relaxing into her chair as his intentions became clearer.

"While we understand that his shoes will be difficult to fill, there should always be six."

"Right. I thought...Well, never mind."

"Thought what?"

"I honestly thought you called me here to talk about Desaree."

"Desaree?" A smile came to his lips. "While she is a topic I never tire of, no. Not about Desaree. We have a potential contender for a King's Shield. An applicant."

"That's...great. But what does it have to do with me?"

"I need you to talk him out of it."

She nearly choked. "Me? Talk him...? What do you mean? And why? And who is it? What makes you think I should be the one?" The questions tumbled from her lips.

"Come. Let's eat. I'll explain." He cut into the sliced ham on his plate. She eyed him, sighed, then did the same. After several bites, he spoke again. "It is a young Drengr by the name of Dallin. Just after you departed north, he appeared here in the capital from Fort Edge, requesting to be considered."

Through a mouthful that was utterly unladylike, she said, "Okay. And what's so wrong with that?" Propriety be damned.

"What's so wrong? Claire, he's young, extremely young. He fledged four, five years ago? That's too young."

"So what? His age may be indicative of inexperience, but he still deserves a fair chance, fair consideration. Is he competing against any others?"

"No. No others. Twenty-four is simply too young."

"I see." She set down her utensils and crossed her arms. Twenty-four was merely two years older than her own age. Did Verath consider her incapable too? "Tell me, is there a rule in the Charter that sets an age requirement?"

"No. But surely you—"

"Look, Verath, I get that you're nervous about giving responsibility to someone so young. I am too. Talon's life means a great deal to everyone, myself included. We want him adequately protected. That doesn't mean Dallin can't learn, that he can't grow in time. You can train him up a bit." She hesitated, eying him. "You'd make a great teacher, you know."

"I..." His chest puffed up. "That's beside the point." Clearly her flattery had worked.

She sighed, picking up her fork again. "I just don't think you should turn away a candidate that might be a worthy contender simply because of age."

His jaw tightened. "I don't think Dallin has fully considered what he would be giving up. A Shield's position is for life. We take no mates."

"Oh. The mate thing. That's what this is about?" She considered his words, considered what he was asking of her. She still didn't see why it was such a problem. "Why do you think I'm a good fit for this? I'm guessing it has something to do with my age. He'll relate to someone younger."

"Precisely." Verath leaned back in his chair.

She picked at her potatoes and frowned. "I don't really feel comfortable with this. Mostly because I don't necessarily agree with you."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't agree that his decision is rash. I just don't. Everyone understands the severity of the oath. He will have already considered what it means. Why else would he journey so far to toss his name in the hat?"

"Just because he knows the rules doesn't mean he understands the full extent of them." Something flashed across his face. Pain? Regret? It was gone before she could decipher it.

"Fine. What makes you an expert on the matter, then? Have you even asked him?"

"I don't need to ask. Young people are stubborn. I'm sure he believes he understands the cost. I can assure you that he does not. He can't. Not until..."

"Not until what?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Not until he becomes a Shield and then discovers that his mate is out there, waiting for him."

She frowned. The severity of his words came crashing down on her. Everything clicked into place. "Desaree's not your mate, is she?" An ache penetrated her heart. The discovery hurt.

"No. She is not." His voice was low.

"What...what happened?"

"I'd rather not talk about it." He fell silent for the span of several breaths. "Claire, just because Dallin thinks he has life figured out, does not mean he does."

"Tell me what happened." He did not answer. "Verath, you're courting my best friend. And now I find out that she's not your mate? I knew it was a long shot anyway, but still. You're asking me to speak with Dallin over a very serious matter. Convince me that it's serious. You owe me that much."

He opened and closed his mouth several times. "If I tell you, you must promise that you will not speak of it to Desaree. I cannot bear...it's something she should hear from me, not you."

"And will you tell her?"

His eyes fell to the table. "I cannot make that promise. Some demons are better left buried."

She sighed. It was his decision either way. "Fine. That's between you and her. I promise I won't say anything. But just so you know, I hate keeping secrets." He arched an eyebrow, like he was about to argue. "Okay. The new me hates secrets."

"All right, I'll tell you. But remember, you asked. And...please be gentle with your judgement." He hesitated. His eyes pointedly fixed upon the wall behind her before he spoke again. "I was in my eighties when I decided to seek glory. King Tallek had an opening in his ranks. Becoming a King's Shield was the ultimate achievement. In my own mind, that is." He grunted. "I see so much of myself in Dallin. So much. I hadn't found a mate, and frankly, I didn't care so much. I could bed whomever I wanted. Being free had a nice feel to it. But my life lacked purpose and becoming a Shield would mitigate that. So I applied and was accepted into King Tallek's ranks. It was an honor. I swore my oath. I was happy. I had everything figured out.

"A mate was the farthest thing from my mind for many years. I had all that I wanted. I felt a sense of purpose, of fulfillment. The years ticked by. On and on. King Tallek died, and I swore myself to his son, in turn. Then something changed. I felt it in my heart first, and then the rest of my body. It was like a subtle pull, like something was missing. It made no sense for a long time. An itch that no scratch could suppress. Ten years passed. And then fifteen. And then the realization hit me."

Disbelief broke over her like someone had cracked an egg on her head. "Your mate had come into existence."

"Aye. Kendra." His face twisted and he clenched and unclenched his hands as they rested on the table.

"You...you know her name?" A million questions bubbled up inside her. She dared not voice any others and risk disturbing his explanation.

"I knew more than her name." He rubbed the back of his neck. "When I figured out why I was feeling the way I felt, a deep sense of fear settled over me. I didn't know what to do—how to react. I thought if I ignored the inclinations, that they would simply go away, but as the years passed, the inclination became stronger. She was nearing twenty when I sought her out. I made up some excuse to leave the capital, to check on troops in the countryside. I followed the pull to a town in the heart of Dragonwall. Orhaven." His eyes took on a faraway look as he was remembering. "Gods she was beautiful, with hair the color of chocolate, and a smile that could disarm the coldest male. The first time I saw her, I watched her playing with the village children, so motherly in her affections. She doted upon them and they adored her. I could tell that she was unmarried. The thought left my heart soaring."

Her insides turned to ice. "What...what did you do?"

"I watched her. I memorized her face. I imagined all the things we might do together. The life we might have together. And I left."

"What?" The word came out choked.

"The years passed and with each day, I felt more and more like the wretch I was. The day she died, I felt it in my heart like a knife. I knew then the full severity of my actions, of what I had done."

"You didn't...you didn't go to her?" she whispered. "You didn't talk to her?"

A harsh laugh escaped his lips. "Oh, believe me, the thought crossed my mind. I stood in the shadows and a million possibilities fluttered through my mind. But they each boiled down to two options. I could take her for my mate, abandon my honor, and banish myself from Dragonwall never to return, or I could accept the oath I had given, maintain my honor, and return to my duties."

Absolute horror settled in the pit of her stomach. "So you...you just left her there?"

"How could I be so cruel as to speak to her? To seek her out when I could not claim her? She was better off not knowing of the life she might have had. Not knowing of what I robbed her of. It's...it is not so easy, Claire. My honor was at stake."

"Honor be damned!" She slammed her fist on the table, making the plates jump. "You should have gone to her! You...you deprived her of her destiny. You forced her to live a life she was not meant to live!" Her voice raised to new heights until she found herself yelling. "You...you stole from her, Verath! That alone is dishonorable!"

"You don't think I know that?!" he roared, jumping forward in his chair, his chest heaving. "You don't think I live with the decision I made every single day of my life? That I don't suffer from it? That I don't hate myself for it? That I don't fall asleep each night wondering how things might have been different had we fled to Kalderland, or Pavv, or Oshea across the sea? Fled to live our lives together?" His words slowed to a calm. "You think I go un-tortured?"

"I..." She took a deep, steadying breath. Shame washed over her. "I'm sorry. I should not have reacted like that. You asked me to be gentle in my judgement and I overreacted."

It was a lot to grapple with. She thought about what she would have done in his shoes. At first the answer seemed simple. But it wasn't. She knew what it meant to make a promise, and what it meant to break a promise. And Shields made oaths—life binding oaths. The shame would have ripped him apart the same way had he chosen her.

Verath had suffered then, and still suffered now. His face was a tableau of overwhelming emotion. He dropped his head into his hands and gave a shuddering sigh.

"Verath, I...I'm sorry," she said. "For what you lost, I'm sorry. You were presented with two impossible decisions. Decisions of honor and love. I...I don't think anyone deserves two choices like that."

"Yet, those were my choices," he said into his hands. "All because I made a rash decision in my youth to chase glory." When he lifted his head, his eyes glittered. "Now do you see? Now do you understand?"

She swallowed. "I...understand." Her next words became more difficult. "I understand, but I don't think Dallin will. It is not something you can tell a person, something that will sink in. They must live it. That is the cruelty of it all, don't you think?"

"Cruel. Yes. Life is cruel."

"But you have Desaree. She makes you happy, right?" Her voice came out as a squeak.

"I have my Desaree. She makes me happy."

Not Desaree, but my Desaree. Desaree made him happy, but not as happy as his mate would have made him. He didn't need to say it for her to hear it in his voice.

"And...you're certain Desaree is not your mate? That Kendra was indeed your mate? You never went to her. She never touched your scales."

"I know it in my heart," he whispered.

She reached across the table and put her hand over his. "Verath, I'm so sorry. I almost regret asking, regret causing you this discomfort. Does...does Talon know?"

Verath shook his head. "No one knows. I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone, to face the judgement that the truth would bring."

"You cannot blame yourself," she said at last. "Sometimes no choice is a good choice. Some of our choices fill us with regret. Some choices will haunt us unto death. We must get by as best we can. Life is unfair in many cruel ways. You must now choose to let it go. Don't let it chase after you."

He held her gaze and said at last, "Thank you. I...you're right. But such a thing is easier said than done. I will think on it."

She removed her hand from his and leaned back to regard him. "So what do we do about Dallin? I understand the gravity of the situation, of what could befall him should he be accepted into Talon's ranks. Yet, I still believe that it is not our decision to make. Will you...might I share your story with him in confidence? So that he understands what is at stake? After that, all we can do is trust him to make his decision without our added interference."

"I'm not sure I want him knowing."

"He looks up to you, doesn't he? Else he would not have approached you. I do not think you should fear his judgement. This is something he ought to know, and he will never fully understand until then."

Verath exhaled. "Yes. You're right. You may tell him, then. I do not have the heart to."

"I think it is for the best."

They fell quiet. She had no further desire to finish the food on her plate. So instead she stood. "I ought to leave you. Give you some time to recover before tonight. That reminds me, have you seen Desaree's dress?" It was her best attempt to change the subject and lighten the mood.

"Oh." His expression changed. His eyes brightened. "No. She refused to show it to me."

"Well..." A wicked grin came to her face. "Wait until you see it."

His discomfort disappeared, pushed down into the depths of his soul, no doubt. "You will give me no hints?"

"My lips are sealed." She made the motion of zipping her lips and throwing away the key. When she walked to his door, he followed her and opened it, escorting her down the hall where her guards waited outside her chambers.

"Thank you for listening. I...it is a relief to get that off my chest. I hadn't realized until now."

She reached out and squeezed his arm. "Sometimes unburdening the heart is the first step towards healing. I'm happy to listen any time you need to talk." She curtsied sloppily, reminding him of the outsider that she was. "See you tonight, Verath."

He bowed formally. "See you tonight, Claire." She watched him go with heaviness in her heart, hoping she would never need to make a decision like his.

It wasn't until she stepped through the door to her quarters and saw her black ballgown hanging on the mannequin, hinting at what was to come, that she pushed Verath's sad story from her mind. Instead, she thought of her own. She thought of her and Talon, and what was sure to be a much happier ending.

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