Midwinter

Other couples joined them. Purane-Es stood and talked happily for a long while, then realized he had several ladies remaining on his dance card and bowed out gracefully. Anne stood chatting with a trio of ladies-inwaiting to the Queen who giggled and asked to touch the butterflies in her hair. They knew her name; they must have known her past.

Prestige covers many wrinkles, her father would say. She was still nobleborn. She was still desirable, even with Mauritane's weight hanging from her neck. It was even possible that Purane-Es knew her past and did not care, saw only her. Perhaps he had even spied her during the tribunal and loved her from afar, awaiting just this time to begin wooing her. It was possible, certainly. It was possible.

She drank more, danced more. She whispered with the ladies as they fanned themselves by the bandstand. She let herself become lost in merri ment, as she once had in happier times, as she once had even with Mauritane, long ago.

The night sped past, a swirl of music, dancing, and wine. Finally the musicians packed up their instruments and the clockwork rabbits were retired. The guests disappeared in twos and threes and fours, their laughter carrying up from the road as they vanished into the night. She and PuraneEs were locked in conversation, talking of music and dancing and poetry and the intrigues of the court. When she looked up, she realized that they were alone on the huge terrace. The torches in the lawn had begun to burn out, one by one, and now only a few remained, casting long stuttering shadows on the far wall of the terrace.

"They've all gone," she said sadly.

"Perhaps," he said. "But you are still here, and that is all that matters."

"You've decided not to have me turned out after all?"

"No, I would not do such a foolish thing."

The Lady Anne suddenly felt too close, nervous. She took a step backward. "I must admit," she began carefully, "I was surprised to receive your invitation. We have never met, and…"

"And you wondered why I would invite the wife of my brother's murderer to a party. Is that what you meant to say?" Purane-Es leaned in, his arms folded across his chest.

"Well… I suppose so. Yes."

"I have a confession to make," he said. "I do not know how or why, but I feel as though I can trust you with anything. This evening we've spent together is unlike anything I've ever experienced. Do you feel the same?"

Astoundingly, she did. "I… yes." She looked away.

"The truth is that I lured you here under false pretenses," he said. "I brought you here hoping I could ply you with wine and music and make love to you and in some way exact revenge on Mauritane for what he did to my brother."

She gasped, holding her hand to her mouth. "You didn't!"

He nodded. "I did. At least, that was my plan." He balled his hands into fists and held them at his side. "I tell you this because I want you to believe what I say next. I have never met anyone like you. I find that, despite my prior motive, I am moved to strong emotions toward you. I find I want to pursue you in the courtly ways of love, write sonnets for you, sing ballads beneath your window. Those are the things I was made for. Not revenge. Not malice. I only want to be with you and the rest be damned. Vengeance be damned. Hatred be damned!"

"Mauritane be damned," she whispered.

"What?"

"Mauritane be damned," she said. "I am still his wife, and I still suffer his shame. I don't know if I can believe you. I want to, but I cannot."

"My lady," he said. "I am yours. Only let me prove it and I will." He was fearful, plaintive. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her, pressing his mouth against hers. She kissed back, searching for the truth of his words in his touch. If there was deceit in him, it was hidden from his hands and his mouth.

"If you want me," she said, "then marry me. That is how you shall prove your love."

Purane-Es released her and stood back. "Are you serious?" he said.

"I am, if you are. Marry me tomorrow and we will let all else pass away."

"I would give anything that it be so. But your marriage to Mauritane…"

"He is not of noble birth. I have only to say it and that marriage is over. Have a witness brought forth and I will say it before him. Then let us never speak that name again."

Purane-Es wrapped her in his arms. "Can this be?" he said. "That out of such anger can come such love?"

"Let it be so, darling," said the Lady Anne. "Let it be so."

She fell into his arms and they stayed that way, clinging to one another, until the sun returned and cast out the remaining shadows.

a matter of perspective