him.”
Hector was heartbroken. He felt physically ill, and a pain crept from his gut, through his stomach, and up into his chest, where it clutched his heart in its fiery grip. He wanted to cry out, to scream his anger and defeat at the sky. But by some blessing of the Divines, he kept silence, and listened patiently.
“I don’t have a dowry, you know, with our parents gone, and I wanted to offer him something more than just my care. So I had planned on apprenticing to be a seamstress. But then Lord Aneirin came to town, and we were to leave on this quest straightaway.”
Hector claimed a quiet victory for being the cause of the dissolution of their plans; at the same time, he ached to bring her suffering.
“I don’t know what came over him,” she said, her voice tightening, “He had been so sweet and so kind, and we were so excited about the coming spring. But as we were leaving, he was so…” She struggled to find the word, but stumbled upon it at last. “Bitter.”
She fell silent. Hector sensed that he should say something now. Trying to be helpful, he asked, “So what now? Are you still betrothed?”
She shrugged. She let her gaze wander until it fell on a passing butterfly. The brightly colored beauty seemed to please her as it flitted in front of her nose, but her faint smile was whisked away with the wind. “I don’t know,” she answered at last. “You were there. He said I should forget it.”
Hector remembered. He had been there, of course. He had seen that look on Gregory’s face. How much he loved her. There was no question in his mind: whatever Lord Aneirin had told him, Gregory did not expect to see any of them again.
He tried to think of the right thing to say. He wanted to fix everything; but more than that, he wanted Bronwyn to realize how much he loved her, how much he wanted her in his life forever. He could lie, tell her that Gregory was worthless and foolish, that only he, Hector, could solve all of her problems and make her happy.
But then he would be lying to the woman he loved. After a few long moments of walking in silence, Hector said, “Bronwyn, you are worth caring about. And there are those who care about you. And if, by some chance, Gregory has lost sight of how worthy you are, then he is a fool. But if he hasn’t—if he still respects you—then he wants you to be happy.”
He gestured at the hillock they were descending; it was covered in wildflowers of every color, cascading down its side like a sweet-smelling rainbow. “Look around you! Look where we are!” he encouraged her, “When you’re in the presence of true beauty, you can’t help but… love it.” As he finished, he looked at her fervently.
As she spied the gentle wilderness all around them, a warm smile spread across her face. There was still pain in that expression; there was still the loss of her regard in Gregory’s eyes, nagging at her; but she was able to put it aside and enjoy the gods’ creation. She turned to Hector, to thank him for giving her perspective, but she found him taking his turn to stare fixedly at the ground. She placed a tender hand on his shoulder.
He started, but soon got control of himself. “Oh!” he said, “I was just…” He trailed off, unsure how to express himself. He tried again, “This is all so lovely. I can’t imagine what a war would do to a place like this.” He took a deep breath, then sighed it back out. “And I’m not sure I can beat Derek.” He paused, giving his head a small shake. “And even if I can, I don’t think I could kill him.”
Her smile became kinder. “I know you,” she said, “and I know that you’re strong enough to do what the gods are asking of you.” But his stare did not falter. If he heard her, he gave no indication of it. He seemed rapt in his concern. With the hand still on his shoulder, she shook him, throwing off his balance enough to attract his attention. “I trust you,” she reassured him, “to do exactly
Hector was heartbroken. He felt physically ill, and a pain crept from his gut, through his stomach, and up into his chest, where it clutched his heart in its fiery grip. He wanted to cry out, to scream his anger and defeat at the sky. But by some blessing of the Divines, he kept silence, and listened patiently.
“I don’t have a dowry, you know, with our parents gone, and I wanted to offer him something more than just my care. So I had planned on apprenticing to be a seamstress. But then Lord Aneirin came to town, and we were to leave on this quest straightaway.”
Hector claimed a quiet victory for being the cause of the dissolution of their plans; at the same time, he ached to bring her suffering.
“I don’t know what came over him,” she said, her voice tightening, “He had been so sweet and so kind, and we were so excited about the coming spring. But as we were leaving, he was so…” She struggled to find the word, but stumbled upon it at last. “Bitter.”
She fell silent. Hector sensed that he should say something now. Trying to be helpful, he asked, “So what now? Are you still betrothed?”
She shrugged. She let her gaze wander until it fell on a passing butterfly. The brightly colored beauty seemed to please her as it flitted in front of her nose, but her faint smile was whisked away with the wind. “I don’t know,” she answered at last. “You were there. He said I should forget it.”
Hector remembered. He had been there, of course. He had seen that look on Gregory’s face. How much he loved her. There was no question in his mind: whatever Lord Aneirin had told him, Gregory did not expect to see any of them again.
He tried to think of the right thing to say. He wanted to fix everything; but more than that, he wanted Bronwyn to realize how much he loved her, how much he wanted her in his life forever. He could lie, tell her that Gregory was worthless and foolish, that only he, Hector, could solve all of her problems and make her happy.
But then he would be lying to the woman he loved. After a few long moments of walking in silence, Hector said, “Bronwyn, you are worth caring about. And there are those who care about you. And if, by some chance, Gregory has lost sight of how worthy you are, then he is a fool. But if he hasn’t—if he still respects you—then he wants you to be happy.”
He gestured at the hillock they were descending; it was covered in wildflowers of every color, cascading down its side like a sweet-smelling rainbow. “Look around you! Look where we are!” he encouraged her, “When you’re in the presence of true beauty, you can’t help but… love it.” As he finished, he looked at her fervently.
As she spied the gentle wilderness all around them, a warm smile spread across her face. There was still pain in that expression; there was still the loss of her regard in Gregory’s eyes, nagging at her; but she was able to put it aside and enjoy the gods’ creation. She turned to Hector, to thank him for giving her perspective, but she found him taking his turn to stare fixedly at the ground. She placed a tender hand on his shoulder.
He started, but soon got control of himself. “Oh!” he said, “I was just…” He trailed off, unsure how to express himself. He tried again, “This is all so lovely. I can’t imagine what a war would do to a place like this.” He took a deep breath, then sighed it back out. “And I’m not sure I can beat Derek.” He paused, giving his head a small shake. “And even if I can, I don’t think I could kill him.”
Her smile became kinder. “I know you,” she said, “and I know that you’re strong enough to do what the gods are asking of you.” But his stare did not falter. If he heard her, he gave no indication of it. He seemed rapt in his concern. With the hand still on his shoulder, she shook him, throwing off his balance enough to attract his attention. “I trust you,” she reassured him, “to do exactly
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