Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 443
however. They may never understand our motives, or see the
full scope of the grand plan to be unfolded. We can only hope
that their children grow up to be happy, and free, whether they
revile our name or not.
He could almost hear her voice saying these words. They
were so like her, when in the blush of youth she had fairly burst
with idealistic passion. At the time, Lavin had barely
understood what she was saying, beyond feeling a certain
unease at her strange heresies. She was more intelligent than
he, they both knew that, and he had always felt that they both
accepted that he did not understand her.
In these diaries, though, he was finding so much
loneliness that at times the words brought him near tears. He
regretted now not striving to understand her better when he’d
had the chance--perhaps he could have changed the course of
her plans, and had she not been so lonely, perhaps she would
not have chosen fanaticism. He suspected she had ultimately
lived up to her reputation of madness because it was the only
role left to her in her isolation.
They had met the second time at the military academy. It
was some six months after the ball where he had received her
approving glance. There were some young girls in regular
attendance at academy balls, but Lavin rarely attended; being
the faithful son of a rather dour provincial baron, he distrusted
such affairs. Consequently he had lived on memories of that
one moment of recognition by her. When he heard on the
parade ground that the mad princess had been spotted riding
through town in man’s attire, his heart began to pound and he
missed his cue in the horse maneuver he was practising. At
mess that day he had discreetly asked after the source of the
rumor. It was true, it seemed: Galas was here, staying in an
inn not a kilometer from the academy.