Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 655
words or glances. They weren't holding hands. Still, she knew
a strong bond had developed between them--one based on
commonality that Megan could never share. They were both
rulers, of the highest possible caste. She was a peasant. Even
if (foolish dream!) Armiger married her, Megan would remain
a peasant. She could never be comfortable with the nobles and
ladies of the Court. Even if he became king of the world, as he
planned, she would blush and look down if she had to greet the
great people of other lands. She had thought about these
things. She knew she would rather serve them than look them
in the eye.
So shall I leave? she thought sadly. Armiger shrugged at
something Galas had said, and twitched his long hair back over
his shoulder. She knew that gesture so well, she could almost
hear him saying, "We will decide later." Her heart ached.
She herself had told him that you can never hold onto
anything. The harder you try, the more precious things slip
through your fingers. The secret to life, she had said, was to
find the little things, the unimportant ones that would
nonetheless always remind you of the precious things they
accompanied--and hold onto them. Like the fine furniture her
husband had carved for her, seemingly centuries ago.
Galas was weeping again. Megan sighed. Had the rain
found a way through her roof while she was away? Was the
fine wood of the bed and wardrobe ruined now? Had someone
moved into her house? Or would she find it exactly as she had
left it, if she returned now?
Kiss her, she mentally commanded Armiger. Make it
easy for me to leave. He did not, although he enfolded her in
his arms and rested a hand on her head as she cried. His
expression was distant, as it often was, as he rocked the queen
gently.