A couple of hours later I was sitting nervously at my desk, alone with my thoughts. My stomach felt like a pair of squirrels were fighting in it.

“Milord?” I heard a voice quietly venture from somewhere out in the hall. I turned my head, and saw Talia standing just beyond the open doorway, a hint of nervousness in how she held herself. She was gorgeous, the flickering torchlight from the hallway causing her golden curls to practically glow, stone arch framing her as she simply stood there, looking at me.

My heart thrummed oddly for a quick moment. If I hadn't spent the last hour rehearsing, I probably would have forgotten everything I'd been planning to say right there.

“Yes, Talia. Thank you for joining me,” I said, waving at the chair opposite mine. “Would you care for a seat?”

She entered the room a few steps and stood there, arms clasped at waist height.

“Is it necessary that I be seated, Milord?”

“It . . . not at all, but I just figured that if you would prefer, uh-”

She smiled daintily and remained standing where she was.

This whole thing was awkward. She probably wanted it that way, come to think of it. Maybe I even deserved it a little. Fine, I could deal with awkward.

Hopefully.

“Well, first things first, then. Talia, your involvement in the events of this past week has been extremely helpful. You've been an important part of everything that's gone right lately, and I wanted to make sure that you knew I was grateful. Also,” I smiled a little, “since you may not have had a chance to find out for yourself, I wanted to tell you that now, because of your actions, Blackstaag Keep may never smell the same.”

She smirked a little at that. Good. I allowed my own smile to get a bit wider.

“In addition to my gratitude, I wished to make sure that you were compensated appropriately,” I said, tipping my head towards a purse that lay on my desk, and then frowning at it a little. “It feels awkward to even offer, but considering how many bonuses I've been handing out lately, it didn't seem fair that-”

“Money would be fine, Milord,” she interrupted, bobbing her head slightly as she reached for the coins. “I'm not complaining about the wage that I do receive from you, but apparently it fails to take into account some things you didn't know about.”

“As to that,” I said, giving her a thoroughly chastened look, “I wish to also make a few corrections on that score. Your wage. Shall we say, an extra fifty gold?”

She simply stood there, hands clasped.

“Uhh . . . a week?” I added, hastily.

“That would be most kind, Milord,” she said, nodding.

I nodded back, a little relieved.

“There was also some mention of you perhaps . . . wishing to leave my service. Understandable, all things considered, but if I may, I'd like to offer you an alternative. I currently plan to have Cyrus, in addition to the majority of my staff, occupying Greybridge Keep while I remain here at Tucat Keep. Since you are keepmistress here, and furthermore, since you are the longest serving member of my staff, I offer the position of keepmistress at the new keep to you, if you wish it. There would be a much larger staff there, and you could have as much or as little authority as you desire over them.”

Talia pursed her lips, considering.

“And what is your wish, Milord?” she asked after a while. “Would you like me to accept it?”

“I wish to know what you wish, Talia.”

The silence stretched on for a minute or so, and I began to feel a little more awkward and tense.

“I think,” she said, tilting her head and pursing her perfect rose-colored lips once more, “that I would prefer to stay here at Tucat Keep, Milord.”

“Fair enough,” I said, nodding slowly, my heart racing inside the confines of my chest. Relief washed over me, and I felt my shoulders relax marginally. “I'm glad, Talia. And grateful. And, if it's alright with you, I'd like to take a moment to discuss a personal matter.”

She nodded for me to continue. I bowed my head slightly in thanks. We'd both been making a lot of head gestures these past few minutes, it seemed.

Very strange, the things you realize in the moment.

“I've . . . done a lot of thinking lately, Talia,” I said, shifting in my seat. Now that they were leaving my mouth, the words that I'd rehearsed so carefully seemed stunted and crude, inadequate. “I've been thinking of all the things that you've done for me, all the things I've been blind to all this time. How completely and thoroughly I've misjudged you. I'm not proud of myself.” I frowned a little, giving her a look that was both somber and contrite. “I've always liked you. A long time now . . . years, in fact. A good friend of mine, one of the few people I can actually call friend, knows this as well. He asked me why the notion of asking you to dinner, or even simply taking a chance and getting to know you better, never went beyond an idle daydream. He asked me if I hated myself. I've thought about it, and I don't . . . but I've discovered something I wasn't aware of before. At least, not consciously.

“At first I thought it might have been the whole notion that I wasn't good enough – that I had nothing to offer a woman like yourself. Family means a great deal to me, for obvious reasons. The whole notion of robbing whoever I was with of the opportunity to have a family, well,” I sighed softly, “it seemed unbearably selfish. And unfair. I thought that might be the reason, not wanting to take that possibility away from you, or from anybody. I even managed to half believe that was the reason myself. But it's not.

“I've always thought you were the most stunning woman I've ever met, Talia. You're beautiful enough to make my heart ache just watching you walk by, or hearing you laugh, or seeing you smile. I discovered that I want more than that. I need more than a beautiful face, a pretty smile. I don't hate myself at all, it's just the opposite . . . I was waiting for someone who I felt was worth it, someone who had more to offer me than merely good looks, a smile, or a laugh. Someone capable of understanding who it was that I am. Someone who knows and accepts me, flaws and all . . .

“In retrospect, I'm sort of glad we had the talk in your bedroom, because it led me to discover what is perhaps the most beautiful side of you. Think on this - if I'd attempted to court you then, or when you thought I'd proposed, caring not a lick that you had a brain in your head, how long would it have taken you to figure out? What would you have thought of me then?”

Talia was looking upwards and to her left, and after a while she nodded, slowly.

“I hadn't really looked at it that way,” she said, finally. “You're saying my joy would have been short lived, because I'd eventually have discovered that you merely found me pretty.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. I had hoped I'd explained myself well enough, and it appeared that she saw what I was talking about. I felt my pulse quicken, and my heart expressed a desire to leave my chest entirely and begin bouncing around the study.

“Fair enough, I can accept that.” She gave me the sort of smile that might cause someone to forget their own name. She appeared to be waiting for me to continue, to say something more.

I ran my fingers through my hair nervously.

“And so, now that I do know what kind of a remarkable woman you are, I was wondering if . . . uh, you know,” I said, feeling my face heat up slightly, “that we might . . . uh . . .”

Talia showed me a good number of her front teeth.

“That we might what?” she asked, sweetly.

“You know,” I said, suddenly wishing that I'd thought to practice this part of the conversation, “give it a try.”

“Give what a try, Milord?”

“You know,” I said awkwardly, attempting a small shrug that ended up looking like a spastic twitch. “Us. You and me.”

“Milord, I'm not sure what you mean.”

Yeah, she definitely wanted this to be awkward.

“I'm pretty sure you do,” I said, wondering briefly how red my face was.

“A lady does not presume,” she said, her prim tone completely at odds with the gleeful expression on her face. She arched one brow. “Was there perhaps something that you wanted to ask me, Milord?”

She was enjoying this. Well, maybe she deserved to. Maybe I deserved being put on the spot like this, feeling awkward. She'd had her feelings knocked around a great deal this past little while.

I took a very careful breath, exhaled, and then took another.

“Well, yes. Uhm . . . Talia,” I said, “would you like to escort me to a tea shop, or a banquet one of these nights? Perhaps attend a play with me?”

Talia rewarded me with the kind of smile that should really be accompanied by an angelic choir. I felt weightless, invincible, and victorious all at once. She took a gentle, delicate breath, and somehow managed to smile even larger, though I could have sworn such a thing impossible.

“No,” she said, sweetly, the smile on her face not flickering for even a moment.

Time stopped . . .

Seriously, that's what it was like. Nothing moved, not in the slightest. I swear, I don't think I was even breathing.

My heart came out of its stupor and reminded itself that it was supposed to be busy pumping blood to the rest of my various body parts, most of which were still reeling in shock at the single syllable Talia had uttered, each of them malfunctioning in their own special way. My ears roared, my vision swam a bit. My arms tingled slightly. My tongue informed me that an entire pound of dirt had been shoved in my mouth when I hadn't been paying attention. A full minute passed in silence.

“Uhm,” I said, frowning slightly. “Please?”

Hey. Don't judge me, it was worth a shot. And besides, my brain wasn't working very well just then.

“Milord, as I am presently still serving in my capacity as keepmistress, I feel I should ask – do I have permission to speak freely?”

“Gods, Talia . . . I've never objected to you speaking your mind! Why do you feel you need permission to-”

“I could resign my post, I suppose,” she mused cheerfully. “That way, there'd be nothing at all preventing me from speaking to you freely, Milord. Shall I do that?”

“You have permission to speak freely,” I said, quickly.

“These past few days, Vincent,” she said, her eyes taking on a slightly fierce look, “I've spent a lot of time thinking. Feeling things. Some of them angry things. Feeling like a fool. And in that time I've come to a rather interesting conclusion – I've decided that I'm not someone you can simply 'settle' for.”

“You're not, Talia, I-”

“Not finished,” she said, holding her finger up warningly.

I closed my mouth.

“True, I realize there are certain things that I could have done differently over the years. I haven't exactly been a model of poise and composure when you've been around, I will admit. Some of what has happened is the result of my foolishness, and some errors in my judgment, and so this situation can be considered my fault to some degree.”

“It's not-” I began.

“Not. Finished.”

I resolved to keep my mouth shut for a while.

“So yes, maybe I was guilty of some daydreams as well. Maybe I wasn't seeing what was really in front of me either, or I unfairly believed that you somehow knew the things I wanted you to know merely because my heart was so desperately wishing you would. What's done is done, and now here we are.” Talia straightened her back a little. “You've hurt me. Unintentional, to be sure, but that doesn't dull how it feels in the slightest. You can't simply say 'Let's forget that happened', start over and try again. I'm wounded, and suddenly find myself conflicted. You see, I know my worth . . . knew from the beginning that I was worthy of your attention.” She gave me a look, tilting her head slightly and narrowing her eyes the tiniest bit. “I no longer know if you're worthy of mine.”

Out of the corner of my eye, and without shifting my gaze, I saw that her hands were trembling the slightest bit. Her chin was also wobbling ever so slightly in an effort to restrain her bottom lip. Emotion, and lots of it.

She was angry . . . upset. Upset with me for not living up to her expectations, or perhaps upset with herself for realizing that she had them in the first place. Possibly both. Maybe she was upset with me for not being able to fix things once they'd gotten to this point. I didn't know for sure, really. She was emotional though, and that meant something.

It meant she cared. Perhaps all was not lost.

“I understand,” I said softly, not knowing what else to say.

Talia regarded me coolly.

“Maybe you don't, actually. I keep forgetting, you don't pick up on these sorts of things at all like I'd hoped. I should spell it out for you.” She held out a hand and began counting fingers. “I liken cut flowers to murder. I have very little use for jewelry, and even less use for macho posturing. I enjoy books. I hate candy, and all other thoughtless presents requiring no real insight of any kind. Poetry is fine, but I am a rather harsh critic of such things.”

“Huh?” I said, my head beginning to swim again.

“Prove yourself! Win me over! Convince me that visiting a tea shop with you isn't a horrible idea. Show me what I mean to you. Act like one of the Lords in those silly fairy tales,” she said, her voice becoming louder as she spoke. “Woo me, for crying out loud! Shall I paint it on a sign for you?”

“You're . . . demanding to be wooed?” I managed to ask, my voice betraying some of my disbelief.

“No. Not at all. I'm just telling you what it'll take. We're not simply going to pick up the pieces and have the relationship you want to have. This is what my self-love requires. If you can't figure out what I'm looking for from you, or if you don't feel like humbling yourself enough to do it, then I'll know just how important I really am to you, won't I? Quite honestly,” she gave me an appraising look, “I think that your own self-love won't allow such a thing – that it simply won't stand for the notion that you're not somehow calling all the shots. I expect that soon I'll have my answer, and I'll become angry enough to kill all of the hopes I might once have had, all of the feelings I've been tucking away quietly all these years. It might even make saying goodbye less painful.” She drew herself up once again. “I am not a 'prize' you can just step forward and claim simply because of who you happen to be, or just because you've finally managed to figure out that I happen to like you.”

There was more of that long, oppressive silence . . . minutes busily stretching themselves into days as I sat there.

“I . . . think I understand,” I said.

“Well then,” Talia said, changing how she held herself ever so slightly, “I suppose we shall see, won't we? And now, that being said,” she bobbed her head, “will there be anything else, Milord?”

I could only shake my head.

“Very good, Milord,” she said, giving me a quick curtsey before turning with a toss of her head, golden curls dancing in the torchlight, and swishing her way out of the study.

Surrounded by sudden stillness, I decided it would be best to sit there and practice blinking for a while.

That . . . hadn't gone exactly as I'd planned.

She'd been right about a lot of things lately. Though it may not have felt like it, this was probably one of the things that she was right about.

I hadn't done anything to show I deserved someone like her, had I? I'd blustered around carelessly, treading on her feelings from the very beginning. Even after I'd caught a glimpse of who she was, my brain kept attempting to settle back into how I'd always thought of her, paying no attention whatsoever to the side of her that she'd been so desperately trying to show me all these years.

I did understand. I would need to prove myself.

My understandings did very little to help how I felt, though. I sat there at my desk, breathing deeply, listening to the gentle popping of the torches and lamps in the hallway.

Eventually those sounds were joined by the sounds of two of my knights returning to the door, each sounding as though they'd had a rather satisfying meal.

Sighing softly, I got up from my desk and walked through the door and past my knights, giving them a quick nod. Then I went down the hall to the end stairwell and dropped down two flights of stairs to the main greeting room. I went to a side hallway, followed it to the back patio, through the garden, turned and went down the stairs leading to the wine cellar. Ignoring the rows of dust-covered bottles, I walked down a rather inconspicuous hallway, and hopped over various pressure plates and other assorted traps until I came to the door of my exercise hall. After about a minute of turning keys and disabling alarms, it opened up before me.

Theo was sitting in his usual spot, reading. The card table had been set up already, and the candle set upon it had burned down about halfway, but Theo didn't appear to be annoyed. Actually, I'd told him I wouldn't be down until a few hours after dinner, so he'd likely just wanted to get away from his staff for a bit and find a place to relax for a while. It would be a nice change, finally having a chance to relax.

He looked up as the door closed behind me with a groaning creak, various locks clacking themselves into place authoritatively.

“How did it go?” he asked, half-closing his book.

“Well, Cyrus showed me this very strange thing he can do with his eyes once I proposed that thing about Greybridge Keep. He probably won't be joining us for cards this evening – I told him to take a few days, get used to the idea. Connor stopped by, like I figured he might. We talked a bit . . . and my brain almost exploded when he showed me some of the stuff he was just carrying around with him. He's probably still upstairs, emptying the kitchen as we speak.”

“I see,” he said, grinning. “And Talia?”

I gave him a look.

“What do you know about courting?” I asked. “And what's the best way to convince a woman that you're not a colossally thick-headed ignorant sod?”

Theo winced. “Ouch.”

“Well, it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. I'm not lying in a field somewhere with hungry buzzards feasting on my liver, after all.” I looked about the room briefly. “Do you know if I have any paper down here? I didn't think to bring any with me.”

“Paper? What for?” Theo asked, putting his book down before adjusting how he was sitting. Then, he looked at me with the barest trace of a smirk. “You're going to start a second journal already, aren't you - write about this little incident? You do know we only have to do one per year, right?”

“Yes, I know, but I figure if I do a second one I'm covered for next year if things get dicey. No rule against that. Besides, writing kind of relaxes me. But no, that's not what I need paper for,” I said, spotting a small collection of paper on the far end table and walking up to it. “I need ideas . . . all the different ways you can go about wooing someone. Preferably ways that don't involve candy or flowers. I may as well get started, put a list together.”

“Well, I'm not a complete amateur when it comes to that sort of thing - I've got a few things I've tried that have worked fairly well over the years. How many do you figure you need?”

“How about 'all of them'?” I said, giving him a weak smile.

Theo chuckled, getting up from his chair.

“Well, at least we'll finally have some time to focus on things like that,” he grinned. “Sometimes you don't quite realize how stressful your life has been until everything causing you grief gets resolved. These past couple of months have been brutal - I feel like a blacksmith's knapsack has been lifted from my shoulders.” He gestured at the secret door. “We can skip playing cards, if you'd prefer. I don't feel much like losing money tonight anyways. Give me a few minutes to go and get a couple of things, and we'll work on your list. I've got a book or two that might come in handy.”

“Appreciated,” I said, bobbing my head as I hopped onto the couch and tucked my legs under me, hand already reaching for the quill sitting on the table.

Theo mentioning his shoulders made me realize that my own shoulders were feeling much lighter as well. It even felt like I could breathe a little bit deeper, more satisfyingly, as if ropes of stress and uncertainty had been untied after months of binding my ribcage to my spine. It's amazing how much better life seems when you don't have dozens of angry Lords wishing you dead. It does marvelous things for your ability to relax.

Hell, I even managed to smile. Suddenly, it wasn't that difficult a thing to do.

I'd increased my prestige a little bit these past couple of months, made a few dozen Lords even more wary of me, proved to the rest of the world that a six-fold increase in territory size wasn't enough to slow me down. I had neutralized a thief the likes of which this city had never seen before, and even managed to forge a bit of a connection with him, one that might turn itself into tutelage, or friendship. And I'd even managed to see Prince Tenarreau stricken, off balance, and humiliated.

It had been a good day.

And Talia cared. That may have been the best thing. She'd said 'no', it was true, but she'd left the door open. She'd hinted just how difficult it might be, and flat out told me that my own arrogance and self-love would be my undoing . . . but in the end, I had a shot. I had a feeling she was worth it, too.

And I'd prove it.

It looked like I'd be finding out if I was much of a poet.

“Hey, Theo?” I called behind me just as my friend was reaching for the torch-lever that opened the secret door. My hand pressed my quill to the pad of paper I held. “Which would you say is easier to rhyme - 'idiot' or 'moron'?”