"You know her personally?"
A pause. "Yes."
Helena's expression shifts into something gentler. "Then we won't pretend." She folds her hands in her lap. "We can simply talk."
He looks at her properly for the first time. Something in him settles, just slightly.
"How do you know her?" she asks.
"We grew up together." His voice lowers. "She used to steal food from the kitchens and make me her accomplice."
Helena listens quietly.
"The princess got us both caught every time." A short laugh escapes him. "I never understood why she kept stealing food."
I was hungry, Aelfric.
The tension in his shoulders drops half an inch. "But she always shared it after."
"She sounds wonderful," Helena says softly.
Aelfric looks at his hands. "She is."
Silence settles between them. Something moves across his face and then goes still. I recognize that look. I have seen it atcouncil tables and on battlefields. It is the look he gets when he has counted the odds and found them against him.
"What's wrong? Tell me what keeps you awake," Helena murmurs. Her fingers find his forearm, light as a question.
He shouldn't answer. I can see him deciding not to.
"Do you love her?" she asks.
"Yes," he says without hesitation.
The word hits me somewhere behind the sternum. For a moment, I forget how to breathe.
Helena's hand moves to his jaw, tilting his face toward hers. "More than is proper?"
"She doesn't see me that way." His voice is rough. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters," Helena says simply.
"I'm not worthy of her."
"You are worthy," Helena murmurs, leaning closer. "So worthy, my brave knight."
This is wrong. I should reveal myself. I should end this. Her hand settles against his chest, light, testing. "Stay. Let me—"
"No." He catches her wrist firmly. "I'm sorry. No."
Helena goes very still. For the first time tonight her composure has a crack in it. I think she genuinely didn't see that coming. Neither did I. In a place where people pay for the privilege of her company, Helena had not expected to be turned away. No one has ever denied her. That much is clear from the look on her face.
The room seems to narrow around them.
Then her eyes fill.
Her chin dips and her mouth presses together. A single tear tracks down her cheek and she lets it go without wiping it away. She turns her face aside.
"Forgive me," she says. "I only thought—it doesn't matter."
