Written for the Seanfhocal Circle's challenge 3.

I'm talking to her, but she does not answer. She hears, but she does not listen. She's watching them.

I don't think she even knows why she does it. Perhaps she tells herself that she worries for him, fears that Varice will break his heart.

I laugh inside my head. Not likely. His heart is not hers to harm. It probably will be the other way round – but she'll console herself, like my mother said she did last time he left.

I just hope the circumstances won't be the same.

I want to see her again, after the treaty is concluded. I want to know her – not as I do now, on the surface, with explanations of her preferences every other minute and always saying something I should not. No, I want to know her like he does, her hopes and dreams of the future, her every thought and word anticipated. To know the deepest, darkest recesses of her soul. And better, to know the touch of her lips, how her hand might caress your cheek, things that he only, will ever only, dream of.

Because I know him, you see. I know better than to suggest that he might have bedded her, he is far too honourable. She would be infuriated at the very word, a sharp tongue that resembles her friend the Lioness's.

But I know better than to say anything of my affections. For one, she does not return my love, second, she is a Gallan peasant girl, no fit consort for an Emperor's heir, and to take her in any other manner would be to incite the fury of a black robe mage, he has made that abundantly clear.

I cannot hate him, for she would cast me off in a moment if I spoke of it, and I would not be able to keep it a secret. Her feelings for me, whatever they are, are much overshadowed by her love for him, no matter what labels she puts on it. His friendship – or even just his presence in her life – is more important to her than anything else. I worry that my uncle may have him put to death on a trumped-up charge, to settle his grudge, and I do not fear for him, or even myself. I fear for what she might do, in her grief, to herself or others.

But a Gallan peasant girl, no matter how highly she is thought of by the Tortallan royalty, is not for me.