Disclaimer: All characters and locations herein are the property of Tamora Pierce. Plot and actual written words owned by me. In addition, the title of the story is taken from the song In My Life by John Lennon and Paul McCartney.
"Arram?"
"Please, call me Numair."
The girl wore an apologetic look. "I'm sorry," she said, "that's just how I remember you. Can I come in?"
He let her in.
Once the door was shut behind her, Varice Kingsford removed her veil. For all her many years in Carthak, she had never adjusted to local fashions, and the veil was her constant annoyance. Arram Draper had often listened to her lamentations on the subject. Numair Salmalìn remembered.
She stepped toward him. "How have you been?" she asked, her voice filled with warmth and worry.
"I'm good," said Numair. "Tortall has been good to me. You look almost exactly as I remember."
She laughed. "You must lie," she said, "because I look in the mirror every day and I see the lines on my face."
"You still look good," insisted Numair. "Has the emperor…"
"The emperor has been very kind to me since I received my adept's credentials," said Varice. "Few other employers would have offered such pay and such freedom. He funded my mastery, you know. And few others could afford to spend money on a mage for such flippant matters as householdry and entertainment."
When they were young, he had often made light of her Gift, calling her a sparkly-fingered housewife. She had laughed and teased him back, but now, years later, he realized how hurtful his lighthearted scorn must have been to her. "You do your work marvelously." It was true; she was a master at her own arts.
"Numair," he mouth formed the unfamiliar name hesitantly.
"Yes?"
"I've been wanting to ask you…" she hesitated.
"Go ahead, please," he said.
"I wanted to ask why you didn't want me to come to Tortall with you."
Now he hesitated. "I don't know," he finally said. "I suppose I feared for you as much as I feared for myself. And I didn't want to get in the way of your social circle. You had so many more friends than me -- you probably still do. And maybe I thought you wouldn't…"
"Wouldn't want to come?" asked Varice softly. "But I did."
Numair looked deep in thought.
"I wonder what might have…" but she said nothing more. She knew better. "I think I'll go, now."
"Varice, I…"
"Arram, don't," said Varice, her naturally-smooth voice a little harsh. "I know you don't love me, so just… don't." She reached for the door before he caught up to her and took hold of her arm.
"I did love you, Varice," he said earnestly. "Believe me, I did."
Varice sighed. "But now you don't."
"I'm sorry."
She pulled her arm free of his grasp and adjusted her veil with trembling fingers. About to leave, she stopped and reached into the tiny pocket in the wrist hem of her sleeve and pulled out a delicate linen handkerchief. The light cloth fell gently on the table by the door, which then shut.
And Numair picked it up and spread it out flat, tracing the embroidered initials on it with one sad finger.