Author's Notes:

I've had the basic plot for this story in my head for almost six years. I couldn't write it right away because there were several other fics that had to come first, and once I'd written those, there were new ideas demanding immediate attention. In the time it's taken me to get around to this tale, some major changes have been made to the plot. The story behind this story is, I think, worth telling, but too long for this space. You can read it at Shining Force Central's forums; look for "The Unofficial Fanfic Thread 3" in the Shining Fanwork subforum. If you want to check out a full-size version of the cover art, go to my profile page for details.

The milieu and characters of this fanfic are property of Sega. This story is set roughly two years after Shining Force CD Book 3.

Our Deepest Fear

plot and script - Martin III

artwork - ExevaloN

The thought had occurred to Nick that, if there were not some doubt in his own mind that his father was the greatest king Cypress had ever had, he would not be climbing Crow Mountain at this moment. Something about ascending a steep, craggy surface while being swatted with increasingly chill winds made it hard to be dishonest with oneself.

But he was also confident that any doubt he carried was based solely on the word of two people whose wisdom he held a profound respect for. One was the same person he sought on his journey. The other was Mayfair.

Nick remembered the nod Mayfair had given when she said, "I'm sure." It was filled with strength, yet there was a faint shame lurking there.

He took a faint sip of wine, trying to hide his excitement. "...Very well. Of course, if you ever wish to return to separate sleeping arrangements, I will not hesitate to accommodate you." He gained enough control over himself to look at her directly. "You have my gratitude."

She shook her head. "No, you have mine. When I insisted we refrain from intercourse, I blinded myself to your desires, pretended that you had no reason to want relations with a wife who was already pregnant, even though I knew you did. That you gave in to my wishes without objection means a lot to me. Besides, it is not for your sake alone that I've suggested this." She looked down, swallowed. "I never wanted marital relations with you, Nick. At some level, I still abhor the idea. But while our abstinence during my first pregnancy was a genuine relief, of late I... I have felt... desires similar to yours."

For several moments Nick was too surprised to say anything to this. He idly tapped his fork on his forgotten pork, then straightened up, stood, walked to Mayfair's side of the table, and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "For you to admit something like that took a remarkable amount of courage."

"No... I just..."

"You don't need to be strong for my sake. I know you. I know how much your celibacy meant to you. It was hard enough when I pressured you into giving it up by marrying me, and to be tempted away from it can only be worse. I'm sorry." He lightly rubbed her back, in the most reassuring manner he could manage. "I should have been a better friend to you."

"It's alright. You were just trying to do your duty to Cypress, by procuring the best queen you could."

"Perhaps. But the best queen should not have been necessary. To be honest, my insistence on having you as my queen may have been driven less by my love for Cypress than my ego and possessiveness." He released her and, realizing there was nothing to be gained by pursuing that subject, made a quick segue. "Not unlike my manner of dealing with Lord Petruck today."

The change in subject dispelled Mayfair's gloom, and she looked up at him. "I was actually going to compliment you on not losing your temper with him. I know I would have."

"Which is why I didn't ask you to speak with him. Losing one's temper would not convince him to send his surplus grain to the areas suffering from poor harvests." The trace of a wry smile found its way to his face. "No more than insulting him did."

"You said nothing that wasn't true, and you obviously intended that 'insult' to shame him into doing the right thing. And it isn't as though you hadn't been trying to reason with him for a good while before resorting to that. You did your best."

He shook his head. "It wasn't enough, and that's all that matters. If I were anywhere near the king my father was, I -"

Mayfair shot up from her chair, eyes filled with outrage, as though that straw had broken some long-burdened camel's back. "You're three times the king your father was!"

At that, Nick went half-blind with fury. He was barely even aware of himself seizing Mayfair by the arms as he glared at her. "Take. That. Back."

"Nick..." she gasped, trying in vain to pull away from him. "You're hurting me!"

"Take it back."

Tears were starting to run from her eyes at the physical pain; Nick knew her too well to think she might cry so easily from emotion. "Nick, you... don't understand. I'm not saying your father wasn't a great king. He was, but you surpass him by -"

"No, you don't understand," he cut her off. "Everything I am as king is at best a shadow of my father's greatness. As strong a king as I may be, the only thing I've ever excelled him at is magic wielding, an almost insignificant asset to a monarch. That is how glorious my father was in his role. For you to insult him from sheer ignorance is indefensible."

"Ignorance?! Nick, I may not be a noble or royal, but I am the daughter of the archbishop of Cypress. I know what your father did, and even met him once. He may have been strong and intelligent, but if you think he had even a glimmer of your humility, or your compassion, then he fooled you as much as he fooled -"

Mayfair broke off with a barely stifled cry as he twisted the muscles in her right arm. "My father had no need for humility. He was the greatest king Cypress – no, the entire world – has ever known. You cannot mark him as lesser than me, with my multiple failures."

"I hate him," she sobbed, her voice noticeably weaker now. "He took away your ability to admit love. If it weren't for him, you could have married Muriel and been happy! You've served Cypress with all your heart and given up all the sweat off your back for it, and that's the reward he left you with. He served Cypress for nothing but the glorification of his own ego!"

Nick shoved her away from him. His glare must have shown his rage, even as he fought to stifle it. "I won't allow my father's name to be desecrated. If you can't give him the respect he earned, then be silent." He turned and stormed out of the room, leaving their dinner still unfinished behind him.

The rocky surface of the mountain, ice cold from being buffeted by the winds, seemed to bite at his hands. He did not mind the sensation, allowed it to simply invigorate him. After all, the ascent he was tackling was not a genuine danger to him; despite his desire for present solitude, he would not have attempted it alone if it were. He had no right to place the ruler of Cypress in unnecessary danger.

The possibility that his anger at Mayfair stemmed from denial surfaced in his thoughts. He discarded it as not worth considering. He loved his father and respected what he had done for Cypress as king; no motive for his anger beyond that was necessary. Furthermore, no more than half of what Mayfair had said had even the smallest grain of truth to it. She'd admitted so herself.

Though she had seemed surprised to see him, Nick felt no reluctance at all about joining Mayfair in bed that night. He was not a man who held on to his anger, nor was Mayfair a woman who was easy to stay angry at. With her firm, gentle wisdom and authority, it would be like holding a grudge against one's own mother. Moreover, there was nothing personal about their mating, now that she was already pregnant. He was simply indulging his sexual appetite. Though Nick always tried to be considerate to his wife, in practice he rarely gave a thought to her feelings, and so the notion of her sharing his pleasure did not bother him.

She had a candle lit by the bedside, and he made no move to extinguish it as he disrobed. Mayfair preferred darkness for their mating, and he generally allowed that, but she had an exquisite figure and he relished the sight of it unclothed. That sight was not granted to him at the moment, as she was still wearing her nightgown. Even so, the thought that she might reject his advances never occurred to him. Foolish, he saw in retrospect, but there it was.

He kissed her mouth as he stroked the smooth skin of her arm. She made no response, simply let him do as he would, but that was not unusual, nor did he mind it. To reach the curve of her shoulder, Nick pushed up her sleeve. There he stopped. "What is this?"

"A bruise," she answered. "From when you grabbed me earlier."

"Why have you not healed it?" he demanded.

The look on her face was stern, not angry. "If you resort to brutality, then you must face the wounds you've inflicted. I'm not going to cover it up just to make you feel better."

The bruise was large, and colored a harsh purple. Mayfair was right; he had not realized just how badly he'd hurt her. Oddly, it struck him how courageous she was to have allowed him to touch her after that.

After staring at the bruise for a moment, he got out of bed and went to the dresser to fetch his pajamas. "Alright, I apologize."

Mayfair blinked. "What?"

"I apologize. I lost my temper, and I was so blinded by anger that I honestly did not realize how hard I was gripping your arm. It should not have happened, regardless of the provocation. I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused you. Now please, heal yourself."

It was certainly a hurried apology, and he could not deny that he felt a bit annoyed at having to surrender his first night in bed with his queen in nearly a month. But he meant every word of it, and he knew Mayfair knew him well enough to see past the bluntness to the sincerity of his apology. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw she was applying her hand to the bruise.

Her eyes were soft, gleaming at him with an admiration bordering on wonderment. "Nick, surely you realize -"

"How little control over my emotions I have compared to my father?" he said, too overcome with bitterness to stop himself from interrupting her.

"Good spirits, Nick, you can't be serious. Your control over your emotions is exemplary; you've never let your feelings keep you from ruling the best you can. You only lost your temper with me because your father was the subject... and for my part in that, I too must apologize." She did not break her gaze from him. "I said some things about your father which are not necessarily true. I met him once, as I told you, and on that occasion he... did not give my father the respect he was due. He belittled both him and our calling as priests."

"You were young then, weren't you? I'm sure you misunderstood."

Mayfair shook her head. "Gadrios was not subtle about it." Once Nick had gotten a good look at her restored arm, she pulled the sleeve of her nightgown back down. "You know how dearly I loved my own father. I'm sure you can understand how the way King Gadrios treated him, along with the way he raised you as a person, would make it hard for me to be completely objective about him."

"It is admirable of you to admit it."

But she was not finished, and the motherly tone had returned to her voice. "My feelings aside, though, you are still a much better king than he was, and I think it is important for you to realize that. Of the mistakes you've made, most of them were made by emulating your father."

"So you say." Now finished with putting on his pajamas, he gave her a half smile. "Perhaps you fancy you know more about ruling than either my father or me?"

"Of course not, but where you see only your duty, your subjects see the good you accomplish. And Nick, it isn't only me who sees you're doing better than your father did. There's Gyan, and don't forget Dava."

"Gyan is a good advisor, but as my personal protector, he is biased towards me. As for Dava, you misunderstood her. When she said I was easily as strong a king as my father, she meant that only as encouragement, not as a true assessment."

She stared at him. "You can't really believe that. Dava is a woman who has been entrusted with testing the suitability of generations of Cypress's kings. And you say that she would lie about a candidate's ability, simply to encourage him?"

"What else could she have meant?"

With that, he climbed into his side of the bed. The quilt lay warmly, reassuringly over him. It had been a long day, and he welcomed the opportunity for rest.

There were several moments of silence, but Mayfair did not join him in reclining. Instead she at last said, "If that's your best response, you must have your own doubts. Deep down, you know Dava meant just what she said."

"You're wrong," he said, but he knew that was woefully inadequate. So he added, "I'll prove it. I'll ask her myself."

Mayfair had of course been incredulous at first. A trip to Dava's mansion was not just a day's ride; it was a considerable journey to make for an answer to a question about a dead man. But come the morning, she told him she had thought it over and concluded that it was a wonderful idea and would be very good for him. If nothing else, she said, he was due for a break from the day-to-day chores of being king.

Her reasoning was sound, of course, but the cheer with which she endorsed the trip worried him. She seemed to have no doubt whatsoever that Dava would corroborate her analysis of his father.

But Nick was not a man who let worry cripple him. Already he had beaten Crow Mountain. After looking over the next precipice to see the mansion in the distance, he strained with his muscles one last time to pull himself up. It had been a good climb. He did not often have occasion to test the effectiveness of his physical training, and so it was a pleasure to find that the climb had not brought his body to the point of exhaustion. Once he was a safe distance from the edge, he took a short rest, and collected his thoughts.

Nick pondered if he might be dishonoring his father by approaching Dava with such a question. He could simply return to Castle Cypress now and tell Mayfair that she had said what he was sure she would say, that his father was still the greatest king Cypress had ever known. He was practiced enough at lying that she would believe him. But this notion was quickly discarded. Trying to disprove an insult to his father's name was not dishonoring him, and if he left now he would never be sure it were not out of fear that Mayfair was right.

"Is the little prince all worn out already?" a deep, powerful voice taunted.

Nick gave a start, and looked in the direction of the sound to see Gyan poking his head over the edge he'd just climbed over. He wasn't wearing his helmet, and his smooth fur coat was comically matted down where he usually wore it.

"'Lo, Nick."

"Hello, Gyan. I thought I told you to wait for me at the bottom."

"Yeah, well, I'm the Royal Protector; I go where you go whenever possible. I figured you just asked me to stay because you didn't realize I could climb a mountain if I just took my heavy armor off." He climbed up to the level ground, making it apparent that he was indeed wearing nothing but his loincloth and eye-patch.

"First of all, I didn't 'ask' you, I ordered you. Second, I ordered you to stay because this is a personal matter."

"Hey, I wasn't insisting on sitting in on your talk with Dava. If you want me to wait outside the mansion, I'll wait there. But I'm your friend... I have to be there for moral support if you need me." He spread out his massive legs and began doing some stretches. "More importantly, I need to be there to protect you. Really, Nick. Leaving the ruler of Cypress unprotected without cause? That's just not like you."

Nick looked away. "...You're right. Thank you." He felt ashamed. While there was no reason to expect enemies lurking in Dava's remote lands – quite the opposite – there was always the possibility, and with not even Gyan at his side he would have been extremely vulnerable. The suffering that would be brought on his people by his death would be his responsibility, the fruits of his carelessness. He was truly fortunate to have a Royal Protector who would challenge his orders when they were unwise.

But there was no sense in dwelling on the point; he'd told Gyan before that he appreciated his frank advice. He got to his feet. "I'd like to finish this as soon as possible. Come on."

Gyan strutted along beside him. "Nick, can I offer you a compliment?"

He sighed. "Are you offering it just to cheer me up?"

"Yeah, but it's true." He paused, apparently waiting for an objection, then went on, "Okay, here it is. You're handling this really well. Most people wouldn't have even thought to come here and ask Dava a question like that. They'd be too afraid of what the answer might be."

"I shouldn't have to ask Dava. I should know enough to be sure of the answer myself."

Gyan was silent in thought for a moment, then said, "If that were true, we wouldn't have any need for the coronation trials, would we?"

"...A valid point. Thank you."

They walked on to the mansion in silence. As his lifelong friend, Gyan knew better than to make a futile attempt to convince him that Mayfair was right, and Nick appreciated that.

Gyan accompanied him as far as the door to Dava's den. "At this time of day, she'll most likely be in here," Nick said, and knocked. A cackle, and an invitation to enter, were his answer. He turned to Gyan. "You don't mind waiting out here, do you?"

"Not so long as you're sure you won't need me."

Nick nodded, and opened the door.

Dava stood hunched over a cauldron, stirring something. Her eyes followed Nick as he closed the door behind them, but she said nothing.

"You seem to have been expecting me," he remarked.

"Hee hee. No one enters this mansion without my knowing it." She took a handful of herbs and threw them over the liquid in the cauldron. "But beyond that, no, I wasn't expecting to ever see you again. Doesn't your eldest have at least a dozen years to go before you even start thinking about him taking the trials? He's not supposed to take them until after you're dead, either."

"I have a question about something you said at the end of my coronation trials. About my father."

"Ah. He was a great king. It was a shame, how he had to go."

"You intimated that I might surpass him."

"Hee hee. Well, that was just to put it delicately. Politely." For a moment, Nick felt a sensation almost of relief. As little doubt as there had been in his mind, it did him good to hear his father vindicated. But then Dava went on, "The fact is, there's no uncertainty about it. In a sense, you've already surpassed your father."

For a moment he was silent. Then Nick all but erupted. "I suppose you consider yourself an expert on my father and I, having known us for the handful of days it takes to run your absurd trials."

Dava was not taken aback at all by his barb. Quite the opposite. She looked up from her cauldron with a broad, toothless grin. "Hee hee hee. Absurd they may be, but I learn a lot about a man when he goes through my trials. Oh, yes. I know you think I've always spent all my days in this mansion, but I spent quite a bit of time out in the world as part of my training. I know things. I understand people. Hee hee. I crafted my trials based on that understanding." She wagged a finger in the air. "I know more about you and your father from watching you run those absurd trials than I know about people who were my friends for ten years or more. This is my duty, remember. My life is devoted to judging the kings of Cypress."

"I... I apologize if I offended you."

"Oh, you can't offend such a little old lady." She was stirring the cauldron again. "But if you want to be a great king, you should heed the wisdom of those who know of what they speak."

"That is very true." His emotions now under control, he tried a better tactic. "What is it about our performances in the trials that makes you think I surpass my father?"

"Oh, many, many complex things that it would take a long time for me to make you understand. But there is also one simple reason in there... Very simple. A child could understand it." She gave a sniff of the liquid in the cauldron. "You completed the trials. Your father did not."

Nick had thought the shock of Dava saying he had surpassed his father was strong, but this was greater. "Are you... jesting?" he demanded. "You actually suggest... that my father did not earn the right to be crowned?"

"I said he didn't complete the trials. Not that he didn't pass them." Her beady eyes rose to the ceiling. "Did you know I've tried six princes in my lifetime? All but one passed the trials. Only you completed them. I'd begun to think no one ever would. Hee hee hee." Her eyes were raised so high in recollection that her pupils were almost hid behind her lids. "The first Royal Protector I met was aghast when he saw my trials. He said they were far more difficult than they reasonably should be. Said that it would be easier to conquer all the land of Iom than to complete my trials. Said that I was a sadistic woman who should be locked up." She broke into an unpleasant cackle. Nick kept his patience, reminding himself that this all related to the important fact of his father's failure to complete the trials. "Maybe he was right, I thought. But my illusions shouldn't kill a man, unless he has a feeble heart unfit to rule Cypress. I said so and refused to change the trials. There was nothing he could do to make me."

Nick nodded. "I've read the law. Only the king of Cypress can order a replacement for your position to be trained. And few kings would admit that they thought your trials too difficult for their heirs."

"You're a smart boy, Nicholas. And of course, my position was vindicated. Each time, I've used the same six tests: preparedness, chaos, lust, adaptability, evil, and a cumulative trial with all the elements of the first five. Of course, I've had different assistants over the years, but the basic tests are the same. Not only did you complete all six tests, but I learned far more about the princes who didn't than I would have with an easier set of trials."

"I don't see how my father could have failed your trials if they were essentially the same as the ones I faced."

"Your father only pretended to care about other people. He could fool most of his subjects, but not those closest to him. When they fought beside him, those who did not know already learned that they were no more than chess pieces to him. He would sacrifice any one of them rather than put himself in danger."

"Whereas I would risk my life, the life of a man responsible for thousands of people, to save a single friend. And you consider that an advantage?"

"One can gain nothing without calculated risks. You know that as well as I do. Unlike your father, you don't deceive yourself into thinking there is certainty in anything you do. And because you cared about your friends, you completed my trials. They could follow your orders without hesitation because they knew you would not throw their lives away wastefully. It was because your father's friends lacked that full confidence in their leader that he could not finish the trials." She smiled. "You do your best for your people. Because of that, they will do their best for you. Does that answer your question?"

Nick stared at her, mute. Thoughts of soldiers like Randolf and Natasha, of friends like Ruce and Hindel, of all his people, and of how proudly they had served him, fought for him, and in some cases even died for him, passed through his head. Less pleasant thoughts of shortcomings his father may have had also pursued him as he studied the shelf of books behind Dava.

At last he said, "I don't know if I should believe your words or not. But for whatever it is worth, yes, you have provided me an answer."

"Hee hee. True, the words of such an old lady may not be so reliable. I've already trained my successor, you know. But I think that, deep down, you knew the answer all along. You just needed to hear it from me."

"...Thank you for your time, Lady Dava. I expect we will not meet again, so farewell."

She nodded. "Goodbye, King Nicholas."

Nick said nothing to Gyan when they met outside, and Gyan did not question him. Based on his friend's general history, he would have guessed that this was either out of respect, or he'd been eavesdropping on his conversation with Dava. In this case, though, Nick suspected he'd known what Dava would tell him before they came here.

They made camp at the bottom of the mountain. There were still no words between them, but they worked together as equals, setting the tent, fetching water, gathering firewood, and cooking dinner, just as they had when they were on the run from Woldol's assassins.

As Nick crawled into his bedroll to sleep, Gyan at last said, "Are you alright, Nick?" His tone did not imply that he thought the answer was no.

Nick let out a restful breath. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you."

He hadn't lied when he said that, but a few hours later he almost tore out of his bedroll, eyes blinking open to escape a nightmare. He'd held all of Cypress's people in his hand, and for them to fall from his grasp was death. Try as he might to hold them safe as he formulated plans to safeguard their future, every few seconds a few would tumble from his grasp. He pleaded for help, but his father was no longer there to offer him guidance.

Foolish dream. It shouldn't have upset me so much. It's true that I've made mistakes as king, but I've done better in that role than most, and there's no sense in worrying over the occasional failure when the overall picture is one of success.

For all that rationale, what he saw in the dream did upset him. He thought of all those "occasional failures" and what they meant: a heart shattered, an injustice done, poverty visited on an innocent, a life lost, sons and daughters and brothers and sisters and spouses left to mourn. Things that meant so little to a kingdom and a crown and so much to the people who were their subjects.

Nick did not dwell on past failures – he was too good a king for that – but the threat of future failures always clawed at him. A nation rested on his shoulders, and his one great reassurance was that he always had one shining, impeccable example to look to...

"Father," he choked out in a whisper. "...help me."

Mayfair walked through the halls of Castle Cypress in a daze. This was not to say that she was not alert. A cat while dozing is still alert, and Mayfair was not one to allow herself to be distracted. If nothing else, Nick's tutelage in the ways of being a monarch had instilled that habit in her. She greeted everyone she met politely, giving them what was, to appearances at least, her full attention.

But she nonetheless had to admit to being in a state of some puzzlement. Her meeting with Lord Petruck had gone not at all as she had expected. Wanting to have the mystery explained as soon as possible, and having some extra time on her hands due to the brevity of her meeting with Lord Petruck, she turned her steps towards Nick's study. Unless he had audiences scheduled, Nick spent more hours there than in his living quarters.

He answered her knock, and she stepped inside to find him focused on a document spread out on his desk. It was an obvious effort for him to pull his eyes away from it to her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I assumed it would be Gyan or one of the servants."

"I'm not offended."

"No, but it could have been someone who would be offended, and that might be harmful, however little, to the state of Cypress. Besides, as queen you merit such courtesy. That you excuse its absence is a credit to you more than it is exoneration for me."

She cast her eyes to the paper on the desk. "What you were working on must be something important."

"Yes, but it will be no different for having sat a few minutes while I attended to my guest. What is it you want to talk to me about?"

She straightened up slightly. "Lord Petruck. He says he's already sent out orders for grain to be transported to the impoverished areas."

Nick nodded. "That's good, isn't it?"

"Yes, but why did he change his mind?" she pressed. "What did you do?"

He tilted his head at her. "There are dozens of things happening every day in this castle. Even I cannot manipulate so many events at once. What makes you think I am behind Petruck's change of heart?"

Her cheeks turned mildly pink. "Forgive me. I did not mean to assume... I only came here because I thought you would be most likely to know about it. If you don't, I'll ask elsewhere."

"Hold," he said, raising a hand, and she checked her motion to turn and leave. He affected a smile which was charmingly embarrassed and ashamed. "It was foolish of me to try deceit, when I know you're bound to find out the truth if you put your mind to it. There's very little I can keep secret from you." He paused, folded his hands. "I apologized to him."

"To... Lord Petruck?"

He nodded. "I told him I was sorry for accusing him and his household of being gluttons, and for my generally ill-tempered manner with him."

Mayfair stared at him. "You... apologized?"

"Not publicly, of course – it would not have done for the monarch of Cypress to be seen in such a manner. But a private apology, in the confines of his guest quarters here, seemed to satisfy him. Knowing how the man's pride works, I suspected it would."

"But what about your pride?" she protested. "Nick, you did nothing wrong in that argument with Lord Petruck! The only person who used the word 'gluttons' was Petruck himself, when you stated the plain fact that his household holds a monthly feast where they eat to the point of regurgitation!"

He shrugged. "Does it matter whether or not my pride is satisfied, if it means all of my people will have enough to eat?"

"Not to me," she said, and guardedly finished, "...but it would have to your father."

"I know," he sighed. "My father would have seen appeasing Petruck as unessential. The region which needs his grain is not vital to Cypress's stability. If they were to suffer hunger pangs, five years from now, it would not even merit a historical footnote. And when it comes to unessential things, there is little my father would put before his pride." He turned to look out the window. "But if I am to be a better king, I must follow a different path from my father. What I learned from him can be put to good use, but my instincts can lead me better than blindly following his ways."

"Nick..." Mayfair swallowed, and clutched a hand to her chest. She had never truly believed she would one day see him like this. She'd been confident of what Dava would tell him, but had not dared to hope that he would be able to fully accept it. But she should have, she realized now. For that was Nick's nature, to struggle with and ultimately accept the truth, no matter how painful it might be for him. There was no guilt or shame that he would not take on and, more impressively, live with; whether it were the death of Hindel, or the sentiments of disappointment from his father, or even the final sufferings of his sister. And because of that strength, he was freed from the bounds of his father's ways – not because he renounced his father, but because he saw the folly in trying to make himself the same as him.

What she saw now was what she had always felt he could be and what, for both his own sake and that of Cypress, he should be.

"If my apologizing to Lord Petruck makes you think less of me," Nick said, filling the silence she had left, "...I can manage to live with that, I think. At any rate, what's done is done. Is there anything else?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "I have some free time still left. I think... that I would like to spend it with our son."

"Very well," he said, looking pleased. As she turned to go, he returned to his work.

END

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure." - Marianne Williamson