A/N: Betriz has a disturbing dream.

Betriz found herself in the temple. She walked toward a small group of people who were clustered at the front. She noticed Nan and Iselle, whose bright hair hid her face as she looked at the ground. Dy Sanda was there, which was odd because he was dead. Several minor nobles stood by idly. Teidez was notable in his absence.

There was one other who should have been among this group but was not. She wondered where Caz was.

She moved forward so she could see what was at the center of the group. She gasped when she saw the dedicats of all the gods with their familiars. It was a funeral then. Her eyes traveled to the coffin; it was very plain, but obviously of good quality wood. She peered in to see the unfortunate soul who had so few mourners.

Cazaril.

She bit back a sob. It wasn't fair. There was so much that she needed to tell him. She wanted to apologize for the way she reacted to his kiss. She was just surprised and startled by the scratch of his beard. Of course, he probably never would have wanted to kiss her again, given the way she giggled like a fool. And it was too late, too late.

He was frowning, and the expression emphasized the lines on his face, which was very gray in death.

And she could do nothing about it.

Eventually, she heard Iselle's voice, but it didn't seem to be coming from her; it permeated the walls and surrounded her.

She sat bolt upright. "Betriz, you're awake. Bad dream?"

She was in her chamber, on her bed. "Yes, I'm fine now, though."

"You don't look fine." And she certainly didn't feel fine; the dream hung about her like a mist of unease. "I was just coming to talk with you like I did in the old days when I heard you muttering, 'Caz, Caz…'"

Betriz felt her face heat. "Oh. Do you know where he is, actually?"

She shrugged. "In bed, I presume. The last I saw him was when he said good night to us and Nan about an hour ago."

"Did he look ill to you? I think he's been getting worse."

"Mm. I haven't noticed much change in the past few weeks. What's wrong?"

"I think my dream may have been some sort of premonition. We were attending Caz's funeral."

Iselle eyed her skeptically. "You've never put this much stock in dreams before."

"This feels different. I think we should send for a physician."

"Cazaril will never agree to that." Iselle had a point, but she wasn't in the mood to listen.

"Then we simply won't tell him."

"He won't be happy."

"Better upset than dead. We need him." She was aware of the plaintive note in her voice, but she didn't care what sort of ribbing would come from it.

"I completely agree with you. I'm just not sure if this is the best method."

"Well, what else do you have in mind?" She realized how desperate she sounded. "I'm sorry, Iselle. I didn't mean to snap at you. The dream just has me upset." She never wanted to feel as helpless as she did staring down at Cazaril's cold face.

"Perhaps you're right. I won't deny that he has looked unwell recently. Actually, there's a physician at the local Temple Hospital who specializes in wasting illnesses." Betriz raised an eyebrow. "What? You're not the only one who cares about Caz's welfare."

She forced herself to smile weakly. "How angry do you think he'll be?" She tried to leave her grim thoughts behind.

Iselle grinned back. "I don't think he'll be angry. Exasperated, perhaps a bit surprised, but not angry. And I don't think he'd be upset at all if he knew you sent the physician."

She valiantly tried to suppress the blush that was rising up her neck. "Why would you say that?"

"I have eyes. He's wanted you for at least as long as you've wanted him. I've told you all this before." The battle against the red staining her cheeks was useless now. She unwillingly thought of Cazaril's kiss, the desperation in his eyes; it was one of the few secrets that she had not shared with Iselle in the years that she'd known her. Most of the details of that night were growing fuzzier as the days passed, but she couldn't escape the feeling that Cazaril had something to do with Dondo's death.

"Betriz." The sound of her name jolted her from her musings. "You don't have anything to say to that?"

"No, I think you're imagining things again. Cazaril's our good friend and advisor. I may have been attracted to him in passing a few months ago, but I no longer feel that way." Even before she finished speaking, she knew she was uttering the grossest of lies. But Iselle surrendered for the time being.

They finalized plans to send a courier for the physician in the morning. Iselle left her, demanding that she go to her if she had another bad dream and murmuring something about denial.

As she tried to fall asleep again, Betriz realized that her earlier words to Iselle had not been total lies. She was no longer attracted to Caz. Well, she was, but, really, she loved him. The rational part of herself told her that it was only the residual fear from the dream that was tricking her. But she knew in the depths of her heart that that was only more denial.

She loved him. She wasn't going to tell him any time soon, and she wasn't at all confident that he felt the same. However, the knowledge was enough. If there were any aid she could offer him, she was going to fight as hard as possible to give it to him, not sit around and mourn a lost love as women were expected to do.

Caz would not have a funeral any time soon on her watch.