V. In Which One Evening Contains Enough High Drama To Sustain An Entire Chapter Of Non-Events

ooo

Sabin tugged on the end of his blouse. Why had his brother insisted on such ridiculous clothes? It was true the country's traditional white robes could look a bit feminine (especially on Edgar, who had always been touchy about that), but Eastern jackets and breeches were so...itchy. He couldn't wait to change.

The contesting ladies and their patrons were taking their seats at the head table. As crown prince, Sabin was given a prime spot, but he had declined. He wasn't willing to spend two hours with his every movement under intense scrutinization. No, better to watch from the gallery and be able to go about as he liked. He also didn't want the burden of having to keep a straight face in the midst of a bunch of overstuffed windbags.

Edgar took his place, leaving the chair to his right unoccupied. "You know, Owzer," he said, "I must say your resolution has impressed me. I can tell you have the highest designs for your grandniece."

The flabby old man gave him a gap-toothed smile. "Only the best will do, Your Majesty. So you've accepted?"

"As a matter of fact, I have not. Our most recent round of negotiations were hardly stellar." He sat back, waiting for the excited chatter to die down. A full minute later, when there were no signs of stopping, he waved his hands in exasperation. "Gentlemen, gentlemen! I expect you to afford one another the same respect you provide me. And, if you must know, I have found a bride-to-be whose wealth and influence far exceeds any of your offers."

He has? Sabin was too surprised to speak, but he was pretty sure he felt the same shock as the scandalized nobles.

"If I may..." the king continued. The high-arched doors to the foyer opened and Terra came out, almost unrecognizable under layers of tulle and crimson velvet. Sabin did a double-take, too dumbfounded to believe.

Edgar pulled out the chair beside him and sat her down. "Allow me to introduce the Lady Coppelia of Nikeah. She is not aristocratic by birth, but by merit. She and her father are the sole operators of the Parallel Trading Company."

"A working woman?" Owzer spat derisively. "That's rather...uncouth, don't you think?"

"Perhaps she does lack the natural advantages that comes from years of high breeding," Edgar said, his tone suggesting that he didn't think there were any, "but Lady Coppelia's worth is beyond compare. You present me with money and material goods; she will bring Figaro complete control of the northern basin."

The fury around the table was palpable. "That's preposterous!" one said. Others bellowed things like "impossible!" and "insane!", and others still hurled insults at the small woman at Edgar's side. Terra opened her mouth and spoke in a voice that was not her own.

"My father and I are very keen to break the southern monopoly on sea trade. His Majesty will be given two-thirds of the Parallel's commercial profits, as well as seven percent of the annual interest from imported goods."

"Figaro has no place profiting off of other nations' private commerce!" someone protested.

Edgar frowned. "Tzen didn't wait to embrace the benefits of private commerce when Jidoor erected the traveler's gates."

"That..." The man's cheeks went pink with fury. "That was a necessary measure for generating revenue! We were within our rights as dictated by international emergency provisions. Your Majesty, you insult me by suggesting our efforts to make end meets are in any way comparable to a capable, developed nation on the verge of becoming a second Em---" He could tell he was dangerously close to crossing the line. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," he said humbly. "I may have spoken out of turn."

"There is no 'may' about it, your intent is very clear. However, don't you think you're selling yourself short? You did volunteer a notable amount of resources to the demolition of Doma castle. Would a province so strapped for cash have the ability to be so charitable?"

Demolition? Terra wanted to ask questions, but the dreaded grown-up inside her was already explaining away. Of course it would be demolished. The poison had long since made the ground untenable, and the surrounding kingdom had disappeared in the apocalyptic earthquakes. Their thousand-year civilization had been destroyed in less than half a decade.

Why are they getting rid of Doma Castle? Does Cyan know? Not only was he the last of his people, but the last remnants of his home would be gone. Without Cyan, there would be no one or nothing left to prove Doma had ever existed.

The debate had continued outside her brooding. "...signed into law? I thought there were regulations barring arrangements that..."

"...doesn't inspire any faith in my investments..."

"...then why not absolve Parliament? If this is legal..."

"...her ability as the future queen..."

All of it faded away to background noise. She would have drifted off indefinitely if the first course hadn't arrived. Maids came out of the kitchen with plates of meat pies, serving both the honored guests and spectators alike. Terra was about to take a bite when Owzer, still angry at this reversal of events, snapped, "I heard your father was on his deathbed, Lady Coppelia. Does he know you're cavorting around with kings in his last hours?"

Terra gaped. How to respond? In a split second she had to summon righteous indignation, impeccable composure and the lady's sharp wit. "My father treasures my future over his own life," she said, holding her chin high. Maybe they would misinterpret her terrified shaking as barely constrained rage. "An alliance with Figaro would greatly benefit our company. This is a business transaction, above all."

"Indeed," Edgar said, giving her a nod from over the rim of his wineglass. Her hard work had paid off. "And, like any business transaction, I will thoroughly consider all viable options. It simply happens that Lady Coppelia has made the most powerful case."

Sabin observed the performance from the top of the gallery with growing admiration. After so many years, his brother was still the most amazing person he'd ever met. How had he been able to teach her so much in such a short time? Meanwhile, seeing Terra hold her own against people twice her age and ten times as devious made him grin. This, he decided, was a show best viewed up close. Sabin snuck an extra meat pie and went down to survey the scene from the ground level.

The majority of dinner was uneventful. Terra only drank the smallest amounts and bought time between interrogations by eating as much as she could. Edgar drove a hard bargain, but less than a quarter-hour into the entreé he'd talked the emissary from Tzen into waiving their rights to Figaro's irrigation technology. Soon they were all striving to outdo each other's generosity. Everyone was willing to raise the stakes when the most valuable throne on earth was about to be snatched up.

"You know, Your Majesty," the Duke Lindoro began, fiddling with one of the many ribbons pinned to his jacket, "we've been considering making the east end of the Serpent Road into a government-operated port of call for some time now. The building contract is yours if you'd like."

"That won't be---" Edgar tried to interrupt, but it was too late. Terra had just remembered what lay at the east end of that stretch of land. "You can't!" she cried. "People live there! It's a village!"

The duke laughed. "My lady, a single family hardly constitutes a 'village'. If your misgivings are chiefly humanitarian in nature, I assure you everyone involved can be safely relocated. Thamasa will pay their every expense."

"That's not right!" she protested, suddenly no more than a penniless mother in very fancy clothes. Edgar had told her to not display an iota of personal compassion, but she didn't care. My home, my home, they can't---my home...They couldn't do this, not when she'd worked so hard to make her own place in the world. "But...my family!" she choked, fighting back tears.

All the politicians exchanged puzzled glances, not realizing the elaborately constructed charade was about to come crashing down. Lindoro leaned forward in his chair. "Why, but surely you know that as a claimant to the throne you're legally required to give up any residential property."

The rest joined in with the appearance of soothing her while seeking to exploit this unexpected weakness. "If those people are squatting on your soil, it won't be much trouble to remove them, will it?"

"Nonetheless, that area belongs to the Lady Coppelia. It cannot be surveyed for sale unless the marriage is finalized." Even in sight of of impending disaster Edgar's calm was unfailing. "In the meantime, I must ask you delay any further work on the proposed construction. I cannot allow for any potential intimidation." Although no one dared to challenge him, the damage had been done.

Terra's panic gave way to shame. The night's objective had been twofold---to create an illusionary arrangement that would let Edgar stall before making a commitment, and to create more international opportunities for Figaro. Because of her outburst, the diplomats no longer had any regard for her or her dowry, and Edgar came off as a man of poor taste.

The urge to cry became ten times as strong, but she held her head high. Not in front of everyone, not now, not even if I've let Edgar down and they're going to take away my... But the thought alone was enough to make her break down, and she would have if not for the sight of a familiar face. Sabin seemed to be calling her from his place against the wall, imploring her to not break eye contact. She held his gaze with the same fervor, if only so she wouldn't fall apart.

He gazed back in deep concentration, and then---with agonizing caution and maximum precision, so much that it was obvious he was focusing every thought, every synapse, every molecule---

---he very slowly touched the tip of his tongue to his nose.

Terra doubled over, choking loudly on her torta de laranja. By the time she had recovered enough for a glimpse at Sabin, he was busy examining his fingernails. Now she freely wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Forgive me," she sniffed. She felt a new burst of energy, and she swore then and there that she wouldn't give up. The affected mannerisms she'd learned came rushing back. "You speak well, Your Grace. My sentimentality has no role in the kingdom of Figaro. I only apologize that I have little knowledge in the way of courtly manners."

"Now, now. You're not at fault for your own upbringing. I am sure your father had no plan to raise you into a position of prestige."

It was a thinly veiled swipe, but Terra took it with good grace. "Why, yes. It's a pity he was so preoccupied with providing for my mother and I," she said agreeably.

A silver chime rang out over Duke Lindoro's curt response, signaling the end of dinner service. Edgar rose, the other gentlemen followed, and as one they all lifted their ladies to their feet.

"Don't be disheartened," he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear as he led her out of the dining hall. "I couldn't have asked for a more convincing likeness."

She squeezed one of his white-gloved hands. It was hard to feel at ease when the real Edgar was all the way under so many layers of thick wool and silk. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let myself get out of hand like that."

"There's been no lasting harm. Without your appearance the Lady Coppelia would be out of the proceedings entirely. Luckily for us both, I have a reputation for preferring the company of passionate women." He gave her a mock-innocent wink. "May I ask to what miraculous fortune you attribute your recoup? I must say I hadn't thought you would regain your bearings so quickly."

The recollection of her 'miraculous fortune' made her giggle. "Oh, it was..."

"Where was he?"

"Standing by---" Terra paused. "You knew?"

"No, but I had my suspicions. Do you really think my brother would have been able to stand by as one of his closest friends was in need? He's been on the receiving end of that same firing squad, you know. I imagine he has a lot of empathy for your situation."

"Yes..."

Together they led the other guests to the ballroom, where a full orchestra and a host of pages were awaiting the procession. Upon seeing the king, the conductor struck up a grand waltz. Edgar gave him a humble bow in response.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty." Somehow Owzer had barged through the line and was shambling up to the front. "You have always been known to be a man of...ahem, very great chivalry. Would you permit me the first dance with this charming young woman? Her grandfather and I were old friends back in the day."

It was a brazen lie and Edgar knew it, but he was in no position to contradict a man more than twice his age. He silently gestured his assent and stepped back.

Terra gawked at her partner's moldy robes and fat, wobbling jowls. He was well over five hundred pounds, and every movement seemed to shake his whole body in a way that made her shudder. "I..."

"Come with me, my lady," he said, holding her beside his enormous belly. Edgar watched them vanish into the crowd of dancers with a slight tinge of guilt. He'd warned her about being confronted by hostile ambassadors, but no amount of counsel could prepare her for being lugged across the dance floor by a foul-tempered blubbery behemoth. Poor darling.

"Did you really have to get her into it?"

Edgar didn't need to officially recognize this particular dignitary. "I hear you saved the day."

"She needed a little help," Sabin said casually. So as not to be deterred from his point, he continued, "Why couldn't you have asked a maid or something?"

"Because I have no wish to humiliate myself and my kingdom. Do you know how many of those men asked me to provide them a maid with whom they could take their pleasure? I categorically refused to do any such thing, of course, but it's going to happen anyways, and goodness knows how many of them are going to give up what little they know in the process. If our acting Coppelia was among them the secret wouldn't last an hour."

"You know you'll be found out eventually."

"Yes, but hopefully by then the wedding will already be underway. Besides, there's no crime in a bit of playacting here and there. Unorthodox, yes, but..." He turned to Sabin for confirmation and only received an incredulous look. "Sabin?"

"What?"

"Do you think..." Edgar had stopped seeking the acceptance of politicians except in the most practicial fashion, but Sabin's approval genuinely mattered. He was the only one who could answer the question that pricked at him with every decision he made. "Do you think Father would be proud?"

Nothing made Sabin more uncomfortable than seeing his awe-inspiring older brother so anxious about anything. It didn't feel right. "To tell you the truth, I don't think he'd be proud so much as...astonished, I guess. Hell, I grew up with you and I still can't believe half the stuff you come up with."

Edgar was crestfallen. "Oh. I suppose that's true. I do tend to go to extremes, even when the situation---"

"What is wrong with you? You made a 600-year-old castle into a giant sand submarine. I don't think Dad could be prouder if he tried."

ooo

Owzer stepped hard on her toes. "Pardon me, I never was a talented dancer. What brings you here? Has your father been running the company into the ground? I understand you're a bright child, but this is a very rash thing to do. Royalty's no place for your kind."

Terra didn't know whether to be more horrified by his words or his appearance. "Excuse me?"

"Everyone knows the Parallel Trading Company is nothing more than a well-dressed crime syndicate for the northern territories. You'd be more aggrieved than assisted by a royal marriage. Why would you interfere with others' legitimate business?"

Crime syndicate? He had to be bluffing. Edgar wouldn't have neglected to tell her something like that. On the other hand, if she tried to cite specifics and failed, the ruse really would be over. Her best bet would be to shift his angle. "It may be common to our profession. I always viewed the southern trade stranglehold as nothing short of criminal."

She didn't have time to even be satisfied with what she thought was a clever answer; he had already switched tactics. "If it's just a monetary issue, I can easily provide whatever you should ask. I daresay your withdrawal from the negotiations would be worth a yearly stipend of perhaps 1 or 2 million until you settle your finances..."

Even though she wouldn't hear of it, he continued to push her until the music came to a halt. Owzer finally withdrew, frustrated with her obstinancy, and Terra would've danced for joy if not for the weight of her clothes. Unfortunately, her delight was short-lived. The thin, flat-nosed count of Albrook approached her to request a dance, and she saw no way out.

The ordeal seemed to go on for hours. The nobles pleaded, cajoled and wheedled with her. Others insulted her lineage and scoffed at her claims to high society. Terra was only truly disturbed when they threatened the safety of the little village on the Serpent Road. The proxy from Maranda had frightened her most, saying, "How long will that land be arable, anyway? Surely it would be no significant loss to raze the property and...start over, wouldn't you think?"

It terrified her to know that the ferocious jabs she'd experienced at dinner had been restrained. How could people universally considered to be so refined be so barbaric? She thought she'd be trapped for the rest of the night until a clenching in her stomach provided a legitimate excuse.

"I need to go, sir," she murmured, moving away from the baron (or was it the viscount?) of Narshe. "I don't...pardon me, I have to---"

She felt a firm grip around shoulder. Edgar had broken away from his would-be brides and was holding her with both hands. "Ioia? What's wrong?"

"I'm going to be sick."

"You certainly look it. Listen closely. I want you to go to my room and lie down. I'll send Sabin to take care of you, but once he's there you cannot open the door for anyone, all right? These men aren't going to give you any rest, and they'll gladly search all night if they think they can find you."

Terra was struggling to listen at all, much less attentively. "Edgar, I just want to..."

"Dear god, you're pale. Hurry." Somewhere in the haze of her thoughts she was aware of his concern and found it amusing. He wouldn't bat an eye while all his work fell to pieces, but if someone he loved was so much as feverish... She'd have to tell him about that.

He walked her to the front foyer, supporting her all the while. "Do you think you can make it upstairs by yourself?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'll be all right." When he was hesitant to let her go, she gently pushed him aside and began the trip back upstairs. It wouldn't have taken half as long if she'd been wearing something sensible, but the clunky shoes alone made her drag. It took all of her strength to hobble to Edgar's room and flop down on the bed.

After a minute she decided she needed fresh air more than rest. All those stifling busybodies had been suffocating her. She stood and tottered to the back door, undid the latch, and climbed out onto the balcony.

The king's veranda ascended to the rooftop with a series of marble staircases. Milk-white sculptures grew from clusters of pedestals around the curved railing. Terra looked around in wonder. It was like something out of a fairytale.

Did Edgar build this? It's so...artistic. It didn't fit in with the rest of the castle's engineering-minded practicality. The stiff breezes and eerie silence were surreal. Is this what it's like to be on the moon?

She dropped to the ground, struck her head against the stone, and threw up.

ooo

Sabin had just completed another successful snack mission and was about to enjoy a victory biscuit when he was confronted by an unusually agitated Edgar. "Oh, uh, hey. I can explain---"

"I'm not interested in your grazing habits. Terra's ill, and I told her to rest in my room so she wouldn't be bothered. Would you be willing to take care of her?"

"Ill?" Part of the biscuit stuck in his throat. "Ill how? Is she okay?"

"So she says, but I have my doubts. I think the whole affair was a bit overwhelming. Can you---"

"I'm on it." Sabin shoved past him and headed for the stairs. Of course it had been overwhelming for her. A concrete wall would crack under that kind of pressure. If anything, it was a testament to Terra's strength that she'd lasted the whole night.

"You're sure you don't know?"

"Yes, my lord. His Majesty's been very selective about who goes to see her."

Sabin recognized the self-righteous senator from Tzen cornering a young maid down the hall. The man took a small satchel of cash out of his pocket and shook it in her face. "Do you need something to help you remember?"

"I'm positive I don't know, my lord," she stammered.

Disgusting. Well, there was a solution to this. "Oh, hey," Sabin announced, his expression friendly, "Are you trying to find the Lady Coppelia? I know where her suite is." He waved at the maid, who gratefully darted away. "Or did you want something else?"

"No, no! That's exactly it! Thank you, Your Highness. Where is it?"

"I'll lead the way." And lead he did, all the way down to the dungeon, where he escorted the senator into a cell and promptly bolted the door. The resulting cries of "scoundrel!" and "beast!" made him strangely cheerful. If that wasn't doing a good deed, he didn't know what was. He whistled all the way to Edgar's room.

"Terra?"

He didn't see anyone on the bed. Had she left? Had she never made it up here? His alarm disappeared when he saw the entrance to the balcony was half-open. He went out to check around for himself. "Hey, er, Terra?"

She was crouched over on the smooth floor, hugging her waist. Sabin took one look and went back to his own room. He wasn't surprised. The same thing had happened to him when he was seventeen, just months before his father died, and Parliament had asked Are you ready to be king? The thought alone had made him sick.

What a night. He raided his pantry (Edgar was right, he did graze) for some necessary supplies and hurried back to the balcony with a makeshift first aid kit. Terra heard his footsteps behind her. "Oh...Sabin?"

"Don't worry, I got this." He popped open a bottle of white vinegar, poured it out over the mess, and started to rub it out with a towel. "Are you done? If you're feeling better, you should eat up. I've got some fruit in the bag."

"I didn't mean..." Terra was embarrassed by her own helplessness. "I was...I was dancing out there and then all of a sudden..."

"Trust me, it happens to everybody. Eat something, okay? And there are some extra clothes in there, too. I figured that bodice probably wasn't helping any."

His easygoing compassion made her feel even worse. She went through the bag and found three peaches, a lemon, a button-up shirt the size of a bedspread and equally gigantic pants. "I really appreciate it," she said.

"You're welcome."

It eventually occurred to Terra that there was no way she could remove the dress by herself when it had taken two maids to put it on. Not knowing what else to do, she sat in place and clutched awkwardly at the shirt.

Sabin noticed her balking. "What's wrong?"

"I, um... I can't get this undone by myself."

"Oh! Oh, yeah, sure. Not a problem." He went to undo the laces, then stopped. For some reason this wasn't quite the same as merrily depantsing Edgar in front of their nearest and dearest. Girls were different, there were all sorts of places he wasn't supposed to put his hands. "Well, it's not like Edgar doesn't have money," he mumbled, and tore it apart in one swift motion. Terra yelped.

"Sorry about that."

She sounded as detached as he did. "It's fine. Thanks, actually..."

He dutifully spun around and folded his arms. As hard as he tried to create a perfect mental image of Mount Koltz, all he could think of was the injustice in having spent months developing his hearing.

"I'm done." She was wearing just the shirt, which went almost all the way down her thighs. She had a peach in one hand and the trousers in the other. Sabin couldn't help marvel at the transformation: her inner turmoil had gone away with the outlandish dress and jewelry.

"What, you don't like the trousers?" he teased.

Terra held them up. "They're almost as big as I am! I could make a tent out of these things!"

"Gee, thanks."

They sat down side-by-side. Sabin poured more vinegar on the spot, and Terra relished the taste of food that hadn't been marinated in a hundred special sauces. The entire situation was weird, and maybe a little gross, but above all it was blessedly normal.

"Thanks for helping my brother," he said.

"Did he tell you?"

"Nah, he doesn't like to talk about that stuff. But you did him a really big favor, and that means a lot to me."

The depth of their bond was obvious in that moment. Despite their vastly different lives, at some level their desires and motivations were the same. They were more closely joined than anyone she'd ever known. They trusted without question, communicated without speech, and understood without even having to be close by.

"I'm glad that I could do something." Even though she really did feel better, thinking of dinner made her wince. "It was hard. I'm still not sure who I am yet, but...it's not a queen, I know that. I'm not noble anything."

"Most people don't have to be. You should be thankful."

"I am." They shared a smile, and Terra briefly forgot what she'd meant to say. "Do you remember when we went to Vector?"

"That was right after we first met Setzer, wasn't it?"

"Uh-huh, because the Emperor wanted to talk to us about making peace with the Espers."

Yes, he remembered. Only weeks later the world had been ripped apart. "Yeah, why?"

"Tonight reminded me of that. All those people being so...so harsh, and trying to not seem like it. Everybody was looking through me, not at me. I hated it."

"Edgar feels that way sometimes. People only know Edgar's royal nature." Sabin thought of the nights when his brother would come back to the royal suites, clutching an empty wine bottle and ranting about how he wanted to do away with all of those outdated laws governing inappropriate behavior. "It gets him ticked. He's a really private person, but he's always wanted to have someone to just...well, be himself." He scratched his head. "Wait, what's that got to do with Vector?"

"It made me think of when we had that banquet there. It was strange, because I'd been there a thousand times and there was a part of me that could feel all that. And the way Emperor Ghastra looked at me was the worst part. He still thought he could control me, just with words instead of machines. He didn't think of me as an equal...not even as a human, really." She bit harder into her peach, determined not to embarrass herself a second time. Those days are over now. It's all over. Everything's fine.

Sabin gently put a hand on her back. "Hey, don't cry."

She turned to him with wide eyes.

Why is she...? "You'll get dehydrated," he clarified.

For the first time that night she was talking to someone who said what he meant and meant what he said. There was no hidden agenda behind any of his words, just honest advice, and she was so thankful she wanted to cry harder. Instead she just laughed and wrapped her arms around him. It was so good to know somebody who wasn't trying to be anybody, someone who just was...She buried her face in the side of his neck.

"All right," she said, relaxing. "I won't cry."

"Mmh."

They stayed like that for a long time, two admittedly uncomplicated people completely happy with what little they had. Sabin bemusedly wrapped his finger around a lock of her hair. How long has it been this green? I thought it used to be...well, I don't know. He was going to ask when he heard her breath against his chest. That's okay. You've had a rough night.

"I'm not interrupting, I presume?" Edgar was standing at the door to his room. When Sabin made no motion to clobber him senseless, he approached them. "Or is this the afterglow?"

"Setzer's having a bad influence on you," Sabin muttered, not moving.

"You know, I've told him that myself. He never believes me. What happened here? Is she all right?"

"Yeah, just kinda worn out. You know how it is."

"I do." Then, delicately, "You should take her to bed."

"Is her room safe?"

"No, hang it all, there are scores of them just roaming around like it's some sort of treasure hunt. Take her to yours for the time being."

"Okay." He lifted her up, this time cradling her in front of him. He wasn't about to let her go headfirst into another door. Edgar noted the vague, inattentive way he moved, but said nothing.

The brothers' rooms were joined by a hidden passage and the elegant veranda. Throughout their childhood both places had been sacred. Nobody else was able to trade secrets and commiserate over being punished in the little passageway, and Edgar had given Sabin his final freedom on the balcony thirteen years ago. The physical connection had helped to enforce their spiritual one.

Terra rolled away immediately as Sabin lay her down on his bed, and he could tell he'd been holding her too tight. It was an involuntary reaction; he was used to climbing with rocks that didn't give. She was a person, not a boulder. Where had his mind gone? "Sorry. I...my arms are..."

"I like your arms," she said, her voice distant, and rolled over again.

Sabin stared.

ooo

Edgar sat upright in bed, indulging himself with a favorite book. His vision had been getting worse over the past few years, no doubt from squinting at so many bills by candlelight. He'd taken to doing his pleasure reading with a pince-nez, and although he could never be allowed out with a sign of weakness, he found it to be a tremendous help.

The chamber door opened and Sabin stomped in.

"What's the occasion?"

"Move over."

"You can't possibly---"

"I said move."

Edgar usually thought was better to see the extent of strange behavior before attempting to analyze it, so he simply moved to the side. Sabin unceremoniously flopped down under the covers and lay there like a stone.

Decades ago they'd shared the bed, which was just the right size for two active young boys. Now it was exclusively Edgar's and had many symbols to that effect. Various mementos from his travels had been hung around it, from countless diamond necklaces over the back to a lone pink bandana tied around one of the posts.

"Edgar?"

"Yes?"

"What are you reading?"

Sighing, Edgar read aloud from the page. " 'Because you should know, Sancho, if you do not know already, that two things inspire love more than any other; they are great beauty and a good name, and these two things reach their consummation in Dulcinea, for in beauty, no one is her equal, and as for a good name'---"

"Stop reading."

He complied, and for a while the twins were silent. Sabin stewed in his anguish until he decided that it was harder to think if he was talking. "What's it like being the most famous bachelor in the world?"

"I'm thirty years old and in bed with my brother. It's clearly an enviable lifestyle."

"What am I doing?"

"Who are you talking to?"

"Maybe I'm going crazy..."

"Would you please be quiet?"

"Am I imagining it all?"

Edgar struck him upside the head with his book and Sabin collapsed into the pillows. It wasn't the most responsible choice of action, but it gave him peace enough to read.

"Your Majesty?"

"Aha. Thank you, Matron." He signaled for her to take the tea tray. She went about her work, smiling as she did so. "You'll pardon him, I know. He's having a bit of difficulty reconciling his relationship with an old friend. Women aren't his strong suit."

"Really! Is that so? That's unfortunate. It's a good thing you don't suffer likewise with the ladies. Lord knows you're an objective, straightforward man who doesn't make his every encounter into a stage production. Yes, I suppose he could stand to learn a thing or two from his reasonable, wholly grounded big brother."

She swept out of the room, tray in hand, and Edgar reflected it was a very cruel universe indeed that had not made her sixty years younger.