nighttime city below like the lowborn cretins we were. I took her on a long stroll through cobblestone streets, past shops and small gardens. Then we left the buildings behind, climbed over a low wooden fence, and moved toward the dark shape of an empty barn.
At this, Denna was no longer able to keep quiet. “Well, you’ve done it,” she said. “You’ve surprised me.”
I grinned at her and continued to lead the way into the dark of the barn. It was full of the smell of hay and absent animals. I led her to a ladder that disappeared into the dark above our heads.
“A hayloft?” she demanded, her voice incredulous. She stopped walking and gave me an odd, curious look. “You obviously have me mistaken for a fourteen-year-old farm girl named . . .” Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “Something rustic.”
“Gretta,” I suggested.
“Yes,” she said. “You obviously have me mistaken for a low-bodiced farm girl named Gretta.”
“Rest assured,” I said. “If I were going to try to seduce you, this isn’t the way I would go about it.”
“Is that so?” she said, running her hand through her hair. Her fingers began to idly twine her hair into a braid, then she stopped and brushed it out. “In that case, what are we doing here?”
“You mentioned how much you enjoyed gardens,” I said. “And Alveron’s gardens are particularly fine. I thought you might enjoy a turn about the place.”
“In the middle of the night,” Denna said.
“A charming moonlit stroll,” I corrected.
“There’s no moon tonight,” she pointed out. “Or if there is, it’s barely a slender sliver.”
“Be that as it may,” I said, refusing to be daunted. “How much moonlight does one actually need to enjoy the smell of gently blooming jasmine?”
“In the hayloft,” Denna said, her voice thick with disbelief.
“The hayloft is the easiest way onto the roof,” I said. “Thence into the Maer’s estates. Thence to the garden.”
“If you’re in the Maer’s employ,” she said, “why not simply ask him to let you in?”
“Ah,” I said dramatically, holding up a finger. “Therein lies the adventure. There are a hundred men who could simply
She grinned at me. “You know my secret heart so well.”
I extended my hand as if I were about to assist her into a carriage. “M’lady.”
Denna took my hand, then stopped as soon as she put her foot onto the first rung of the ladder. “Hold on, you aren’t being genteel. You’re trying to get a look up my dress.”
I gave her my best offended look, pressing my hand to my chest. “Lady, as a gentleman I assure you—”
She swatted at me. “You’ve already told me you’re not a gentleman,” she said. “You’re a thief, and you’re trying to steal a look.” She stepped back and made a parody of my courtly gesture of a moment before. “M’lord . . .”
We made our way through the hayloft, onto the roof, and into the garden. The sharp sliver of moon above us was thin as a whisper, so pale that it did nothing to dim the light of the stars.
The gardens were surprisingly quiet for such a warm and lovely night. Ordinarily even at this late hour couples would be strolling the paths, or murmuring to each other on the bower benches. I wondered if some ball or courtly function had pulled them all away.
The Maer’s gardens were vast, with curving paths and cunningly placed hedges making them seem larger still. Denna and I walked side by side, listening to the sigh of the wind through the leaves. It was like we were the only people in the world.
“I don’t know if you remember,” I said softly, not wanting to intrude upon the silence. “A conversation we had some time ago. We talked of flowers.”
“I remember,” she said just as softly.
“You said you thought all men had got their lessons in courting from the same worn book.”
Denna laughed quietly, more a motion than a sound. She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh. I’d forgotten. I did say that, didn’t I?”
I nodded. “You said they all brought you roses.”
“They still do,” she said. “I wish they would find a new book.”
“You made me pick a flower that would suit you better,” I said.
She smiled up at me shyly. “I remember, I was testing you.” Then she frowned. “But you got the better of me by picking one I’d never heard of, let alone seen.”
We turned a corner and the path led toward the dark green tunnel of an arching bower. “I don’t know if you’ve seen them yet,” I said. “But here is your selas flower.”
There were only stars lighting our way. The moon so slender it was almost no moon at all. Under the trellis it was dark as Denna’s hair.
Our eyes were wide and stretching to the dark, and where the starlight slanted through the leaves, they showed hundreds of selas blossoms yawning open in the night. If the scent of selas were not so delicate, it would have been overpowering.
“Oh,” Denna sighed, looking around with wide eyes. Under the bower, her skin was brighter than the moon. She reached out her hands to both sides. “They’re so soft!”
We walked in silence. All around us selas vines wove themselves around the trellis, clinging to the wood and wire, hiding their faces from the nighttime sky. When eventually we came out the other side, it seemed as bright as daylight.
The silence stretched until I started to grow uncomfortable. “So now you know your flower,” I said. “It seemed a shame you’d never seen one. They’re rather difficult to cultivate, from what I’ve heard.”
“Perhaps they do suit me then,” Denna said softly, looking down. “I don’t take root easily.”
We continued walking until the path turned and hid the bower behind us.
“You treat me better than I deserve,” Denna said at last.
I laughed at the ridiculousness of that. Only respect for the silence of the garden kept it from rolling out of me in a great booming laugh. Instead I stifled it as much as possible, though the effort threw me off my stride and made me stumble.
Denna watched me from a step away, a smile spreading across her mouth.
Eventually I caught my breath. “You who sang with me the night I won my pipes. You who have given me the finest gift I ever did receive.” A thought occurred to me. “Did you know,” I said, “that your lute case saved my life?”
The smile spread and grew, wide as a flower. “Did it now?”
“It did,” I said. “I cannot ever hope to treat you as well as you deserve. Given what I owe you, this is but the smallest payment.”
“Well, I think it is a lovely start.” She looked up at the sky and drew a long, deep breath. “I’ve always liked moonless nights best. It’s easier to say things in the dark. It’s easier to be yourself.”
She began walking again and I fell into step beside her. We passed a fountain, a pool, a wall of pale jasmine open to the night. We crossed a small stone bridge that led us back among the shelter of the hedges.
“You could put your arm around me, you know,” she said matter-of-factly. “We are walking in the gardens, alone. In the moonlight, such as it is.” Denna looked sideways at me, the side of her mouth quirking upward. “Such things are permitted, you realize.”
Her sudden change in manner caught me off my guard. Since we had met in Severen I had courted her with wild, hopeless pageantry, and she had matched me without missing a beat. Each flattery, each witticism, each piece of playful banter she returned to me, not in an echo but a harmony. Our back-and-forth had been like a duet.
But this was different. Her tone was less playful and more plain. It was so sudden a change that I was at a loss for words.
“Four days ago I turned my foot on that loose flagstone,” she said softly. “Remember? We were walking on Mincet Lane. My foot slipped and you caught me almost before I knew that I was stumbling. It made me wonder how closely you must be watching me to see something like that.”
We turned a corner in the path, and Denna continued to speak without looking up at me. Her voice was soft
