[ Her face crumples at the kiss on her forehead; at the words that come after, because she is doing that now. Because once when she was young a Duke's son swore for a year he loved her and then made her nothing, and now she is always looking for clues to see if that is true. And she can always find them. She sews her proof from patches: a word here, a moment there, until she has a quilt that can cover her. ]

You are right, I would. I am.

[ Alexandrie leans into his lips, hand coming up to curl around his where it rests on her cheek. ]

There are a hundred ways I fear to lose you, and I cannot stop myself from living out them all.

[ She shakes her head a little, whispers— ]

What do you do, with your nightmares.