ALTA FICCION

Sabran waited beside the fire. She wore nothing now but her stiff corset and shift. ‘Make no mistake,’ she said. 'I am wroth with you.’ Ead stood on the threshold. 'I shared all my secrets with you, Ead.’ Her voice was hardly there. 'You saw me as the night does. As my truest self.’ She paused.  'Nothing in my life was real. But you, Ead - I believed you were different. Now I wonder if everything between us was part of your act. Your assignment.’ Ead searched for the right words. 'Answer me,’ Sabran said, voice straining. 'I am your queen.’ 'You may be a queen, but you are not my queen. I am not your subject, Sabran.’ Ead stepped inside and shut the doors. 'And that is why you can be certain that what was between us was real.’ Sabran gazed into the fire. 'I showed you as much of myself as I could,’ Ead told her. 'Any more would have seen me executed.’ 'Do you think me a tyrant?’ 'I think you a self-righteous fool whose head is harder than a rock. And I would not change you for the world.’ Sabran finally looked at her. 'Tell me, Eadaz uq-Nāra,’ she said softly, 'am I a greater fool to want you still?’ Ead crossed the space between them. 'No more a fool than I,’ she said, 'to love you as I do.’