The last rays of the evening sun reflected in the windows of the tower overlooking the loggia. He watched her chrysoprase eyes as they watched the distant mountains, which in turn watched over the broad lowlands which lay, blind, in shadow.
“The Blind Lowlands”. It was a song he had heard in youth, and only now did he seem to understand its import. Like so many other things in this life, he thought.
“I never thought to see you again.” She did not meet his gaze. “No, wait, that’s not right.” He took her bejeweled hand, which did not resist. “I thought never to see you again.”
You so want to do it with her.
“What is the matter with you?”
She withdrew her hand. “I’ve offended you. Please, forgive me. I did not seek to hurt you.”
“No: it is I that should beg your forgiveness, my Lady. I have travelled long, and I am weary. And my speech is sometimes affected by sorcery.”
Always with the sorcery.
“Aye, my Lady. A demon sometimes affects my speech—”
A demon with one eye and two balls.