A little chat with Arta:
Into this green restfulness came a discordant sob. Temmin pulled Jebby up short, listening. It came from just ahead on the trail; he urged Jebby toward it, until they came to a downed log just off the path, and a girl sitting atop it, crying tears enough to join the Shadow in their own little salty stream.
Temmin dismounted. "Miss? Are you all right? Miss?" He crept forward, wary of frightening her.
The girl hid in her bonnet, but at his voice, she lifted her tear-stained face. "Your Highness?" she said. It was the pretty maid with the curly hair: Arta Dannikson, he remembered. His father's advice came to mind--"She won't deny you, I guarantee it"--and he flushed. "Why are you here?" she quavered.
"Why are you here? These are the King's Woods."
"I know," she said miserably. "I know I shouldn't be here. I sneak off sometimes to be by myself, and I needed to be by myself. Please don't tell Mr Affton!"
"For the last time, Dannikson, I'm not going to tell anyone! That's twice I've had to rescue you from the wrath of Affton, you antic girl," said Temmin. He handed her his handkerchief; she hesitated, took it, and wiped her turned-up nose. "Now, what's amiss?" he said. "Why would a pretty girl come out here, against the rules, to cry her eyes out?"
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Published on December 17, 2010 13:00