The fountain behind them murmured in the language of water as he tried to find the right words. He spoke slowly. “I have always loved artifice more than anything in the world. The painted backdrops and the lights on the stage, transforming the ordinary into a land of wonder. And it was like that with her. I met her in Frotnac, one summer. I had never seen anyone that lovely, of noble family, with fine manners. I imagined her a princess and ours a fairy tale. I’d spent my youth in the gutter and suddenly there was a chance for enchantment.”
