In Which Celina Is Reassured

July 17, 1157

Celina had not been out riding since giving birth to Xeta; as much as she loved the pastime, she was reluctant to go with her husband. Therefore, she had been exceedingly grateful when Severin had offered to take her, even if it was only because his own wife was too far along in her pregnancy to risk mounting a horse.

However, it had been a good ten minutes since Severin had suddenly dismounted, handing the reins of his horse to his steward, who had accompanied them. He'd told Celina to do the same, and then, leaving Falidor and the horses behind, they had walked a ways until coming across the small thicket of trees in which they now stood.

"Do you know this place, Severin?" she inquired as he led her further into the grove.

"I've been here once or twice," he told her. "There's something here that might interest you, dear cousin."

Celina frowned. "Would this thing be 'good' interesting or 'bad' interesting?"

"A bit of both, perhaps," he mused solemnly. "Or maybe first one, then the other. I will not presume to make that call on your behalf. Anyway, you may want to take a few steps forward and look straight ahead of you."

"All right..."

She couldn't believe it.

It was Dalston, standing in the center of a large ring of rosebushes.

"I can take a hint," he assured her, turning on his heel and striding off into the distance. She opened her mouth to protest, but it was too late; he was gone.

"You can follow him if you like," offered Dalston, softly and clearly. "But I'd like it if you stayed."

Taking a quick, deep breath, Celina took a few tentative steps towards him. Everyone had always told her she forgave too easily; it was only now that she was beginning to believe them. Any sensible woman would have done more than just avoid him--any sensible woman would have set him straight the second he'd returned.

And no sensible woman would have come back to him so easily.

"Be careful of the thorns," he warned her. "I'm sorry about those."

Shaking her head, she carefully trudged through the bushes and joined him in the origin of the ring, staring straight into her husband's eyes--never before had they been so blue.

"Lina," he addressed her breathlessly, "I wish there were words to tell you just how sorry I am; you deserve someone who knows such words."

He took a moment to sigh, then continued. "In fact, you deserve someone who would have nothing to apologize for in the first place. I made you a promise, and I broke it. I could make excuses, but the truth is... there is no excuse; I take full responsibility for what happened.

"And yet, somehow, you seem to think this is your fault.

"It's not your fault, Lina; it never was. I don't know why I did what I did, but I do know that it was not to hurt you, nor because I stopped loving you. I never stopped loving you--no one could ever stop loving you."

He gently took her finger between two of his own; the metallic touch of his wedding band was suddenly an indescribable comfort.

"I can never be the man you deserve, my angel--but if you give me another chance, I can try."

"Dalston..." she whispered, trailing off as words failed to come to her.

"Please, Lina."

Words did not come to her. Words could not come to her; words were not strong enough.

So instead, she replied with a smile.

"Oh, Lina!" he sighed as they slowly embraced. "I am the luckiest idiot in the world."

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