14
Ruarc
She asked him, seventeen days after she arrived, which one he missed most.
They were in the study. It was evening — past the supper hour, the fortress settling into its nightward register, the fire at its most honest with the day's work done and neither of them needing to perform for any audience. She had been at the table with a lore-roll for the better part of an hour, making her close-packed working notes in the shorthand he had been learning to read, and he had been at his desk with the eastern territorial correspondence, and the silence between them had been the warm kind that had become, over seventeen days, as natural as the study's other furnishings.
She looked up. He became aware that she had been looking at him for a moment before he noticed — the particular awarenes
