"Maybe five times."
The Queen Mother chuckled.
"Hmm. Five times. That is a lot, is it not?"
There was no humor in the sound. She had found an old wound and was twisting the old knife mercilessly. Her eyes were locked intently on him as if still gauging how much of the old duke still remained hidden inside.
"Five times you found your way to me," she continued. "You spoke as if the world beyond that door could be ignored." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And now you sit there as if those nights belonged to someone else."
The Duke's jaw tightened. "They do belong to someone else. To a younger fool who had not yet learned what his name was worth."
"Or what mine was worth," she replied.
Silence stretched between them again.
Then the Queen Mother leaned forward a little, and when she spoke next, the lightness was gone.
"I want to experience that again."
The Duke looked up sharply.
