"Three options," Gelepttin announced the next morning, sitting on the windowsill like a tiny general.
"One. They run away. Two great houses are humiliated, and your knight is hunted down and hanged."
"No."
"Two. He challenges Lord Cedric to a duel."
"He'd rather cut off his own hand."
"Three. You mind your own business."
Ardin was already putting on his coat.
"There was never a three for you, was there," the creature sighed, and climbed in.
The garden was empty at dawn.
Almost empty.
Lady Elise Marlowe stood by the flowerbed, alone, without her practiced smile. She was looking at the white flower. The one with the stick and the string.
Ardin meant to leave quietly. A branch cracked under his foot.
She didn't turn around.
"He thinks I don't know," she said.
Ardin stopped.
"Every time one of them breaks, it is standing again by morning." Her finger touched the small knot in the string. "The gardeners tie theirs on the left. Only one man in this house ties his on the right."
"For eleven years?"
"For eleven years."
Silence. Somewhere, a bird began to sing.
"Then why..." Ardin started.
"Why am I marrying someone else?" She finally turned. Her eyes were calm, and very tired. "Because my house needs this alliance. Because Lord Cedric has never been anything but kind to me. And because a knight does not ask, Lord Ardin."
A small, sad smile.
"And a lady does not choose."
"If he asked?"
She was quiet for a long time.
"He won't."
"But if he did."
Lady Elise looked back at the flower.
"Then I would have been his years ago."
She left before Ardin could answer. Her footsteps were perfectly steady.
Her hands were not.
"Wonderful," Gelepttin muttered from the coat. "Now there are two of them."
Ardin sat down on the stone bench.
"He loves her. She loves him. Both of them know."
"And both of them would rather suffer for a lifetime than disappoint one good man. Congratulations. You have found the only problem in the world caused by too much decency."
"There has to be a way."
"There are walls, boy. Count them." A tiny hand appeared, raising one finger at a time. "Her house needs the alliance. A knight without a title cannot marry a lady of her rank. And Lord Cedric has done nothing to deserve a broken engagement."
Three walls.
Ardin stared at the flower.
Not three enemies. Three walls.
And walls, unlike enemies, did not need to be defeated.
Only opened.
"What if nobody has to be hurt?" he said slowly.
"Someone is always hurt."
"What if the alliance stays? What if Rowan had a title? What if Cedric himself..."
"Ardin."
"I'm thinking."
"I know. It's terrifying."
"Lord Ardin?"
He nearly fell off the bench.
Lord Cedric Ashbourne stood on the garden path, holding two cups of tea. He offered one with an apologetic smile.
"Forgive me. I saw you from the window. You looked like a man with a heavy question."
"...Something like that."
Cedric sat beside him. For a while, he only watched the steam rise from his cup.
"May I ask you something strange? You are a guest. You have no reason to flatter me."
"Of course."
The kindest man in the kingdom looked at the white flower, tied on the right.
"Does my bride look happy to you?"