She darted a teasing look at me. “That much?”
“Besides,” Simmon chimed in innocently. “He’d sulk for days if he missed a chance to be with you. He’ll be completely worthless to us if you leave him here.”
My face grew hot and I had the sudden urge to throttle Sim. Denna laughed sweetly. “I suppose I’d better take him then.” She stood with a motion like a willow wand bending to the wind and offered me her hand. I took it. “I hope to see you again, Wilem, Simmon.”
They waved and we started to make our way to the door. “I like them,” she said. “Wilem is a stone in deep water. Simmon is like a boy splashing in a brook.”
Her description startled a laugh from me. “I couldn’t have said it better. You mentioned dinner?”
“I lied,” she said with an easy delight. “But I would love the drink you offered me.”
“How about the Taps?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Too many old men, not enough trees. It is a good night to be out of doors.”
I gestured toward the door. “Lead the way.”
She did. I basked in her reflected light and the stares of envious men. As we left the Eolian, even Deoch looked a little jealous. But as I passed him I caught a glimmer of something other in his eye. Sadness? Pity?
I spared no time for it. I was with Denna.
We bought a loaf of dark bread and a bottle of Avennish strawberry wine. Then found a private place in one of the many public gardens scattered throughout Imre. The first of autumn’s falling leaves danced along the streets beside us. Denna removed her shoes and danced lightly through the shadows, delighting in the feel of the grass beneath her feet.
We settled on a bench beneath a great spreading willow, then abandoned it and found more comfortable seats on the ground at the foot of the tree. The bread was thick and dark, and tearing chunks of it gave us distraction for our hands. The wine was sweet and light, and after Denna kissed the bottle it left her lips wet for an hour.
It had the desperate feel of the last warm night of summer. We spoke of everything and nothing, and all the while I could hardly breathe for the nearness of her, the way she moved, the sound of her voice as it touched the autumn air.
“Your eyes were far away just then,” she said. “What were you thinking?”
I shrugged, buying a moment to think. I couldn’t tell her the truth. I knew every man must compliment her, bury her in flattery more cloying than roses. I took a subtler path. “One of the masters at the University once told me that there were seven words that would make a woman love you.” I made a deliberately casual shrug. “I was just wondering what they were.”
“Is that why you talk so much? Hoping to come on them by accident?”
I opened my mouth to retort. Then, seeing her dancing eyes, I pressed my lips together and tried to fight down my embarrassed flush. She lay a hand on my arm. “Don’t go quiet on my account, Kvothe,” she said gently. “I’d miss the sound of your voice.”
She took a drink of wine. “Anyway, you shouldn’t bother wondering. You spoke them to me when first we met. You said, I was just wondering why you’re here.” She made a flippant gesture. “From that moment I was yours.”
My mind flashed back to our first meeting in Roent’s caravan. I was stunned. “I didn’t think you remembered.”
She paused in tearing a piece of dark bread away from the loaf and looked up at me quizzically. “Remember what?”
“Remembered me. Remembered our meeting in Roent’s caravan.”
“Come now,” she teased. “How could I forget the red-haired boy who left me for the University?”
I was too stunned to point out that I hadn’t left her. Not really. “You never mentioned it.”
“Neither did you,” she countered. “Perhaps I thought that you had forgotten me.”
“Forget you? How could I?”
She smiled at that, but looked down at her hands. “You might be surprised what men forget,” she said, then lightened her tone. “But then again, perhaps not. I don’t doubt that you’ve forgotten things, being a man yourself.”
“I remember your name, Denna.” It sounded good to say it to her. “Why did you take a new one? Or was Denna just the name that you were wearing on the road to Anilin?”
“Denna,” she said softly. “I’d almost forgotten her. She was a silly girl.”
“She was like a flower unfolding.”
“I stopped being Denna years ago, it seems.” She rubbed her bare arms and looked around as if she was suddenly uneasy that someone might find us here.
“Should I call you Dianne, then? Would you like it better?”
The wind stirred the hanging branches of the willow as she cocked her head to look at me. Her hair mimicked the motion of the trees. “You are kind. I think I like Denna best from you. It sounds different when you say it. Gentle.”
“Denna it is,” I said firmly. “What happened in Anilin, anyway?”
A leaf floated down and landed in her hair. She brushed it away absentmindedly. “Nothing pleasant,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “But nothing unexpected either.”
I held out my hand and she passed me back the loaf of bread. “Well I’m glad you made it back,” I said. “My Aloine.”
She made a decidedly unladylike noise. “Please, if either of us is Savien, it’s me. I’m the one that came looking for you,” she pointed out. “Twice.”
“I look,” I protested. “I just don’t seem to have a knack for finding you.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “If you could recommend an auspicious time and place to look for you, it would make a world of difference….” I trailed off gently, making it a question. “Perhaps tomorrow?”
Denna gave me a sideways glance, smiling. “You’re always so cautious,” she said. “I’ve never known a man to step so carefully.” She looked at my face as if it were a puzzle she could solve. “I expect noon would be an auspicious time tomorrow. At the Eolian.”
I felt a warm glow at the thought of meeting her again. “I was just wondering why you’re here,” I mused aloud, remembering the conversation that seemed so long ago. “You called me a liar, afterward.”
She leaned forward to touch my hand in a consoling way. She smelled of strawberry, and her lips were a dangerous red even in the moonlight. “How well I knew you, even then.”
We talked through the long hours of night. I spoke subtle circles around the way I felt, not wanting to be overbold. I thought she might be doing the same, but I could never be sure. It was like we were doing one of those elaborate Modegan court dances, where the partners stand scant inches apart, but—if they are skilled—never touch.
Such was our conversation. But not only were we lacking touch to guide us, it was as if we were also strangely deaf. So we danced very carefully, unsure what music the other was listening to, unsure, perhaps, if the other was dancing at all.
Deoch was standing vigil at the door, same as always. He waved to see me. “Master Kvothe. I’m afraid you’ve missed your friends.”