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" It was hard not to run from him sometimes. His empathy was too strong."Is there anything I can do to help," he asked.No, she thought. "Just hold me," she said. "Please."He held her, her warm body tense and frail, with the subtle movements of her breath. It was as hard for him as it was for her to have no idea what was wrong.Her hair was soft to touch, falls of veils. Her face had not yet lost the innocent roundness of childhood; gentle was the way to describe her face. She was very beautiful, and he loved her dearly."Do you want to sleep," he asked her."I don't know," she said. "Dreams..."He knew the dreams.She had never been an outgoing person, but as college wore on she gained some measure of confidence. They were close, quick friends, but she had a boyfriend. It ended after she refused to have sex with him, and he forced her. She had come home in tears and he had thought his heart would break—from pain, from grief, from anger. But the crisis flung them together. In several months. Soap and a towel sat on either side."Wash up, Your Grace, then I'll comb your hair. Once you're dressed I'm to let them know so they can bring breakfast." Food will be good." Grabbing the small cloth next to the soap, he got to work on his morning shower.It wasn't Felek, but a girl about his age who brought in the wooden tray with breakfast. Her eyes were wide in nervous apprehension as she slowly carried her burden. She waited while Felek removed the wash basin and its assorted accessories from the small table, eyes looking everywhere except the now dressed James sitting on the cot. They had found for him local clothing, of a surprisingly good fit. He had wondered at this, before noticing his otherworldly clothes were gone. The table cleared, the girl slowly and carefully placed the tray on it. She bowed her head low."Your breakfast, Your Grace." It was a soft whisper, barely audible. She was blond, hair pulled back into a long braid similar to the one Ewa had worn. It must be the.
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