Page 50 of The Exquisite Torment of Loving Your Enemy

“I know,” said Fairhrim. “It makes it sweeter.”

They carried on along the lake.

“Why do you keep staring into the water?” asked Fairhrim.

“Working out where to drown you,” said Osric.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Not now: too many people,” said Osric. “Are you ready to apologise for what you did?”

Fairhrim’s eyebrows rose. “Me? Apologise? Youarefunny. You should be apologising to me.”

“I’m not the one who stuck seith markers into someone without disclosing other possible uses.”

“That wasn’t ever their intended purpose; I did what I had to do in the moment,” came Fairhrim’s prim response. “You were about to free Tristane.”

“She’s going to die,” said Osric.

“She knew the risks,” said Fairhrim.

Osric called her Pugnacious. She called him a Lost Cause.

They walked on. Fairhrim sucked thoughtfully at her lolly. Osric did not take especial note of her technique, which had no relevance to him.

“I do understand why you wanted to hare off,” said Fairhrim. “If something like this happened to Xanthe, I would happily break any promises I’d made to you.”

“Delighted our promises have equal value,” said Osric.

“None?”

“None.”

Farther along the promenade, the crowd thinned.

Osric skimmed a pebble across the still lake. The ripples reminded him of the birdsong in the Færwundor. The wind blew Fairhrim’s dress against her. It clung to her breasts and hips, and moulded itself magnificently against her thighs. Osric, again, did not observe this particularly.

He said, “This would be a good place to push you in. Unrelated question: can you swim?”

Fairhrim annoyed Osric by answering in the affirmative. “The water looks lovely. I can see the bottom. Scrope’s loads haven’t polluted it.”

Osric hadn’t been expecting that particular reminiscence and choked on his lolly.

“You’re sucking at that thing too fast,” said Fairhrim as he coughed. “You’ve only had it for a minute.”

“I’m sucking at my desired pace,” said Osric.

“I’ll still be sucking long after you’ve finished,” said Fairhrim.

A remark equal parts erotic and sinister.

“The Enfys Falls are a half hour’s walk that way,” continued Fairhrim, pointing to where the boarded promenade led into forest. “We’ll attempt the healing at sunset. Assuming no rogue Dreor waylay us, we should be back in time for dinner.”

“What’s special about this place?” asked Osric.

“It wasn’t the cleanest of calls,” said Fairhrim. “Sixty percent of the data favoured sunset at the Hunig moon. Eighty percent involved places near water. Four ley lines cross at these falls. The determining factor was your precious Widdershins’ translation notes: he mentions rainbows. There are few locations in the Tiendoms with guaranteed rainbows, but these falls are known for them.” Fairhrim looked doubtfully at the clouded sky. “We’ll see if we get lucky. It’s madness, really—all of it. The data. The attempts. The results.”

“You as my sweet-tempered wife,” said Osric.