Everything was in its place. She liked it that way. Everything and everyone had its place. In a cabinet, on a shelf, in the apartment, or in the street, everything belonged somewhere. She had been raised with that belief and it had never been tested. She sighed. Nira Laiddono had never been without her place.

She had always had her things, her beautiful things. There were things that were contained in fine crystal and smelled nice, things that would shine with unnatural light or gleam in wondrous color. At times, it had been hard to keep those things, but her own will and effort had preserved them in her ownership. Just by having those things, she thought it almost replaced the original owners in their permanence; her parents.

She put the crystal vase that she had been holding back. In its place. A door slammed. She did not turn around. Only one person slammed that door with regularity. The door itself was like the items in her room, beautiful, a masterpiece of ivory buffing and golden calligraphy.

The man who slammed it cursed as he always did, confirming his identity. His steps were heavy, without the grace of the gentry. And when he embraced her, he smelled of ale, grime, and stale cigars. But that came only from his clothing. The hands that were now locked at her waist were pink in their cleanliness, the face that rested on her shoulder, the same. But still…

"Please…" Nira broke his hold and turned around. "Its never bothered you much before, dear," The man protested.

"Well, it does now, Rob."

"I see." But he really did not. She could read his mind from here. He had taken a few steps back, giving her a little space. He was thinking it was only moodiness, something that would surely pass. But she stared at the top of his head until he looked back at her.

The gaze he exchanged with her was not pleasant. His eyebrows jerked up. He said nothing. Instead he made his way to a small corner table. On it, there was an uncorked bottle. The glasses next to it had been used as well.

Dismissing a suspicious thought, he took the bottle and one of the glasses and turned around. And was startled. She had walked nearly on his heels, and his hand glanced the front of her bodice. He dropped the fine crystal glass with predictable results. It shattered on the masonry floor.

Rob opened his mouth to say something. Nira seized the bottle angrily. "Thank you, Rob. For the wine." Every word sharply accented with unkindness.

"Perhaps I should…" He started."…Leave?" She completed for him.

She put the bottle back in its place, but grabbed Rob, already stepping toward the doorway, with her other hand.

"About that…"

Robert’s face was twisted in confusion. Nira reflected on it. He was no raving beauty, his face possessed few remarkable qualities. His eyes were a dull brown that matched his hair. But his face was consistent and symmetrical. Adolescence had left few scars in it, and his facial hair came in regularly. Now, Robert’s face possessed a few days growth.

When her father had been sick in his bed, only months away from dying, Nira had asked him what he had thought of the man that she had began to court. Robert had no nobility in his blood, only money in his pocket. Although he was native-born Castille, his name spoke of Avalonian descent. She expected her father to point out the lack of respected lineage and refinement.

He did nothing of the sort. He said one thing and one thing only. "He has nice teeth."

Her father never spoke a word to Robert, however, about his teeth or otherwise. Even when her father was dying, and Rob was administering poultices and cures to lessen the old man’s pain, she had never seen him speak a word to her courtier. Rob never spoke of it, probably suspecting that the man could not accept him out of pride.

Nira would often ponder her father’s only statement about Robert, whether it was an insult, or a subtle escape from his pride. But now it did not matter.

"It’s over, Robert."

Robert blinked. But said nothing.

"Are you deaf?"

Robert still said nothing.

"It’s over. Finished. We’re done."

She turned away. He placed a hand on her shoulder, which she shook off.

"And why is it over, my dear?" He asked calmly.

"Why didn’t you ask about the other wine glass, Robert?"

The response was slow in coming. The subtle, almost forgotten suspicion inserted itself. Rob was not by any means easy to anger or hurt. His level-headedness had won many an argument with her.

But not this one, she thought.

"I imagine that you were entertaining one of your friends…"

"Entertaining…well I suppose that you’re right about that. And he was a friend." Her tone was hateful. "You’re too trusting Robert Arello. You’ve missed things that other less trusting men would have picked up on. But you’re not the jealous sort are you?

Well, let me tell you, you should be. It’ll help you later on. Help you with another woman, but not with me.

But then you’ve been busy, helping your other man. Busy with that sludge that you try to redeem. Well, while you’ve been with them, I’ve moved on; to better, more regal pastures. My friend is very nice, very handsome, and very rich…"

Robert could not believe his own ears. He had loved this woman for over a year now. How could he be so inept? "And all this time, Nira? Over a year, now…"

"I was interested in you at one time, Robert," She laid a graceful hand on his cheek, " but then my father died. I needed you. Father hadn’t really been a rich man, and had left just enough for his funeral. The money in your pocket, the money that you so frequently shun, I needed desperately.

I needed it to maintain this house, to keep it from the debtors. Haven’t you wondered why I have no servants anymore? The money that you would give me to save could not pay for them. That’s right, there’s no money of yours left. I’ve spent it all. I actually needed more, but I made due. I had to sell a thing or two, but that’s all over now. I no longer need you anymore, and as for that other thing," She took her hand away, "well,

I suppose…"

"You suppose? Suppose what, my dear?" It was almost a demand.

"Stop calling me that! I am not yours. And most certainly am not dear. I’ve betrayed you, why can’t you understand that?!"

There were a few moments of complete silence. And Robert took his rough-hewn hand and drew it to her face. She flinched away. He reached for a porcelain cheek. She closed her eyes.

But there was no strike, nothing that would physically hurt her, only words.

"I may not mean anything to you, my dear. But you are my everything, and they are my words, spoken from my mouth, and I have every right to voice them. I loved you, even when you did not of me. And you are mine, even when you would discard me as such. Mine to love, just as my money was yours to spend. I will remember you, not as the woman that stands before me now, but as the woman that I loved for so long.

"Good-bye, my dearest. I hope that you enjoy your new friend, and his money, your house, your servants, and your things."

He released her from his gentle grasp. But she did not open her eyes. The door did not slam when it closed.

***************************************************************************

"Did he do this?" The gentleman asked.

Nira looked up from her hands. She hadn’t heard him come in. He had spread his arms about the room. The sitting room was a mess. Books, papers, and paintings had been torn down. Torn down from their places. All the tables were overturned or laid on their sides, their wares and beautiful things shattered on the floor. The massive rug in the center of the room sported an equally massive wine stain, and was rent where the shards of the bottle had been ground into it.

Elsewhere on the floor, not a step could be made without the crunching of crystal or glass being heard underneath their feet. Great wads of stuffing came out from chairs where they had been slashed open.

"No, he didn’t."

He quickly sat by her side, "Were you robbed? Defiled?"

"No, I wasn’t"

"Vagrants, hooligans, adolescents?"

"No, there weren’t."

Concern was written on his face, "Then what?"

She turned her hands up in her lap. He gasped. Her palms were gashed and swollen. On closer inspection, her knuckles were scraped and bruised. He gingerly turned her hands over in his. Her nails were also cracked, bleeding, and broken.

"It was nothing."

He looked around the room, "You did this."

Nira nodded. She grasped his hands with pleading in her eyes.

"Tell me… Tell me it was worth it. Tell me he’ll be safe. Tell me…"

He leaned against her, "He’ll be safer…"

"I should be going with him…"

"We did not have the resources to move you both, and it would have been harder on you…"

"Look around and tell me what I have."

The gentleman took her by the chin, "You have your life, and he has his."

"And what kind of lives are they apart?"

"Long and healthy ones," He said.

"If the resources you needed were of money, I have plenty and I would have given it all." She quickly added, "And his fortune as well. Surely between the both of them…"

"In any other country, they would have been enough, but here in Castille, at the heart of the beast…" He paused. "Do you pray, my lady?"

"And who would I pray to?" She demanded. "To the god of a church that took away my love and my hope?"

"My dear…"

"DON’T CALL ME THAT!" She shrieked and stood over him. "Only he can call me that." She breathed. Nira began to pace the room. Her bare feet left bloodied prints on the cold floor.

He didn’t notice at first, he was too startled by the outburst. Her feet drew their own attention, as they jerked stiffly as she walked. He quickly stood and ran over to her. He swept her from the floor and took her to another room. She struggled ineffectually. Her bedroom.

The gentleman laid her in the bed with his chest and shoulders holding down her writhing form. "Pray to Theus, Nira." He whispered in her ear. "Not to the church that stole him away from you. He’ll need it. You’ve done all you can and more. More than

should have ever been asked of you…"

She gripped the side of his neck and whispered in his own ear, "You’ll be back, won’t you? You’ll tell me if he needs anything, money or such…"

"If all goes well, Nira, you should never see him again."

"I never asked that, did I? I asked if I could help…"

"You already have…"

The gentleman rolled her gently from his arms and into the sheets. He left her there. Soon her exhaustion would claim her. He stood there in the door and watched her for a moment.

"I’ll have a doctor come and take care of your hands and feet and a cleaning crew for the outside room. Goodnight, Nira. I’ll return to tell you in the morning if he makes it."

"And if you don’t…"

"Then I’ll return to give my apologies."

"I’ll see you in the morning, then." She stated breathless and tired.

"Goodnight, Nira."