Halfman felt a sudden uncanny warning of danger. “A secret,” he repeated, staring at her.
Brilliana was outblushing all things red—peony, poppy, flamingo, anything.
“You have always loved me, Hobbin?” she asked, half timorously.
“I have always loved you,” he answered, slowly, with a rigid face.
“Then you will be glad of what I have to tell,” she said. “There will be no change here. For I love this gentleman even as this gentleman loves me, and we are to wed when this meddling war is ended.”
“You love him?” Halfman echoed, dully. “You wed an enemy to the King?”
Brilliana sighed.
“Love is the greatest power in all the world,” she said; “greater than kings, greater than emperors, greater than popes. But I will wed no enemy to the King. If these wars were to endure forever, then forever my dear friend and I would remain unwed and bear our single souls to heaven.”
Her voice was low and dreary; suddenly it brightened.