Her. My lord, no hate
Is in that barrier. I'm free of that.
Meg. Thanks for that little much. Your highness speaks
Of journeying. What can I say to gild
My own Peonia till it distant gleams
The gem of pilgrimage? There you will see
How earth is dressed when the devoted sun
Is pledged to her adorning. Trees that mass
Their bloom in forest heavens, giving her
A nearer sky. Unthwarted vines that scarf
Her mountain shoulders with their pendent clouds.
Lakes where a dreamer's bark may drift unoared
And chance no port save beauty. Everywhere
The dart and wave of color that would beckon
A neighbor planet looking once this way.
Come, be my guest. One day! I'll ask no more.
Her. I do not know. Señora Ziralay
Will be my guide. I go with her.
Meg. With her?
Her. What is 't? I touch the shadow. You are not
Her friend?
Meg. She hates in secret, while her smile
Levies the world for love.
Her. I'll hate where she does,
And know my soul is safe.
Meg. Her husband holds
By love and purse to Cordiaz, but she
Is a LeVal.
Her. LeVal? And kin to—him?
Meg. Rejan? His sister. And I know her nature
Is tinted as her blood, whatever hue
It wears at court.