Green had nothing to lose by agreeing with her, since he planned to be leaving in a very short time. "You're right," he said. "I'll tell her as soon as I think up a good excuse." He fingered his neck at the place where a headsman's ax would come down. "It had better be a good one, though."
Amra seemed to glow all over with happiness. She held her glass up and said, "Here's to the Duchess. May demons carry her off."
"You'd better be careful, saying that before the children. You know that if they innocently repeated that to someone and it got back to the Duchess you'd be burned in the next witchhunt."
"Not my children!" she scoffed. "They're too clever. They take after their mother. They know when to keep their mouths shut."
Green gulped his wine and stood up. "I must go."
"You'll come home tonight? Surely the Duchess will let you out one night a week?"
"Not one single night. And I can't come here this evening because I'm to meet Miran the Merchant at the House of Equality. Business, you know."
"Oh, I know! You'll dillydally about the whole matter, and put off acting for one reason or another, and the first thing you know, years will go by, and——"
"If this keeps up I'll be dead in six months," he said. "I'm tired! I have to get some sleep."
She changed instantly from anger to sympathy. "Poor dear, why don't you forget that appointment and sleep here until it's time to go back to the castle? I'll send a messenger to Miran telling him you're sick."