Warm yellow light once more filled their curtained cubicle. The cloud had passed away from the sun. But her heart froze.
"I have decided I must entrust my own most precious jewel to David." He put his hand on hers.
Oh, no! she thought, anguish tearing at her heart as his words confirmed her guess. She felt a terrible pain, as if he had run her through with a spear. She wanted to clutch at him, hold him in spite of himself. She had not felt so lost since her mother and father and the boy she loved were killed by the Franks.
She studied his face to memorize it, because soon she would leave him and probably never see him again. It would do her no good to let him see how she felt. She must decide what face to show him.
I am a woman of Constantinople, alone in a country of strangers. And we are an ancient people, wise and subtle, and we bide our time.
She sat up in the bed, hugging her knees, thinking.
"How will my going with him help you?"
He grunted softly, and she looked at him. He appeared relieved. She was making it easy for him. She felt the beginning of dislike for him stirring within her.
"I thought you would be perfect for this. And you are."
His words puzzled her, and she almost let her growing anger show. "I do not see what you see, Sire."