There seemed so many underfoot he could never track them. When Lilac tended their own children he would mind him the names of the babes with aright. Instead of pushing aside the thought in vexation at John, his peace filled mind let it stand. ‘…hora mortis nostrae. Amen.’ chirped the little one, ‘But Lilac, my Ave means naught, it only makes me to sleep better.’ ‘You understand not, Nan, yet more on this later. For now, think you that you might keep a great secret, and never whisper it outside yourself?’ she asked gravely. ‘Aye.’ breathed Nan. ‘You must pledge me your word, by which all good folk are known to keep to truth. When you once give your word to do a thing, you must obey yourself to keep your honor that others might trust in you. Is this plain?’ ‘Uh huh.’ Sir Reynard heard clear enough that it was plain as mud to the little maid, but that had not stopped Lilac from explaining chivalry to infants til now, and was not like to halt her on the morrow. His lips quirked as Lilac. There was some big party at the King's palace, apparently, to which SHE had not been invited. Neither had the soldiers. Unlike her, they were not stewing at the (understandable) slight. Instead, they were making their own fun. Catty could understand that. She could also, to her surprise, understand the music. There was a seductive rhythm to it, a beat which seemed to seep inside you. Seemingly against her will, the Queen found her right leg bouncing up and down in time with the notes. A strange sound was heard. It was her, voice unconsciously mimicking the melody. Part of her wanted to stop. It was embarrassing. Another part..."Catty."She looked up. Far had stood, the other three of her soldiers, companions, friends, still seated near her. And he had used her name. Not "your Highness", but..."Should we try dancing with the primitives, Catty?" His voice was a smile, his face a song.Dance. He wanted to dance with her. Dances were ... intimate. Emotional. Catty ... she had never,.
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