She woke up near dawn on her wedding night, warm and not sure what had awakened her, until she saw a dark figure standing over her and froze, sure it was some enemy of hers or of her husband’s—but—

—but the eyes that stared back were as wide and frightened as her own, the shoulders as narrow, the hands holding the knife as delicate. It was a girl, and not any girl but the mute one who had danced so beautifully at their wedding that she had half fallen in love with her, and her hand on the knife was shaking.

“What has happened—what can you want here?” she asked, and the strange girl’s eyes brightened until tears fell out of them, so she pulled the girl into bed next to her—the knife dropped to the floor—and held her, hoping that human comfort and affection might do something to calm whatever terrified fit had brought her here tonight.