Enforced collision.

“You will not put your hands on her again,” Larkin spoke, his voice cold, his eyes on Daniel, “and you will address her as Lady Stelon.”

He turned his gaze away from the boy, surveyed the clearing, and decided this was not private enough.

“Are you finished?” he asked, looking back to Stelon and giving her his genuinely fake smile. He stood, without waiting for an answer, and reached out his hand for hers, skin cold beneath the glove. She took it, with some hesitance, and he wrapped his fingers around hers. The servants stood with her, but Larkin lifted his free hand and waved for them not to follow. A man dressed in black had emerged from the trees and trailed them, however, as Larkin led Stelon down a path away from the clearing. Larkin did not say anything against him. The man remained out of earshot, but his eyes never left them.

“Don’t mind him,” Larkin said softly, “It is not you from whom he is protecting me.”

“Why do you need to be protected?”

The path led into another clearing. Only tiny rays of light managed to break through the vine thickened canopy above. The center of the clearing was sunken, where a pool of water lay, lined with stones, ferns and flowers. The surface of the water was covered with blooming lily pads, and on the far bank was a stone bench.

Stelon sounded as if she were avoiding the question the Shrike had asked, and Larkin smiled, shaking his head and pointing to the bench, “We can sit and you may talk.”

Larkin felt he needed to sit, the bit of food had ached going down and now it ached inside of him. The hardness of the bench was bothersome, and he crossed his legs as he sat. Stelon seated herself beside him, her eyes staring out over the pond, a redness in her pale cheeks. He took her hand into his lap and patted it gently, saying, “Now, Stelon, Lady Stelon, tell me what is wrong.”