breathing.
“Aye,” he replied finally.
“Why?” Her eyes were clouding over, as were her features as she sobered.
“I’m na’ certain I can explain,” Vincent replied.
“Why na?”
The notes were still there, humming through his soul and filling his ears with sound. He hadn’t fully heard her words, but he’d seen the movement on her lips. “I’m na so certain I can explain that, either,” he replied.
He watched her mouth set as she considered his words.
“Do you never speak the truth?” she asked finally.
Vincent sighed and set her back on her feet. It was the truth. He couldn’t explain it. Even to himself.
“Go to your chamber,” he ordered, stepping farther away from her. “And stay there.”
“Where are you going?”
He didn’t answer. He was already running, fast enough that she couldn’t catch him. The kitchens had access to the yards, and from thence he took to the moor, putting stride after stride between them.
Where was he going? To the furthest reach of her influence that he could run, and then he was going to give the music in his head real sound on his flute. And that would have to be enough.
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