His hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, leaping to her feet in a rush. She whirled and faced him, her eyes furious and her fists clenched against the rush of emotion that flooded her heart at the sight of him. She stepped back and faced him, her gown flying about her ankles as the wind swirled about the clearing. He said nothing, his soft black eyes deep with grief and pain, one hand stretched out toward her tentatively, as if beckoning to a wild animal.

"Silya-" he took a step closer and she backed away, the wind tearing through her hair with relentless fury.

"Why are you here?" she spat against the wind, her chest heaving in anger and constrained grief. He gazed at her and she felt the tears threaten to come again. It was useless, she told herself, wincing as the memories came back to her. He had seen her tears before, kissed them away from her cheek with a gentle tenderness she had though impossible. In those beautiful moments, she had thought that tenderness was love...

"Silya, please!" he pleaded, taking her hand. She jerked out of his grasp and glared at him through her tears. Was this how it felt then, to have a broken heart?

"How can you come to me when you are to leave me without a second glance tommorrow morning?" she whispered, her voice hard and tortured. He gasped and suddenly he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, his breath ragged and hard against her neck.

"Silya, no! Don't think that!" he cried, tears slipping from his own eyes. She sighed and let her own tears flow, her head bowed against his chest.

"It is the truth, Khayre." she said softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek.