“And where are you going now?” she asked, watching the dim figure crossing the bridge. No answer was forthcoming, which was no surprise. The distance between the two was great, and even if she had raised her voice to shout, he would not have heard; had he heard, she doubt he would have answered. So she watched the black knight ride away in the fading light, and thought of their parting words a few hours ago.
“Stay?” she had meant to order him, but her desperation turned the command into a request.
“No, princess. It would not be wise. You know who I am. You have seen my face.”
“I know,” she nodded. “I know what you did. I can guess at why. But I know what you have done, too. Despite all that, a wolf’s head with no honor to win, you make an enemy of your peers to save the daughter of—” her voice caught as he glanced at her. “—to save me.” He gave no answer, but checked his saddle, which he had already done.
Finally, when he could stand the silence no more, he added:
“You forget, your highness, that I am a villain—usually, at least. It’s just that, this time, I got to play the hero again, but there’s no salvation for me. Don’t get wrapped up in a fairy tale. It’s just a story.”
“Maybe,” she said, “that’s all heaven is, a story, but the right story, the story we were meant to live.”
Now her knight—his silhouette—was disappearing into the darkness, and, with a falling tear, she prayed for his soul.
Tale Told 