After dressing light and comfortably for the day, Wenn stepped outside her rooms to flag a servant and ask for breakfast to be delivered to her. It was actually almost too late for breakfast but she only wanted some fruit, perhaps a muffin and hot tea. That shouldn't be too much trouble, she thought.

The last few days had been too hectic. Wenndolyne needed a day of peace. There was to be a meeting at the Chancery on the morrow, but today was hers and she wanted it to be an easy gentle day. Now if only she could still her thoughts for the duration.

While she stood at the window, watching the guards cross the yard, she heard a soft knock on the door. Assuming it was her breakfast delivery, she called for the servant to come in. She didn't turn right away though; her eye was drawn to a flock of sparrows playing in the rose garden.

"M'Lady Wenndolyne, where shall I serve thy meal?"

Wenn whirled from the window at the voice. It was Poet! She rushed to him then stopped abruptly before overturning the tray he carried. She took it first and set it down hastily then nearly leaped at him for a hug. He enjoyed it only a moment before whispering, "I think perhaps, being here in your quarters, we ought be a bit more proper, though I'm not complaining for myself, mind you." He grinned at her as she drew back.

"Yes, but see where being proper and following protocol nearly left us. As it is, we still have to get you to the Admiral and have this whole thing settled."

"That is in fact why I did come to see thee." He brushed her hair back from her shoulder and ran his thumb along the faint pink line remaining on her skin. "And to see how you fare from last night."

His touch warmed her, not only along the sensitive injury but also through her being. "Poet, I am well, especially when you are with me." She slipped her hand over his.

He looked into her eyes, trying to read more than her words were saying. Did she truly mean it? "Yes, well, let's get you started with breakfast before the tea goes cold." He drew his hand away and stepped around her to set up the tray on a small table before a chair, placing both in the sunshine. He settled her in then took a seat across from her.

"Won't you have a bite or sip as well?"

"No. I've been up quite a while."

"Oh." She picked at the fruit on the tray and tore off a bite of fresh bread. Poet's demeanor seemed to go cold, reserved and distant. She didn't know if she should ask of it or not. Over the rim of her teacup, she could sneak a direct glance at him. He was captive of some scene outside the window.

"Poet?"

"Yes, love." He didn't turn. He was indeed staring into the garden, at a row of white roses.

"Arin?"

Finally he turned to look at her. The sun glittered in her light copper hair and across her sapphire eyes. It also fell across the injury on her shoulder, further reminding him of the wolf. "I'm sorry that I was not able to attend you last evening, that I could not... I'd been close to another who was struck down."

Wenndolyne smiled. "Of course. I thought nothing of it. Actually, I was rather lost in all of it myself. I didn't even realize that I'd been cut until---" She stopped and looked down to her plate again. A plump strawberry looked much more appetizing than getting into the topic of Lord Wolf.

"Yes." Poet offered in a mere whisper, "I saw."

"Well then, you know I was tended. The healer made the cut all but disappear."

His body tensed. He didn't want to delve into it but he had to. He had to know what her feelings were and perhaps determine how to deal with his own. "Wenn, I saw. In the garden, night before last."

The teacup was poised at Wenn's lips but she could neither drink from it nor move it for just a moment. Instead she peered over it at Sir Poet. She looked straight into his eyes before continuing her sip then set the cup back in its saucer. Her gaze focused on her fingers as they traced the edge of her plate. "I think he meant to distract me from thinking about Simon." It was all she could say.

"Aye, and so he did from what I could tell, though I tarried not." Slowly Poet turned to look out at the white roses again. "He protected you and Simon. He was here to speak first to the Admiral. He was in the garden to comfort you." His voice became tight and hoarse, not at all Poet's smooth tone. "And last eve, he was by your side."

There was only sunshine and silence between them for a long while. Wenn tried to see what Poet seemed to see, not outside the window, but as expressed in his words. Finally she rose from her chair and knelt beside him. He looked into her upturned face. His thumb smoothed at the concern on her forehead.

"My Poet, think you that Lord Wolf means so much to me? Something more than you? Indeed, he does seem always under foot." She grinned. "But he is not you. I do not wait for him to appear then burst with joy to see him. I do not hang on his every word to hear the lyric of his heart. I wait for you, Arin."

Sir Poet took her hands and drew her up to stand as he rose to his own feet. "But you wait, don't you see?"

Wenn pulled his hands to her lips and kissed each. "Yes, I wait. I wait for you to speak to the Admiral, so we can be done with this pomp and circumstance. I wait for you to verify that I have spoken with him already and he too would choose you over Lord Wolf."

Finally Arin smiled. "You are sure of this, love? You are sure of your heart and the Admiral's consent?" He would not press his luck with more debate.

"Yes! Absolutely sure. Please go to him today, my love. Find him and state your intentions.. that is... if you are still certain of your intentions?"

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her. "More certain than I have been in days, my lady." He kissed her cheek then moved to her lips for a deeper expression, which Wenn returned in kind. At last he parted from their kiss and stepped aside, slipping away from her. He bowed deeply with his usual flourish. "Farewell, my Lady Wenndolyne. I will do as you bid and as my heart urges. I will seek the Admiral this day to profess my love for you and speak my wish to have his consent where you're concerned."

Wenndolyne curtsied with equal ceremony and offered her hand in a courtly manner. "Then get thee hence, dear Poet, and let us put this tawdry business on the shelf!" She giggled as he kissed her hand before he swirled in a merry step to leave her quarters. She sunk back into her chair and finished the fruit and tea. The rest of the bread she'd save for a walk in the gardens later, to feed those delightful sparrows that entertained her once again with their frolicking in the sun.