[ Bastien looks sideways at her with a hint of a rueful smile, at this first part. He hadn't forgotten. He only lacked a word for the second one and what he was to her—but it's well enough to know what not to call him next time, and to hear and mark this new use of the past tense for her husband.

Then he shakes his head. ]

No.

[ He would have liked to say yes, to lessen the loneliness of it for her. But, ]

I was young. And it was the only way I ever really knew him to be.

[ One of many lessons in the inconstancy of security and the unreliability of protectors that he learned so early they never felt learned at all. Only things that were and always had been. The quiet, cautious unlearning of it all has been slow.

The wind blowing over the Gallows shifts, caught for a moment between the walls in a way that makes it howl. Softspoken as he is, Bastien doesn't bother trying to speak over it, waiting several seconds for the noise to pass. ]

Have you tried a spirit healer? I suppose they are more difficult to hire than they used to be.