She shakes her head to indicate it does not trouble her, and it doesn't. Not anymore. Careless and artful he calls her. She doesn't need it to be true, just to believe for a moment that it can be.

Her hand unwinds from his so their palms can press together, fingers interlacing. She wonders how long she can keep this up, teasing him and drawing him on, and whether it will lessen or intensify his desire.

"Your words are beautiful." The first and middle finger of her free hand delicately take a stray strand of his hair and flick it away from his face. "I imagine you learned them in the same place you learned the rest of your fairy-stories."