Page 7 of Apples Dipped in Gold

“Yes,” I said, meeting his gaze. “At the very least, I could take my own.”

“Why do I get the feeling you would just to prove me wrong?”

“You are vain, my lord,” I said. “This is not about you at all. Now if you would kindly leave me to my death.”

“I couldn’t possibly leave now that I know your intentions.”

“Why not? Do you want to watch?”

“No, I hope to change your mind.”

“You won’t,” I said. “I have decided.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

“Then why haven’t you jumped?”

“Because you have interrupted my concentration.”

“Ending your life doesn’t sound like something that needs concentration.”

“So you have tried before?”

“Well, no.”

“Then how would you know?”

“By deduction,” he replied. “Hard things require concentration. Jumping off a cliff isn’t hard.”

“I suppose that depends on your definition of hard. The ground is quite solid.”

The man chuckled, and there was a glint in his eyes I had never seen in anyone else’s, but that was because this man was not burdened with the worry of surviving. He probably carried a silver spoon in his pocket, and while he had likely used it all his life, it had not given him a silver tongue.

“You are quite clever,” he said.

“Too clever to die?” I asked.

“No one is too clever to die,” the man replied.

“Once again, you speak for death,” I said. “Worse, you believe he values beauty over genius.”

“Beauty is genius,” said the man. “Surely, it sways you.”

“Sways? No,” I said. “I have met many beautiful, terrible people.”

“I suppose I have too,” he said and then paused. “So what is it, then, that you value?”

“Kindness,” I said.

I expected the lord to laugh, but he didn’t, and when I looked at him, his eyes had changed.

“Has anyone ever been kind to you?”

I looked away. I could not face his pity.

“A long time ago.”

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