She feels as though she has been slapped full in the face. Looks it, too, taking a half step back. Realisation dawns, where she had been near, and she almost groans.

“How many times must I tell you I love you before you believe it?”

Had she told her? Had she said it? She thought, surely, that she had, and anger and desperation edges her voice equally. “I don’t love Demetria. I don’t want Demetria. My heart has been yours for months and you do not trust or respect me enough to—“

To have faith, to consider that a traveller, a nameless traveller, might not know all? That rumours were malicious. She stares at Lakshmi for a moment, and shakes her head. “If all we are is duty to you, still, then I misunderstood much.”