The touch startled him. He blinked at the small girl. "Pardon... I didn't mean to disturb you." He wasn't quite crying yet, and he wasn't about to fall apart on a child if he could help it. "Don't mind me, mademoiselle. I'm... homesick." The lie was plausible enough.

It was certainly easier to explain than the despair that was tightening around him. Last night was more horrific than any that had gone before. After his complete inability to help Anthy--even letting that masked child hurt her--he had no right to call himself a man.

Armand had the hardest time putting the feelings aside. Now that they was free, they didn't seem to fit back into the tight corner where he'd kept them locked away from his conscious mind.