And sometimes the Prince just gives you a look, a plain quiet-eyed look that might have been sympathy but has no mercy to it, and turns away, and lets the messenger lead you onwards with your shawl clasped round your shoulders and your hands trying not to tremble.
And sometimes you die; and a thousand other women die after you.
And sometimes a woman named Kanan lives, and her brother loves her, and there is sunlight in their garden for a while.
And sometimes that is all there is. Turn the wheel. Start again.
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