Although Greengrass said nothing to suggest that he wouldn't continue to listen, Valerian was at odds with himself. This isn't something you should keep to yourself, part of him said. It was the healer part of him, the part of him that comforted patients who'd suffered emotional scars to match their physical ones. Greengrass wasn't the ideal person to share his struggles with, but there was no one else, was there? Except maybe Arthur, but their relationship didn't usually involve his feelings. There was another, more insistent part of him, however, that told him, You're going to upset him. You're going to ruin this. Shut up. It was the logical part of him—or maybe the prideful part of him, Maybe both.

Valerian shook his head against Greengrass' hair, but let silence take over. He wasn't sure if there was anything to say; it wasn't as though there was a solution to his problem, and his wedding night was so close that he couldn't imagine being calm about it.

"I only hope she doesn't have grand expectations about..." He didn't want to say it out loud, but he didn't think he needed to. "It's better that way. The sooner this wedding is over, the quicker everything can go back to normal." And the sooner he'd be able to reap the benefits that had driven him to marry in the first place—to have a woman to care for the home and host parties in their name, to be the daughter his mother always wanted (which in turn would make her love him more). "I'm going to be alright." He would have to, or else the next twenty-four hours would be a living hell. He leaned down and kissed Greengras's forehead.

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