APOLOGY

You need to rest.

Isabella turns the cloth

on my forehead.

The sky outside

is pitch-black.

René knew me by Father’s ring

but Isabella didn’t need

a crest to know I was the girl

who’d stabbed at hay bales

with fury but no skill.

Now I have both.

My sister—

Helene is safe in chambers

with her lady’s maid.

Your maid awaits you

in the adjoining room.

I take all this in

struggle to form words

to explain our presence

but there’s no need.

Sleep now.

You’ve had a journey.

And I suspect

you’ve traveled

more than miles.