How was I supposed to know that he didn't know? He's seen me play the lute.. but.. I suppose he wouldn't know how well I could play before, or really anything about it.. But still,. I mean, I can barely hold a dagger properly, how could he not know?
He can't read my mind. But I wish like mad I never had to tell him that. I wish he never recognized me. I don't care that I then recognized him. I only care that he lives with that pain, that knowledge of what he did to me, every day. I can't stand him feeling like that.
And no matter what he says, I can't help but wonder if everything he does for me, is some sort of apology, is trying to make it up to me.
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