Cooing over my shoulder, Rennick intoned solemnly, “Torn between two who would you choose, the one that you love, or the one that loves you?”

I sighed, as usual. “Rennick, you are a good and trusted adviser to our noble house, but must you ask that every time you find me in front of a mirror?”

“I’m terribly sorry, my liege,” he said with a bow, “The muse besets me in such obscure fits, as you know.”

“It’s the same fit. Every time. And it doesn’t make any sense. Do you mean to say I’m vain?”

“No. Not at all, sire. It is a saying, just one that comes to me, perhaps because of my own vanity.” He smiled his pathetic, crooked smile with two chipped teeth, one missing altogether and the one slightly tinged yellow. I’ve been faced with that smile for many years.

“Rennick, why are you in my chamber while I’m dressing anyway?”

His smile seemed to subtly change in quality, though I couldn’t read it, “No reason, sire, no reason.”

“Please get out now.” And that’s why he stays downstairs now, all the time.