Grom walked, hand in hand with the woman he has somehow come to love, despite all the lies. He tried to savor the moment, for after this night, he’d likely never see her again. He’d already packed all his belongings and found a new inn to move in. He’d paid his tab and even cleaned his room. While he knew he was going to hurt her with his confession, he wanted to do all he could to make the time that followed as easy for her as he could.

  It was the least he could do.

  “It’s such a nice night,” she said.

  She, Her, it was what he thought of her as in lieu of knowing her actual name.

  Why didn’t I remember her damned name? he berated himself for not the first time.

  Though he admitted that was the least of his lies.

  Lies.

  That seemed to be the whole of his life since he and Syril were forced to run. Now even those lies weren’t enough, as the nobles they’d meddled with had finally found Syril. He was fairly certain they’d not realized the cleric dwarf with Syril had been him, so his disguise had at least held, but they would soon have to leave. Linar’s lie would only buy them a little time. Hopefully enough to find the truth behind the Count’s motives.

  Grom laughed aloud to himself.

  “Truth,’ he said, marveling at the irony that was his life.

  “What’s that my little molewinkle?” She asked.

  He stopped walking, gently pulling her to a stop as well. They were on a small footbridge spanning a pond in the middle of the city park.

  He took a deep breath and let it out, building his resolve.

  Now’s a good a time as any. Rip off the bandage.

  “I have ta’ tell ye something,” he said, and then shook his head, unable to drop the fake accent.

  “What is it?” she asked, oblivious to the pain he was about to deliver.

  He couldn’t bear to look at her as he spoke, looking to the ground.

  “I never wanted to lie to you,” he said, dropping the accent. “I just… once I had… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, emotion welling up in her voice. “I already knew. I always knew.”

  Grom looked up in shock, not sure which of his many lies she was referring to. He found that she had tears welling in her eyes but had a smile fixed on her face.

  “You knew?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said. “Your accent wasn’t perfect. I went along with it that first night because it was like a fun role play. I wasn’t expecting it to be more than a fling, but… I love you. I didn’t expect it. I knew you’d admit it in time.”

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  “You did?” he asked, dumbfounded.

  “Of course! You’re a hero. You are noble and brave and caring. It’s why I love you.”

  “But I lied about who I was,” Grom said, and felt tears start to well up.

  “No,” she said emphatically. “You lied about where you were from. You couldn’t hide who you are. I could tell the lie hurt you.”

  “How can you say I’m all those things when I lied to you?”

  “Yes, you told me a small lie,” she said. “But in the short time I’ve known you, look at all the good you’ve done? You killed a vampire. You found a bunch of missing people. You brought a man back to life!”

  Grom was silent, tears dripping into his beard as he took this all in and She gave him the time.

  He wasn’t expecting to be in this position tonight, having to process a revelation. He was supposed to be the one giving her space to process her emotions. He’d planned to confess all his lies tonight and he’d technically not admitted anything. He had to push through.

  “There’s more,” he said.

  “Oh?” She asked, eyebrow raised.

  “I’m not really a cleric,” he said, wincing, his eyes looking up to the heavens briefly in fear of being smited.

  “You’re going to have to explain that one,” she said. “Because you’ve been doing a really good job pulling that lie off.”

  “I…” Grom said, unsure how to start, so he went back to the beginning.

  He told her how he and Syril had gotten involved in the dealings of a noble, and how it backfired, forcing them to flee. How they’d changed their name and avoided staying in any place too long.

  “I needed a disguise that would make me hard to track. Half-elf bards are a copper a dozen, so it was easy for Syril to hide, but dwarves are less common on the surface. A dwarf cleric even less so. No real dwarf would dare impersonate a cleric, but I was raised in Renmarch, with Syril in an orphanage. At first, it was a disguise, but lately… someone had been granting me power, and I don’t know who.”

  She stared at him for a moment, weighing his words, and then leaned down to give him a hug.

  “Whichever deity is blessing you just sees in you what I see.”

  He stood there, hugging her back, and savoring the moment. The night had not at all gone as he’d expected. He’d spent all day preparing himself to be devastated, only to learn that the woman he loved was far more wonderful than he’d ever realized.

  “No more lies,” she said.

  As they stood there on the bridge, Grom remembered that there had been a third admission he’d meant to confess.

  Dare he risk admitting he didn’t know her name? The admission had seemed so easy when he expected her to leave him before he even got to it. But now when she saw past his deception and still loved him?

  He couldn’t risk it.

  “No more lies,” he agreed, and he felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders.

  A large gale blew through the park; the warm summer afternoon turning suddenly chilly.

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