It is the same dream as always. Arthur, beloved Arthur of Wales, is there. The garden is lush and vibrant. It bears fruit and flower in abundance, even the ensalada, salad vegetables he once promised she could plant. She, Katherine, is dressed in the Moorish garb they used to wear in the Alhambra, that she had shown Arthur just once, that one
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"Who are you?" she asks, with more curiosity than anger. He is dressed strangely, but he could be any brother or son or cousin of a palace servant with an odd taste in clothing.
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At the sound of her voice stopped him from moving away, instead turning to look at her. After everything that had happened to him over the last two years, this was the first time he had wondered into anyone's dream.
"Riku."
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