## **Contents**

Title Page

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE Before the First Touch of Sunlight

CHAPTER TWO Nightmare

CHAPTER THREE The Mage

CHAPTER FOUR A Proposition

CHAPTER FIVE The Hard Season

CHAPTER SIX A Deal by Forgery

CHAPTER SEVEN The Bimbleberry Inn

CHAPTER EIGHT Blooming Tea

CHAPTER NINE Symphonies

CHAPTER TEN An Open Door

CHAPTER ELEVEN Lady Lessons

CHAPTER TWELVE Witch Hunt

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Gilded Cage

CHAPTER FOURTEEN The Vanishing

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Cherry Blossoms

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Courting Horses

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Battle of Wits

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN The Other World

CHAPTER NINETEEN Sleepless

CHAPTER TWENTY Secrets

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Mite Olke

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Pearls

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Masquerade

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Midnight's Song

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE The Presence

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Alone With the Devil

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Air

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Sealed with a Kiss

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Entwined

CHAPTER THIRTY Lydia's Secret

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE Guiding Light

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO Dark Mirrors

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE Healer

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR As the Moon Chases the Sun

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE The Eyes

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX Kiss of Death

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN Doors to the Universe

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT The Flight

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE The Price of Darkness

CHAPTER FORTY Bound

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE Kaima Dahem

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO King of Wolves

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE The Labyrinth

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR Fallen

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE The Pure Heart Rises

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX Beasts of the Shadows

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN Sun Daughter

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT The Beast King

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE The Mountains Will Remember

CHAPTER FIFTY Scarlet Lilies

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE Lovers Lost in Time

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO Canary

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE Fiery Heart

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR Dawn

Midnight's Song

Keely Victoria

Smashwords Edition

This is a beta copy and is subject to change.

This following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Not that magic actually exists.

Copyright © 2017

All rights reserved.

For Aaron, my real life Ari. I chase you as the moon chases the sun.

CHAPTER ONE

Before the First Touch of Sunlight

The ocean greeted my toes with gentle, wavering taps. Dawn's first light was absent from the horizon. The beach was another world before the sun's first rays bled across the sand. I took in a breath of salty air and returned the greeting. The ocean was as much me as I was it.

I was a fisherman's daughter. Nothing more, and nothing less.

"Crystal seas and crimson moon

Blood-red roses and lives anew

Where the scarlet lilies bloom

Under the midnight sky."

I sang it against the breeze. Warm air kissed my cheeks and carried the song to the ships in the distance. I dug my toes into the sand. Maybe Papa would hear it.

It was a song everyone in the village knew, taught when children first started babbling. I was no exception. From the time I could stand, I was singing it to Papa's crew mates. I imagined him at the docks, rough and fishy hands hoisting me into the air as I ran to him.

"Sing for us, little Lissie. These men haven't heard the voice of a lady in six weeks!" He would say, carrying me on his hip. And I would.

My bones rattled with excitement. I scanned the horizon again, watching vessels as tiny lights in the darkness before dawn. One of them had to be his. It had been eight weeks, and today was the day. This time, I was too big to fit on his hip, as I was nearly a grown woman. I shivered, realizing that today marked another occasion.

It was now one full season until my sixteenth birthday.

I panicked. My choice was clear, so I shouldn't have. I couldn't put it from my mind. Something in me felt that I was losing something precious; that I would never know my identity. I banished the thought from my mind and escaped back into song.

"The moon hangs low in a clear black sky

Painted stars shine brightly,

Midnight Sings an enchanting song..."

I couldn't do it. My mind wandered again. This time the song brought back memories of my village – my unofficial tribe. To them, Midnight's Song was the anthem of our ancestors, passed down from the time before the Great War. The more superstitious folk – and there were lots of them – considered the lyrics to have supernatural meaning. The people of my caste had a plethora of tales.

Watered down versions were common bedtime literature for small children. The real tales had a darker substance to them. They were about curses, princes and creatures that walked the earth in human skin. Older folk sometimes told these stories with such reverence, you knew they believed them.

Parents often used these types of tales to scare their children into behaving. I was a different child than most. The parts considered the most frightening didn't scare me at all – instead, they intrigued me. I enjoyed hearing the older women tell them more than anyone else. I would sit at the communal fire each full moon and listen to the passion with which they delivered each word.

"When the skin-creatures crossed the bridge, we became separate," I remembered my neighbor, Una explaining in one iteration. "But one day, our worlds will become one again."

It made very little sense, but Una clearly believed it. Most of the children present were bored and groggy. The littlest ones slept in their parent's laps. A few shuddered, disgusted by the mental image of a monster "putting on" a man's skin. I grasped early on that it was just a metaphor.

Still, there were many of the populace – adults included – that understood the stories as the other children did. They believed them literally and wholeheartedly.

There was nothing to believe, I told myself, digging my toes deeper into the sand. Believing like that seemed just about as logical as believing in mermaids or selkies. Those had been clearly disproved, yet some people would still go to their graves believing.

My thoughts were interrupted by the town intercoms. They let out four shrill beeps, loud enough to rouse anyone from the deepest sleep. After the beeps, there was a thirty second pause. Then came four more.

I had been careless. I looked at the sky, filling with pinkish light, and realized that I was a few seconds away from being in deep danger. The cottage was in view – exterior flaking from years of sea spray – but distance wasn't what mattered. During the night hours, public trespassing was prohibited. It didn't matter if you were standing in the town square or standing in your backyard. Everyone in our sector had a strict lock-down curfew. If I was seen outside before the morning alignment, it would mean a public lashing.

For anyone else, they would suffer directly. I was a special case. Any infraction of mine, until my sixteenth birthday, was worn on the backs of my parents.

I darted across the sand. It wasn't far. I climbed up our porch and wrapped a hand around the doorknob, pausing. In the faint light of the sunrise, something hypnotized me in the garden beneath the kitchen window. I reached out to touch the bloom and laced my fingers around its petals in astonishment.

The morning call rang loudly throughout the village, breaking my trance. The working villagers opened their doors in a uniform chorus. It was law that every able-bodied citizen was to emerge from their home, fully dressed in their work attire at exactly five o'clock every morning. For one-hundred-twenty seconds, there was a silent inspection of each row of houses. No one was permitted to speak – only to think – and according to the law, their thoughts should be of the Magistrate.

I crouched in the garden for a few seconds, my petite frame going unseen by all but my mother. The lines on her face, representing both age and worry, were clearly defined. An inspector approached us. She moved her eyes in the direction of the window, telling me that I ought to jump now.

Without hesitating, I climbed through the window and landed on the kitchen floor. I heard the inspector's clinking boots come to a stop. He examined my mother suspiciously, seeing the weariness on her face, and realized she was no troublemaker. The clinking boots carried along.

A bell rang. That was everyone's cue to leave their places and go to work. Just like that, my mother walked with the hoard to the cannery. She went to toil while I sat around the house. It was a particularly useless existence on my part.

I wasn't allowed to hoist a sail or operate a single lever. That was my bargain with society. I was one inch too short to work in any of the manual trades. Since those were the only kinds of trade we had in the Katie Isles, I was too short to do anything at all.

I picked myself up, heart still beating wildly. My mind went back to the dangerously hypnotic object in our garden. I cracked open the door. Daylight has a habit of bringing things into clarity, and now I could see.

It was a single white lily; having fully bloomed before the first touch of sunlight.

CHAPTER TWO

Nightmare

I knitted at the table while I listened to Friday's mandatory radio broadcast. The Magistrate's words were harsh and commanding, but I focused mainly on my stitches. If I couldn't contribute financially, the very least I could do was contribute this hat.

"Knit two, purl two, knit two...purl one?" I counted aloud, losing my place when his words became particularly unnerving.

"Keep in mind, dearest citizens," the Magistrate stated as the start of his customary but drawn-out closing, "that as survivors of the Great War, our generation is chosen by the Creator himself. Our ancestors marred their own society. It is important that we reject the evils that they unleashed into their world in full. You all fully know what these evils are. They are things such as slander, superstition, and the darkness of all worldly debauchery."

He went on to explain again, as he did every week, that the sin of our ancestors is what makes us who we are. Then, that although we were all chosen by the Creator to survive the Great War, we were not all equal in his eyes.

Those from the lines of the "do-gooders" of the revolution belonged to the 2nd and 3rd castes. These people had been granted a life of luxury comparable to only the Magistrate himself. The descendants of the rebels were of the 14th and 15th castes. These people were considered a few grades lower than dirt.

We were of the 10th caste, manual laborers in the 4th general working class. From birth to death, and with no way to move up – only down (unless you were a special case). The sins of our forefathers were the things that determined our place in society. Nothing more, and nothing less.

"Thank you dearest citizens, workers, and friends. Work hard to serve your people today, tomorrow, and every day. I wish prosperity for the greater good of our nation."

Finally, he signed off. I let out a massive sigh of relief. Timed nearly perfectly with the end of the miserable broadcast was the sound of the door hinge creaking. Suddenly, the door flung open and I leapt to my feet in excitement. My father was home.

"PAPA!" I shouted, running into his arms like the little girl that I still was.

"Lissie!" He shouted at the same time, happily taking me in his embrace. My petite frame went airborne as he twirled me with his brawny fisherman arms. I took note of the warm, lively expression on his ruddy, bearded cheeks. "How I've missed my dear Elissa!"

His words came with a lilt that my mother and I had grown so accustomed to. It was one that a few others from the ships had, simply because in our region we had seafarers from just about every place. While I was amused, my mother was enchanted. My father's smooth, flowing words were part of the reason my mother had been so attracted to him in the first place.

Or as he would often say: "It was a bit of luck, a few soft serenades and a great deal of love."

That bit of luck would have to be whatever feasible force could've driven my parents together amid being separated by seven largely divided castes. The love was the willingness of my mother – out of the feelings from an emotion that no scientist can still fully explain – to forfeit her title as the heiress apparent in one of the wealthiest non-royal families in the country.

It was quite the scandal, really.

This love compelled her to leave her place in the 3rd caste to the lowly, labor-driven 10th. It compelled her to move down, knowing of all the risks and sacrifices of leaving her world for another. She also knew that after one year, she'd be excommunicated from her family and caste – prohibited by law from ever seeing them again.

And she was also well-aware that only one child could come from this union.

On her sixteenth birthday, this child would have to appear before a judge. The child would be presented with the choice to remain a part of the same life she had chosen – or to assume the role she abandoned in the 3rd caste.

Should her daughter stay, she would face a life of hardship. Should she go – she would be whisked away to a life of comfort. But, it was comfort that came at the cost of never seeing her parents ever again.

The price of never seeing my parents again.

There was something beautiful about the life she chose. Although hard, there was love. And as for my choice, my mother trusted me to make the right one. That's why she chose to stay here.

"Working on a new hat, I see," he remarked at the abandoned needles on the kitchen table, still clinging to me.

"Yes, although I lost my place a minute ago. I don't know how good it's going to be," I smiled in his warm embrace. "I'm more excited to hear about your journey. How was life on the boat this time?"

He opened his mouth to speak, ready for heaps of storm stories and fish tales – but they were stories I would never hear. A young factory worker came to the door, fully uniformed and trembling.

"There's been an accident," he told us, shaking.

It had taken place on the big machinery at the cannery. Papa had better come quickly, the lad told him, because there wasn't much time left. Papa dropped what was in his hands and followed the young man in a sprint. I followed quickly behind, picking up my skirt and running as fast as I could. I lost sight of him, getting tangled in a crowd at the factory doors. I jumped into the sea of people and wove to the front, pushing people out of my way from all directions until I reached a barricade.

"What's going on?!" I shouted above the crowd.

No one seemed to notice me. The workers only bickered and shoved in a crazy multitude. They chaotically pushed toward the door. A 5th caste officer herded us back. I screamed, but the officer only pushed.

"Dirty 10th caste animals!" He shouted. "You should all be ashamed of yourselves! Someone has died!"

My heart dropped to my feet and I stood back up, facing the man.

"Who has died?" I choked back the tears. "Please, let me through. My mother has been in an accident."

The official retracted, ashamed. He led me to a door at the back of the building, apologizing profusely.

I readied myself to face my fears as an acrobat readies himself to leap over a great chasm. I pushed on the door, taking my leap. I approached the root of my nightmares with chary footing, paler with each step I took closer to her body. The chasm widened, and I plunged.

The sight of her face was shockingly different. Had she fallen into one of the big machines? Did a heavy load crush her bones? I didn't want to visualize what must have just taken place, but the results were bare before my eyes. For most people, the shock would have been too overwhelming. I was compelled by love – compelled by the love I had for her – to remain.

I felt as though her spirit was still looming, waiting for me to say goodbye. As my final parting act, I grievously took a lock of her hair – gray on the top and golden on the bottom – and twisted it around my finger before weaving it together and kissing her on the forehead. The grieving child inside wanted to believe that somehow my kiss would send her spirit back into her body.

The spirit that I had so wished would give my mother life was null and void. Whatever presence had been there in the room at that moment was abruptly, swiftly gone.

CHAPTER THREE

The Mage

It was the Magistrate's solemn decree that intermarriage resulted in estrangement. When someone left their caste, their family was to have no contact with the demoted child. It was said to prevent anyone from sabotaging the forfeited inheritance, but all it truly did was divide.

Sons and daughters in such unions would never be allowed to see their parents at weddings, on holidays or even at funerals. They were forced to remain strangers until the funeral was their own. Death meant the end of marriage, and the end of this marriage meant that the walls around our relationships were soon to come down.

I first saw my mother's family on the day of the funeral. I stared at their expensive clothing through the window, realizing right away that they couldn't have been from the Katie Isles. Three women emerged from a fine carriage, looks ranging from sour to sadness on their faces.

The first to emerge was an elderly woman in a wheelchair. The servant wheeling her around had strong arms and a dark complexion that I knew must have made him a 12th caste. Two younger ladies followed behind.

I didn't know who these people were, but their stone faces and dramatic jewels gave me desire to flee. Before I was forced to greet them or even face them, I escaped through a door with a sign on it that read: "The Comfort Room."

The doorknob was of shiny brass and the floors of the softest green carpets. The walls were lined with shelves that housed more books than I'd ever seen on the somewhat illiterate island. This was where death lived and resided, yet it was lusher than any other home. Death made out as luxury was anything but comforting.

I put my head in my hands and wept. The funeral walk was in twenty minutes. As the only child, I would have to lead it. All the mourners would proceed behind me, including the lavish women I hardly knew. I couldn't hide anymore, even if it was intimidating. If I did, I'd never know who they were to me – good or bad. I found the resolve to leave the room, telling myself repeatedly:

"I will be brave. I will be brave."

My bravery quickly vanished when I caught sight of the casket. When I approached it, a chill crept up my spine. I searched the room for my father, but he was nowhere to be found.

"This isn't right. It's simply not right," an unexpected voice came from behind. It was reserved, but obviously pained. "A mother should not outlive her children."

I turned to see the wheelchair-bound woman I avoided earlier. This time, she was clad in a thick fur coat. The woman was ancient, endowed with the fruits of her age. Wrinkles covered her face and veins bulged underneath the black lace on her forearms.

"It's no less difficult when a child loses her mother."

The relic of a woman looked up and examined my features. There wasn't anything in them that seemed to catch her by surprise. As she studied me, I got the strange sense that this woman truly knew me. She quickly ordered her servant to wheel her away from the dismal coffin. For some reason, I followed.

"Children are meant to outlive their parents. Some unfortunately do so from an earlier age." She looked at the casket, then back at me. "You need not fight, child. I know who you are."

"How would you know that?"

"You favor your mother."

I couldn't see what on Earth she was talking about. I wanted to shout that I was clearly smaller, had dark hair and eyes that weren't her wild bluish shade. What resemblance did she see that was so stark? I wanted to say these things but remained silent. Just then, a group of discourteous men bombarded the room.

"Has everyone finished with their customary visit?" One of them asked.

It was a 5th caste officer. Without asking again, one of the men went to the front of the room and began shutting the casket. As the top of it began to fall shut, I remembered something that halted them.

"Wait!"

The man caught the top and propped it back open for me. I came to the edge of the silken bed where she eternally slept and placed a kiss on her forehead. With tears in my eyes, I plucked a strand of my hair and wove it into hers.

When I was finished, I looked up and gave a nod to the man standing beside me. He quickly took the top and latched it shut. The group of men then proceeded to take the coffin and carry it out the door.

"She remembered," I heard someone whisper.

It was a custom that defined our people – a farewell that truly made someone one of the People of the Sea. When I turned, there was a haggard woman standing directly in front of me. It was Delpha, the town mage. A word from her was a word from the heavens, even for doubters like me. She grabbed my face and touched her forehead to mine.

"Greater things than all of the heavens and earth await you. Remember our people, Elissa."

My friends and neighbors looked to me in solidarity after witnessing the tradition I upheld. My mother's family quickly grew weary of the atmosphere and called for their carriage to take them to the grave site ahead of the crowd.

"Lead the walk," the mage whispered in my ear. I looked over my shoulder for reassurance, but just like that – she was gone. I looked ahead and took in a deep breath, knowing that these people had called me to lead them. It was time to be brave. Someone gave me a light tap, and I began the tearful march.

As we passed through the town, our crowd grew in number. We grew from a crowd of perhaps twenty to over eighty in number. People emerged from their homes and shops to celebrate the life of Rose McClellan; the woman who left her riches to marry the sea. For the first few minutes, we marched in complete silence. As we neared the cemetery, I took the lead in a traditional parting hymn – choking as I did.

"Golden streets and skies of blue. Life when earth is done and through," I sang. Soon, the crowd joined in. We neared the site of interment, our voices raised in a chorus of passion and grief:

"To the realm of glowing sun

In place before the world begun

Of legends and a legacy

Death defeated victoriously"

I saw Papa sitting on a chair beside the newly dug grave, watching incurably as the pallbearers lowered the casket into the ground. I was incredibly disturbed to see what looked like a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

Some members of my mother's family had already arrived and were sitting in the second row. A minister came forward and addressed the onlookers, now having surpassed one hundred in number.

Among the crowd there was wailing and singing. I could feel the souls of each person with their voice. It was a strange phenomenon; one that I knew could be felt by others, too. From the center of the crowd, the mage began singing:

"Joy is the child born of fire

Let her be forged by flame

A queen among peasants

An angel among men is she!"

The entire procession joined in with her in another beautiful chorus. Next thing I knew, I felt someone pull on the sleeve of my dress and hoist me into the air. I was soon sitting on the shoulders of a stranger, tears in my eyes as we all sang an ancestral victory song.

"Victorious, she shall conquer!

No end can reach her now

The land above the sea is hers

The world beyond our sky."

It was a beautiful sound to the ones who understood it. As we sang, I noticed Papa. He sat comatose, awake but unaware of what was going on around him. Someone from my mother's family, a woman I'd later find was my aunt Beeti, spoke in disgust.

"Barbaric!" She remarked. "What a primitive, disrespectful, desecrating practice!"

The minister expressed a look of distaste but didn't speak a word. We all knew that he looked down on our way of life. He still knew better than to speak. It wasn't his place.

The group disbanded after a few songs and kindly met me with fattening dishes and casseroles at my home. I was amazed at the generosity of these people – that although equally as poor, they had big enough hearts to provide us with food that it would take nearly a week's wages to afford.

As grateful as I was I still couldn't bring myself to eat much. I would later regret it – for hard times were coming. The moment that the food on the counter would begin to rot would be the moment that there would be no food for us at all.

CHAPTER FOUR

A Proposition

It was a relatively muggy morning when the carriage pulled up in front of our shanty. I hadn't seen my father come out of his room but twice in the last three days. I didn't know what he was doing behind the locked door – but I couldn't hear a sound, not even a single whimper.

As I looked out of our kitchen window I could see the same 12th caste servant lowering the old woman's wheelchair from the cab. This time a younger woman exited with her. She grabbed the hem of her dress and walked up the porch steps, awkwardly forming a fist and tapping the side of the house with gloved hands.

"Hello?" She called in an amusingly proper accent. "Is anyone there?"

I cautiously peeked out the mesh door. I could see that the younger one wore a big-brimmed hat with a lacy veil. Her dress was wildly expensive, and the bustle looked as if it contained a weather balloon. The old woman was dressed similarly, but more to her age. She sat in her chair at the bottom of the steps, parasol protecting her head from the brightness of the clouds.

"Elissa Celeste? Of the McClellan's?" The lace-veiled woman asked.

"That's me..."

The woman let a deep breath escape from her corseted chest. A weak smile appeared on her face.

"I saw you the other day, but only for a moment, I'm afraid... My, my. You do favor us."

I still couldn't see what on earth she was talking about.

After a minute or two of silence, I spoke up. "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"I'm Wren, your aunt. You have another aunt named Beeti. She was at the funeral, but she couldn't be here today." I connected the name to the face immediately, unable to forget the complaining woman at the grave site. Wren continued. "This is your grandmother – you might call her Grandmamma – Lady Abilene Deveraux. We've been staying at the foreigner's hotel. May we come in?"

I looked at the women, biting my lower lip to hide the fact that I was actually curious. Part of me truly did want to know them. The other part could clearly feel the barriers that cut between our classes.

"Of course," I sighed, opening the door to Wren and showing the wheel-bound woman to the ground-level door out back.

As soon as they came into the house I fell into a deep embarrassment. For the first time in my life, I saw my home as the shack that it was in comparison to their finery. The floor was falling part; something evident to Grandmamma as her wheels became stuck in between loose plywood. Although my home was clearly dilapidated, neither of the women said anything demeaning.

"Child, is this where you live?" My grandmother gently posed. I nodded.

Suddenly, the door to the back room was opened. My father's begrudging silhouette emerged. I caught a glimpse of his face and could immediately sense that his feelings were of neither warmth nor welcome.

"Galen," my grandmother spoke up as soon as she saw my father approaching. "We were hoping to see you. There are things that we must discuss now that Rose is gone."

"Get out." They were the only words he wished to utter.

"If we leave, when can we discuss matters? Please give me a good time." Grandmamma asked.

"I'll find a good time," he told them angrily, his tone becoming louder. "Now ain't a proper one. Leave."

"Mother, we should probably go," Wren whispered cautiously. My grandmother waved her hand in the air, the situation no more dangerous than swatting a fly.

"Nonsense. We shan't let intimidation drive us sour!" The old woman exclaimed. "In any case, Galen, we will leave your home as you request. Though, first I must inform you that I have a proposal that mustn't wait until a future meeting."

"Alright...." Papa told them after a few moments of contemplation. "I'll only listen once. Then you have to go."

Both parties urged me to leave. It was at that moment that I realized what this was about – it was about my choice. No one dared utter a single word until the entire room was certain that my door was shut and I was absent from the conversation. It was a bit redundant considering that I could still hear their conversation.

"Thank you, Galen." Grandmamma began. "I understand that in the 10th caste it takes two or three working individuals to produce a sufficient income. With Rose gone and Elissa unfit to work, there is bound to be difficulty."

"I'm aware."

"Of course, Galen. I'm sure you're aware of every consequence of the death. Knowing of your daughter's 'special,' status...I only wanted to express that we are willing to take Elissa into our home."

There was silence. I cracked open my door to look at what might have been conspiring on the other side. What I saw and heard next scarred me as deeply as a jagged razor blade. Papa refused to look at them for a few moments, transforming into a beast. Shadows loomed over him, back hunching and growing horns and claws that only I could see.

"Get out," he grunted. "Elissa's my daughter. We won't need any help on your part. I'll do just fine providing for her with my own wages! This is her choice – so you'd better not dare try to sabotage it!" His tone soon became that of a true monstrosity. "Get out of my house, or you're dead."

Before he had even finished the last word of his sentence, the 12th caste hurried Grandmamma out the back door. Aunt Wren followed closely behind. I emerged from my room in horror. Although the women were gone, my father was not finished. He picked up a crowbar and ran out the front door.

"Stay out of our business, you pretentious snakes!" Papa shouted at the carriage in a monstrous rage, falling to his knees. "Elissa is mine. As long as I've got reason to live, you can't take her from me!"

CHAPTER FIVE

The Hard Season

Father sunk into a depression that intoxicated him more than the most potent liquor. He soon returned to the boats, and the small lifeline we had of food from our neighbors ended. Food was scarce for everyone. Even when they made a good catch, Papa wasn't allowed to take home any more than his ration. He gave me his portion most of the time. The ration was nearly as small as his wages – hardly enough to feed one person, let alone two.

In a few weeks, the cupboard was completely bare.

Summer brought the worst drought the country had experienced in years. The sandy beaches and cobblestone roads of the Katie Isles became scorched and sizzling, just as did every other part of the country. In the Southern Country, the 8th caste farmers couldn't produce their crops. At the Great Northern Lakes, 5th caste technicians worked tirelessly to keep dams operating in nearly dry reservoirs.

Our fearless Magistrate did nothing to help. It was only when June's rays charred his famed blood oranges that he addressed the crisis. His explanation for it was almost as disturbing as the phenomena itself.

Witchcraft.

The Magistrate insisted that his people become more pious – implying that this drought must have been a punishment for crimes against God. While the witch-hunt began, my people starved. Mother was better off in the ground. Two months passed, and I realized that with every day that went by was a day closer to my sixteenth birthday. Regardless of drought, sickness, or death; my choice wasn't optional. I always wanted to stay, but now I wasn't as sure.

The family I'd longed to stay with was gone now. Hunger gnawed at my bones daily. The ocean wasn't even a place where I could seek refuge anymore. Guards patrolled the shoreline each night, ensuring that emaciated villagers didn't board rafts and head into the waves. The fishing boats could have easily escaped the Empire, but Papa and his shipmates knew their families would face fates worse than starvation if they did. He left for the open sea for three weeks in May, until all vessels were abruptly called back into port by magisterial decree. Too many were using them to flee. The ships were docked, and soon even our rations of fish and small payment of quint ended.

Even that glorious lily withered.

The darkest day was in mid-July. I hadn't eaten a solid meal in several days, and now the pain was agonizing. I made my way to the sink and splashed my face with a handful of its dirty, warm water. Although it wasn't suitable for drinking – I did so anyway. I held my breath and drank the water as if I'd been thirsty for days, pretending that the pipes weren't dry and the basin wasn't stagnant.

The next thing I knew, my grip against the counter was loosening. The world went black. When it became light again, my mother's midwife, Una was standing over me. The nurse came to check on me just a few minutes after the fall, and now she administered a pack of gruel she reserved for the sickest-of-the-sick.

"Someone must do something," Una muttered over me that day. "Otherwise this child will die."

That night, my hollow faced father came in through the screen door looking ghastly as death itself. His eyes were bloodshot, drunken with grief if not alcohol. He walked past the sight of his half-dead child and locked himself in his room.

That was when I realized that I was alone. Even though my father had breath in his lungs, he was dead. I was no better than an orphan.

The months passed and the earth inevitably pulled away from her sun. Cool winds doused the village as small blessings from the Atlantic. Una took care of me for the remainder of that month and the next. I was alive, but my mind was a clouded jumble. The picture of reality I'd had was gone. The reality of staying here was bleak, but so did the reality of leaving.

August came and went. Papa was beginning to disappear more frequently, sometimes for weeks. Soon it was September. Then, October came. My choice was now days away. I still couldn't decide. I wouldn't. The harvest moon of my birth appeared in the sky, meaning that my choice was a day away.

October the 12th arrived. There was no food or festivities. I allowed the day to pass, knowing it would haunt me. The crime of rebellion had a hefty price.

For two days, no one bothered us. Then, Papa came through the door, indifferently handing me an envelope with the court's regional seal. I tore it open.

"Elissa McClellan," the letter greeted.

"You have failed to appear at your caste designation hearing. A missed hearing requires a fine of 200 quint. You will be given three days grace for rescheduling. Your new hearing will be on October the 17th at 12:00 pm. Failing to appear will result in severe penalties."

The judge signed his name at the bottom in an angry, burning orange. I took the letter and crumpled it up. Two-hundred quint was more than any 10th caste family made in a year! There was no possible way I could do this. And there was no one that could decide for me. As regimental as this world was, the court still could not decide my caste. I did.

There was no way out. No way except for death, and I wasn't going to put my father through another tragedy. I loved him far too much to do that. The grace period passed. The day after that was the day of wrath.

I woke up to find my father pacing. For the first time in many week

"You've done a very foolish thing, Lissie." The words were harsh. I could tell that they were coming from his right-mind. "But I'm as much to blame now. You have to go to the judge and tell him that you've made your choice!"

I looked to him reluctantly, attempting to deter the conversation from the true nature of our situation. "Our family doesn't have 200 quint. We don't even have enough to feed ourselves."

He looked to me gravely, but then stopped. His expression softened and he put a warm hand on my shoulder. Tears began to fall from my eyes as I saw my old father come back in full.

"Lissie, money ain't the matter. Money's something that can be made. It's borrowed and replaced just like a pair of shoes or an old coat." There were tears in his eyes. "A daughter can't be."

I fell onto my father's shoulder, sobbing wildly.

"Oh Elissa..." my Papa softly whispered as I sobbed. "I'm so sorry for what I've become. Please, just go before the judge. Just tell him you want to leave!"

"I can't leave you," I shuddered, quickly retracting at his words. "If I do, you'll die."

"No, Elissa. You must!" He pleaded, "Please, don't become chained to this place because I am. Don't starve here."

"I can't," I choked. "They gave me three days grace. Today is the fourth day."

There was a knock on the door. It was truly my greatest fears realized. Two officers waited there, a caged wagon parked in the lane. Papa and I fell deathly silent. Both kicked in the door – coming in and taking me ferociously by the arms before I was handcuffed and dragged into the cart.

This was it. There was no other way. If I couldn't decide, I would be without a caste. People without a caste were not people. They were not safe and were not fit to be part of any functioning society. Casteless people were just as inhuman as those folkloric beings in the legends of old – monsters disguised in human skin! Unless I willed myself to sign my name on a paper, I would formally cease to exist.

They took me to the courthouse and paraded me around the building humiliatingly. The officers pushed me down dim passageway and shoved me into a holding cell. It was mucky and wet, a small mound of hay the only barrier between my body and the ground.

"You're such a stupid little girl," a jailer mocked, spitting on the ground beside me. "What you've been given is a gift, McClellan. The only reason you're here is because you're too dim-witted to use it. Your hearing is at three. Hope that you're not too unintelligent to sign the papers!"

"Oh, believe me," I spat in return. The powerful wad of saliva landed on the tip of his shoe. "This system is unjust. Give me a hundred papers, and I won't make a single stroke."

The man then began laughing, half out of cruelty and half of amusement.

"You'll find yourself locked in here every day until you do."

CHAPTER SIX

A Deal by Forgery

The Honorable Judge Matkins sat above me, robed in white and sashed with the all seeing eye of the magisterial crest. He was a stubby old man with poor eyesight, constantly squinting from behind a pair of bifocals. I could never tell if he was straining to see, or simply glaring.

"Elissa Celeste McClellan," he struggled to read my name from the paper. Thank goodness, the print was large enough. "You have failed to appear before the court on your designated date. Do you have an adequate reason for this?"

I kept my lips firmly shut.

"Well?" He asked again, perpetually squinting.

He waited for an answer that wouldn't come. I shook my head, but he obviously didn't see it. One of the bailiffs spoke up for me.

"She's shaking her head, Your Honor."

"Thank you, bailiff." The judge adjusted his bifocals again. "Now then, I'm inclined to inform you that a missed court date is punishable by a fine of 200 quint. Seeing that you do not presently have the money, the court is willing to arrange a deal for your cooperation." The old man paused for a moment before callously continuing. "Join the 3rd caste, and the fine will be waived."

It seemed obvious that their definition of cooperation was not mine. Let's not humor ourselves – there was no real choice. It was simply another way for me to bow to the Magistrate. Choose one path and be rewarded. Choose the other, and be forced to live with a debt that my family could never repay. I didn't know much at that moment, but I did know one thing:

They couldn't force a decision out of me if I was mute.

"Well...?" The judge again questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Silence.

"Don't be difficult. Tell me your decision or you will face serious consequences!"

Nothing.

"You will not speak?! Very well. The court has now raised your fine to 400 quint. Your next hearing will be in two days. If you are silent then, your fine will be raised by two-hundred more! Take her away!"

The protests would only continue. Two days later, they took me again. Silence. 600 quint. Two days after that, more silence. 800 quint. After that, more time in the brig. There was another appearance, and 200 more quint. After two weeks in the cage, my health was improving. I received more food from the government as a prisoner than a citizen.

It became apparent that I was a mule. With each silent refusal, I was a few breaths away from being rendered casteless. Word travelled to my mother's family very quickly. Despite his prior convictions, Papa agreed to meet with my grandmother. It was their last hope of saving my life. They sat at opposite ends of a glossy oak table, discussing the inevitable.

"We both know that Elissa is running out of time." Grandmamma told him, sliding a stack of papers his direction. "The girl is just like her mother – immovable as a load of bricks. We cannot have her deemed casteless!"

Galen looked at the papers desperately. He was reluctant, knowing I'd never take part willingly.

"Please, sign the papers Galen. I understand you are slow to trust me – but I promise that I will take good care of the girl. I assure you that she will be able to return when she comes of age," the woman persuaded. "You know the truth – I don't even have to say it. With your consent, she'll be spared from hunger and be allowed to make her choice whenever she's of sound enough mind. Your fine will be gone and your debt repaid – something unheard of."

He looked up at my grandmother, then back down at the papers. His fingers trembled as he moved the pen. If he refused, poverty would gnaw me to shreds. Not able to bear the thought of losing another love, he signed the paper.

"Wait," his eyes moved down the document. "It requires one from her."

The usually polite, dignified woman sat up in her chair with the rarest kind of grit.

"Forge it."

With the next stroke of that pen, my life was changed forever.

"Judge Matkins wants to see you," the guard barked that day. "It's on special notice."

I went through the usual twists and turns of my journey from cell-to-judge. This time the atmosphere was different. I saw Papa in the corner of the room and felt my heart tremble. There was pain in his withering eyes. The judge entered, wearing his bright sash and ominous crest.

"Elissa McClellan," the judge started, taking his seat. "You've come before me seven times in silence. It's obvious you can hear. In my opinion, you should be casteless!" Casteless. I looked over to my father and closed my eyes. "But, there has been a change. Your fine has been paid and you are to be released."

The words almost didn't seem real. What was going on? Who would do this? What was this – a miracle of God himself?

"Who paid it?" I asked, confounded. It was the first time opening my mouth in this room since arriving.

The doors in the back of the courtroom came open. The tall, 12th caste servant wheeled a familiar old woman into the room. Two familiar ladies walked closely behind. Both were dressed in vibrant lace dresses with exaggerated bustles and veiled hats.

"Your honor," the old woman started. "We thank you for allowing us to be here and state our case. You have such wonderful flexibility."

My excitement turned to distress. This was no simple mercy.

"These women have a proposition that satisfies the wishes of the family and the court." The judge stated.

Wishes? I'd given up wishing long ago. My grandmother looked at me in pity. It was as if she could read my heart and mind from simply looking at me. The judge urged someone from the party to come to the podium and make their case. Wren volunteered.

"Thank you, Honorable Judge Matkins," she told him, unfolding a paper that she read word-for-word. "As you know, our decision to pay the fine is with particular discretion. We propose that after the fine is paid, Elissa be sent to live with us. "

That was it. I knew it. They were here to steal me. To force me to become one of them.

"Wait –" I interjected, "I still haven't made my choice. I can't leave with them if I haven't chosen to be part of the 3rd caste!"

The judge knocked his mallet against the table and demanded silence. Wren continued.

"What we propose is fitting of the situation. My niece has been subjected to tremendous hardship over the last few months. The girl's mother – my older sister, Rose – passed tragically last spring. Since then, the girl has fallen ill from grief and starvation. Look at her! Can you not see that she is sick?"

It was true that my face was pale and hollow from hunger, but it was improving. Una nursed me back to health, and the jail house menu wasn't that bad. It was a very good thing that the Magistrate believed that ample food would lessen prison uprisings. Still, I didn't argue. I could already tell that Wren's distinction was turning Matkins in my favor.

"Your Honor, this child is in no state to make such a grave decision. She is physically and mentally unable. The doctors on the Magistrate's High Medical Council clearly state that it takes three years to recover from the grief of losing one's mother or father," she handed the affirming articles to the judge.

The paper could have honestly said anything. It might have been blank. The judge couldn't make out a single word of its tiny print, even with his monocle. He simply nodded.

"Grief is a very impairing thing, sir. That is why we propose that you put Elissa's decision on hold. Allow her to come home with us until the drought is over and her grief subsides. Our family will care for her, treat her ailments, and educate her in the ways of a lady. Then, after she's recovered, she will be allowed to make her decision."

I stood up again, breathless. What could these people have done to weave their way around such an austere system? All I could think of was my father.

"I can't leave my papa, he'll –"

"Silence!" The judge knocked his mallet again. "You're clearly not of sound enough mind to decide. Besides, it clearly states here that everyone in your family has signed the agreement..." he strained to look down at the paper's medium sized print and skimmed the page. "Including you."

I'm sure that the man realized it was forgery. My mother's family was of great wealth and power all the same. In lieu of their sparkling jewels and veiled faces, the man didn't question it.

"This is your hand, Miss McClellan, is it not?"

If I didn't claim the signature, Papa would be sent prison for forgery on a magisterial document. Perhaps I was stubborn and naive, but I couldn't let him suffer.

"Yes, it is." I lied.

The judge slammed his gavel. I closed my eyes, feeling it crush my bones.

"It's settled then. For the next three years, Elissa will reside with the Devereaux family as a temporary 3rd caste. Then, she will appear before the court and make her final decision. You have one week from this date to gather her belongings and arrive at the Devereaux Estate."

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Bimbleberry Inn

"I'm so sorry Lissie," Papa cried on the day of my departure. "Had I only been stronger – this would never've happened!"

I leaned into him and cried equally as hard.

"Don't apologize to me. It can't be changed," I sobbed. "I just don't know how I'll be able to do this without you!"

"Elissa McClellan, you ought not say things like that! You're a strong one," Papa held on to my shoulders and trembled, pressing down with each word. "The stubbornness only proves it. Promise me that you're gonna use that strength to bear through this!"

I tried to nod, but I couldn't. Not this time. Papa eyed me again.

"Elissa, promise me! Promise me that you won't simply give up. Promise me that you're gonna live!"

"I promise," I told him, the uncertainty apparent in my tone.

"Lissie..."

"Alright," I came to a resolve, sucking back my tears. "I promise."

"That's my lass."

After that there was silence. There was an abrupt knock on our front door that needed no questioning. Papa opened the door without hesitation, trying to remain strong. A stocky fellow stood on the other side. His cheeks were swollen and pink, sunburned badly even though he wore a hat with a generous brim.

A familiar young man stood behind him. It was the 12th caste servant who accompanied Grandmamma on her excursions. I studied him closely this time. His features were exceedingly handsome, with eyes that smiled confidently even when his expression was stone. Each cornea was the same swarthy umber of his complexion.

The stocky one removed his hat to reveal a mirroresque patch of hairlessness. At the very top, there was a red welt. As he held the hat at his chest, I could see that there was a hole in the very top the exact diameter of the mark. He bowed cordially.

"Hello, I'm Archibald Higgins of the 9th caste. I'm Lady Abilene's driver of many years. This is Jackoby Nielsen, my assistant. The Lady has commissioned us to bring you to the Estate. Do you have your belongings in order?"

The man was nice and all-around humble, but I still let out a small sniffle. "Perhaps just a few more moments –" I began, though my Papa suddenly stopped me.

"No, Lissie. We've said our goodbyes. You have to go."

"But I'll worry..." I tried to argue.

"You're gonna worry all the same," Papa looked me sternly in the eye. "I'll be alright, the people here'll take care of me."

"Yes, I know," I quietly replied. "Una promised to write, and Delpha said she saw good health in your tea leaves."

Of course, I didn't fully believe in tea leaves, but the notion was comforting enough. Papa discharged me to Archie. Jackoby took my one small bag and threw it on top of the carriage before lifting my frame into the main cabin. When I entered the carriage, I became an alien.

The seats were plush and the windows lined with brass. When I removed my shoes, I felt the carpet between my toes. It was plusher than my own bed. Still, there was a lump in my throat. The driver got into his seat and Jackoby closed the door. I wanted to ask why he sat at the top of the carriage, but before I could Archie cracked the whips and had the vehicle's wheels roughly traveling down the road.

"Goodbye," I waved at the vanishing face of my childhood home.

Papa had already deserted the doorstep. I wanted to cry, but my well was dry.

I was overwhelmed and retreated to my inner self. The silence was peaceful at first. Then, as the pain crept in, it was crippling. No amount of comfort could take away my loneliness. My mind drifted to the young man riding on the roof. I wanted to say something from the get-go, but I was too nervous. It was about an hour or so later that I found the courage to speak.

"Archie," I called. The clinking and clanking of hooves drowned me out. I decided to speak up again – this time a little louder – perhaps a little too loud: "ARCHIE!"

"Yes, Miss!" Archie jumped up in alarm. "I do apologize! I couldn't hear ya over the horses! Is anything the matter?" He kept his eyes on the road, leaning back just enough to show me his ear. "You have my full attention this time!"

"I was just wondering when we'll be stopping to rest." I asked.

"Oh, the Upper Valley is about a day's journey, even with animals fine as these. That's not even mentioning the weather. Gets nasty up around Vale's Pass. The Estate is a day more after that. If we want to make it to the Bimbleberry Inn by sundown, we mustn't stop much. Just enough to make sure that the horses are rested and fed." He glanced at me, and then at the road. "If you would like, we can stop now for an early lunch. Then, no stops till sundown."

My stomach grumbled. I nodded, and the horses were halted. Archie came down from his place and pulled out a wedge of cheese, a loaf of bread and a few apples for us. There were carrots and pears for the horses. The man went to each of his animals and made a careful check of them before announcing that he would be taking a short stroll to stretch his legs. As soon as Archie left, I poked my head out the window to see the 12th caste servant climbing down from the roof.

"What are you doing up there?" I called out the side of the window, curving my neck to see him climb out of a small compartment at the back of the cart. It was small and cramped, probably three feet wide at most. Both sides of the compartment were open to the elements. There was an uncomfortable looking bench wedged between two rods on which the 12th caste boy took a seat.

"This is where I ride."

"But why?" I took note of the fact that the space was hard and exposed to the elements. "It seems awfully cramped and probably cold."

"It's better than walking!" He told me casually, climbing down the side of the vehicle. "At least Lady Abilene allows me to ride with the family. She's a good woman. Even lets me ride inside most of the time."

The first part of his explanation made me shiver. What kind of person made their servant walk cross-country?

"If you're allowed, why aren't you riding with me?"

"This is Lady Beeti's carriage," Jackoby answered. "She prefers I stay up top. Likewise, I didn't know how you'd feel if I rode with you."

Beeti. Something about that name made me shiver. I wasn't even a little surprised at her antics. What did surprise me was his assumption that I was anything like her. I waved and welcomed him to sit across from me.

"Accompany me in the cabin?"

He was cautiously pleased.

"Beeti may not approve..."

"I'm sure she wouldn't approve of letting a 10th caste ride in here, either." I let a small grin roll across my face. "Call me Elissa."

His look of caution turned to a wide grin as he took the seat next to me. "You probably already know, but you might call me Jackoby."

We shared the lunch of bread, apples, and cheese. I took a bite of each item, but was unable to stomach it for my nerves. I gave the rest of it to him, and we conversed about our lives. Jackoby was just a few days short of twenty-one, but to me he seemed years beyond. Jackoby's parents where grain millers who sent him to the Devereaux Estate at the age of nine. They sent him away as part of a special program that would allow him a life of safety, warmth, and a full belly in exchange for service to the 2nd and 3rd castes.

"It also meant that there was one less mouth to feed and a pocketful of money each month," he explained, pain evident in his voice. It was a pain I knew in full.

He began as a stable boy and moved his way up to becoming Grandmamma's attendant on outings. However, he never lost his love for horses. It was something Grandmamma took notice of.

"Lady Abilene gave me co-control over the stables with Archie. Finest driver there is, because he insists on knowing the horses like friends. I enjoy the animals as well. They're dependable, generally placid creatures. The lady is quite fond of them as well. She was a rider, so she understands them like we do."

Archie came back from his walk, surprised to see Jackoby sharing the same space. He cracked the whips. Five hours passed, and Jackoby proved pleasant company. After about an hour, he nodded off, clearly exhausted. I was left alone again, but I didn't mind. This was the kind of solitude I flourished in.

The salty breezes of the island disappeared when we crossed the Coastal Bridge, giving way to endless green. The fauna and flora became diverse as our distance from the ocean grew. Everything that in the Northeastern Country was green and full of life, despite the ongoing drought experienced everywhere else. Soon, the terrain became thick and mucky. Flat fields gave way to unstable hills, then to a mesa framed by dark silhouettes on the horizon. The beasts sprung from a plateau that stretched as far as my eyes wandered, and we entered a valley guarded by stone giants from east to west. The wagon wheels slowed, the horses pulling fiercely as rain started falling. Jackoby woke immediately, leaving the carriage and helping Archie free one of the wheels from a rut.

"You're going to have to get out, Miss," Archie shouted over crackling thunder. "We have to lighten the load however we can, and if she tips, I don't want ya falling out!"

When he opened the door to help me down, I slipped on a railing and landed feet-first in a deep puddle. The volley soaked my clothes down to the undergarments. When it was over, the men were covered in mud. I was spared the dirt, water sloshing in my boots instead. They hoisted me back onto the plush seats, laying out a wool blanket. The skin-clinging wetness of my clothing soaked through the blanket immediately.

"I ought to ride on the bench outside," Jacoby told me at the window, rain still deluging. "If I muck up the Lady's carriage, she'll have my head."

"That's ridiculous," I remarked. "It's pouring out there!"

"It's no matter. The inn's not far off. We'll only be on the road for another half hour, then we'll stop and freshen up," Jackoby insisted.

"Don't worry, milady. Nothing we haven't dealt with before. Bimbleberry Inn is about a mile or two from here. Hattie will see us dried and fed in no time at all," Archie bellowed, droplets sliding down the smoothness of his scalp.

I could tell that they were both shivering. We drove for what felt like much longer than thirty minutes; Jackoby and Archie ignoring my pleas to stop and warm themselves in the main cabin. Water seeped underneath a faulty seal in the door and stained the velvet carpet. When the downpour stopped, the wolfish spirit of the wind still howled. The air of an early winter chilled the carriage bitterly, making the sight of billowing smoke from the inn's tall chimney a blessing beyond words. We arrived at the stables and dismounted, and I fell into the hay. It was so much warmer than the leaky buggy that I almost fell asleep then and there.

"Archie!" A woman called from the barn door. She was a stout woman, auburn hair in a thick braid down her back. She was about the same age as the driver, big boned and buxom. She gave him a kiss on the cheek that he returned with something less than platonic. She giggled. "It wasn't more than two days ago you were here, and two days before that! Does Lady Devereaux have you working courier now?"

"Ha, 'fraid not my valley beauty," he cadenced, spinning her around. When she steadied, put an arm over her shoulders. "Always to-and-fro, to-and-fro. I reckon Jak and I could navigate the route blind. Even the horses need less guiding. It's been troublesome business, little Rose passing and all," Archie put a hand over his heart, adjusting his tone when he that saw my eyes bled pain at the mention. "God rest her soul. This is her girl. We're taking her to the Estate for a wardship."

"Spanked salmon by the Skin Creatures!" The woman gasped, patting my face. "Rose's daughter! 'Round here, we called her Iron-Willed Rosy. I remember when she was just a nursling. Always stayed in the Bramble Room when Deverauxs summered in the Isles. Stubborn as an ox. One year, stayed with her family on the way down, and never came back up. What do they call you?"

"Elissa," I said awkwardly, cheeks still mushed between her hands.

"Elissa. A strong name, for a strong lass. Queen of Carthage, you know. My name's Hattie Grabel, born a 10th caste myself. Father was an 8th. Parents died of blue boils, so I chose to live with my uncle. Though, class doesn't matter much out here, and even the Magistrate would be grateful for one of my straw beds. Come inside, and I'll warm you with some tea and kippertrim stew."

Hattie took me into the common room, yellow brick walls flickering with shadows from the hearth. The fire warmed my skin as summertime. I sat at the table closest to it, heating my hands and wicking the moisture from my damp frock. I unlaced my boots, water sloshing out of them. The rain soused my feet, and I could see the blisters through every hole in my cotton socks. I removed each layer of covering from boot to stocking, wincing with pain each time I felt pressure on my skin. The tight leather tongue of the boots was the worst, causing the sides of the shoe to squeeze against my foot wherever I tried to slide it free. When the task was complete, I pinned my socks to a string on the mantle, next to the soggy wool and lace hosieries of other travelers. When I was finished, I hunched beside the hearth, drinking in the warmth. A soft knitted blanket fell over my shoulders.

"Nothing like tea beside the hearthstone in this weather," Hattie remarked as she slipped a delicate porcelain cup into my hands. It was filled with steaming purple liquid that smelled strongly of oranges and vanilla. I lifted it to my lips and tasted something between the tang of a blueberry and the delicate sweetness of a red melon. There was the purest kind of pride in her expression. "Bimbleberry tea. Uncle loved it so much, it's what he named the inn for. And what kind of inn would we be, if we didn't brew the tea of our namesake?"

The hot liquid trickled down my throat, soothing a mouth irritated by a day of dusty roads and the frigid damp of autumn rain. Hattie grinned at my satisfaction. I closed my eyes and savored the taste, never having experienced something so sweet and lofty as the valley berries. When I opened them, she slipped me a bowl of warm kippertrims. Chunks of tender, white river fish swam with tomatoes, spinach, and roasted mushrooms in a delicious afterlife. The liquid had a gelatinous quality that reminded me of half-cooled seaweed soup. Instead of tasting the saltiness of an ocean dweller, this was quiet and earthy. I could only stomach a small amount before my eyelids became heavy.

Hattie sat in a rocking chair, knitting what looked like a pair of baby socks. Archie came from behind and disrupted her needlework, fondling her hair as I began dozing. The common area was raucous with discussion and drinking between people of every caste. It felt natural to see them interacting in passion and laughter, without barriers. I wondered if this remote pass was where my mother first tasted life without caste. There were no factories or labor farms, just wilderness. There were no officers to harass the travelers. Archie kissed Hattie openly. Is it what wilded Rose McClellan to the world?

My mind drifted between blinks, envisioning her opening letters filled with my father's songs and poetry. Was that when she decided that this would be the last time they parted? Did she begin counting down the days until the next holiday, when she would run away with the boy who sold them fish at the docks? I watched Jackoby drinking his tea at the table above me, writing his own letter by firelight. I wondered if it was for a forbidden lover. My breaths became deep and relaxed, and I saw blackness.

When I woke up, I was sleeping next to the innkeeper on a mattress of straw. Light came in through her slatted blinds, rousing me from dreams I couldn't remember. I wasn't certain if I'd walked upstairs or been carried. I slept so soundly that it was probably the latter. Hattie was a warm bedmate in the cool air of Vale's Pass. She opened her eyes a little after I did, combing her hair and re-braiding it before she put on an apron. There was a knock on the door. When she opened it, she blushed.

"Sleep well, fair maiden?" Archie bowed. Hattie swatted at him playfully.

"Leave me be, Mr. Higgins! Tis' not proper this time of the 'morn."

He pulled her in and gave her a sloppy kiss, parting from her with the cheekiest grin.

"I'll steal ya whenever I like," he cackled. She swatted at him again, then turned to me.

"I'll have breakfast on the tables in thirty minutes. Hope you have the stomach for quail legs and mash. Would be using chickens, but with the famine and all...Oh, and if you stay for dinner, we're having my famous haggis. Learned it from a Nordwoman who married a Highlander. Ingrid was her name. Wise soothsayer, she was-"

"I'm afraid, my beauty, that we ought to get a move on," Archie interrupted. "Sun's already up, and we want to make it to the Estate before nightfall. We'll take some bread, dried meat, some apples, and oats for the horses. Once the little lady is dressed, we have to get the wagon turning again."

When she closed the door again, I changed out of my rags from the day before, slipping into a linen dress that offered little protection from the elements. It was suited to coastal weather, but a far cry from what I needed in the late autumn chill. Hattie was about to leave the room when she saw it.

"Oh dear," she fretted. "This will never do. You're gonna freeze on the road. It always rains before the snow in these parts, so you may catch it as you go north. Let me get ya something from my wools."

She pulled the knob on a dresser of polished oak, revealing a drawer full to the brim with hand knitted treasures. Hattie thumbed through it, finding a pair of cream colored stockings, a gray shawl, and a pair of fuzzy slate arm warmers that went from hand to shoulder. Each item was delicate and intricately crafted. The stockings were patterned with five-strand cables that went up and down my knees like waves.The arm warmers were the same way. The gray shawl was a neat triangle with as much perfection as simplicity. It was only when I felt their warmth over my skin that I realized how cold the inn truly was.

"There ya go. Keep it all. I've done plenty of projects over the years, so it isn't putting me out any. Hands are always busy with something else, so it gives me pleasure to see someone wearing them besides myself."

I smiled and let her kiss me on the cheek before I went outside to board the carriage. Archie sat on the driving bench, newly installed tarp strung over his head to avoid another rainy mishap.It was cleverly constructed, using canvas and some poorly tanned animal hides that Hattie sweet-talked off pair of hunters. The material was stretched tightly over a basket of bent willow branches, fastened with leather straps to the body of the cart. It sat over the bench like an umbrella. Jackoby was already inside the carriage, snacking on a strip of dried rabbit, wrapped in a woolen blanket. I followed his lead and bit into one of the apples as the horses began moving. Before we got very far, Archie pulled on the reigns. Hattie had forgotten something, and now she ran out into the mud with cherry colored wool in her hands.

"I nearly forgot your sweater," she exclaimed, placing it into his hands.

He pulled it over his head, bushing. She handed him a matching hat and scarf and urged him to put them on. He seemed slightly embarrassed, but kissed and thanked her. He'd welcome the warmth soon enough.

"Tell cousin Henriette thanks for her black pudding recipe. The garlic gravy did the trick!" Hattie called as the carriage rolled away.

As the Bimbleberry Inn faded in the distance, the first snow began falling. The wools clung to my skin warmly against the invading cold of the Pass, and I prayed in silent thanks for Hattie's talent. Soon, the rocky gods became slighter and faded to dense forest. We didn't stop to rest at lunch, munching on the last bits of bread and hare jerky as we went. At midday, meadows began creeping into the forest. Homes appeared on pastures cut between the trees, each one bigger than the last. We in the land of the upper-castes now. I slept for the first part of the day, and Jak slept the whole of it. My best guess was that he spent his night in the barn, building Archie that dome to keep him safe in the harsh weather. I wasn't going to complain for lack of company when I knew he was so exhausted. I marveled at Archie's ability to drive us for hours upon hours without rest. By sunset, and our carriage began to slow as we reached a stretch of uneven stone. As soon as the carriage jittered, Jackoby woke and lunged for the window.

"Thanks for the rest," Jackoby winked. "We're getting close to home now, so I'd better get out before someone sees me. Can't upset the Lady."

"That's probably a good idea," I responded in light jest, scrunching my nose to mask my nerves. "Seeing a 10th caste here is probably enough shock for the whole empire."

Jackoby winked at me again and then came to his feet, climbing out the window and up the side masterfully while the wheels were still in motion. I bit my lip anxiously.

We pulled up to a towering gate. The gate was only the beginning of a fence that spanned miles, a dense forest within its bounds. Vines crept up its swirly iron bars and lanterns lined the trees behind it. The plants were flourishing. Where were they getting the water in a world that had none?

A light came on, and the gate swung open. The world was dark, but our cobblestone path was lit by dozens of flickering lights that led to the entrance.

The carriage came to a stop in front of colossal door. The door itself was huge – but it was connected to an even mightier mansion. We parked between a fountain and a uniform line of servants and family members prepared to greet us. Jackoby came down from his hiding place on the top of the cart and unlatched the carriage door. He took my hand – now trembling – and gently helped me down.

My anxieties were at their highest now, and as if that wasn't enough I soon found myself constricted. It was Wren. With a multitude of servants watching, I'd expected her to be formal in her greeting. I was wrong on all accounts. She released me with a smile.

"Welcome to the Devereaux Estate."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Blooming Tea

Sunlight bombarded my eyes. Last night the room had been too dim, but now I was overwhelmed by its beauty. The first thing I noticed was the walls. They were plastered with a coral, swirling wallpaper that spanned to the top of a ceiling that was at least 10 feet taller than I was. Gas lanterns were mounted to each wall, enclosed in mazes of white molding. At the very end of the maze was a pair of glass doors that led to a private balcony.

I turned my head to see a tray of uneaten fruit and barely nibbled breads. After arriving, Wren insisted on taking me on a grand tour of the Estate. We didn't venture far, but I did get a chance to see the kitchen.

The variety of aromas sent my stomach into a spiral. There were steaming pots and whistling kettles in every corner. Clay ovens roared, heating the room almost unbearably.

I saw a dish of baked salmon on the counter that would usually make my mouth water – a delicacy where I was from. Salmon was a luxury fish. It was a flame-broiled treasure that we shared on holidays. Instead of hungry, the sight made me nauseous.

I'd only seen Grandmamma briefly. I was far too tired to dress up and present myself to the rest of my relatives, so I retired early. It was a good excuse to avoid their prodding. The head chef, worried about my lack of appetite, sent a try of food to my room. I was warmed by the gesture, but hardly took a bite before I was carried into dreams.

I looked at the edge of the bed and saw a blue nightgown. Last night, I fumbled around in the dark, unaware that it was there. I stripped bare and entered the sheets, feverish from the journey.

"Good morning milady! It's time to get up and at 'em!"

An exuberant maid entered the room. She had no idea what she was walking in on – or perhaps she wouldn't care. I'd already heard that upper castes didn't dress or bathe themselves. Whatever the case, I covered myself with the blanket, startled.

"Oh, I'm so sorry miss! I didn't mean to frighten you...I'll knock from now on." The maid stammered, affected by my reaction more than my nudity. She appeared only a little older than I was. The girl looked away, her gray uniform twisting with her body to reveal a head of honey-colored hair in a tightly braided bun.

"It's really alright," I reassured.

"No, it's not. I'm so sorry miss. I should have knocked. I didn't mean to embarrass -"

"I'm okay," I told her, face still flushed. "I'll get over it. Who are you, exactly?"

"Oh, right. I'm Lydia Berry of the 11th caste. I'm your maid," she composed herself and curtsied. "Forgive my nerves, Miss. Today is my first day on the job and I'm still learning. I've been a housemaid for the last few years, but Lady Abilene appointed me your lady's maid on account of our ages. I'm twenty this year."

The 11th caste! I lit up. The 11th caste lived in the region right beside my own. They built ships, and we sailed them. They also made ropes and textiles. The existence of someone like me was a taste of reality in a place so artificial.

"Which harbor?"

"Elion." She flashed a light smile, casually moving around the room and skimming the flat surfaces with her feather duster. "You mustn't stay in bed too long, Miss Devereaux. Lady Abilene has sent me to ready you for the day. Your entire family is waiting to meet you."

Miss Devereaux. Oh yes – that's right. My last name had also been changed.

"Right," I replied, dazed.

She helped me out of bed and helped me thread my arms through a robe, purposely inattentive to the fact that I was wearing nothing. She led me to a pair of double-doors adjacent to the bed and pulled them open. What I saw left me without words.

"You shouldn't go with something overly formal," Lydia began, unaware of my paralysis. "You might be doing some outdoor activities, though I'm not certain. Anyhow, I assume that you know what you want..."

Lydia hushed when she looked over and saw the bewilderment in my face. The maid had gone through a similar kind of shock when she'd come to work here as a preteen.

"Oh...my...goodness," were the only words I could form.

I was standing in front of a closet full of hundreds of colorful, elegant dresses. Some were vibrant shades of blue and others were of deep purples and reds. Some were day dresses, others afternoon dresses, sporting clothes and even ball gowns.

Lydia reached in and pulled out a cotton dress that was a bit plainer, but no less extravagant in comparison to any of the clothes I'd ever owned. It was a long, forest green dress with lace on the sleeves. When I tried it on, my excitement was thwarted. It wasn't just a bit large – I was sinking in it. Lydia wrinkled her nose and let out an uneasy smile.

"Perhaps we should try another -"

I stopped her. If this dress was too big, I didn't want to bother with the rest.

"I think I'd rather wear my own clothes today," I resolved.

I searched my suitcase for something decent. My old clothes were rags in comparison. Eventually, I found a clean, white dress that went past my knees. I put Hattie's shawl over it and smiled. Seemed decent enough. It was still nothing compared to even the plainest gown in my new closet.

"Now then, seems you're ready. Wait - " she began after running a comb through my loose caramel curls. She took a wet rag to my gaunt cheeks and wiped away some residual dirt from yesterday's carriage ride. "There. Your grandmother is waiting for you in the dining hall with your other relatives. I can accompany you there if you like."

Better to go with her than get lost, I supposed. Lydia accompanied me down an immense hallway with gilded windows and velvet carpets at each turn. We both stopped at a towering door made of mahogany. Lydia bent down to whisper in my ear. A tall doorman stood at the entrance as if he was guarding the chambers of a royal.

"This is the entrance to the dining hall," she whispered. "It's also only fair you know that Lady Beeti and her daughter can cause quite the stir." I held my breath, nodding as Lydia backed away. The doorman ushered me inside, barking my name. It came with a slight crack, awkwardly worn by overuse.

"Announcing the arrival of Miss Elissa Devereaux!"

Of course, it was entirely necessary to announce my presence at the breakfast table.

On the other side of the door was massive oak table. The monstrosity of wood was at least half the length of the room, yet there were only four people seated at it. The family seated around it had such prying eyes that I wondered if I had something stuck in my teeth or crawling in my hair.

There was more food before them than anyone could eat. A plate of toasted of bread was piled high before Grandmamma. Servants scurried the premises, buckets of candied oats and pudding in their arms. I could smell each distinctly.

"Child, are you going to sit down and eat or become a piece of artwork for us to behold?" Grandmamma broke the silence.

She motioned for me to join her at the table. I planted myself adjacent to the elegant but unorthodox Wren and her snobbish sister, Beeti. There was another face that I caught a glimpse of at the table – this one new to me.

It was the sour but refined face of a girl who appeared to be at the height of her teenage years. She was undoubtedly pretty, with grey eyes and swirling black ringlets that barely reached her shoulders. Her complexion was without blemish, but to me it looked vampirish.

"Elissa, this is your cousin, Stella." Grandmamma explained, apparently tolerant of her granddaughter's perpetual scowl. "You're both around the same age. Stella, why don't you properly introduce yourself to our new guest?"

Stella refused to look up, gingerly touching a napkin to her painted cheeks.

"Elissa," Wren interjected, attempting to save the moment. "How's life in the Katie Isles?"

Hard, I wanted to tell her. Bitter. Hot. Starving. They were all words I could have used to explain to them what life was like.

"Nothing's changed since your last visit."

My bluntness left them tongue-tied. A server came by with the centerpiece as I finished my sentence. The foreign fruit was dumped onto my plate, each piece a different shape and color. My stomach groaned. I took my fork and speared a slimy yellow morsel cut into the shape of a star. I stabbed another green one and placed them in my mouth without thinking. I closed my eyes and savored the taste for a moment. The yellow one was stringy and acidic, while the green was gentle and balanced. I went in for another, but stopped myself when I realized the maid wasn't even finished serving my plate.

I placed the fork aside in embarrassment. The fruit alone had to be three times what Papa and I ate at home! Aware of the eyes on me, I blushed. The servant continued scooping food.

"Please –" I began, waving a hand at the baffled servant. This was more than enough. Before I could finish my plea, the entire family began to protest.

"Nonsense!" Grandmamma exclaimed. "Molly, give her a scoop of the sweetmilk."

The rounded spatula oozed as she dug into a pot of cakey grains smothered in honeyed milk. It fell onto my plate as warm pudding. The smell was divine, weakening me as the server sprinkled a sugary red spice over the top. It must have been a dream, because my spoon scooped it into my mouth with no assistance from my conscious mind.

The next thing I knew, the entire family was astir about how skinny I was. Indirectly, of course. They said it entirely through additional food offerings. Wren motioned for the servant.

"Molly, why don't you go into the kitchen and see what else we have for Miss Elissa."

I could hardly protest as they stuffed my face with everything at the table and then some. Molly wheeled out a cart of sweets, soups and meats. It was more than a single human – or two, or three – could possibly eat.

"Try a cup of blooming tea. It's the finest in the realm. Made with herbs and tea leaves from the garden that Henriette stitches together herself."

Molly displayed a clear glass kettle that had an actual flower blooming in the center. At first it was a bundle of leaves, closed in on itself. It moved around in the water like a bobber on a fishing line. Then it sank and grew. A rose emerged from the center. The flower was lively and delicate – a pink blossom entangled in a bundle of expanding tea leaves. It seemed to somehow dance. She poured the resulting liquid into a clear teacup. I lifted it to my lips and sighed. It was as much a visual spectacle as it was sweet.

The tea opened my senses. Sensing my appreciation, she began rapidly listing the kitchen offerings. "We have more fresh fruit if that suits you, or griddle pie – with lamb, of course. We also have ox roast from last night..."

My vision became dizzy. Now, I was overwhelmed. I placed the tea back on the table and raised my hand slightly. Simply imagining the food made me realize I couldn't eat another bite. "Please, no more."

"Oh no," Molly exclaimed, looking downcast. "I'm sorry if I offended you, milady. I usually wouldn't offer leftovers to the ladies of the house. I only thought you might want to try –"

"No," I stammered. "I'm just not feeling well."

"Oh no," Wren lamented. "It's the starvation. We should have thought this through. You've been without food for such a long time, we must be overwhelming your system."

The women nodded in agreement. The servants removed the food from the table. I regained my senses.

"No, that's not it, either. I'm sorry – I just haven't seen so much food in one place. I can't bring myself to eat it all."

"I see," Grandmamma spoke softly. "Well, we won't try to overwhelm you then. You needn't worry about eating everything you see, my dear. No one can do that. We only wish you to take what you need and enjoy it."

The next words were Stella's, and clearly meant to burn:

"Perhaps when we feed and train her, she'll grow a few inches."

I felt my esophagus close. I knew it was coming. Feed me and train me. Was I their pet? Stella had referred to me like a common house cat.

"Stella, please!" Grandmamma reprimanded. "If she grows, she grows. Her training has nothing to do with it."

The chastisement didn't offer much vindication. I was still quite baffled as to what Stella meant by train and feed. More specifically, I wondered what was meant by train.

"What Grandmamma means," Wren interjected, "is that we intend to educate you. Along with caring for you, we will also be educating you in etiquette. That way you will have the adequate experience and training to prepare you for this life, should you choose it."

"Like a dog..." I could have sworn I heard Stella whisper.

To everyone else, the affront fell on deaf ears. I expelled a breath of air from my chest and looked down at the table. My over-full stomach ached a little less than her insult.

"We have high hopes for you, Elissa. With a bit of work, I know that in a few months you will be a prime example of what the Devereaux's are all about!" Grandmamma confidently announced.

Of course, I knew what she was truly implying. I was going to take lady lessons. I had been right when I assumed my first meeting with the entire family would be the equivalent of gawkers at a circus act.

Look at that poor, hungry girl! I imagined them saying. We must change her at once!

As if that reality wasn't harsh enough for an uncultured fisherman's child, the next words would come as quite the shock.

"In fact, Beeti has taken it on as her personal task to help you become a proper lady."

Beeti? She began speaking to me, avoiding eye contact along with her sour-faced daughter.

"We will begin your preparation right away. After breakfast, you will arrive at the baths for grooming. Then, the tailor will take your measurements as to make you something to suit your...stature." Beeti's last word didn't seem quite as condescending as I'd expected. "I have also taken it upon myself to ensure you receive superior schooling. I have hired a very well-regarded academic to be your tutor, Dr. Valeria Blackwood. Your lessons begin tomorrow."

CHAPTER NINE

Symphonies

"You have at least taken care to remove the hair from your underarms," Beeti remarked as I lifted my arms overhead. If I hadn't shaved them, why was that her business?

Attendants took me to the bathhouse and undressed me – wrapping me in a small towel in preparation for Beeti's dissection. Despite her guise of kindness, I felt she enjoyed stripping away my dignity.

"Your eyebrows need grooming." She took a dab of spit and slid it across my brow. "They need to be more rounded. We'll take care of that."

My eyebrows? What was wrong with my eyebrows? They'd never bothered me. I clutched the scrawny towel against my body, blushing. As if it wasn't embarrassing enough, Stella insisted on being present. The sour-faced cousin of mine came in and out of the bathhouse at whim, gawping.

"Have you begun perfuming her yet?" Stella nettled. "The girl smells of fish!"

I tilted my nose toward my armpits. Did I really smell that bad? Beeti looked up at her daughter in slight annoyance, but didn't rebuke her.

"We will perfume her soon, dear. The baths will take away Celeste's aroma."

They spoke about me as if I wasn't there. And, Celeste? That was my middle name, not my first.

"Excuse me, but my name is Elissa," I spoke up. Beeti glared, but didn't say a word.

"Come now, take off your towel and follow the attendants. They will take you to the bath."

The attendants came, turned me around and took it off just as Beeti and Stella turned their backs. They were both women – much to my comfort – and indifferent to the task at hand. I followed them into a heavily draped room, blanketed in soapy aromas and lit by candles.

They grabbed my arms and lowered me into a pool of irritatingly perfumed bathwater. One of the women took my long hair and yanked at it with a brush until tears came to my eyes. Before I could protest, the attendant sharply placed it in a clip above my neck before. The other woman began scrubbing me with pumice and long soapy brushes.

The next four hours of my life involved intense scrubbing, plucking, shaving, and rubbing against my skin. Right after my bath, I was forced into a room where I was dissected by two stylists with an expertise in hair removal.

There, the estheticians poured a stinging liquid onto my legs and body that burned the hair from its follicles. After my chemical bath, they plucked my eyebrows until they became thin brown arches. The result of this vexing was a blistering rash.

"Don't worry, that's very common with these chemicals. It should be unnoticeable in a week," one of the estheticians remarked as they examined my extensive burns.

Pain was nothing to them. I didn't care if it would be gone in a week. I felt it now! In the end, Grandmamma noticed the redness and overruled Beeti. I would never have to endure the treatments again.

I ached to go home. There, no one subjected themselves to pain just to achieve a silly title. I needed to get away from these hands and their constant picking. I didn't want to be accompanied. I longed to escape their attention – to fade into the background.

"Aunt Beeti," I asked that night, unable to touch the lamb stew for the nausea my rash was producing. "I'm exhausted. Can I turn in early?"

"Fine. I'll have a servant escort you."

"I'd like to go myself."

"Elissa, you are our ward. It's improper." Beeti scolded. "I insist that you –"

"My word, Beeti! Let the girl go alone if she pleases. She's your niece, not a criminal." Grandmamma quickly cut her off, nodding to the doorman.

"Thank you," I mouthed as I made my exit.

With her blessing, I started alone through the mansion. I ran my fingers along the walls and traced the white paneling. I wandered through several hallways until I found myself at a large corridor that led into a courtyard. Hearing a symphony of crickets, I stepped into the moonlight.

It was breathtaking. The trees were lit with paper lanterns and flowering vines crept up and down every towering and stooping object. There was an open gate on the other side of the courtyard leading to a hedge maze. My curiosity suddenly piqued.

Before I could get too far out of the yard, I caught a chorus of laughter and song. Enchanted, I crept toward narrow stairway blocked by an iron gate. The windows of the room below were bright and the door could hardly contain the ruckus. I knew this song, and I knew it well. With each step I took, their symphony became louder:

"In folly he thought he came

Only to bring her rain

But the love was within

Wrapped up in the skin

That she'd see to be him all the same"

I came up to the iron bar and twisted my fingers around it longingly. It brought me back to the communal fires where old folks passed their songs and stories to babes. There was always food to be had. Before the village began suffering, at least.

Neighbors would gather their ingredients in the morning - forages, garden bounties, seaweed - and simmer them in tall pots for fish stew. Sometimes, those who were bold enough to smuggle a catch past the dock officials shared their bounties. It wasn't uncommon for these illegal goods to be wrapped in parchment and baked on a stone near the flames. If one was lucky, there might be a roast lemon in the bundle.

Our cheeks filled with trout, those old fishermen's wives took the smallest of us on their knees and whispered otherworldly stories in our ears. My heart thumped as I remembered my mother telling me the story of an angel prince who hid among the humans to find his betrothed.

"And he came to her after watching over her during the long night. Realizing that their lives would never be the same, he asked for her hand." I remembered my mother telling me the story, and how she would stop in the middle and softly kiss the tip of my nose.

"Mama, finish your story! Finish the story!" I pleaded as she tickled my tummy. "What happens to the princess?"

"Well my beautiful Elissa," she would tell me lovingly. "This is where the story ends. You'll have to find out what happens when you become the princess yourself."

I cracked the gate and stepped into the commotion. At first glance, the room inside was stirring with people that were drinking and laughing merrily. Each person wore a labor uniform.

Ah, I realized, this is the Servants' Quarters. I blended in quite well wearing my plain linen dress and wools. No one seeming to notice my presence, I retracted to the corner and soaked in the scene. These people were closer to my true caste than anyone else. It gave me a temporary sense of home.

"Have ya seen Lady Beeti today?" A stout woman remarked over a glass of cider. She lounged in a wooden chair, propping her swollen feet on the table. The servant next to her nodded in agreement.

"Aye. She's has been stirrin' up quite a lot lately." The other agreed. A third servant hovered over them, older and plumper than the others.

"The woman can't stand the idea of holding her own. She may very well have met her match in this new one."

"I don't think that we should worry about the young one bein' a match!" the stout woman expressed. "This girl is stronger than the rest. She's one of us ya know. Probably raised with the same stories that we were."

I held my breath. These people were talking about me.

"Like the skin people?" Her plump friend jovially replied. The two that were sitting down clanked their glasses together and smiled as they took a sip.

"Those old creatures; my mum talked about em' for days on end! 'They're comin' for us!' She would always say. 'They could be walkin' with ye this very moment for all I know!'" The second servant laughed in reply.

I tuned out, something unexpected catching my eye. Lydia leaned against a wall, golden tresses free from her tightly braided bun and net. It fell to her waist – much longer than I ever expected.

Jackoby stood next to her, his umber eyes a stark contrast to hers, which shifted between pale blue and sapphire. There was longing in both pairs. Their hands melted into each other, her pale skin against his dark, and their faces lingered close enough to kiss.

Even though I was hidden, I was an unwelcome voyeur. What they had was unexpected and sacred. I slowly backed away, hoping not to be noticed. Then, she turned. Horror washed over her features. She left Jackoby's side and grabbed my hand.

"What are you doing here?" She whispered in distress.

"I was....I was just looking around." I bit my lower lip nervously, gnawing until I tasted blood.

"How much did you see?"

She questioned me like a spy. I hardly knew her, but I felt slightly hurt by her distrust. Then, I understood. Lydia was a caste above Jackoby, and they worked in the same home. They were also of different skin colors. This was something that many upper caste families frowned upon almost as much as caste intermingling.

"You can trust me, Lydia," I assured her. "I won't tell a soul.

She closed her eyes and sighed. Her shoulders relaxed. Jackoby stood a short distance away, still guarded. She went and whispered something in his ear, then smiled gently and left.

"Well then," she told me, relieved. "Let me bring you to your room. I'm not in uniform, so I hope you're alright with going the back way."

She led me down a circuit of stairs and hallways deemed servants-only. The way was vast and cavernous. Part of our journey was underground, deep into the cellars. I could tell that there were tunnels that went much deeper.

"You wouldn't believe how far these passages go!" Lydia guided me through a dreary hallway by candlelight. "The Devereaux Manor is hundreds of years old. There used to be tunnels – even living spaces for the servants and workers – that spanned for miles. Some say that the tunnels are still there," she explained. A clever smile rolled across her expression. "Some even say that the deepest parts of the tunnels contain doors to another world."

I grinned. We'd both grown up with the same stories. Hearing them again and again like this gave me a taste of home.

We neared the door that led into the main hallway. Lydia pulled a key from her apron and motioned for me to follow behind. My room was in the next hallway. Beeti's chamber was the first we'd have to pass.

"It's not Lady Beeti we have to worry about. It's her maid. If I'm seen with my hair loose in the house, she could have me reprimanded," Lydia explained. I nodded.

At first, we crept through the hall without a single hitch. When we reached the end of the hallway, the doorknob began twisting.

Before she could spot us, we found the door to my room. Lydia quickly jabbed the key into the lock, turned it and shoved me through the door. We leaned against it breathlessly, waiting for the grumbling woman to leave.

The maid paced for a moment, mumbling a few curses and speculative words. Then, she left. We glanced at each other in humorous triumph. We'd fallen over each other's knees to escape a simple reprimand. Realizing the absurdity of it all, we started laughing. Soon, I was on my bed in hysterics.

"Did you hear her grumbling?" I laughed, "She sounded like a fog horn!"

"I know!" Lydia exclaimed, falling against the wall herself. "I haven't laughed this much since I was a child."

The laughter suddenly ceased. She seemed disappointed now – even embarrassed. Lydia hovered over my bed, handing me a nightgown.

"You should get dressed now, milady. I apologize for being too personal. It's not my place."

I gave her a strange look. "You don't need to." I told her. "You're of the 11th, and I'm of the 10th. We grew up with the same values and stories. We're the same."

"Stories," she sighed, a smile creeping across the corner of her lips. "I know those. They are what give us hope when the mortal world only gives us bitter change. I can't help but feel like they mean something more. Is that how you feel, Elissa?"

"As a child I loved them very much," I chose my words carefully. "But I've never thought they were more than stories."

"Isn't that the nature of the tales? The magic of fairy tales seems improbable – but so does love and life. Those are certainly real."

Lydia's conviction was like Una's and Delpha's. It was faith tangled in superstition, and it intrigued me.

"Lydia, what do you believe about those tales...the ones about the 'monsters,' that hide among us? The ones that disguise themselves in human skin?"

She looked to me for a moment, pausing before her next breath.

"I don't know what I believe about them," she began. "My mum used to tell me that they weren't monsters. They were guardians from another world. She also believed that they would come back." She trailed off when she felt her voice work into a weak tremble. "I truly miss her."

"I miss mine, too." My vision blurred with hot tears. "When I was little she'd tell stories and sing to me. My favorite one was the one we'd sing after she'd tell me the story about the mortal princess –"

"Who fell in love with the prince? I love that story!"

I smiled, for some reason compelled to start singing the song. I knew it by heart, and so did she. Lydia soon joined in my chorusing:

"In folly he thought he came

Only to bring her rain

But the love was within wrapped up in the skin

That she'd see to be him all the same."

Lydia fell against the wall afterward, almost in disbelief. "Elissa McClellan, you have a beautiful voice. You shouldn't hide it."

The mention of my real name brought me joy. I was born of the 10th caste – not as a Devereaux. Lydia was of the 11th. I was more like her than Stella, Wren, or Beeti. When she called me who I really was, she was telling me that we were both very much the same.

CHAPTER TEN

An Open Door

I'm not certain when this happened, but I know it did.

The skies were clear and the moon of an eerie glow that night. Not one human being was awake to see the spectacle. If anyone had been – only the good Lord knows what might have happened.

I had been told of the almost-mythical tunnels that lurked beneath the manor. They were located beneath my home and those of all the other 2's and 3's in the region. Everyone knew about them and their history – a history that seemed strangely incomplete.

There had once been a bustling circuit of servants in and out of them daily. They connected all the wealthy homes, making it easy for workers to get here and there without troubling the world above. There were even parts of the tunnels converted into living quarters and marketplaces.

Better letting them live beneath the earth than to soil the world on top of it, I suppose.

One day, the Magistrate ordered the tunnels boarded up. There were no collapses or robberies, so it baffled the community. Normally the Magistrate came up for some reason for the things he would do – maybe a phony-sounding reason, but a reason nonetheless. This time, he was completely silent. And perhaps it was for good reason.

You see, he knew something that the people did not. He knew that in those tunnels, there was a ticking time bomb simply waiting to go off. There was the potential – not just an uncertain potential, but an imminent potential – that what was contained in those tunnels would threaten his reign forever. And, it wasn't a human threat. There was no secretive rebellion or human conspiracy going on down there. What was going to happen in those tunnels was much more dangerous.

For several years, the Magistrate sat dreading the threat that lurked below. After a long while had passed and two more Magistrates had taken the throne, the tunnels were forgotten. The threat wasn't. All that these brutal rulers could do was wait. It could still happen at any time and for any reason.

And after all those generations, it was happening tonight.

In the deepest crevice of the black channel, a strange thing happened. The world above remained unchanged while the one below transformed. The rocks quaked. Wind howled through the tunnels in an eerie song.

Before another second passed, a void opened in the side of the rocky earth. Where there once was only dark, moist ground, there was light. A door had opened from nothing – nothing but air.

In the glowing splendor of the vortex – something jumped through. Not something, someone. He cartwheeled through the air and rolled out, heaving. The portal snapped shut. The lively wind ceased for dark and silence.

Of all the stories that had been told, this was their epiphany. This creature was not one of us. He wasn't mortal. He was one of the monsters in human skin; a guardian with powers of darkness and light.

This one was their crown prince.

Even though war had been prophesied, he hadn't come to wage it. This prince came to our world without intending to make himself known. In fact, here he wished that he might not even be called a prince at all. He wished to renounce this title – this curse – which he had been born with.

He was not coming to our world to conquer it, but to run from his own.

Where was he to go now? Could he truly pull it off – hiding with the humans? That was something he did not know. One thing that was certain, and it was that the blockades of this tunnel wouldn't be able to contain him. They wouldn't be able to contain him or anything else that escaped through these portals.

Just as this creature had crossed over – others were soon to follow.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Lady Lessons

"Now, sit up straight," was the first thing I heard from Valeria Blackwood.

Taking notice from behind her glasses that I was fidgeting – she looked at me completely mortified. She turned for a moment, muttering to the wall.

"We have much work to do..."

Over the next two hours, I became extremely well acquainted with Valeria – ehem, Dr. Blackwood – and all her tendencies. For one thing, she was incredibly proper. The kind of person that's expression was always stone.

"Seeing that it is your first time with me, we will start quite simply," Valeria told me a few minutes into our first lesson. "We will work first on your eloquence and posture. Eloquence for the utmost correctness in speech, and posture for organ function."

Dr. Blackwood forced me to stand up straight and balance a book on my head until I achieved perfect alignment. It proved a difficult perfection to achieve. We tried ten times without much progress.

"Hmm..." she trailed off, staring discomfited at the books that had for the tenth time toppled onto the floor. "You must learn to stand tall. I suppose we can another day. Let's turn to grammar."

For the next hour and a half or so we worked on word patterns. With her long wooden stick, she pointed to a small chalkboard on the study wall, guiding me in the pronunciation of several Latin words. More than anything else, she stressed my accent.

My accent? Apparently, I had one. Proper ladies apparently spoke with more eloquence than I did. It was a peasant accent, she stressed. She wasn't trying to offend me, I could tell. But my goodness – the way I spoke must have irritated her; for she felt it necessary to beat the diction into me.

"We say cah-lore – not cah-leur." The teacher stressed, pointing toward the chalk-laden words on the board. I had to keep myself from laughing. It sounded so amusingly odd in a formal accent. "Proper ladies speak in rolling patterns. Peasants speak in short, repetitive clicks. It is a fact which has been proven by the most established linguists. I am tasked with forming you into a proper lady; so please do as I instruct. Now say it with me: cah-lore."

The teacher continued her beating day-after-day, starkly meeting with me for two or three hours each morning and instructing me on matters such as diction and posture. Our lessons were mostly productive – if turning me into a well-mannered circus monkey is considered productive. Still, we didn't get to science. I wondered how or why that could be the case if Valeria Blackwood was everything that she said that she was.

Dr. Blackwood was never spiteful. She was nevertheless straightforward. It seemed that there was one strange thing about our lessons, and it was that she never used my name. One day she made it plain as to why.

"This is your third week of lessons. You have been taught the basic principles of etiquette. It is time to move on to other things. Before you do, we must handle the matter of your name." She emphasized the last word in a way that led me to believe that she felt she was handling something extremely detestable.

"My name?"

"Yes, your name. Beeti has made it known that you are better suited by your middle name, Celeste." I could sense reluctance in her tone. "She has told me – and I must respect her wishes – that Elissa is not a fitting name for someone of the 3rd caste."

Is that why Beeti hadn't called me by my birth name? Grandmamma had called me by my name, completely unbothered.

"There's nothing wrong with my name!" I shouted in offense, "It was the name of my grandmother on my father's side!"

Beeti walked into the room. How long had the woman been waiting to reprimand me?

"Precisely!" Beeti remarked, "It was the name of your grandmother on your father's side. That is why it's not fitting of a Devereaux."

I averted my eyes from Valeria, who was distancing herself from the situation. What a confusing moment this must have been, to see the woman she was working with stab me in such a way. I suppose she felt it best to remain quiet.

"Perhaps it's not fitting for a Devereaux, but my grandmother was a good woman! She raised my father to be a good man." My eyes narrowed, as did Beeti's.

"She raised your father – someone far from being a good man!" Beeti shot, clearly intending to wound. "A dirty, 10th caste peasant with no regard for his place! Raised by a woman who taught him it was alright to steal away my sister in the dead of night, and impregnate her before the two were even wed!"

"You spit lies!" I told Beeti boldly. "My mother was not pregnant before she married my father. Even if she had been – that is no reason to spite me. I'm her flesh and blood – and I'm your blood, too."

"Very well then," Beeti remarked, obviously surprised at my boldness. "But you still may not be called by your first name when you are with me or Dr. Blackwood. When you are presented publicly, you will be Celeste Devereaux. Elissa is a peasant name."

That was the first time I escaped to the hedge maze.

I was met by a sweet symphony of birds chirping and basking in the daylight. Late-season roses bloomed on each side of the cobblestone walkway. It was snowy, but the garden was positioned so that the winter sun always warmed it from the center. The trees were hung with wind chimes, and bird houses of all kinds and colors, standing out against the white backdrop. Squirrels scurried up the trees. Like the ocean, it calmed me. I wandered deep into the maze, enamored with the sights and sounds around me. When I came to its heart, I saw a marble fountain as centerpiece. Dancing angels flew up the sides in scattered columns. The ground beneath my feet was frozen, the water of the fountain was warm and flowing. The repetitive, mesmerizing pitter-patter of the stream hitting the surface of the water brought me back to the sounds of nighttime waves. There were tears in my eyes when I lost myself in the dead memory.

Leaves rustled against the walls of the maze. A hand fell on my shoulder. The person – still out of view – slipped an envelope into my hand. I glanced at the address. It was Una's. I looked up to that the Valeria was the postman. She took a handkerchief and wiped my tears.

"I'm sorry about Beeti, and I'm sorry about my part. Don't take her words to heart. I am still a servant to her...you see...but that is still no excuse for my behavior. I of all people should have put my foot down.

Look - I have six degrees. I have degrees in Magisterial Law, Astronomy, Botany, Speech Dictation, Linguistics and Existence. I'm the only woman in the Empire so many academic titles. There were many people in my studies who believed that your birth determined your value. They cared too much about caste, sex, and name.

What I mean to say is, I want to make this clear: I have no problem with your name. No second caste linguist or academic can put a price on your value based on that."

I was shocked and touched by her overflowing emotion. I opened my mouth to offer words of forgiveness, but Valeria quickly resumed her stoic nature. The peculiar creature nodded, turned, and left.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Witch Hunt

I used my finger to tear the seal. It was a short letter, taking me no more than a minute or so to read. Father was finally eating adequately. He'd gone back to work and gotten my rations, I supposed. I could tell from her tone that Una was trying not to sound alarmist, but the last part of the letter sent me into a spiral.

My father's mental health was failing. He often wandered the town and disappeared for days at a time. It was the alcohol, I guessed. Everyone knew he had a problem, and even the heaviest drinkers on his crew were trying to sober him up. Una assured me that he would be in good care and that she would always watch over him. I couldn't shake the melancholy.

I held my breath and sucked in my tears. I went back into the house and met Valeria in the study. I showed new interest in her academic pursuit this time – realizing that remaining busy was the only way to curb my sadness.

Over the next three months, the world continued darkening – yet somehow Valeria taught me how to stand tall. Papa's health continually failed. Una's letters became so distressing that I stopped reading them. And every Friday, the Magistrate's mandatory broadcasts became filled with notions of witchcraft and treachery in every house.

Hush-talk abounded in the Servants' Quarters. Everyone seemed to know someone back at home whose friends or neighbors were arrested for practicing magic. Lydia received word from relatives that there were actual witch trials going on in her village. Some of the accused were people that Lydia knew, while others were just stories.

Everyone knew that the ones burning were innocent. They knew that it could be them. Instead of causing an uprising, the constant fear drove us into silence. They worried for their families, and I worried for the Katie Isles. As the hunt progressed, I realized I'd been spared something much worse than hunger.

Though, even the security of Devereaux walls was fleeting. We all knew it was a matter of time before the Magistrate began rooting out the "perpetrators" in his own world.

Grandmamma – beginning to fail in health herself – put her foot down and insisted that our family became more pious. Dr. Blackwood was to incorporate Saint History into my curriculum, and Stella was to use her embroidery skills only for the good of the church and was forbidden to attend any social functions beyond the church or manor.

She didn't do it out of necessity of faith – but rather, to protect our family.

"The monsters of old," and other tribal story telling ceased. If anyone talked about these things now – even if only in joking banter – the entire room would quiet. Even children's fables were toxic.

It had been three months and one day since I arrived. There was a strange taste in the air that morning. Each person in the family sat around the dining room table with an unusually stern, distressed look on their faces. I felt an air of resentment they had for taking me in.

"Elissa, we received a telegram this morning. Someone of great power has asked something of us." Wren told me, shaking. Their silent eyes were screaming. They saw me as marked, counting down to their downfall. Everyone but Wren was silent. "Before I begin, I want to start by explaining the nature of our circumstance. You are the living heir to this estate, should you accept the title. Whether you chose to assume the title or not, the person that inherits this estate will be a woman. There are no living male heirs, making it exceptionally hard for us to maintain our property without the Magistrate's approval."

"Wren – I think that the girl is aware that Magistrate is against us. Just get on with it and tell her!" Grandmamma spoke up loudly.

"Yes Mother, I'm getting there," Wren continued, voice trembling. "We always thought that refining and presenting you would bring public approval. It has always been our intention to present you to our circle, but now you've come to the attention of people in higher places."

"Who?" I asked behind a dumbfounded stare.

The next words would turn me into a chess piece – a cleverly masked pawn in our family's struggle for survival. If a piece is used wisely, even a pawn can become queen. But this was a dangerous game. If I didn't comply, I'd lose more than my freedom. I would have to carry the burden of knowing that I ruined them as well.

"Elissa...this is not in our hands, and it's not a request. At the beginning of the winter, our future will be in your hands. You've been summoned by the Magistrate."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Gilded Cage

"Pull your hair back like this," Wren told me, yanking my loose curls behind my neck.

After three months of training, I had been deemed fit to attend my first social function. This wasn't by any means my time to meet the Magistrate. If I was going to save this family by maintaining a proper, dignified and even saintly façade; there couldn't be a single glitch in my behavior. That's why tonight was only a trial-run.

My fingernails were trimmed and painted, and my face quite unenthusiastically powdered. Wren held several hair ornaments, torn over which to use. Lydia stood directly behind me, holding the laces of my corset like reigns. She pulled back on them as if she were wrangling cattle. It was unclear if she was struggling to pull on the strings to bring in my waist, or laboring to cinch them tightly enough because there was nothing to girdle.

"Lydia, pull it back as tightly as you can!" Wren ordered.

As puny of a frame as I had, my ribs couldn't help but disagree with the sentiment. Goodness, did I hate this feeling! Before I could protest, a delicate blue gown fell over my head.

It was velvety and simple. There was no train, bustle, or petticoat. The only intricate part of the outfit was the lace riding up and down the sleeves, above a hidden layer of fleece that was the color of my flesh. It was low-key, and that was precisely what they wanted for tonight. Lydia quickly tied a ribbon around my now-cinched waist and draped a golden shawl over my shoulders.

My stomach soured. I was finally somewhat comfortable used to living with the Devereaux clan – avoiding Beeti's ill temper and Stella's insults – and now I had to go back to square one. I knew that when the people saw me, all they'd see is the permanent tarnish of the number ten.

"Just smile and remember your manners," Wren nudged my arm. "Mother wants a word with you before you go."

After a quick knock on her door, Grandmamma's distinct, grumbling voice instructed us to come in. When we entered she weakly motioned for me to come kneel at her side.

Grandmamma wasn't going to be attending the gala downstairs. These days, she rarely came out of her room except for meals. Tonight, she was bedridden. She took frail, shaking hands and tenderly brushed a curl from my face.

"Your birth is of no matter to me, and it shouldn't be to anyone else! Elissa, you are like a fresh red rose, ready to bloom! I know that you will do well tonight."

She patted my cheek lovingly and motioned for me to leave. When I stood up, Wren brushed the crinkles from my dress. I heard the string quartet begin playing downstairs.

"They're starting. It's time to go," Wren urged. The entire way there, she reminded me to stand up straight, hold my head high, and walk with grace. After a while it was slightly irritating, but before I dreamed of rebuking her, we were at the ballroom. Our usual doorman stood guarding it. When he saw us, he swept the doors open and announced our arrival.

"Announcing the arrival of Lady Wren Devereaux; third keeper and heiress to Devereaux Estate!" The man barked to the crowd of attendees standing at the bottom of the stairs. I flinched. Now it was my turn. "And accompanying her is Miss Celeste Devereaux; ward of the Devereaux family."

Ward. The word was fitting for a prisoner.

"Just remain composed, and we will get through this," Wren whispered, sensing my disdain.

There were at least a hundred of them, gaudily dressed with their noses in the air. After some staring, most of. Though, now the subject of their exchanges had changed. No one could be without opinion about the human spectacle which had been presented to them. There was proof of it in every small fragment of their conversations.

"Look at her size!" I faintly heard someone mutter from behind.

"Her lineage is unclear..." someone else's gruff voice called from a few feet away.

The only way to keep myself from becoming discouraged by their reckless gossip was to pretend that I didn't hear them. When deafness failed, I tried to find amusement in what they were saying. By far, the most amusing was what I heard coming from a greasy little man and his wife, cake in their hands.

"I heard that she's Beeti's bastard," the man remarked.

"You idiot!" His wife exclaimed, plump and clothed in satin. "Bastards can only be male!"

I almost chuckled, knowing the allegation would cause Beeti a conniption fit.

We walked through the crowd until we reached a spot free of most people. Once I had been delivered to a safe place, Wren gave me a small nudge and left. For a few seconds, I felt sheer panic. Then I saw a group of women on the other side of the room that were motioning for her to join them.

"I must go now," she told me. "But you will be alright! Stella and her friends are close by. Remain with them for tonight and don't cause trouble. I will see you in a few hours."

"Can you believe the complete insolence of this all?" Stella yawped a few feet away.

In comparison to everyone else, she was excessively overdressed. Her pink gown was enormous and trailed the ground to a ridiculous degree. Her hair was twisted into a sea of tight, artificial looking curls. She ignored me in the usual way while talking to her friends.

They were an odd-looking bunch. Six of them in all, each wearing something as ugly as the misery on their faces. There was nothing exceptional about any of them, besides a ginger-haired boy whose features were nearly identical to a horse.

"My papa fought and died a commander in the Magistrate's army, and this is what they give me?" Stella continued, directing her words mostly to a brunette standing next to her. "No more parties! No more socials! All because of this...this...absolute nothingness! First they bring her into the picture, and now I'm stuck in this drab house all day? It's reprehensible!"

Poor little Stella, I rolled my eyes. So upset that she can't go to all of her friend's parties! She was lucky that being confined to this mansion with a multitude of servants was her only complaint. The horse-like boy looked in my direction and smiled, revealing a set of abnormally large teeth that made him look even more like the animal.

"Stella, I'm sure there's more to it than that," he told her. "Things are changing around here! You're coming of age anyway. Perhaps it's better to have a season where you're not as busy as you will be when you start courting."

"Reginald, don't be absurd!" The brunette shouted, suddenly whacking him on the shoulder with her hand fan. "Stella is already of age!"

Reginald reddened to the shade of his hair. A lanky boy stood next to him, just as embarrassed. Reginald's sister spoke up, clad in a depressing grey gown than only accentuated the fact that she also had horse-like features.

"I'll bet that Stella has many suitors who have come to vouch for her hand already! Isn't that true, Stella?"

All eyes fell on her. Stella looked to both sides, acting as if she felt that someone was monitoring her every lie. She puffed up her chest and fidgeted with her hands before she began to stammer.

"Of course! I've had lots of suitors...I uh...uh..."

"How many?" Reginald mocked. He glanced in my direction. "You're not even sixteen yet, Stella! But, isn't your cousin? Is she bringing you the suitors? I assume that coming from a family with such fine looks as yours that you would be able to at least give us a reasonable number!"

Stella turned rouge. I could have sworn I saw the steam coming from the top of her head! She took in a deep breath as she reasserted herself.

"Alright then, ten! I've had ten suitors come and ask for my hand! And none of them were here for her!"

"Stella, how impressive. Why don't you tell us their names?" The horse-boy teased in response.

If I stayed there any longer, Stella would probably decide it was time to kill me. I looked for somewhere – anywhere else I could go.

The rest of the scene was no different. Wealthy gentlemen engaged in verbal sparring, discussing business and political matters. The women stood in clusters, gossiping. There was a vast array of food on display at the hors d'oeuvre and dessert tables, picked at by their dainty gloves. A string quartet was seated on a platform in the center of the room, lulling the room to sleep.

No one seemed to notice my presence, so I didn't think they'd mind any lack of it. I found my way out a side door that led to the garden. It was a precious escape. I went into the darkness, far away from their prying eyes.

"Finally..." I sighed.

I scanned the scenery, hoping to find the perfect retreat. The hedge maze seemed an ample hiding spot. I quietly wandered across the courtyard and opened the metal gate before the hedges. I wandered deep into the maze, cut across the center and found my way out the opposite end. When I emerged, I was in the forest.

"No one will find me here." I set my shawl on the grass and removed my shoes. There was a patch just soft enough to rub my toes against.

I let out a breath, gazing through the trees at the clarity of the sky. Even though the moon was full, the sky was blanketed with a spray of stars. They wove in and out of a pinkish, greenish cloud in the center of the heavens. The cold air crept in and out of my chest in a way that almost burned, yet I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I unfastened the ribbon from my hair. The feeling of my tresses tumbling forth was like a chain being loosed from my neck. I reached back and pulled a cord that loosened the weight on my torso.

There was no one here to tell me to bind my hair, to button up my dress or wear a tight corset. There was no public to paint a perfect façade to, and no Magistrate to fear the worst of. I was simply free.

I had no idea that someone else was watching.

Blissfully unaware, I basked in the night. It was times like this that I truly lost myself and became a child again.

I could almost hear the rhythmic pace of the ocean. For the first time in a while, I felt perfectly happy. The one watching me felt what I felt. His heart began beating with mine.

I felt a strange trance come over me, and I started singing:

"Dance with me to midnight's song

A tale of lovers, old and young

Sing to me of the world beyond

Under the moonlit sky..."

The sacred song sent chills through me. I stood up, dancing around the clearing. My voice wrapped itself around my guardian with a supernatural grasp; beguiling the one who had been watching over me and causing him to remain speechless where he had been spying. I couldn't stop here. I opened my mouth once again and continued my singing:

"Crystal seas and crimson moon

Blood-red roses and lives anew

Where the scarlet lilies bloom

Under the midnight sky..."

There was rustling in the bushes, but I didn't notice. I was under a hypnotic enchantment. It hypnotized him as well. I opened my eyes and looked at the moon. I realized that I wasn't on the beach watching the tides, waiting for my mother to run and cradle me.

"Under scattered stars and bright full moon –" I started, but with each word I choked. When I weakened, the one watching me took notice. He saw my pain. He felt it. He watched me silently, reading my soul. I opened my mouth again – but I just couldn't do it.

"A single kiss unites the two

Blind to what they both shall do-"

I stopped, the tears falling from my eyes uncontrollably. For some reason, it made me feel weak and inferior – even though I was sure that no one was around to see it. I closed my eyes, guarding myself when I felt a strange hand settle itself on my shoulder.

"Please don't stop singing, it's beautiful."

I leapt up, terrified. When I whirled around I was met face-to-face with a strange young man whose features were distinct but dim in the moonlight.

"I'm so sorry if I startled you," he apologized.

I relaxed, trying to study his features and see if he was someone I knew. Seeing the tears on my cheeks, he pulled out a small cloth and offered it to me.

For a few seconds, I studied him. I didn't even recognize him a little. He wasn't dressed as the other party-goers. He wore a simple white shirt that fell over him loosely, halfway tucked into his black trousers. There was a rip in the left arm and grass stains on his sleeves. I tensed again, then eased when my eye wandered to the gate.

This person wasn't an intruder – how could he be? No one could scale that wall or slip through the gate unpermitted, unless by magic. I guessed that he was simply a party-goer who – like me – hadn't felt like staying in. His appearance could be easily explained.

Perhaps he left his overcoat inside. Maybe someone spilled their cocktail on it, and the laundering staff insisted on treating the stain. He came out here to get some air after the embarrassment and fell...into the hedge maze. That's how he ripped his sleeve. Yes, that was it. A perfectly logical explanation.

The improbable explanation brought a more disturbing thought into my head.

"Did you...follow me here?"

Had he followed me out of the party and started removing his clothes? Did he see me and rip his clothes on branches while he followed me through the maze in a wild rush? I lost my balance, falling onto him. He caught me ungracefully. We fell over, cranes tangling necks.

"No, I promise I wasn't," he hurried to tell me. "I just...was getting a breath of fresh air is all. Then I heard you singing."

I wanted to ask about his clothes, but I became too embarrassed. Instead, I began studying him. I noticed his height first. Obviously most everyone was very tall next to me – but this person stood tall even by average standards. His eyes stood out, glowing in the night like a cat's – I guessed it to be the effect of the moonlight, but there was a quality to them that went without explanation. I couldn't tell the color. It seemed somehow indecisive.

"So...you don't like the party either?" I asked, biting my lip.

Something about his expression changed that I could see, faintly lit as it may have been outside – and it caused a strange calm to come over me. It was like my soul – spirit – whatever was inside; was communicating with his. I felt a sense that he was good. Gentle. Somehow, important.

"I suppose you can say that..." he pointed at the light coming from the manor. It was extravagant and colorful, even if here it felt a world away. "That life has never been for me."

I felt a spark and couldn't help but smile. He meant no harm, he was friendly – and it appeared that he was out here for the same reasons as I was. Before I could speak up, he offered the cloth to me again. I wasn't crying anymore, but the moisture on my cheeks was still evident.

"You've been crying. Please, tell me why."

For some reason, I opened up to the stranger. I could tell that he was honest, perhaps even able to see more of a depth in me than I could. I took the hankie and nodded gratefully.

"I wasn't made for this life at all," I started. "I was content with my life, but now all of the people with power of me have tried to change it. None of them want me...simply as I am. Ever since I came to live here, no one has let me make my own choices. Everywhere I go, someone follows. I'm fortunate that I'm not dead – but I'm not alive, either."

Just then, a blackbird landed beside us, compelled to rouse from his nest in the tree overhead. The bird came down to investigate, tilting his head before spreading its wings and carrying on into the night.

"You wish to fly," the stranger said.

"Yes...I do." I softly replied. "Here, I'm locked in a gilded cage."

When he looked at me in that moment, I felt something strange overtake me. It was neither familiar nor human. It was the strangest spell, a sense that someone was sympathizing with my soul.

"I understand more than you know."

It was the only thing he said.

That's when I became curious. Who was this man that seemed so in tune with my thoughts? What was this unearthly feeling that made me feel as though he knew more about my destiny than anyone else?

"Who are you?"

Something changed. We'd unconsciously moved our faces close enough to feel the warmth of our breath. Now, he pulled away. Was my question all that bad? I had asked it with pure curiosity and innocence, and I'm sure that he knew that. But, remembering his own identity – he tried to maneuver to another topic.

"The better question is, who are you?" The response seemed half-playful. "I was walking through the garden...I heard a beautiful voice...and I don't get to know who it belongs to?"

I blushed. Girlish feelings overcame me. They were like a drug - a drug that made your insides numb with fear and fuzzy with joy at the same time. Yet, my logic could not overcome this. I simply smiled.

"My name is Elissa." I told him. Of course, I forgot this wasn't my name anymore. Not publicly, at least. He probably thought that it was the name of a peasant. But before I could open my mouth to apologize, protest, or object – he spoke up and stopped me.

"That's a beautiful name," he told me. The young man bent down and cordially kissed me on the hand. "Fit for a queen."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's beautiful."

Our eyes met. The indecisiveness of their color intrigued me. We both quieted. But before I could become caught in them, my senses impaled me.

"Where you come from? Really."

"Beyond this land," he ambiguously responded.

"So, you're a foreigner then?"

"You could say that."

Now I was curious, maybe even a bit too curious for his likes. I wanted to know everything. The thought perplexed me, as most people living in the Empire had never seen or heard from the outside. It never seemed like there was much beyond this country, as we were scarcely allowed to leave.

"Why would you come to this place?" All I could think of was how crazy someone might be to leave their country – one of the few holdouts left – for the Empire. He didn't respond.

"I'm sorry if I was prying...at least tell me what your name is," I asked again over the silence.

The young man stiffened. Why wouldn't he tell me? I simply couldn't understand why he wouldn't give me a response! I opened my mouth to ask again, but I was halted.

"ELISSA CELESTE!" A woman screamed. The bushes on the side of the hedge maze rustled. Beeti emerged. "Where have you been? You're lucky that no one noticed you were gone until the party was over!"

"W-what?" I stammered, "It's over?"

"Of course!" Beeti screamed in return. It seemed odd to me that she screamed so loud right now – Beeti never displayed her temper around guests. "You foolish girl – we've been looking for you for hours!"

I could hardly fathom being here for thirty minutes, let alone hours. Beeti grabbed me by the wrists and began pulling me out of the hedge maze. I protested meekly, hoping not to make a fool of myself before the man.

"Wait!" I still didn't even know his name! My plea was so impassioned that Beeti loosened her grip. It had been no more than a few seconds – I assure you – but in that split second, everything changed. I turned my head, expecting to see him. My heart sank, but my head filled with curiosity.

For when I looked back, there was no one there.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Vanishing

"Child – I cannot believe that after all of your training you would display such insolence!" Beeti scolded me in the kitchen that night. "You are not ready! Completely unprepared for whatever task we thought that you would be!"

The clamoring kitchen was the only place where the sisters could unravel the scandal. Here, our spotless facade was safe from the eyes and ears of our enemies. It was well after two in the morning, but guests remained. Most of the lingerers had a bit too much champagne, wobbling to their carriages on the arms of weary footmen.

"Oh, Elissa..." Wren fretted. "What on earth were you thinking? Look at me, dear girl. Were you trying to run off?"

"I wasn't running away – I was just getting some air," I stammered, partially fibbing. "I was with that young gentleman. We met at the party and he decided to accompany me outside."

Beeti gave me a strange look. "What gentleman?"

It finally occurred to me. She had been close enough to look him in the eye - yet she saw nothing. I saw him in the moonlight, felt his hand on my shoulder. What I saw wasn't a trick. He actually vanished.

"Elissa, what gentleman? Please tell us!" Aunt Wren knelt at my side.

It occurred to me that even if I told them everything that happened that night, my story still wouldn't line up. Now they were on the edge of their seats. Hoping to escape soon, I conjured a suitor that I thought would meet their needs.

"Well...he was wealthy," I started, continuing when I saw the glimmers in their eyes. "And he was well dressed...and short. We talked for almost an hour. He said he was some sort of duke." Beeti and Wren both looked as if they were on the edge of their seats. "And he was single."

The finishing words nearly made Wren squeal.

"Well dressed...short stature... a duke..." Wren searched her mind aloud. Within a few seconds she made her apparent conclusion and gasped. "Beeti – it sounds like she's caught the attention of Winston Everen!"

Who was Winston Everen? I had to say something – I couldn't risk fabricating someone that could be tracked!

"Oh no!" I interjected. "That wasn't his name! At least, I don't think it was."

"...Well then...what was it?" They both answered in unison. I struggled to find an answer. In a way, it was my own sweet revenge.

"He was going to tell me," I cleverly told them, a hint of irony in my tone. "But Beeti came screeching the moment he was going to tell me and scared him away."

There was at least a little bit of truth to what I had said. Beeti fell back, red faced and silent. After a few moments, she composed herself.

"Don't run off unaccompanied again. You are excused to your chambers."

On the way back, I felt a small victory against Beeti. I know it was petty. More that that, though, I was still shaken. I simply couldn't fathom that she hadn't seen a person who was right there. Was she that ignorant? Was I hallucinating him?

"Maybe he's just fast..." I mumbled to myself.

My mind whirled at the possibilities as I twisted my key in the lock. The party was over, but I decided to watch the last guests leave from my balcony. Maybe I'd see him again. Even though I hardly knew him, our meeting felt painfully incomplete.

I looked down and searched through the sea of heads getting into the last carriages. He wasn't among them. I entailed my encounter to no one – beginning to wonder if it was even real.

A week and a half later, I was still thinking of the meeting. My curiosity piqued at the most inopportune time – the witch hunt intensifying around us. It crept from one sphere to another, infiltrating my lessons.

"And in conclusion, it is Saint Marie-Katherine for whom your islands are named after; the daughter of the Third Magistrate." Valeria huffed over me a few days later.

She asked a question about the text, but I was immersed elsewhere. What was his name?

"Elissa!" Valeria beat her ruler on the desk. "Please pay attention! This is your future and mine now! The nuns are coming from the abbey to observe you today."

I could tell Valeria's reluctance of this new curriculum. To protect the family from scrutiny, all of my other subjects were scrapped in place of Magisterial Church History.

It was all for the glory of our great and wonderful Magistrate.

"I'm sorry Dr. Blackwood. It won't happen again."

Footsteps rattled in the hallway outside.

"It's the nuns," she frantically whispered. "Hurry, open the book on your desk! Act as if you've been immersed in it for hours!"

She handed me a hardback. It was a genealogy book of all the characters of the Bible and the names of their famous descendants. She quickly cracked it open in front of me and thumbed to the page with the lineage of the wretched Queen Jezebel.

The footsteps seemed to be gathering steam now, and as they approached Valeria made sure to grab her own textbook and prop it open. Almost in the same second, a cheery but timid-looking woman cloaked in black popped her head in the door. Two others followed behind her.

"Ah – Sister Marie-Katherine! Welcome! We were just in the middle of one of our daily lessons!" Valeria smiled, looking up from her book as if she'd truly been teaching from it at that very moment. "Won't you please come in?"

The sister smiled and gave a quiet nod. She's named for my home, I thought. My defenses up, I wondered if this could have been some emotional weapon.

The nun came to me, smiled and patted my hand sweetly. "You're learning about Jezebel today, aren't you?"

"Um...yes....uh, I am." I quietly answered, not quite realizing what page the book was turned to.

"She was a wretched woman. Don't strive to be like her. Probably the most hated name in the entire realm to this day!" She then looked to Valeria. "Dr. Blackwood, we know this field well. If you please, I can take the rest of her lesson from here."

"Sister Marie-Katherine, with all due respect...I might be well rooted in science, but I can teach a biblical history lesson."

"I'm sorry, but the Lady of the House insists upon it. You are relieved of your duties."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Cherry Blossoms

"Elissa! Where are you?" A voice called to me, rustling through the bushes of the hedge maze later that month.

I came here each day to find answers. The crispness of that February night was still alive in my mind. The world around me was intensifying with dangerous accusations, but I could only think of the otherworldliness of this spot.

Strange things began happening around the manor. I could feel a constantly eerie, looming presence. I looked over my shoulder deep in thought, seeing Marie-Katherine poke her veiled head around the bushes.

"Elissa, the mail has come!" She told me, her soft but stern demeanor glowing in the early Spring sunlight. She was such a capable beauty that I often wondered why she chose the cloth. "You come out here every day. Why?"

I let out a sigh. I wondered if she would understand.

"I feel I've left something unfinished. But, I'm not sure what."

Sister Marie-Katherine looked to me discerningly. "Is it love? I may be a nun, but I do know about love."

"I'm not sure." I exhaled.

"Is it your teacher?" She asked. "I know you were close to her. It's a shame that she was sacked. I never wished that upon her."

Sister Marie-Katherine was gentle and sincere. I knew she didn't intend to have Valeria removed. There was simply nothing left for her to teach me – academia being such a dangerous pursuit in this climate. It was for her safety and mine that she work elsewhere.

"No, it's not that." It was overwhelming. My mind was still whirling, and I'm sure that the Sister could see that. She fell silent, posing no further.

"Well then, let's go inside and see what has come for you. Lady Wren is rather excited."

That was my first clue that this had something to do with suitors.

"Oh, Elissa my dear!" Wren exclaimed when I met her in the foyer, squealing and pulling me into her embrace. "You've had so many letters come today! There are suitors writing from as far as the Southern Country!"

I was taken aback. The ball was over a month ago, and the guests completely ignored me. Where were these "suitors?" Apparently, the attendees weren't so indifferent to me after all. I tore the seal of the first and began reading it to myself:

"Dearest Devereaux Family,

I write to send my cordial greetings to you all, especially to your new ward, Celeste. She is a quite intriguing young woman, and I applaud your work with her. My family will not be visiting in your part of the country until our summer holiday. When we arrive, I wish to visit with your family, especially Lady Celeste.

Yours truly,

Winston Everen

Duke of the Northern Coast"

I finished reading the letter and handed it to Wren. Wren fell under equal shock and handed it to Beeti. Beeti froze, and Stella snatched the letter from her lifeless hands. When she read it, she stepped aside, fuming.

"Mother," she asked, turning green. "Did any letters come for me?" Beeti shot her back a stark, irritated look.

"No, daughter. I'm afraid not."

I opened two more letters and passed them around. They all said the same thing – that some wealthy man had taken notice of me and wished to visit. None stood out so much as Winston's letter.

I wasn't sure what upset me more – that Winston was a real suitor, or that he was the Duke of the Northern Coast. How could I have forgotten the Everens? They owned the fishing company that my Papa worked for.

The one that nearly starved us.

With that thought, the suitors didn't matter. None of them mattered to me an inch. I searched the stack of letters and suddenly saw one with a much more familiar address. It was Una's. I was torn over whether to open it. I wanted to retreat – but my family stared at me in anticipation.

"...Elissa..." Wren softly started. "Will you see them? Will you court these suitors?

Finding myself in an emotional bind, I bit my lower lip. I didn't care to marry. If I did, I would be confined to this life permanently. Then again, it was only courting. It would also contribute to a healthy Devereaux façade.

"I - I don't know. I must go," my voice crackled. I rushed into my bed chambers, tossing all letters aside but one.

I threw myself on the bed, cradling it. Hard as I tried, I couldn't open it. I sensed that the message inside wouldn't be any more pleasant than the others. I thought of those letters long and hard – of my life in the Isles, of my mother, of Grandmamma. I made up my mind about the suitors long before the envelope from home.

"I have decided..." I told my family at dinner, "I will see the suitors. Just for the sake of our family – and I won't be excepting any marriage proposals."

The family rejoiced except for Stella and Beeti. They sat in silence, sharply jealous.

"That is wonderful!" Grandmamma chimed up, letting out a cough mid-sentence. "I told you that Sister Marie-Katherine would sharpen Elissa like no other! We must give her more lessons – then she will be ready to begin courting."

They did just that. My lessons became more frequent and intense. The Magistrate's meeting with me had now been given a date. November the 21st – just a little over a month after my seventeenth birthday. I became a courtly woman without as much protest this time. Perhaps it was because I hoped that one of these suitors was the man from the garden.

I hardly remembered his face, just those cat-like eyes.

I came up with a cunning plan to sift through the men. I had a series of questions I would ask, hoping that they would weed out the imposters. All the while, I still felt it – that odd, cold hover of a feeling I couldn't fully describe. I eventually named it the Presence. It felt as if I was constantly being watched.

I kept this to myself, of course. I felt that the spirit watching me was demanded silence. Things were already boiling over in the Empire. In mid-March, it finally spread into our home.

"Lady Elissa!" Lydia called that day. "You must come downstairs. The Magistrate is doing an emergency broadcast!"

I followed her into the hallway and covered my bed clothes with a satin robe. When I entered the den, I found a cluster of high-ranking servants tending to family members as we all gathered around the large, mahogany radio atop the fireplace.

"Everyone here?" Grandmamma asked.

We all nodded, and she motioned for her personal servant to flip the switch. The box rocked the room with its loud screeching. The Imperial Anthem played.

"Men and women of the realm," the Magistrate began. It seemed that even the beating of our hearts fell quiet. Goosebumps formed on my arms as the evil man spoke. The entire time, I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that once the last leaf of the autumn had fallen, I would have to meet this man.

"Our land is still in great drought. Conspiracy is abundant. Many of you are exposed daily to the primeval stories of the heathen castes. Sorcery has become more prevalent among them. Traitors live in every corner of our world. They exist even among the aristocracy. It is time to root them out!"

Lydia and I exchanged worried glances. She stood in the far corner of the room, clenching her fists. What the Magistrate would say next would come as a great shock.

"It has long been rumored that the Great War was not caused by the evil deeds of your ancestors. Talk of 'supernatural beings,' that 'walked among us' are lies of the lower castes. They are as evil as the witchcraft threatening our homeland!"

What did he fear? He'd never acknowledged it, and yet he was now defending himself against it.

"This is dangerous to our people. Our fight must intensify – and that is why I announce to you all today that the crime of sorcery is being given a new punishment. Guilty parties will be sentenced to death."

My chest became heavy and tight. This fear was all of ours, and it was being realized as he spoke.

"To win this war, there will be twenty five offending districts that will be put under surveillance. Fourteen regions will fall under the title of complete restriction until further notice. I will list these districts for the sake of public awareness."

I felt a lump grow in my throat – unsure whether it was of anger or fear. I knew what complete restriction meant. Nothing came into the land, and nothing came out of it. The unfit were not cared for under complete restriction. Those unable to work were sent to die. It was something my parents always feared might happen while I was alive.

I held my breath as he recited the names. I waited for my island. At that moment, I forgot all except my father.

"Territories under surveillance: The Western Highlands, St. Harris Sound, Port Mayberry, the National Inlands (Central), Brie, London..."

The list went on.

"...York, Brimington, Abbot Island..."

I prayed that they were only under surveillance; but it wouldn't account for much. If it was on that list, the status could change at any time. He went on, the list tortuously long. I feared that he would reach the end, and my island would be the first one under complete restriction. But the next name caused me to cringe.

"St. Marie-Katherine Isles."

I stood up, shaking. I was partly devastated and relieved. I left the room, wishing I could escape from his demonic voice.

"Denver, Elion, Corbel..." the voice echoed through the walls.

I maneuvered through the twisting servants' halls until I reached my room. I took my key and twisted it in the lock. In less than a single heartbeat, I leapt onto my bed, reached onto the side table and ripped open the envelope.

I forgot about all the other things that had concerned me. I had let go of my fascination with the cat-eyed man. I forgot about my many suitors. All I could think of was my father.

"Dearest Elissa," the letter began.

"I write to inform you of your father's health. He is doing better physically, and is still healing mentally. I admitted him to the community wellness center, where I visit him four times a week. Delpha also stops by often to deliver him herbs and remedies.

There's word that the island is soon coming under surveillance. We'll be alright. Our trade is too important for the Magistrate to put us under Complete Restriction. I will continue to check on your father. Remain strong and prayerful.

Sincerely,

Una"

The letter left me with a brief sense of relief inside. I know how strange it sounds, but it did. Maybe I was just numb. There was nothing I could do anymore. The Katie Isles were no longer my home – they couldn't be. There was nothing left for me there. I didn't even have the energy to mourn it.

It was time to let go. I knew that it was the only way. I closed my eyes and said a short prayer, lifting my arms to the heavens. Even then, I hadn't fully let go. I never would. I simply had to move forward.

"Lady Elissa, are you alright?" Lydia poked her head through the door.

"Yes, I'm okay." I sighed. "Is anyone having a fit over my leaving?"

"No, your grandmother only wanted me to check on you." Lydia soon looked over at my side table and gave me a peculiar stare. "Is that a new letter?"

I held up the one I had just read. "You mean this?"

"No, there's another one. A new one! I didn't see it when I came in this morning."

New? I recollected as I looked toward the spot where she was pointing. My eye caught onto another unopened envelope sitting in the very same spot as my other one had. Why didn't I notice that before? I asked myself, quickly reaching for it and tearing the seal. The note itself was even stranger than where I'd found it:

"Fate chooses those who least expect it. Go into the garden."

I wasn't completely sure who the note was from, but it looked to be Sister Marie-Katherine's handwriting. If it wasn't hers, it was certainly uncanny. I tossed the note aside and asked Lydia to grab one of my dresses. She picked out a blue shawl and draped it over my head before I bolted to the door. If the Sister wanted to meet with me – she must have had good reason to summon me in such a strange way.

Or, at least I thought was the case.

I went to my usual spot in the garden. I waded through the ocean of trees and searched the clearing, but she was nowhere to be found.

I didn't go back inside. A walk would help clear my head. I tightened the shawl, taking a new path. It was one that started at the end of the clearing and spanned deep into the forest.

I started down the trail, not even stopping at the end of the property. The thought of leaving on my own accord was tantalizing.

No one would ever have to know anyway.

I continued down the path, enchanted by the trees and their stubbly branches. They were lined with little green buds that would soon become leaves. I felt a wave of contentment as I walked through a grove cherry blossoms.

The fragile pink buds opened in various stages. Some were fully closed, pale rose, while others already waved their petals at the sun. The breeze detached older ones and made them dance. The way they bobbed in the current reminded me of the tea I had on my first morning here. They moved through the wind just as the delicate bloom moved around the space of the clear pitcher. Only here, they were free to move against the air.

I stopped, looking up toward the sky, fragments of light passing through the trees overhead. My sorrowful shell cracked under the weight of the sun. When I closed my eyes and moved forward, I felt my body collide with another.

"I'm sorry!" He begged an apology behind strange, lustrous eyes. "Elissa, please forgive me for startling you."

I froze. There was absolutely no way.

"Oh...my....word." I stammered at their cat-like glow. "It's you!" I studied his features and was overcome by the oddest of feelings. I began raving, my tone changing to that of a lunatic. "All this time, I've wondered if you were real...and you actually are! ...Or, are you?"

I pinched his sleeve and flicked his arm. He seemed real, but I still wasn't sure. I reached out to touch him again, this time slowly and unconsciously. It felt like a human arm. It was warm and soft, covered in a light spray of hair that flickered peach. I studied it for a moment longer than I should have. We withdrew.

"Um...I believe I am..." he told me confusedly. "We're both here, aren't we?"

I became lost in him again. I guessed he was somewhere between eighteen and twenty. In the light, I could see that he was well built. There was something in his stance that testified strength. He wasn't abnormally muscular – but goodness, he was he tall. Even taller than I'd thought before. Proportionate nonetheless.

His skin was milk, his hair the color of burnt honey. There was a sapphire glint underneath his cheeks, giving new meaning to the term "blue blood." It wasn't a pale, dead blue as some had. It had been touched with a paintbrush of silvery rose.

The eyes...I honestly couldn't figure them out. Still indecisive. Hazel, maybe? It was almost like they were changing color.

There was no doubt in my mind that this was him. I remembered the discourtesy of his last visit and the trouble it had gotten me into. Even though I had wanted to find him all this time, I wasn't feeling warm and bubbly.

"Why are you here? If you are real – and not some clever hallucination of mine – then tell me exactly who you are." I grabbed a broken tree branch and held it in front of me as a puny defense. "And exactly how you just disappeared like that!"

"Elissa – just hand me the stick and calm down," he moved closer to me. I held the stick even higher.

"How do you know my name?" I held the skinny branch as if it were a sword capable of impalement. He expelled a deep breath and lowered the pathetic stick to the ground.

"You told me, remember?"

"You think this is funny?" I still wouldn't budge. "One moment you show up and romance me out of the bushes – then the next moment you're gone. I don't even know your name."

Even through my lunatic ranting, he remained composed. It was clearly amusing on his part. The mysterious young man raised his arms and walked steadily toward me, as if to say he intended no harm.

"I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I was only taking a walk through the forest. And I promise that I wasn't following you at all," he assured. "In fact – I've never seen you venture outside of those gates. Shouldn't you be concerned about getting lost?"

Now I could tell that he was being playful. He pointed to the towering landmark of the estate, lightening the moment. I let out a tiny laugh, remembering the bittersweet concoction of feelings I'd just escaped from.

"Unlikely. The manor is large enough to be an international landmark."

I soon quieted. I remembered my task. I wasn't going to let him slip through my fingers again.

"Honestly, why are you here? Do you come here often? Do you live close by?"

"You ask so many questions," the mysterious youth told me, clearly avoiding a reply.

"At least give me closure," I huffed, completely unhinging my frustration. "I'm not trying to pursue you! You got me into quite a lot of trouble with my guardians the last time. I only want to know who you are!"

"Why so curious? Most people would simply let go of it and move on."

"I'm not most people," I told him.

I saw a reluctant smile form in the corner of his mouth. He felt guilty – maybe that he owed me a reply. He still proceeded with caution.

"Elissa, I am quite sorry about that night in the garden. I had to leave rather abruptly..." he trailed off, searching for something believable. "My uncle was waiting for me in the drive. In any case, I left before I had the chance to introduce myself. I will allow you to ask whatever you like. I may not give all of your questions an answer, but at least start by telling me what you'd like to know."

In a single motion, the gentleman motioned for me to take his arm. Small buds became loosed from the canopy and wisped around in the breeze as we walked. They settled in my hair like snowflakes. The mystery man seemed intrigued, even mesmerized.

The beauty in the moment was quickly lost. Just as I started speaking – one of the blossoms flew into my mouth. I awkwardly hacked it out.

"First, if I can't know your country can you at least tell me if you're living close by?" I began, fighting the cluster of foliage bombarding my face. I could tell he was choking on laughter.

"Yes...you could say that." He told me, still holding it back.

"Where then? Where do you come from?" I quizzed him again, this time more along the lines of an interrogation.

"I told you, I wouldn't answer them all. I will not tell you where I come from, but I can say that I presently reside close-by."

"Very well. Do you come here often?"

"Actually, I don't come here very often at all. It's the first time I've ventured into these parts of the forest," A sudden grin crept onto his face. "But considering that you're here, I'm glad that I did."

I must have blushed, because he started laughing. I don't know what came over me, but there was a fluttering sensation in my stomach that resulted in a giggle. Someone help me.

"What do they call you?" I softly asked. He stopped, searching his mind hesitantly.

"I am known by quite a few names...but you may call me Rhys." He knelt to kiss my hand.

It was the top of the hour, and the town clock began to chime. I didn't dare turn my head. Something in me still couldn't help but to wish that this wouldn't be our last encounter. I wasn't going to let him vanish from me again.

"Very well then, Rhys. I suppose – I suppose I have to go. Will I ever see you again?"

I could tell that he was holding back as well. The answer he gave was bittersweet.

"Perhaps we'll cross paths again."

I heard the clock strike again – this time making the mistake of turning my head. When I looked back, I saw that once again he was gone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Courting Horses

Over the next few months, I visited the garden frequently, but never saw Rhys. I still had to follow through with my agreement. Until the very first day of Summer, my family primed me for the game of courtship.

They emphasized mild manners and gentility, as well as skill. With Grandmamma's approval, Jackoby taught me how to ride. I came to the stables every day and mounted the horses with growing skill. It was one of the few aspects of the game I enjoyed. It distracted me from the shivering feeling I experienced whenever I walked through the house.

I could have lamented over it – being forced to court five snobbish bachelors – and believe me, I did.

Why had I said yes before I had known? Rhys wasn't one of the suitors. I felt empty, still yearning for something I didn't understand. It felt like a selfish obsession on my part.

I accepted the courtships as a sort of punishment for my stupidity.

"Get up, milady!" Lydia told me at sunrise the first morning. "Lord Gregory Gellman will be arriving in two hours!"

Right, I recalled, groggy. It's the first day of summer. I sat up, sensing a coming headache. I felt well acquainted with Lord Gellman, despite having never met him. When I say my preparation for this moment had been meticulous, I mean that their identities were beaten into me.

If I thought balancing books on my head was hard – I should have tried balancing the books while memorizing the names, birthdays, likes, dislikes and other key facts about the country's elite. It caused me to dread this even more.

"You should wear this...oh wait..." Lydia thumbed through the hangers in my closet. She took out a blue dress and a sunhat, holding them to my face to see if they matched my complexion. "...Yes, this will work. With a pair of pearl earrings, you'll look perfect!"

"Don't you feel it's too formal?" I interrupted, stalling. Lydia appeared baffled.

"I'll find something plainer." She rustled through the closet again, pulling out a pink dress. I shook my head. It took 3 more tries until I settled on a very toned down, white cotton dress with green pinstripes. "I don't know Elissa...it's awfully plain. It seems more like leisure wear than something for a formal outing."

"No! No! It's perfect," I insisted. The frumpier, the better. "It's just what I need!"

Lydia slipped the dress over my head reluctantly and topped it with a large-brimmed straw hat. When I came down for breakfast that morning, my family held their breath. What had I planned to do, coming dressed like this?

"You're dressed quite lavishly today," Stella covetously rolled her eyes. I wished I could trade places with her.

"Thank you, Stella. You look rather marvelous yourself." It was the only response I could formulate before the maids removed our still-empty plates.

They hurried us from our seats as the doorman announced that Lord Gregory Gellman was making a quite eager and untimely arrival. Like clockwork, we assembled in our places at the front of the manor and watched Lord Gregory pull up in his carriage. He jovially touched the brim of his top hat before he made his way out.

The moment that he saw me, the boy lost it. He jogged over to us informally, covered in sweat. Gregory grabbed my hand and nervously flattered it with a kiss.

It was nowhere near as suave as one that would have come from Rhys.

"Lady Celeste," Gregory began, his voice shaking. "I have been so hoping to see you! I have....a wonderful...day planned for us."

He stopped speaking, probably for the best anyway. If he would have proceeded, the poor boy would have thrown up on me. He hooked his arm around mine and politely followed the rest of my family back to the manor.

Yes, I absolutely dreaded this.

Though, I had a plan. I didn't care what Gregory had planned for me. I was going to surprise him with a treacherous day of exercise in the outdoors. Unless he was completely infatuated with me, he'd soon be running away.

"You have plans for today?" I piped up once we were inside. "So do I!"

"Oh...really?" Gregory stammered in surprise.

He had no idea.

I challenged him with a day filled with riding, climbing, and running around in the intense heat of the day. I wanted to convince him that beneath my feminine exterior was the heart of a man. If he was anything like I studied, it would be detestable to him. It also helped that Gregory was largely nonathletic.

"You sure you can take it?" I called to him loudly as we trotted across an open field in the hottest part of the June afternoon. My horse paraded several hundred feet ahead of Gregory. He struggled to keep up on a mule. Jackoby, sensing my plan, convinced Lord Gellman that was the only beast of burden he could loan him that day.

"Yes – I believe that I can!" He shouted back, clearly out of breath. I pulled back the reigns of my horse and came to a slow halt. It took nearly two minutes for him to catch up. He was sweaty and breathless, but still gazed at me, smitten. "For a girl in a dress, you are quite the rider."

I bit my lower lip in distress. I hoped desperately that this would turn him off. Somehow, it was doing the opposite.

I quickly jolted the reigns of my horse and galloped away from him in a swift, mannish challenge to see if he would grow weary of me. This had to work, unless he was completely besotted.

Unfortunately, Gregory fell into the category of complete infatuation.

By the end of the day, I was sure he must have hated me. I'd used him to plow numerous fields, sent him up trees, and watched him swallow turf when his mule sent him to the ground. If we didn't have an extra set of trousers in our all-female household, Gregory would have shown up at dinner covered in grass stains and sweat.

Nothing could deter him.

"My sweet petal...of a spring flower!" Gregory serenaded me that evening, still smelling of grass and sweat. My relatives watched covertly but eagerly through the windows. "My angel...of glorious roses! Shall I see you yet again?"

I rolled my eyes. No, Gregory. I don't want to see you again and spend another hour and a half talking about your accolades. I didn't know what to tell him, realizing that no matter what I said or did, my feelings would crush him. I could in no way deter him now – but luckily, I didn't have to. Stella did so for me.

"So, Lord Gregory...." Stella abrasively interrupted, parading onto the patio. She had changed into a provocative dress that clung to every curve. She leaned over the railings, teasing him as she revealed some newly taped cleavage. He looked up, suddenly infatuated. "I hear your family owns several villas in the South? Do tell me of them."

"Oh, yes...we do. I would be delighted to talk to them – uh- I mean, you." Gregory gawped, eyes never leaving her bust.

"Let us stroll through the garden. You can tell me all about it!" Stella glared at me, hooking her arm into his. Stella felt victorious. Honestly, I was grateful. I only felt relief when the day was over and Gregory was gone.

The rest of the family however, was appalled by this behavior.

"How dare you interfere with her affairs!" Grandmamma scolded Stella at her bedside the next day. "This is Elissa's courtship – not yours! Because of your audacious behavior, Lord Gregory Gellman has slipped through our fingers!"

I'm sure that Stella wasn't at all surprised by it; she knew she had it coming. But, she took the words in stride. It had obviously all been worth it. Beeti said nothing – quietly proud of her daughter.

"With all due respect Grandmamma, he hasn't slipped through our fingers. He's simply taken interest in me over her. And rightfully so!" Stella haughtily snapped back.

Though weak, Grandmamma sat up in bed and nearly swatted the girl. It was obvious that Beeti wasn't going to reprimand her daughter. She glared at her granddaughter so harshly that Stella stopped sneering.

"No, it was not 'rightfully so!' You are too young to wed. Elissa is not even accepting marriage proposals until she's old enough. In any case, you are to stay away from Elissa's suitors. When will you ever learn? These suitors are not coming to choose between the two of you! This is about her. Not you!"

The last two words seared Stella's pride. The anger brewed within her. She didn't interfere with my suitors anymore beyond her usual antics. Meanwhile, over the next two months I went through four more. It was maddening and repetitive. Although Gregory only visited for a day, the other suitors were painfully drawn out in their attempts to win my heart.

All of them were incredibly obnoxious men of great wealth and power. They were a group whose affairs I quickly became tiresome over. Each one seemed to either be in love with themselves or feel the need to go on and on about some strange accomplishment. After Gregory, there was Hubert Hackley. He was 22-years-old and an heir to a fortune in the horse-breeding industry.

"We have the finest horses in all of New Kennington." Hubert illuminated us at dinner the second night, his mouth full of food as he spoke.

"Is that so?" Wren uncomfortably asked, trying to ignore his table manners.

"Yes indeed! Celeste – you grew up in the rough of it, so I'm told. Perhaps you know the secret to having a well-bred horse?" He spun around, nearly spitting on my face as he spoke.

"I'm not-"

"It's all in the blood of the stallion!" He quickly interrupted. "Why, with a good stallion and a few lucky mares you can have a prize-winning herd in a year's time! This season we've successfully produced over two-hundred." Lucky. I cringed at his terminology. He continued, absolutely smitten. "Oh, the artificial method is the only way to do it right, I tell you! The natural process is so much slower compared to the way we –"

Grandmamma quickly put up her hand and halted him. "Hubert, I grew up an avid equestrian. We are well aware of anatomy and I would prefer that you not discuss your methods at the dinner table."

After that, Hubert abruptly went home.

Then there was Albert Austen, the nineteen-year-old son of a wealthy plantation owner in the Southeast. He stayed with us for three days, during which he spoke only of pineapples.

After Albert, there came Reginald Lawson. Yes, that Reginald. Just when I thought I could take talk of horses no longer; I was forced to spend a full four days with one in mid-July.

It was a very stale courtship. Oddly enough, Reginald never actually expressed much interest. All he wished to do was talk about how his great grandfather founded the famous Lawson Trout. It was all his family ate, and he had 80 ponds stocked full of them. If that was all his family ate, I guessed the fish were contaminated with something that caused raging stupidity. Nothing came of us, but Stella was seething over it.

This is about her. Not you! The words burned. Now she couldn't put the thought from her mind – the thought of her own revenge. And, Beeti wasn't going to hinder this. In fact, although her hand was nowhere in this plot, she was going to encourage it. For, deep down beneath it all – they both had ulterior motives.

In the beginning of August, I prepared to spend the week with my last and most pretentious suitor, Winston Everen. He was of the 2nd caste, but pursued me despite the risks of moving down. I didn't know what to expect from Winston, but I did know that he had power over the Katie Isles. I wasn't going to shy away from giving him a piece of my mind.

"Milady," he bowed. "I am pleased to meet you. I know that it is a bit sudden, but would you like to accompany me into the forest?"

Surprised at his immediate invitation, I nodded. I still don't know exactly why – but none of my suitors had been daring enough to venture into the forest. Having more than a few words for him, I slyly told him yes.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Battle of Wits

"Tell me, Celeste. Why is it that you enjoy the forest so much?" Winston asked as we strolled down the dirt path.

I wondered how he could have known my fixation with it, but I honestly hadn't been paying attention either way. I was too busy rooting through my mind of the case I was going to make.

"Who told you about that?"

"Your relatives, of course."

Alright, obviously he was interested enough to have done his homework. Maybe he wasn't as into himself as the others. But, I still wasn't going to let that stop me from telling him what I had planned to all along.

"I'm not going to keep this waiting any longer," I spoke up. "You're responsible for my homeland. You know where I come from. Why do you think I'd be so eager to spend time with you?

"Excuse me...?" I could tell he was stunned.

"Are you not aware of the suffering of your own people?"

Winston was everything I'd described to Wren and Beeti to an absolute tee. Aside from my clownish expectations, he did have a rather charming smile sitting on top of his bright, olive complexion. He puffed up his chest, oh-so-dignified.

"What do you mean 'suffering'? You mean to tell me that I'm not aware of life in my own region?"

"That's exactly what I mean to tell you." I snapped back.

"You insinuate that I know nothing," Winston reddened. "I am a duke!"

"Being a duke doesn't give you knowledge. Life in the Northern Coast is a nightmare. I've lived it. Though, I suppose you're too far removed from reality to realize that."

"'Far removed'? Well then, how far removed am I?" Now he faced me with just as much determination, but instead only challenged me to give him my reply. "Tell me what you think of me."

I exhaled. There were far too many things to list. I decided to start with just one.

"Considering how little you do for the Northern Coast, I don't believe you understand very much..."

"Go on," he urged. "Tell me what you believe about me so that I might clarify it."

He seemed to be genuine, but I worried that it might all be just a façade. Would he use his power against me?

"I won't punish you for telling me. Just allow me some knowledge of your preconceptions."

"Alright, I'll say it then," I cleverly replied. "How far removed are you? Well, like most of the other suitors – I can only naturally assume that you're so far removed from reality that you believe the sky is made of taffeta and the ground is made of small flecks of gold."

"The only flecks of gold here, Mademoiselle," Winston swooned, "are the ones in your hazel eyes."

"Winston, don't flatter me. I'm attempting to have a real discussion with you! And, my eyes aren't hazel. They're brown."

His ill charm and flattery weren't working on me as most women. That piqued his interest.

"You know, you are quite bold for a woman. And quite bold in standing up to the duke of your people." I caught a small glimmer in his eye. "I'll tell you what. I will discuss your political ideologies with you – just so long as you continue walking with me. Let us make it into a battle of wits."

"What is at stake in this battle?"

"Hmm..." Winston mischievously murmured out loud. "Let's barter. My terms are as follows: if I win, you must accept my invitation at dinner tonight. And you'll owe me one favor."

"It depends on what you're going to be asking," I said, guarded.

"No! These are my terms. If you accept them, you must follow through." He stopped himself as a precaution. "If it's any consolation, I am a gentleman. I will ask nothing indecent."

"Fine. But before I accept...what exactly are the terms if I win?"

"Those are up to you."

I pondered what I might do. Winston seemed to be open to hearing from me, though I'd have to prove my case.

"If I win, you must listen to what I have to say in full. And, you will owe me a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"These are my terms," I smirked. "You simply have to follow through."

"Fine then. I agree. This battle will begin with a question. What concerns you that you believe I can fix?"

"Well, I think we've established that you're a duke. You have wealth and power, why don't you use it?"

"Oh, but I do," his eyes flickered.

"I mean for someone other than yourself."

"Touché," he responded slyly.

"My point is, if you have money and power that you get because of your people, why do you keep it all just for yourself instead of using it to help them?" I asserted boldly. He suddenly softened, realizing what I was getting at. His next words would truly shock me.

"So...you truly believe that my family gets our wealth from the people?"

The look on his face read the opposite of what I believed. All this time, I was certain that Winston's wealth was power.

"Well...yes..." I articulated.

"We don't. And although you may think that our position comes with power...it truly doesn't."

"It doesn't?"

"Think about it. The taxes aren't ours. The wages of the populace aren't ours. The influence isn't even ours anymore." Winston became bitterer with every word.

"But, you still have some power," I declared in a sour attempt to further my case.

"No, we don't. The power to make laws and punish lawbreakers is out of our hands. There is no magical scepter that we wave when we want someone put away. It doesn't work that way."

"I thought – I thought that dukes were the heads of their provinces."

"Things are much more complicated than that," Winston told me, now quieting. "All I am is a face. A proper, pampered face. The real power is the Magistrate's."

I understood what he was saying, but still felt as though he underestimated himself. Then, I remembered something else about him.

"You're not powerless. Your family owns the fishing company that employs half of the 10th caste!"

"Yes, we do...but what does that have to do with anything? What power does that give me over your people?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but I decided not to give him my original answer. This was a battle of wits, but so far it didn't quite seem like one. If I was going to persuade Winston that he wasn't powerless, I'd have to show him in a different way.

"Instead of thinking of power, let me just ask you this: how much of each catch do the men working on your ships keep?"

"One fourth. I still don't understand what you're getting at."

"And how many men do you think work on the ships?" I continued.

"I don't know Celeste." I could tell that he was bluffing in some respect.

"Just guess," I persuaded.

"I can't guess if I'm not sure!" His words were laden with denial. He sighed. "The law says that there are supposed to be five able-bodied men to each boat. No more, and no less."

I had to keep myself from smiling in the seriousness of the moment. My words were finally reaching the depths of his conscience, and I could tell from the guilt in his expression that it was something that he knew he couldn't ignore.

"Well, your company doesn't abide by that law. My –" I stopped myself from revealing my parentage. "I mean, many of my friends worked for your company until the days that they died. All of my life, I've never seen that few fishermen go off to sea at one time."

Something inside of me made me hesitate to let Winston know of my family identity. He knew I was a 10th caste, but I wasn't sure how he would react if I made my case too personal. If I upset him – would he go through his records in spite and look for my father's name? Winston's expression turned to one of concern.

"How many, then?"

"Sixteen." I informed. A look of shock washed over him. "Sometimes twelve. On a good day, my –" I stopped myself again and replaced my thought with a generality. "A sailor would have gotten half of a fish. When the catch was sparse, the sailors often didn't get any."

Winston became defensive. "Well...surely their wages would compensate for it."'

"10th caste workers barely make enough to get by. Imagine the burden of having a family member that can't contribute." At my words, Winston fell silent. For a few moments, I could sense his guilt. When he looked back up, there was a sudden change in his demeanor.

"Celeste...I would like to apologize. I had no idea what sorts of injustices you must have witnessed. If I could help your people, I would," he told me softly. "For now, I'd prefer to change the subject. My feelings for you remain unchanged, and I would still like to get to know you. May we start over?"

I could tell he was speaking from the heart.

"Winston, I accept your apology. I am sorry as well, for judging you," I sighed. "...It might be a good idea to start over."

"Well then, let us introduce ourselves again –" Winston started, though I quickly stopped him when I felt a clever spark shoot through me.

"Wait," I halted. "Before we start from a clean slate, what about our battle of wits?"

"Hmm...you're right," Winston playfully nudged. "I believe that you are the winner."

"No...I don't think I'm the winner," I contested.

"Then does that mean that I win?" Winston broke into a grin at my proclamation.

"Oh no...you certainly didn't win," I hastily replied. "Neither of us has."

"Well then, it's a draw! We'll honor each end of our agreement." Winston's smile grew even bigger. I was dissatisfied with the prospect – I still wanted nothing from him. He hooked his arm around mine, overwhelming me with enthusiasm. "Milady, I am Winston Everen. And you?"

"I am Celeste Devereaux," I pleasantly but wearily returned. He tipped his hat and we started back toward the house.

I got a sense of superficiality, but I held my tongue. Saying anything else would have been just as useful as smashing my head into a brick wall. The argument wasn't constructive, and Winston deterred me before it was resolved.

When we came within sight of the windows, Winston unhooked his arm from mine. I could see the silhouettes of my relatives peering at the windows. Winston did as well. He unexpectedly took my hand and twirled me. Then, he took me into his embrace.

"Winston, what are you doing?" I asked him, appalled.

"If we are to court each other, we might as well make it a show. I like you...you'll soon like me. Everyone around us will be happy." He wouldn't release my hand. "Remember your side of the deal. You must accept my invitation, and you owe me a favor. This is the favor: act only positively for your family today. Aid me in winning them over."

When I opened my mouth to protest this game, he twirled me again. This time he slipped his arm around my waist. He wanted to make it apparent that we were the perfect couple – and if I hadn't regretted it before, I certainly regretted my passiveness now. Winston was a 2nd caste, and he was a persistent 2nd caste.

We must have looked like the perfect match to everyone else. It was something that filled the family with joy, for Winston's prospects only meant security for us. But, the feeling was forced. At dinner, I realized I had no choice.

"Dearest Devereaux family, I thank you for your hospitality." Winston chimed his knife against a wine glass and stood. "I understand that many suitors have graced this mansion – none with very serious intentions. I have made up my mind and would like to ask for your approval on a matter."

Grandmamma had been sitting in her wheelchair at the head of the table the entire time, and she suddenly lit.

"Get on with it," she clapped.

"I have a deep affection for your Celeste. Therefore, I propose a deepening of our relationship. With your blessing, I would like to return and formally pursue your ward."

Wren's eyes widened. Beeti moved backward, reddening but remaining silent. Her daughter acted similarly – refusing to make eye contact with anyone as she angrily stabbed her steak with a fork.

"Do you mean – to actually court her?" Wren gasped.

"Yes, and with the most serious and proper intentions."

My heart was pounding. I had no idea what to think of Winston now. This was the result of our bet? That sly little... I opened my mouth but was unable to utter a sound.

"Oh, that sounds absolutely wonderful!" Grandmamma lit. "You have my full approval!"

"That is wonderful!" Winston chimed, quickly directing his eyes at me. "But first, I must ask Celeste. Celeste, would you welcome me back into your home?"

I bit my lower lip and fiddled with my hands beneath the table. What else could I say with their eyes fixed on me? It was a moment of entrapment followed by a reluctant sigh.

"Of course."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Other World

After the encounter with Rhys, there wasn't much I could have done to stop it from happening. Even when he tried to make it seem as if he had no interest – if only to protect me – it was to no avail. The person that he was running from could see more than he wanted to believe. There was no true way to hide from him, yet he still believed that he could flee.

Rhys was just a mask. It was an identity conjured in his weakness. His real name was regal and authoritative, meaning "born of gold," in the languages of men. In his, it had a higher meaning. But, he couldn't harbor that title anymore. He chose a name that had a meaning far from it. It was fitting for him now – because the name Rhys means "running."

After he disappeared, I came under watch of another presence. The moment I saw Rhys, there was no escape. It began at our first encounter.

Originally, he searched the looking glass for his brother. Then, I came into view. Dancing about the garden and singing at the sky while Rhys watched; his brother Faolan suddenly realized something.

"Crystal seas and crimson moon,

Blood-red roses and lives anew

Where the scarlet lilies bloom

Under the midnight sky..."

Faolan saw the two of us with supernatural eyes. Auras leapt from our bodies as brilliant auroras, reaching out to touch the other person's spirit. They reached desperately – dancing with each step the we took. It was a sign of passion to come.

It was perfect.

"Go into the mortal world," he commissioned his servant. "Keep an eye on the girl. When I tell you, bring her to me."

The servant bowed before the King as he opened a withering portal to my world. Each night, my dreams grew stranger. They eventually progressed into writhing nightmares at Faolan's hand.

"So, this is the woman with my brother's heart?" He mused, carefully placing a nightmare in my head one night.

This time he came to see me in person, eerily hovering over me as I slept. The light in the room was dim and the moon full. It illuminated my features to him in a striking way. I was pretty for a mortal, no doubt. The creature inspected me, taking a strand of my hair and examining it. He whispered into my ear.

"Let him become infatuated with you, and let him fall prey to my games. You'll be the one who brings him to me."

The evil in his presence caused a deep disturbance in my soul, jolting me awake. I looked over at the side of my bed, unaware of who Faolan was or where he'd been standing. There was no one there.

Rhys was still running – but he wouldn't be able to much longer. The one he was running from knew where he was and would stop at nothing until he was dead.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Sleepless

Flames kissed my naked body. They burned, yet they were somehow freezing. It was hellfire, but it was ice. My mind was no longer mine – something else held it. I cried in horror as death stood over me. It crushed my neck and threw me into a chasm. The fall felt endless. When I hit the ground, I woke.

I opened my eyes and cautiously gazed around. The room was quiet and surreal. I was tangled in a mess of jumbled sheets that I believed was death's grip. My body was trapped and I panicked, screaming.

"Elissa?" Lydia called out, candle in hand.

She reached for the knob that brought the brass wall lanterns from flicker to shine. The sight of my prostrate body immediately brought her to my side. She lifted my face off the ground and began soothing me.

"There, there. It's alright. It was just a dream," she comforted, gently stroking my head. "You're safe."

I was still shaking. Lydia freed me from the blankets and spread them neatly over the bed. She tried to move me, but I refused.

"No, please," I begged.

"You need sleep. It's almost four o'clock in the morning."

"Please don't," I begged. "I'll only see them again!"

I was pale and incoherent as she helped me stand up. I leaned on her arm, limp. She dipped a rag in the water basin on my nightstand, dabbing it on my forehead.

"You're feverish. I worry about you, milady. You've been having these fits one-after-another for nearly a week now."

"I know," I coolly replied.

As I became aware, she stood, dressed in her shift instead of her uniform. Waking up every night with blood-curdling screams, my family was so weary that they allowed Lydia to stay with me. Winston could never know.

"Tell me," I asked, my mind coming into clarity. "What day is it?"

"The 18th."

"The 18th..." I echoed. Oh, right. "Winston is leaving."

The terror was overshadowed. I could finally breathe again. Winston's stay was painfully long. He extended it, trying to win me. It only made me detest him more. I insisted I wasn't ready for marriage, but he wouldn't stop hinting at it.

"What would you like to wear to the farewell?" Lydia asked, yawning.

I let out a huff. I was wide awake but exhausted from my ordeal. "I don't care. You choose."

Lydia walked to the closet and selected a turquoise dress with lace sleeves. It was beautiful and overly formal, but I knew it was only to detract from the increasing haggardness of my eyes and face.

"You'll look wonderful," Lydia whispered as she laid the dress next to me. I sat up, now hugging my knees as I glanced at the mirror on the opposite side of the room.

"Don't flatter me, Lydia." I half-heartedly told her, clearly a bit grumpy. "I know I'm gaunt. These terrors are sucking the life from me. Look at the bags under my eyes!"

"You're still very pretty," she sighed. "I know many girls who'd give their souls to look like you."

"I surely hope not."

"No, but if you're that worried about your bags, I do have a remedy in the kitchen that can fix that," she told me. "We servant girls have gone without ample sleep for centuries. If you're quiet, I'll take you down now. Follow me."

I put on my robe and followed her to the Servants' Quarters. Even at this early hour, workers were running through the halls and rummaging through the cabinets in a hectic rush. They ignored my presence, long realizing I would never speak poorly of them to the ladies of the house.

"Henriette, where is the jar of cocoa-ash?" Lydia asked the head cook.

The portly woman's ruddy cheeks glistened over the steam of a hot kettle. Only a few strands of white escaped the tight binding of linen she wore on her head. She was as spitting image of Hattie, looking more like a sister than a cousin. The only difference was her salt-colored hair.

"Bottom drawer to the left," she mumbled, whisking a bowl of eggs in the crook of her elbow.

Lydia reached for the drawer, quickly placing her hand on a large round jar and holding it like a trophy. She popped open the lid and placed two fingers into the strange, creamy mixture it contained.

"Close your eyes and look up," she instructed. I was met with the strange but soothing sensation of the cocoa-ash beneath my eyes. The smell of lard was masked by the pleasant aromas of cocoa, tea, and mint. "There. Now look at yourself."

She gave me her hand mirror. Much to my surprise, the black crescents were visibly faded. My face even had gotten back some of its normal, restful glow. She smiled.

"Want to take some morning coffee?" Lydia offered.

No blooming tea this time. That was an upstairs beverage. I smiled and grabbed a small cup from a row that had been spread out on the counter for the kitchen workers, and we retracted to an empty stairway where we sat talking.

This was a special time. Since it was only 5 o'clock, no one else would be up in the main house. Early in the morning, no one could care about our castes or duties. We could open our eyes as friends.

"That stuff is amazing. How long did you say the servants have been using this recipe?"

"Well, I originally said many centuries," Lydia laughed. "But it's actually a recipe from my grandmum."

We both started laughing, despite our weariness.

"You're a good friend, Lydia. Thank you for doing this. You're one of the only people in this whole house who can keep me sane!"

"You're a mighty good friend to me as well! I've never known anyone I could talk to as I do you. I've never been able to call anyone in the household 'friend.'"

"I like that too," I beamed. "I like that our places aren't so set in stone. You're just the same as I am."

"You're right," Lydia exclaimed in reply. "We're from the Northern Coast, and that's something that no one can ever take out of us. You're strong, Elissa. You remind me a lot of my little sister."

A solemn wind swept over us. Lydia didn't talk much about her family. When she did, I could tell that she longed to be with them very intensely. Elion watched just as strictly as the Isles, every thought of home brought her anxiety.

"Your family in Elion...I know you've been worried about them," I started slowly, "You've never told me very much about them. I mean...you don't have to. I understand if it hurts too much. I worry about my father a lot too -"

"Oh no, it's fine." Lydia interrupted. I could tell she might have been holding back a tear or two. "I have a lot of siblings at home. My mum died seven years ago, so I've been supporting them here ever since. I have one little sister, Grace, who you've always reminded me of in a way."

"What does she do?" I asked. She flashed a slight smile.

"She sings."

My heart felt heavy, and I knew hers did too. We both remembered the places that we came from, those cultures that seemed so far away. Lydia's next question caught me off guard.

"Have you ever thought about what it would be like to run?"

"What do you mean?" I replied.

"I mean, just drop everything and leave. To go back to your life and family, take them away with you, and never part from them again..."

"I've thought about it more times than I'd like to say. But...I guess it's just now I realize things have changed. There's nothing to return to – " I stopped mid-answer. The longing in her eyes told me that this wasn't a question. "...Are you thinking of leaving?"

"I – I don't know," her voice cracked. "Things have been so confusing lately. I worry about my family and the future. I miss them so much. I fear for them, Elissa. Two of our neighbors have already been killed."

"I know."

Those two words were all I knew to say at that moment, but they were better than a million others. I embraced her and rubbed the tension between her shoulder blades, returning her earlier kindness. That was when she cried.

We were all hostages. Everyone had thoughts of leaving the Empire, but there was little beyond it that we could survive. There was the issue of escape, then there were bandits and death tribes if you made it past the border to the Desert Country. You could charter a boat from the Northern Coast to the freedom of the Mist Isles, but the journey was long and full of rough seas. There was also the threat of annexation once you arrived, as there was hush-talk everywhere about the Magistrate wanting to march into Moorland.

"Moorland will sad fodder for his troops," I heard Henriette fretting once as she shaved potatoes. "Hattie's mother was from there. A hold-out to the Empire, but an easily taken one. Land is flat and boggy, which might be their only defense. Where wagon wheels can't turn, sometimes they turn back.

"Once he takes them there, he'll march into the Highlands and try to take hold of their wild armies. The men there paint themselves blue, and fight in nothing but bare chests and kilts. Don't wear anything under em', either. My son wrote to me the other day - fine boy, sends home his keeper wages - saying that his commander figures he could tame them. Lots of earth to mine up there, too. I pray they don't turn their boots that way."

A laundress wedged herself between us carrying a basket of fresh towels. It was nearly four-thirty now. Lydia stiffened, collecting herself as the servants became busier around us.

"Don't mind my tears, Elissa. I get like this more often than you know. It's time to move on to other things," she stood up. "The early-risers of the household will be up in an hour. Now that you're taken care of, it's time to get you back to your room." She playfully tapped my nose. "You're going to look beautiful for Winston."

I grimaced. He was the last person I wanted to look presentable to.

"You know I don't love him..." I reluctantly sighed. "I can't stand it, Lydia!"

"Chin-up," she flashed a bittersweet smile. "Soon he'll be gone."

"But not forever...and I fear I may have no choice in the end," I shuddered. "If I made to marry – I want to marry someone I love. Everyone deserves a choice. Don't you believe that?"

On the other side of the room, Jackoby was standing in full-view. He motioned for her to join him. After a long pause, Lydia answered my question.

"You don't choose love, Elissa. It chooses you."

Jak grew impatient and came to Lydia. He stumbled over his words, knowing I was there. We had an unspoken agreement that I wouldn't tell anyone what was seen or discussed in these quarters. Still, he hesitated.

"I need to talk to you. There's some matters we need to discuss with the people in our corridor about...October."

"I have to take her back first –" Lydia started. I stopped her. You could cut the tension with a knife.

"It's okay. I know my way back."

I crept back into the house, careful not to make a sound. When I reached the house, I shut the door like a church mouse.

"Having fun?" Beeti inquired as I pulled the door shut. I jumped out of my skin at her intonation. I turned to see her standing there, sinisterly grinning – as if she'd waited for me the entire time.

"What were you doing in the servants' quarters?" She angrily scorned. "What business could you possibly have there? Is it with your little servant girl friend? How about that stable boy?"

"Oh no – I just, left something there. That's all!" I lied.

"What on earth could you have left there?" She bitterly questioned.

"Um...food. I was hungry!" I again proceeded to make up. Beeti quickly interrupted me again.

"Never mind that! I'm not just angry at you for having been there – we've been trying to find you high and low, stupid girl. Winston is departing early. He leaves in a half hour."

Beeti quickly grabbed me by the arm and whisked me to the baths so that I could be properly powdered and made-up beyond what Lydia's cocoa-ash could do.

"Your dark circles have somehow improved. You must have slept in." Beeti remarked as the bath attendants batted my face with powder. "Have the nightmares stopped?"

"No."

"Well...the circles are nearly gone," she remarked.

Time was of the essence, so as soon as my lips were rouge everyone assembled outside to bid Winston farewell. I dreaded each step. I didn't want to see Winston again, not even to bid him goodbye.

"Goodbye, sweetest Celeste." Winston placed a kiss on my hand before walking to the carriage. I tried to hide the fact that I was internally grimacing, praying he'd get in the buggy and leave.

"Goodbye Winston," I cordially replied. He gave me a look that was overtly seductive. I rolled my eyes.

"I enjoyed my time with you. I shall return soon." He gave me another kiss on the hand. "Expect me at first snowfall. After you are presented to our great ruler, I will come to make a grand announcement."

"Oh, how lovely!" Wren waved from a few feet away, throwing off his charm. "Do write and allow us to throw a party in your honor!"

"Will do, Lady Devereaux," he replied, slightly annoyed. Then, he did something unexpected. He pulled me in and whispered something in my ear. It was neither seductive nor supercilious.

"Celeste, you must fear the Magistrate." He whispered. "When you meet him, do not step out of line. Not a single hair on your head can be off center – not even an inch. Difficult times are coming. Don't ask me how I know.

Avoid scandal for the time being. It will only cause strife. Regardless of what happens, I will come to see you afterward. If things go awry, I can offer you protection."

He quickly pulled away from me. I was dumbfounded. He tipped his hat cordially, acting as if he hadn't said a thing. I let out a deep breath, and he boarded the carriage. As it took off, he shouted back in our direction:

"I'll be counting the days until then!"

CHAPTER TWENTY

Secrets

If Winston was counting the days, I supposed I should count mine. Mine passed with a different kind of anticipation. Each day I counted was one less before I knelt before the Magistrate.

Stella saw opportunity in my dread. It had been a month, and today I was in agony. Nightmares continued writhing me out of bed every night. Today was no different.

"Cousin Elissa," she told me, looking at my sunken eyes. "I wanted to have some time here with you for a moment to...apologize."

Her demeanor was oddly bright and sweet. I was stunned. Had she been drugged? Converted? Replaced with a clone? These all seemed reasonable answers.

"Stella? Are you alright?"

"Yes, Elissa. I'm fine," Stella assured. "I know it doesn't seem like me – but I've just felt so...terrible. I'm no good at showing my emotions if I can help it. But, you've been living with us for nearly a year now. I want us to get on like friends, sisters even. I was jealous of you, and I'm sorry."

I still couldn't believe it. Stella was too childish and volatile for this. Yesterday, she muttered insults over me at lunch. This morning she rebuked me under her breath as she cut into a breakfast sausage. She sawed through it wildly, splitting it and scraping her knife against the plate for at least two minutes.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm honest!" Stella exclaimed. She adjusted her eyes to seem sincere. "I really want to start over with you. You're my cousin – the sister I never knew I had. So please, allow me to make it up to you...let me show you."

"I don't know..." I muttered in reply.

"Elissa, just hush!" Stella suddenly interrupted. Now she flashed a bright, eager smile in my direction. "If you don't want to believe me, at least let me prove it to you by showing you how sorry I really am!"

This wouldn't end unless I agreed to whatever this was, I was sure. Doubt crept in. What if she was trying to be kind? Perhaps this was what sincerity looked like on Stella. If it was, I couldn't fault her for it.

"Alright, alright!" I sighed, tiresome of her incessant pleading. "What is it that you're planning on doing?"

"Well," she smiled, "right now it's mid-September. Your birthday is coming up soon, and it will also mark nearly a year since you came to live with us! What better way to mark the occasion than a party?"

"I'm not much for parties..." I trailed off.

"Oh, but you'll love it. It's a masquerade!"

I wasn't fond of masquerades. I'd never been to one and the idea made my skin crawl. They were cruel symbols of dishonesty and didn't end when the costumes came off.

"Must it be? I would hate wearing a mask." Reluctant already, it was apparent that my discomfort was growing. Stella struggled to quell her temper.

"Um...yes! It must be." She barely maintained her cool façade. "It's a... family tradition. Yes, a family tradition!"

"Didn't you say it was my birthday party?"

"Oh, it will be! It's just...your birthday is in October, and that's when we hold our annual costume ball. We do it every year in honor of All Hallows' Eve. Your birthday falls extremely close. Why not celebrate it a bit early? That way everyone wins!"

"All Hallows' Eve?" I recounted in confusion. "I thought that celebrating that was against the law! You honestly think that the Magistrate would overlook something he associates with witchcraft?"

"Oh, calm down Elissa!" Stella told me nonchalantly. "It's only that way for the peasants. Let them celebrate it, and they'd turn it into a pagan ceremony. The Magistrate knows that we upper-class folk understand it's all just play."

Stella's arrogance was abhorrent. The more I thought about it, the more stressed I became. If it was a Devereaux tradition, there was no point in avoiding it.

"I suppose I will."

"Excellent!" Stella cried, "This will be good for you, dear Lissie!"

I winced. No one called me by that name but my father. The way she said it straddled sweetness and mockery. My anger remained buried.

"Thank you, Stella."

"No, thank you."

The way she delivered the reply made me uneasy. It brought me back Winston's warnings about avoiding scandal. Maybe by doing this for Stella, we could finally forge an alliance to prevent it.

When I returned to my chambers that night, Winston's warning resonated with me again. I saw that my shift was missing from the foot of the bed. I had become overly dependent on Lydia for my nighttime routines, and this threw me off balance.

Lydia hadn't been herself lately. She'd disappeared here and there for a few hours, but that never bothered me. I could manage to dress myself. It was the night terrors I couldn't handle.

That night, I called out for her in a breathy panic, frightened in the darkness. She never came. I lingered on the floor in cold sweat until my eyes adjusted and my heartbeat slowed. Wren found me shaking.

"Where is Lydia? She's supposed to be with you." She asked after placing me back on the bed.

I trembled, weak and sweaty. I couldn't let her take the blame, lest she be hiding something dangerous.

"I told her I'd be alright tonight," I lied. "I thought the nightmares were over."

I shuddered. Wren tenderly pulled the covers back over my torso and left, but my eyes remained open. Winston's warnings continued playing in my mind.

If we needed to avoid scandal, I wasn't sure how we were going to do it. Secrets were a dangerous thing – I realized – and here they abounded.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Mite Olke

"The meaning of our lesson is, at its very core, human belief," Sister Marie-Katherine concluded. "Jesus taught that the littlest faith can move an entire mountain."

"And what if the mountain doesn't move? Isn't it a little foolish to think anything you believe is that powerful?" I spoke up wearily. My optimism was drained after another night of terrors. She patted my hand softly.

"Faith isn't always blind. It's a catalyst. Belief – especially in what you don't fully understand – initiates a search for truth. Those who seek, find. A single seed of faith easily causes truth to take root in your heart."

I listened as attentively as I could, but today my stomach was in knots. This morning the flames woke me. Anxiety barely kept my eyes open.

Tomorrow was the Autumn Ball, and Marie-Katherine was taking a two-and-a-half week leave. She was particularly reluctant, but she had no choice. The Magistrate demanded that all clergy attend their yearly retreats in October as not to be polluted by the evils of All Hallows' Eve.

I could tell that Sister Marie-Katherine believed in me with as much reverence as the mustard seed she taught about. Her spirit contained a light that seemed to drive away that looming presence I always felt. She was the only person beyond the house who knew of my nightmares. When she learned of it, they immediately lessened in their frequency.

I grabbed the thin hand peeping from her droopy black sleeve, still shaking as I remembered the horror of last night. It offered me instant comfort. She took pity on me.

"You know, I'll be gone for some time. You should find something to occupy yourself while I'm gone." There's something at the convent I've been meaning to show you, if you'd like to accompany me there."

"Are you sure it will be alright with the family? Leaving in the middle of lessons?" I asked, groggy.

"I think so. You're a bright and curious young girl – and I think this could be beneficial. The Church has a very extensive library that I think you'll enjoy."

I pondered the notion, still uncertain. I didn't want for much these days but passive sleep. Then again, it had been ages since I had my hands on a good book. Maybe it would be a pleasant distraction.

"I've never actually been to a real library..." I trailed off. "There aren't many where I come from."

"Then it is time you discovered one of the best." The Sister beamed.

"Alright, I'll go."

"Excellent," she exclaimed. "I'll ring Lady Abilene, and we should be off."

After a brief exchange and a friendly nod, I left to get ready in my room. In a few minutes time, Grandmamma granted her blessing. It was a short carriage ride to the convent. The living quarters were a modest building with open-air hallways connected to a towering cathedral.

It was adorned with stained glass windows that climbed up a stone bell-tower. The cross on the steeple was gone, replaced with an ominous brass eye.

It took me aback. I'd only been a few times, as Grandmamma generally held communion at home. She only accepted the sacrament when it came from Father Joshua – the only priest she trusted.

"The Magistrate replaced the cross with his own crest." There was a hint of bitterness in her tone I'd never heard before.

We walked into the main building over marble floors. Light came through the stained-glass, projecting rainbows onto our skin. It was a colorful labyrinth of biblical murals and dark wood paneling.

"The church library is over two-hundred-twenty years old," Marie-Katherine explained as we walked. We stopped before a pair of mahogany doors with brass railings. "This is it."

When she leaned against the railing, I held my breath. The other side was a literary spectacle. Books – endless books – on seemingly infinite shelves. The room was dizzying and tall, shaped like swirling octagon with its many levels. The walls were littered with print from carpet to ceiling. I wondered how the shelves didn't collapse under the weight.

"This would take years to sift through," I exclaimed in astonishment.

"We had a priest about fifty years ago who made it his goal to memorize the title of every book," the Sister glowed.

"Did he?"

He's still working on it." She laughed in reply. "It's so old that the Magistrate declared it a church relic, so now even he can't touch it! No one knows exactly where the first editions in the collection come from. The oldest ones are actually in folklore."

"You have a section for folklore?" I asked in surprise. "Isn't that the opposite of what the church teaches?"

"Some people would say so, but I believe otherwise. Just because something is from another place and time doesn't make it evil." She stopped for a moment and winked. "God made the mouths and minds of man. The beliefs of our ancestors were no less heartfelt than ours."

"Interesting," the word slipped from my lips, my mind still stunned at the array of books.

The mention of folklore was both comforting and alluring. It brought me to a simpler time, sitting in my mother's lap as she read to me next to the hearth. It also tasted forbidden. Somehow, it didn't distress me. Marie-Katherine's presence was safe and calming. The looming sensation was gone.

"Here," the nun climbed a ladder sitting against one of the shelves. "I think that you'd enjoy a good fairy tale."

The Sister tucked a dense book under her arm. It was so old and grimy that she had to blow dust off the cover just to read the first few letters. The powder gathered in a cloud around her head. She let out a small cough and handed it down to me. The cover left a thick layer of gray dirt on my fingers.

"Forget about non-fiction. Another book about etiquette or protocol won't prepare you any more than you already are. It's time that you gave yourself a break," she told me as she climbed down. "Fairy tales teach a person more than you might think."

There was a sudden thud in the other room. It was followed by familiar, swift footsteps. Father Joshua stood in the doorway accompanied by three nuns.

"Sister Marie-Katherine," the priest heaved, looking nauseated. "The entire convent has become ill with stomach flu. Only six haven't been stricken. Sister Raina just vomited in front of the children in Mass. You're good with the little ones – could you tend to the children while we clean up?"

"Of course, Father. I will come right away!" She looked to me before she left. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Read whatever you like in the meantime." She quickly tilted her head toward the priest. "Perhaps Father Joshua would be willing to allow you to borrow one?"

The Father was frantic – notably afraid of communicable illness – and sweated. He rushed his words, looking at my eyes as if they belonged to a ghost.

"Yes, yes – it's fine. Take whatever you like," he rushed. "Come along, Sister."

When Sister Marie-Katherine was gone, the room became blank and quiet. That was when the Presence came back. The shelves began intimidating me. They were growing and leaning on their sides – visibly moving toward me. Large as the room was, I swore it was closing in.

I retreated to a hardwood table in a lighted corner of the octagon. It was a space free of crowding stacks, made for reading and relaxing. I brightened a gilded lamp and held the book close to my chest. I felt too much anxiety to search for something else.

I needed to distract myself – then maybe this feeling would disappear. As I sat it on the table, more dust mites assaulted my nasal passages. I shook as I used the back of my hand to wipe cobwebs from the cover. I still felt it watching me.

"Mite olke?" I mumbled in confusion as I read the dirt-covered letters. There was a neat stack of tissues beside the lamp. I used them to wipe away the remaining dust until it made sense. "Oh – Primitive Folklore."

When I dusted the last cobweb from the cover, I felt the Presence leave. The shelves shrunk back into place. The room looked smaller now, more manageable. If this kept those feelings away, I wasn't going to stop now. Relieved, I opened the book.

"The Secret Prince," the first heading read. I smiled. This was one I was familiar with. Though, I was immersed in the oral tradition. The one in print was starkly different in its detail:

"After many years without an heir, the queen of a far-off land became pregnant. Her husband was driven to madness, as he knew she would die in childbirth, producing a single male heir. This was part of the Curse on their land – once a sparkling gem, now a kingdom of eternal night.

When the Queen gave birth, she did not deliver one heir, but two. Twin boys struggled from her womb. The first came breech, his brother clinging to his wrists as Jacob to Esau's heel. The midwife tied a golden cord to first child's ankle.

As the Queen suckled him, she named him for the color of the cord, seeing that he would bring back the sun. The second child was so quiet that the midwife first believed him stillborn. When he finally cried, his mother let out her final breath. The king became wicked, allowing the second- born to remain nameless.

At the death of the Queen, the entire kingdom mourned. The grief was short-lived, as the people were accustomed to losing their Queens in this way. You see – these people were all but immortal except for a single curse which had befallen them –"

"I'm back!" Sister Marie-Katherine returned, bringing my reading to an abrupt halt. "Found something interesting?"

"Yes, I think so." I quickly shut the cover of my book, feeling as though I'd been interrupted in the middle of something sacred. I was hungry for me.

"I knew a good story would make you feel better," Marie-Katherine winked.

This book had the power to keep fear at bay. I keep it close, to keep it safe. I didn't really know the reason, I just sensed that there was something more to it now. When I got home that day, I came in right as Molly wheeled Grandmamma into the dining room.

"Child, you're late." She starkly remarked.

"My apologies, Lady Abilene!" Sister Marie-Katherine hastily responded in my place.

"Oh, hush now – I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to my granddaughter," she waved a hand in the air. "You're fine, Sister. My granddaughter must simply learn to do things with punctuality in mind rather than having her head in the clouds."

Grandmamma looked up at the book that was bundled close to my chest, its title hidden to avoid confiscation. It became slick and my arms weak under its weight. The book topped onto the floor at her feet.

I fell to my knees and scrambled to pick it up. I didn't want to explain myself. But, it was too late. Grandmamma had clearly seen it. I braced myself to be scolded for possessing forbidden material.

"I'll leave you to your family matters," the Sister nervously nodded, bidding us farewell.

A deep breath made its way out of my chest, preparing for a scolding.

"Primitive Folklore?" She exclaimed in surprise. "Elissa dear, I didn't know that you were a lover of fairy stories! Why would you feel the need to hide this from me? Am I really that much of an uncultured oaf?"

At a loss for words, my eyes worked their way into a confused squint. My mouth came open, trying to form the words of an explanation as I stood up.

"I was worried...that there would be disapproval," I spluttered.

"That's rather vague. What is it, do you think I would disapprove of a children's book?"

"I was worried that Stella would ridicule me for it," I huffed.

"Ah, I see...I suppose you're justified in that," she nodded. "Ha – you're just like your mother. She was such a private person, always dreaming but never wanting to say it out loud. Then, she'd fixate on something, and never let it go. Iron-Willed Rosy, we called her."

The nickname brought me back to that day in the stables at the Bimbleberry Inn. Grandmamma's face read nostalgia at the utterance, just as Hattie's. Only, Grandmamma's nostalgia was tinged with sadness. It was the last and only thing she'd say about the matter before changing the topic of the conversation. After a few moments of silence, she opened her mouth and began barking her natural orders.

"My word, child! What are you doing still standing here? Go put that book away and get ready for dinner! Keep them waiting for the rump roast any longer and the family may decide to eat me instead! They'll complain, of course, since I'm all bone."

I gave her a cursory nod before rushing upstairs and sliding the book underneath my pillow. Dinner was near-silent that night, my head drifting elsewhere. As soon as it was over, I slid the hardback on top of my covers and picked up where I left off:

"These people were all but immortal except for a single curse which had befallen them," I started on the second page. "It was a curse of greed. With this greed came death. These people would have lived for eternity, but long before this time the First King made a bargain with the darkness.

The First King wished to forge an alliance with mankind. But, the Leader of Men was inhabited by the Darkness. The Darkness was an evil, tormenting greed that festered for thousands of years. Until then, it only ruled the mortal worlds. It's presence existed in the Outer Realms, but it did not rule them. The First King was a new creation and did not heed it's power."

I stopped reading for a moment. This wasn't the story I knew. It contained familiar bits and pieces, but it was a different creature. I read on, intrigued:

"With ignorance as his one flaw, the Darkness seduced him. It craved a new domain. It tempted the First King with beautiful women, rich foods, and the promise of unending power. The King fell weak, and the Curse inhabited him."

After the last paragraph there was an eerie illustration. The First King sat at a feast, a golden crown atop his head. He was of considerable size and appeared to be glowing. A mortal king sat beside him, smirking. A dark cloud loomed over the First King – ghastly blackness shaped like a man - clearly about to possess him. It gave me chills:

"It inhabited him, possessing his thoughts and giving him great power. It directed him to take the others of his kind and cross the bridge back to their land. The Curse lived through the King and brought night to the Kingdom.

Greed overcame the royal family, and the eldest son killed his father to steal the throne. After many years, his children were possessed to do the same. For hundreds of years this continued, turning to be a family custom.

As their kings could not die natural deaths, each heir took it into his own hands. They would slay their father, becoming the new host at their predecessor's moment of death and assuming the throne.

The Golden Prince, however – was born with a tender heart. When he came of age to slay his father, he could not bear it. The Golden Prince fled the Kingdom of Darkness into the forbidden world of the mortals. It was here that he would hide among them as a secret prince..."

I stopped to yawn before looking back down at the page. The words on the page seemed to be working themselves into future tense. The language changed to suggest something that was going to happen rather than something fictitious and "long ago." It made me feel uneasy:

"The prince would hide among the modest townspeople, disguising himself as one of their own..." Once again, I had to pause. My eyes were becoming heavier with each word. "...to fall in love with a fierce and beautiful maiden..." Now I felt my eyes straining. I tried to keep on going for just one more paragraph, but it was useless. "...when they would discover he was a descendant of the First King, the lovers would have to flee..."

The next thing I knew, my face was on top of my book. My eyes quickly fell shut, but even more quickly that that they were interrupted by daylight. I was shockingly well-rested and couldn't remember so much of a dream, let alone nightmare. I saw a woman in the corner of my eye. I assumed it was Lydia but was shocked by a gruff, masculine voice when she spoke.

"Get up! It's past 12 o'clock in the afternoon, foolish girl!" She yelped. It was Beeti's maid. Her voice was deep and gruff. It honestly startled me.

"Where's Lydia Berry?" I asked in a daze. "Is she sick?"

"Oh, hush!" Beeti's maid sharply replied. I could see how they got along so well. "How do you reckon I should know? And put that book away when you sleep from now on! Look at what you've done to your face!"

My face? I glanced at the mirror. There was a huge imprint on my left cheek, in the pattern of the corners of my hardback pillow.

"This is terrible," I rubbed the red mark. "I think it might be cut – and tonight is..."

The ball. That meant that today was October the 12th, my seventeenth birthday. And I had certainly got such a wonderful wakeup call along with it, hadn't I?

"It'll fade before tonight." The woman threw a dress at me. "You might think you're high and mighty because today is your birthday. I don't care if it's your birthday or the second coming! Put on the dress and get downstairs. You've already missed breakfast by a long shot. Lady Wren insisted we leave you be, on account of your 'beauty sleep.' You have two hours to spare before the baths, and your grandmum wants a word with you before then."

She delivered the itinerary with scolding. Despite the class difference, she and Beeti had a lot in common. I put on the dress as instructed, fearing she may start beating me if I didn't cooperate. Once I was dressed, I made my way to Grandmamma's door and gave it a knock.

"Elissa," Grandmamma's called as I cracked the door open. She sat propped up in bed with a stern, piercing look in her eyes. "Your time to appear before the Magistrate is near. Come sit down. You're seventeen years-old today, and that's old enough. I have something to tell you."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Pearls

"There's something I've been meaning to give you for a long while. Before I do, I must tell you a story." Grandmamma told me, her words as gentle and wise as the woman they were coming out of.

Grandmamma's eyes met with mine, and the truth began freeing itself from the prison of her mind. It started leeching from her discerning eyes. I felt a chill, followed by immense warmth all over my body. It was as if the room opened and moved a few feet closer to the sun.

"All of your life, I've wanted to know you. I could never meet you – but I was always there." Grandmamma twisted one of my curls around her finger before speaking. "Do you ever remember ever having been troubled by the authorities as a child?"

"Of course I do," I quickly replied. Was this a rhetorical question? It was the reason I sat here.

"No, child. Disregard anything that's happened to you as a legal adult. I want you to think for a moment before you answer. Can you remember any time in your childhood that your family was disturbed by the Magistrate's government?"

After some thought, I realized I couldn't remember. It was strange, because I already knew that children of multi-caste backgrounds were often taken away without reason. I lived such a quiet life as a child that I never connected any of those happenings to me.

"No...I don't," I told her in astonishment.

"Elissa, that's no coincidence. Ever since I found out you were my granddaughter, I have been protecting you from the authorities. I've been shielding your name from the sight of the Magistrate since you were three years old. Now you're too old to hide, and there's nothing I can do to change that."

"But – you were forbidden to see her – how could you have known?"

"Elissa," she stroked my cheek with a bony finger. "No one else has ever known this but your mother. You mustn't tell another soul."

I took a seat on the bed at her feet. As I did so, I felt a burst of warmth run through my veins that was so strong I had to take off my robe and put it aside.

"When your mother married your father, the authorities wanted me to reject her with as much coolness as the law dictated. But, I could never excommunicate her in my heart. She was mine, and I loved her too much to let any law keep me from her. So, I broke it."

"You mean...you actually saw her?"

"Yes, but only once with my own eyes. I tried for many years after that, but it became dangerous. I could only see faint glimmers of her life and yours."

I couldn't help it. My body trembled and my eyes filled with tears. "When did you see her?"

"It was on her wedding day," she began painting the picture I was brought back to that day in a way that was as real as the bed I was sitting on.

She told me about the church; of its sea-worn walls, dusty pews and cobwebbed rafters. As she told me, the room morphed into the past. I was taken to the church by the sea and thrust into the room where Grandmamma hid, watching my mother prepare her wedding dress. I was no longer in the Devereaux Estate. I could feel every tiny vibration in their voices as they spoke.

"Who's there?" My mother anxiously whispered, catching a faint glimpse of the unwelcome voyeur. "Please, show yourself! Step into the light."

The dim morning sunlight seeped into the shanty changing room through slats in the window blinds. As Grandmamma stepped into the light, her features clarified. Her eyes welled. Only one word escaped her lips.

"Mum."

They embraced, keeping themselves from weeping. They had to be quiet. If someone saw them, it meant death. Even this wasn't enough to keep Grandmamma from seeing her daughter. Tears ran down her cheeks silently and rained onto the floor. Grandmamma wiped them gently.

"Why are you here?" My mother whispered again.

"I had to see you," she softly replied, crying as well. Something struck my mother stiff. She pulled away.

"Don't tell me I shouldn't do this," my mother demanded through the tears. "You know I love him – and it's already done! This may not be the wedding you've always wanted for me, but I'm not coming home. I've left my caste –"

"Shh..." My grandmother hushed. "I'm not here to take you home."

"Then why are you here?" My mother asked, half laughing through all the sobbing. "It's not safe for you to see me now –"

"Rose, HUSH!" Grandmamma interrupted in a harsh whisper. She quickly put a finger to her daughter's lips and her own. "You were always an argumentative child. But listen to me! Never lose that fire. Not with this life that you're about to step into."

Grandmamma reached into her pocket and placed something in my mother's hand. It was a string of delicate, snowy pearls.

"No, Mother. I can't," my mother shook. She had already done so much to her family, why take one more thing?

"Nonsense! Every bride must wear pearls on her wedding day."

Grandmamma took he pearls and gently clasped them around my mother's neck. She took her daughter's plain white skirt and fluffed it elegantly. It was a far cry from what Abilene had imagined for her daughter's wedding day, but she still smoothed out the crinkles. This dress was all the authorities let her have. She wasn't allowed to take anything with her, not even for the wedding.

That's what made this act so beautiful. The pearls were a symbol of love that could never be abandoned. But, along with this heartfelt gesture – there was also danger. No one could know they saw each other. Even so, it was worth the risk. The pearls made a decorated bride, even in rags.

"You will always be my child," Grandmamma whispered. "I don't care about the law. Rich or poor – I will never stop loving you."

The church organ began playing. They exchanged bittersweet parting glances, Grandmamma putting a finger to her lips. An attendant knocked on the door to see if my mother was ready, and Grandmamma placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead.

Before she left, Mother glanced back into the room, the pearls highlighting her radiance. She turned her head and walked a straight line into the chapel. The door shut and Lady Abilene fell to the ground, silently grieving as she listened to her daughter faintly deliver her vows. This was where the scene seemed to end.

The story continued, but the portrait it painted for my senses faded. The sea-worn church walls transformed back into those of the Devereaux Estate. The cobwebbed rafters morphed back into towering ceilings with crown molding. The light between the blind-slats turned into the flicker from Grandmamma's table lamp. The music of the organ faded back into the words being uttered from Lady Abilene's lips, and now I was home.

"Although I felt that was the last I would see of my daughter, she came to see me the next day." She explained. "Someone noticed the pearls after the wedding. If she was to keep our meeting a secret, she couldn't keep them. She handed them back to me silently, turned and left. That was the last I saw of your mother."

I was now crying uncontrollably, but Grandmamma had told the story with a strange calmness. Even though she never told another soul, she thought of it so often that it no longer caused her pain.

"You never gave up after that, did you?" I shook, but Grandmamma said nothing.

She didn't need to; her eyes said everything. She sat up and reached for the little drawer in her bedside table. She pulled out an old photograph, worn from years of abuse and burned at the edges.

"I've been hiding this picture ever since that day. I consider it my greatest earthly possession. I've smuggled it at the bottoms of heavy loads, stored it in hot attics and wet basements when we were searched by Imperial Guards. It's even survived a fire! But, the Lord knows how much it means to me. That's why it still remains."

It was a picture of my mother on the forbidden day. She held a bouquet, pearls visible on her neck. The townspeople joyously placed a wreath on her head. They threw leaves and petals into the air as she crossed the street. Amid the laughter and signing of the villagers, my grandmother was absent.

I felt her grief. A mixture of emotions seared through me like a hot knife. I could only think of the bleak void in my own heart over the loss of the woman in the picture.

"Why are you showing me this now?" I asked her in tears, the frustration boiling over. "Why are you forcing me to carry the family burden to the Magistrate? He could kill us! All of your 'protection' was for nothing!"

"I know, child. I know," she softly told me, still maintaining an impossible calm. "I never anticipated that things would unfold this way. I took every day as it came –"

"What was there to anticipate? That I would be so foolish? If I stayed in my caste, this would never have happened." I turned away, digging my face into my hands.

"No, darling. I knew we couldn't anticipate the future with you. That's why I took things as they came. What I didn't expect was how exceptionally strong you are. If I could do it differently, I would – but now you must learn to stand on your own."

"I'm sorry, Grandmamma," I sat up, sobbing. It was all I knew to say. She told me to stand up and go to her armoire.

"Open the top drawer."She ordered.

My mind still whirling, I obeyed. I pulled the knob, met with a distinct rolling sound. The hollow box was empty except for a single, priceless object. It was a delicate pearl necklace, pure white as if birthed and refined a day ago.

"Is this..." I trailed off in disbelief, cradling the precious relic.

"Yes, and now it's yours. Treasure it," Grandmamma quickly replied, motioning for me to return to her side. "Never allow Beeti to find out what this necklace means. I love my daughter, but she's undeniably greedy. Even if you choose to leave, never let it go."

I was speechless as I clasped them around my neck. At seventeen, I looked in the mirror and saw my mother. I never understood why everyone saw her in me, but now it made sense. It wasn't something like my hair color or the tone of my skin – it was the fire I carried in my heart.

"You look beautiful, just like she did. Now take them and go."

I heard the musicians tuning their instruments downstairs. They would soon begin their monotonous playing. Wren quickly opened the door, telling me that it was time to get ready. Stella stood beside her, artificially beaming.

"Oh, dearest cousin! I am so excited for the party! Seeing that old Lydia is gone I'll be your stylist. Though, Wren still insists on leaving me out of your costume choices. It'll be fun all the same. Just a bit of 'girl time' before we get going!" Stella superficially chimed. "You're going to look absolutely...beautiful."

"I suppose it's time for the baths," I let out a breathy laugh, rising back up from where I was kneeling.

I got up and left the room, turning once more to glance at Grandmamma. I saw joy in her eyes as she realized she would one day be reunited with her daughter. After that, the door quickly swung shut.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Masquerade

"If you're going to be a butterfly, a little bit of glitter on the cheeks never hurt anything."

Wren dipped her hand into a jar of blue glitter and gently rubbed the flecks on my cheekbones. Her touch was delicate and welcome. Stella's was not. I survived her harsh beauty treatments, scrubbing, and nail polishing; expecting at any moment to be burned or disfigured.

"I was actually thinking something more along the lines of a fairy queen," I mused.

I twitched nervously. I would have preferred not to dress up, so I chose a costume I believed would be commonplace among the women of the elite. Most girls grow up wishing to be fairies, so it was a fair assumption. I didn't care if it was my night. I didn't want to be out of place.

"Well, considering that the Magistrate has many friends among the crowd tonight I would advise we just call you a butterfly instead." Wren sighed.

Wren's lady's maid slipped the first piece of a sapphire gown over my head. The skirt was satin with a train of delicately embroidered chiffon. She helped me into the lacy sleeves and cinched the satin bodice. The maid then took two strands of hair from the front of my face and clipped them back, weaving dozens of crystals into my curls.

"Don't forget these," Wren exclaimed, taking my mother's pearls from their place on my night stand. She hooked them around my neck, unaware of their true meaning.

"You look wonderful," she beamed before my reflection. I still wasn't sure.

It wasn't that I didn't feel beautiful. I felt different. Foreign. My reflection was a distant person, a queen from another era. The train was long and elegant, fitting for a wedding dress if it wasn't blue. It felt strangely regal.

"Where are the wings?" I got a hold of myself.

"Oh, they're right here," Wren told me, not missing a beat. She picked up the glittering pair of wings – stockings stretched over wire – and tied them over my shoulders. "There you go. Now you really are a fairy queen! Your mother would be so proud."

She had placed a silver tiara on the top of my head, covered in pearls like the ones above my collarbone. I closed my eyes and twisted the strand around my neck just to be sure. It was still there. I opened my eyes and sighed.

"I thought you said I couldn't be a fairy queen!"

"Oh – right! Well, I never said you couldn't be a butterfly queen." Wren gave me a playful tap on the nose before draping a velvet cape across my arm, the finishing touch. "And I almost forgot to give you this. Don't put it on unless you go outside. I want people to see your beautiful wings! Now come on, it's time."

She took me to the door, the band playing as loud as ever. Stella was standing on the other side. There was something the way she stood that made me uneasy. Even though she smiled, it was still sour. I looked at her and instantly felt the Presence. It was almost tangible this time – moving around her darkly.

"Aunt Wren," Stella quickly told her. "Grandmamma says she wants you at her bedside tonight. She's in great pain."

"Are you quite sure? She seemed rather well an hour ago. Anyhow, I need to chaperone you girls."

"Don't worry, Auntie. I will stay and make sure that she gets all of the treatment that she deserves." She flashed a half grin. "Granny insists. Be certain to bring her medicines up with a meal. She's quite ornery tonight. Mother is already there."

Wren looked at her shoes, guilt mounting. I could tell that she felt just as uneasy about leaving me in Stella's care as I was about being left alone. But, Grandmamma apparently needed her. Wren couldn't abandon her mother in pain – especially not for a party.

"Well, I suppose if she truly needs me..." she trailed off for a moment. "I'll leave you to it."

"Thank you, Aunt Wren," Stella grinned in reply. "Grandmamma won't be disappointed."

Wren turned her back to us, and Stella forcibly took my hand. Stella suddenly acted as if she'd just remembered something dire. She chimed up loudly, saying her words with a nonchalant flare.

"Oh – I almost forgot! Once you're done with Grandmamma, don't bother coming back to the dance hall. She thinks it best for you to remain close to her tonight."

They seemed innocent, but I sensed something grim about her words. As she saw me tensing, her grip around my hand tightened. Her grasp became painful, intended to crush bone.

"Dearest cousin, I am so excited for you! You look like an angel!" She beamed. "The guests are arriving right as we speak. Once they've all arrived, I'll present you as the honored birthday guest! But, you must go last. The last one introduced is always the most important."

"Alright..." I uncomfortably nodded, wishing she would release me. "What must I do until then?"

"I'm glad that you asked!" She smirked. "Since you're going to be such a fabulous surprise, you must wait where they cannot see you."

Stella released my hand, yanking my arm instead. She pulled me down the hallway, then down another, and then another one after that; a seemingly endless maze. The confusion of the maze was only absolved when we Stella stopped at a tiny, windowless room beside the main stairs.

It was almost the size of a closet and was lit by a single oil-burning lamp. Stella motioned for me to take a seat on a small wooden stool in the center of the room. I looked at her in disbelief. The room wasn't just small. The walls breathed the Presence. I knew that once she closed the door, it would become dim and terrifying. I felt myself shake.

"Don't make me wait here," I begged. I could smell darkness, and it was foul.

I could hear the violins playing along with their other stringed counterparts more loudly now than before. As Stella shoved me into the room, I could feel their vibrations through the floor. I realized that the ballroom must have been located directly below.

"Relax," Stella snidely told me over the music. "I'm not hanging you out to dry. Just wait here for about 20 minutes. The guests will be introduced in alphabetical order. After that, I'll come and get you. Don't worry...you'll be absolutely perfect."

A sly grin crept over her face as she turned from me and quickly shut the door. I felt the walls swell toward me the way they did in the library. I pounded on the door, realizing she was still in plain clothes.

"Stella, wait!" I called through the door, pounding on the other side. I knew she was there. I could still hear her! "Why must you leave me here, and why can't I wait someplace else? And why aren't you wearing a costume? Tell me what's really going on!"

After I said it, I placed my hands on the doorknob. Before I could turn it, Stella abruptly locked the door from the other side. In unison with the click, I scanned the room for another key. The door locked from both the outside and the inside – so there had to be one in here somewhere! But, Stella soon raised her voice.

"I'm not dressed because I was busy tending to you, dear!" She told me, almost shouting. "But don't worry, I will be! And, I have the other key! Elissa, why don't you just trust me?" I continued rattling the wood with angry knocks, and Stella again screamed at me through the door. "Give it a rest. I promise I'll come back for you when it's time."

I searched the room for another key in vain. After a few frantic moments, I wearily gave up and plotted myself down in the middle of the dark room. I huddled around the oil lamp as someone curls next to the dying embers of a fire during a hard freeze. I felt the Presence reaching out at me, but the lantern kept it at bay. Even that burned with a flame so weak I thought it would go out.

I nearly started crying right then and there, but as I heard the doorman begin to announce the party guests downstairs I attempted to distract myself.

The doorman began calling the A's. The twenty minutes passed. Stella still wasn't here with the key – and now the doorman wasn't even half way through the B's. This was the longest, most painstaking list ever, it seemed. I would be here all night long at this rate. The distraction was working, but my mind became exhausted as it stood guard.

"Announcing the arrival of Julia Bremson," I heard him announce. "The Honorable Countess Sabrina Burke," I heard after that. "...Lady Olga Byzantine," was the last name I heard before I started drifting.

It felt like this would never end, so I supposed that a good nap wouldn't do me any harm. At least an hour later, Stella stomped back down the hallway and thrust the door open. The sound of the door and her shrill voice jolted me wide awake.

"It's time to go and –" Stella had opened the door and poked her head through it, but she quickly halted her sentence when she saw me lying on the floor. "My word – were you sleeping?"

"Um...yes...I think so," I told her, putting a hand on my head as I stood up.

"Well...come on! Your make-up is still perfect," she let out a slight laugh. I felt my chest lower as I expelled a nervous sigh in return. Stella appeared to be wearing the same clothes as before.

"You're not dressed to fancifully," I softly remarked as she took my arm and led me out of the closet-like space.

"Well...I couldn't outshine the birthday girl, could I?" She slyly cackled.

I repositioned my crown nervously. I took in a deep breath, seeing the towering door that separated me from the ballroom. When the doorman saw me, he was overcome with concern. I thought he was looking past me, but when I turned around it was just us. My eyes begged an answer, but protocol demanded he remain silent beyond his duties.

When he opened the door, Stella began yanking me. She pulled me to the edge of the grand stairs, where attendees presented themselves whilst being announced. It was such a strong tug that I tripped over the hem of my dress and slipped down the staircase. I was thrust to the bottom, miraculously unhurt, but shaken. I was now in plain view of every attendee. At my clumsy mishap, I heard vague outbursts of laughter coming from all around the room.

I still hadn't looked at them. I closed my eyes as I stood back up again, trying to shake the embarrassment and appear at least somewhat confident for the crowd. The laughter worked its way into a roar. A simple stumble shouldn't have caused this much gawking. When I faced them, I realized the object of their ridicule.

Everyone was wearing their normal, everyday attire. Everyone but me.

"You're not going to leave now, are you?" Stella snarled at me through gritted teeth. She came behind and pushed me down again. "Aren't you going to make your entrance?"

"This isn't my party," I murmured in cold shock.

"Of course it is," Stella snidely replied. "It's your very own birthday roast!"

I trembled as she dragged me to fireplace on the edge of the room. Every eye was staring, inescapably mocking me as the severely over-dressed center of attention. I was no longer beautiful. I was a flamboyant peacock. I felt reduced to dust, but Stella wasn't finished yet.

"Everyone – turn your gaze upon Madame Butterfly! This beautiful queen has joined us to provide tonight's entertainment!" Stella shouted jovially above the crowd. The laughter continued. "Now we will dazzle you by stripping this creature of its wings!"

On the other side the house, Wren was tending to Grandmamma. Beeti acted as though she knew nothing of the party, throwing her own masquerade of sorts. Grandmamma woke, alarmed to see them standing over her.

"Why are you both here?" The old woman confusedly recollected.

"Stella said that you wanted me here," Wren swiftly replied. Grandmamma looked to her in concern.

"And you listened to her? I have said no such thing!" Grandmamma exclaimed. "Heavens, ladies! Don't tell me that you've left those girls alone!"

Wren rushed from the room feeling utterly stupid. Beeti went along with her sister, only mildly concerned. They rushed into the hall, but it was already too late.

Stella brutally knocked me to the ground again. This time some of the crowd quieted somewhat. Though, a few bellowed even louder. I tried to stand back up again, to which Stella obliged. She yanked me upwards, turning me around and ripping the fairy wings from my costume.

"Now you can be dressed just like everyone else!" That was when she threw them into the fire.

She didn't stop. She grabbed the blue satin cape from my hands, but this time I wasn't going to let her take it. It became a tug-of-war. Despite my disadvantage in size, I didn't let her overtake me. I tugged in a relentless fury until my cousin fell to the ground. The crowd was mostly silent now, except for the dwindling number of sadists who still found it entertaining.

"Can't you see? You're just a pathetic little thing!" Stella pettily screamed, banging her fists against the tile. "You think you're such a beauty – but you're like everyone else. In fact, you're less! The harder you try, the more ridiculous you become!"

The scene fell inescapably still. Stella sat on the ground, eyeing something specific. I looked down, realizing what it was. Stella lurched toward my necklace. It was clear she was going to strangle me. That was when the crowd finally had enough, I think, because a few of Stella's friends jumped forth.

"Stella, please – this is getting out of hand," Reginald's sister exclaimed.

"Yes, it was funny at first, but now you can stop!" Reginald spoke up. "Please...for her sake."

Stella calmed, but her eyes still burned. My body numbed. All eyes were on me. Now their stares read everything from contempt to pity and from anger to disgust. Their eyes burned. Their eyes mocked. Their eyes marred. It was almost worse than the Presence, which was strongest at this moment. The room was closing in, and I couldn't stand it. I backed away in horror, each step swifter than the last.

I picked up the hem of my dress in a chaotic frenzy and ran outside. The crowd became the Red Sea, parting for want of cruelty. Where could I go? What could I do? As fate would have it, the first thing that caught my eye was the labyrinth. So, I ran.

The harvest moon hung low tonight. The stars shined as brightly as the dawn of creation. But, none of these things brought me peace or enjoyment. I only felt the raw sting of humiliation.

After wandering a good distance through the maze, I stopped at the fountain in the center. I looked to the stars, expecting to be comforted. Instead – the very opposite happened.

"A queen among peasants! Delpha, if only you could see me now." I screamed to the heavens. "I'm no queen. All I am is a commoner dressed as one! I'm more fit to wear rags than a crown! A plain...small...useless..."

I became so livid I was rash. I fumed about the present moment, about my life and all of the things that I wished I could be but never would obtain. I grabbed my necklace in a fury. Then, I tore the pearls from my neck and threw them onto the ground.

When they left my hand, I instantly regretted it. They quickly hit the ground and the entire necklace shattered into a mess of freely-rolling beads. Pearls are strong and enduring objects, so they were all still intact. Nevertheless, their roundness made each one impossible to catch. The string holding them together quickly split and caused each pearl to roll freely and chaotically across the stone tiles. I chased them across the pavement in vain.

"No! No!" I exclaimed in tears. "I'm sorry!"

It was already too late. The more I tried scooping them back into my trembling hands, the more they scattered. Before I could grasp one, they began rolling into the fountain. In less than a few seconds, the last of the pearls sunk to the bottom.

I tried to retrieve them, but it was useless. The water was too deep and the scene was just too dark. The last pieces of my mother's precious necklace were gone. The last piece of her, vanished. What had I done?

I stopped my vain recovery mission and accepted the inevitable. I still didn't avert my gaze from fountain. Now I saw my reflection in the crystalline surface of the water, faintly outlined under the light of the moon.

I removed the tiara. I wasn't worthy of any crown. I tossed it aside, fell onto the ground and wept.

"Oh Mother, I'm so sorry!" I cried. "Forgive me!"

As I wept, I felt a chill. It wasn't the Presence. It was just emptiness. I wasn't the only one who felt it – for someone had been quietly watching me from afar. He could feel the pain in his soul.

He knew he shouldn't have, but he approached me. The next thing I knew, I felt a warm hand settle gently on my back. I turned my head to the stranger. I should have been apprehensive, but when I saw his face, calm overtook me in waves.

"Oh...it's you," I said in a daze.

It was the same person who always seemed to surface at these odd times...the one who I had struggled to find and yet never could unless I wasn't trying to. It was Rhys.

"What happened?" He tenderly asked, wiping a tear from my face the side of his hand. "Who did this to you?"

I struggled to find one word that could express this. It was as if – as if I didn't even have to tell him. He gazed into my eyes with such depth that I felt them enter the innermost reaches of my heart. After a few moments, a great calm swept over me. It was even greater than the one I had felt before. The tears still came, but not as heavily. I opened my mouth to speak, finally able to articulate.

"A terrible thing has just happened..." I began, the tears beginning to pour once again. "Those people in there – all they could do were gawk at me –"

"Gawk at you?" He interrupted. "Why would they do such a thing? You're...beautiful." His last words seemed to come in a daze like mine.

"My cousin...has succeeded in spiting me. There's a darkness in her – it's in the whole place. I don't understand it!"

I choked on every word. I looked away from him, embarrassed. He didn't ridicule me for it. Rather, he seemed strangely understanding. He was knowing in a way I'd never experienced. He gently took my arm and helped me stand, tilting my face toward his.

"I promise I won't hurt you. The Darkness will never hurt you." He spoke the last words with hypnotic certainty. Rhys caressed me softly and unconsciously, coming into a trance. He bent down and fetched my crown. "And why aren't you wearing this?"

Without asking, he placed it back on my head and zoned out. I won't lie, it was very strange, even for me. He stopped and stared at me, just stared. He was visualizing something – I didn't know what – and it was eerie. The image of myself in this crown was something he'd seen in a far-off vision or dream.

"Are you alright?" I softly posed. "Is there something wrong?"

"No. You're perfect. Like...like a queen."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Midnight's Song

We linked hands, invigorated and hypnotized by touch. Neither person would let go, because deep down inside we knew. As much as we would both deny it, this was the point of no return. There was now silence in the air. He started into my eyes intensely. I unexpectedly let go of his hands and began laughing.

"Why are you staring at me?"

The trance broke over both of us.

"You're wearing blue," he laughed.

"Yes...and?" I chimed up peculiarly at his blunt statement.

"You're always wearing blue when I meet you."

I fumbled in my thoughts for a moment before I realized he was right. It was a seemingly playful coincidence that made me forget my woes.

"I'm surprised you remember that" I suddenly smiled. "You must have a very good memory!"

"Oh yes, I guess I do then..." He playfully trailed off. "And since I have such a good memory, I must say; you have a wonderful voice."

"Thank you...I – I try to use it...sometimes." I blushed, blundering my words. It brought forth another laugh.

"Aha! What was the name of that song you were singing when we first met?" He grinned, beginning to sing. "How did it go again? Oh...was it... 'Dance with me under moonlit skies, find a song to sing...'"

He sang it perfectly, as if it was a song he already knew. He also wasn't tone deaf. My heart fluttered.

"How do you know that song?" I chimed. "That's from my people."

"Why is that so surprising that I do?"

"No one from this part of the world would ever sing a peasant song."

"Well," he whispered. He seemed somehow cautious now, acting as if he had revealed a little too much. He kissed my hand. "I suppose then that there are many things I know that would surprise you. For instance, I know that inside of that mansion there are a number of stuck-up nobles dancing with each other without so much as a single word of appreciation for the woman that their party should be celebrating."

Honestly, his words couldn't have been more appropriate. They were very tongue-in-cheek, yet completely truthful. The way he said it caused me to feel a little better. Still, I blushed.

"Oh...those aristocrats!" I exclaimed in an exaggerated, teasing moan. "Those arrogant airheads don't know a thing about real parties!"

Rhys let out a boyish grin. He playfully added to my exasperation, starting a sort of game that went back and forth between the two of us. We soon began to exchange in a battle of who-knows-the-most-insults-pertaining-to-nobility.

"Genuinely so! Those toffee-nosed idiots don't get to see any part of real life beyond what they learn in their daft little reading rooms. They're so petty –"

"And illogical!" I added.

"Pompous!" He interjected.

"Rambling!"

"Insensitive!" That was the last remark, and oddly enough – it came from both of us at the same time.

"Elissa...considering that those incoherent snobs can't appreciate you; would you care to dance with me?" Rhys smiled.

"Dance with you?" I remarked, feeling myself expel a big grin.

"If you please."

My heart pounded as he extended his hand. I felt a warm burst, realizing that this would be a greater than any dance I might have partaken inside.

"Of course," I softly told him

My hand melted into his. He smiled and gave it a gentle squeeze and led me to the end of the labyrinth. I couldn't hold it back any longer. I began singing under my breath. "Dance with me to midnight's song,

A tale of lovers, old and young,

Sing to me of the world beyond,

Under the moonlit sky..."

The lyrics were obviously fitting. There couldn't have possibly been any more to it than a simple fictitious piece of poetry, I recollected. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Rhys suddenly twirled me around. He mutedly joined in, careful not to steal whatever spotlight I had. The world around us was spinning at half-speed. Our rhythmic voices and slow-moving feet were the only things moving in the entire atmosphere.

"Crystal seas and crimson moon

Of blood-red roses and lives anew

Where the scarlet lilies bloom

Under the midnight sky..."

We lost ourselves in the music. I smiled at him and continued, becoming even more aware each second that there was more to these lyrics than just a song.

"Dance with me under moonlit skies

Find a song to sing

Of a place beyond the Earth's entrapping walls

A place beguiling

The moon hangs low in a clear black sky

Painted stars shine brightly

Midnight sings its enchanting song

Illuminating the night

Under scattered stars, and bright full moon

The bonds of fate shall tie the two

Blind to what they both shall do

Entwined in Love's Duet..."

We stared into each other's eyes, in a trance neither of us could help. We were completely lost to reality. We neared in closer, and I softly continued singing...

"Under scattered stars and bright full moon

A single kiss that binds the two

Under the midnight sky..."

As I breathed the final word of the verse, Rhys tilted his head into mine. Our noses brushed against each other, and we nearly – just ever so nearly – inched in for a hot, breathy kiss. But, just as our lips brushed, the trance faded. Rhys gently but abruptly pulled away, as did I.

When I read his face, I saw regret written on it. He realized how improper this was, how deep he was in, and much of what he shouldn't have done. And now, I was fuming.

"Please don't leave," I begged, remembering our last encounter and vowing not to look away. This time I knew that if he vanished, he wouldn't just take my sanity. He'd take my heart. "For once tell me who you are!"

I could see the reluctance in his eyes. Tears resurfaced in mine. This time, Rhys was the one who couldn't stand it. He took in a deep breath and averted his gaze to the pinkish star cluster overhead. Rhys stared into the expanse, then back into my eyes, speaking softly.

"I'm a wind that's here for a little while, then moves someplace else. I am a solitary soul. I stay in one place without many plans and then I go another place without many others. I know more about you than I please, yet I deny the truth of the things to come. Elissa, I'm sorry to have brought you into this. Truly."

"Don't humor me with riddles!" I raised my voice, hot with frustration. "Who do you think you are? How many other women do you constantly do this to? Tell me how you always find me, and tell me why you enjoy playing with my emotions like this!"

"I didn't play with any-"

"Don't argue!" I interrupted, incensed. "Yes, you do! If you won't reveal yourself beyond riddles, at least tell me how you always find me. Why do you come to me in the most unexpected moments and vanish in all the others?"

"I...I can't," he started, trying to collect himself. "Alright, alright. I probably shouldn't, but I suppose I've gone too far to continue 'playing with you.' You won't understand this now, but this is the answer:

It's because of fate. I know it will find me, so I'm always running. I don't try to cross paths with you, it just happens. Fate wants us, but I deny it because of my cowardice. I'm sorry that I've hurt you Elissa, and on your birthday no less. Truly, I am."

I closed my eyes and let out a sigh, not paying any mind to the fact that he was referencing a birthday that I had told him nothing about. I didn't understand what he meant, but I was somehow satisfied. I opened my eyes again and let out a huff of air.

"I'm sorry..." I trailed off. "I don't know what came over me."

"Nor do I..."

"Just...promise me something. Just one thing," I earnestly told him. At this request, I could see that Rhys had internally been brought to his knees.

"Elissa, I will do...whatever you ask," he said without thinking. A rush of energy came with it.

"Promise me...that if you are truly fond of me, you'll come to me again." I demanded. "That way I can be certain that you are of honest intention."

"Elissa, I care to see you, more than you know! I just cannot...always...risk..." he stopped, seeing the look in my eyes. He couldn't stand causing me so much distress. Knowing more about my life than I was aware; he took pity on me. "Alright...I promise."

"You do?"

"Yes. As long as I'm still here and I still can, we will meet again."

There was a sound that interrupted us. I snapped backwards when I heard it, realizing that it was my aunt. She was calling my name in a frantic rush, probably wondering if I was even alive after what Stella did to me. I looked over my shoulder, but as soon as I did I realized what I had done. I had looked away.

I lamented what I'd see when I turned around. Though, for the first time, I looked back to the place where he had been and felt no heartache. I expected him to be gone, but he was still there.

"You're still here," I blankly uttered. Then, Rhys asked something unexpectedly profound:

"Have I ever really left you?"

Rhys was a wind, just as his riddle. I saw him for one moment, and then he was gone. I always saw him again. Maybe it wasn't always expected or convenient – but he was always there. My brain tumbled around the encasement of my skull. Wren was approaching - and I couldn't believe it – but I was going to have to tell Rhys to hide.

"Rhys...I – I should probably be going. So should you. If either of my aunts knew that I was alone with a stranger tonight I think I'd be better off enduring eternity surrounded by the toffee-nosed idiots."

Rhys glinted. I think I might have winked at him – but I hardly remember. He waved me off, and I ran back into the maze. As I exited, he called to me from behind.

"We shall meet again, Elissa Devereaux!"

The way he said it made my heart jump. I met with Wren in the middle of the maze and she immediately grabbed my face. I expected a lecture or scolding, but was instead lavished with a hug.

This was a vaguely familiar feeling, much like something from my mother. She was crying at the relief of finding me, horrified over what happened. Perhaps Wren was more like her than I once thought.

"Elissa, I am so sorry," she cried. "I have been so worried about you. Stella will be punished for this, I promise! That girl is better off with her backside plastered over the Magistrate's fireplace."

The encounter with Rhys spurred so much emotion that I had completely forgotten about Stella. It ended up being short-lived, as being here with Wren caused me to remember just enough to make me spiral back into shock.

"You're not going to make me go back, are you?" I asked meekly.

"Of course not! As far as I'm concerned, the party is officially over. Though, we mustn't worry about these things while we're out here. There's a chill in the air. Let's get you back inside before you freeze to death."

She put an arm around my shoulders and took me back into the manor through the servants' entrance. Word spread quickly in this part of the house. Before I walked with Wren up the back stairs, Henriette stopped us. She came up to me with a few of her friends and placed a soft gray blanket on my shoulders. It was thick and woolen, made with skill that could only come from Hattie's busy hands.

"It's awful cold out." She delicately told me. "It isn't much, but it should keep you from getting the chills."

I lightly smiled at her and nodded my head. In turn, she respectfully bowed her head. Everyone did. They saw me coming into their quarters that night as one of their own. They respectfully quieted, treating me as someone who had just survived a battle in war; parting to make a path for a forgotten queen. Every day they endured being ordered around and humiliated in worse ways than I had been. Two people at once, I was the only Devereaux who could understand their pain.

"Come, Elissa. I will help you get ready for bed tonight if you like," Wren told me as she took my hand and led me through the dark servants' corridor.

I supposed that meant Lydia was still gone. She took me back to my room and offered to help dress me. I declined.

"You know what? I think that this time I'd rather do it myself."

Wren respectfully left me to it and placed a set of pajamas in my hands. They were new, I realized, and attached to the satin robe on top of the gown was a small note.

"Happy Birthday," it read in neat, black ink. "Love, Grandmamma."

It gave me just a tiny bit of hopeful happiness to see that my day hadn't been destroyed. I still had Grandmamma, and I still had Wren. I quickly slipped the nightgown over my head and tied the robe around my body. Wren knocked on the door and I quickly ushered her in. She sat on the foot of my bed.

"I realize I haven't quite been there when you've needed it, Elissa. Believe me; I loved your mother too. Growing up I always looked up to her. I know I'll never be able to take her place...but I'm here now. I'm here to stay."

She took a comb and brushed the curls and jewels out of my hair. Though, now I couldn't stop looking at the balcony. I was thinking of Rhys, unable to wipe any part of him from my mind.

"What are you looking over there for?" Wren suddenly asked.

I got up and leaned against the balcony's marble railings. I still questioned what was real and what was fantasy. Despite the tangibility of the Presence, I was in stubborn denial.

"I can't help but feel like...I'm looking for something. But, every time I realize it I end up straying. It's like every time I try to look – I'm sent back farther from the place I started."

Wren didn't fully understand my word, but she sensed there was more to them. She softly laid her hand on my shoulder, and for a moment I was reminded of my mother. In the next moment Wren caught sight of my pearl-less neck.

"Elissa, where are your pearls?"

For a few moments, I was frantic. I was soon reminded of my destructive actions. They were gone, destroyed beyond repair and lost beyond retrieval. But, what could I tell her? As I opened my mouth and tried to give her my answer – the unimaginable happened.

I moved to the side, a breeze causing the bottom of my robe to go airborne. When it did, I heard a distinct clicking. The breeze came back and sent the fabric back into flight – and I heard it once more.

It sounded like...beads. It sounded like light, round objects knocking against one another in the wind. Pearls. Impossible, I thought in disbelief. I dug my hand into the satin pocket and was left in shock as my fingers danced over it.

It was the necklace.

I felt grit when I placed it between my teeth. I examined it from every angle to see if it had the same clasp, the same tiny imprint on the hook, and the same natural but spotless coloring. As much as I wanted to doubt, I couldn't. This was my mother's necklace – the one I destroyed.

It was right here in my hands, completely intact as if nothing happened.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The Presence

Stella's actions tarnished our family reputation. It was the greatest irony. They were too terrible to go unpunished, framing our family in cruelty. With less than a month to go before my presentation, Grandmamma insisted that the girl learn a lesson about dignity and grace. Two days after the incident, she was sent to live with relatives in the South. The land on which they resided was owned by none other than Albert Austen– the suitor with a strange fixation on pineapples. I should have felt vindicated, but the incident left me numb.

"Get up milady," Lydia coolly ordered on the morning of Stella's departure. I opened my eyes to see Lydia hovering over me, beating the dust out of a linen sheet. I sat up, nose caught in the cloud, and coughed.

"Why on earth are you doing that in here?" I groggily asked. "Wait, when did you get here? You've been gone for days!"

Her disappearance had been as sudden as her reappearance. When I brought it up, I could immediately see the hesitance in her face. It was a harsh, reluctant hesitance. She looked away for a moment and rebuked me.

"I'm multitasking! And why is it your business that I've been gone? Why should you care so much?" She defensively exclaimed. "I'm only doing my job, Lady Devereaux. I didn't come to be quizzed about my personal life!"

Lady Devereaux? Now I was wide awake. This wasn't Lydia. She hadn't called me by that name in nearly a year. "Lydia, are you alright? All I did was ask you where you were...If you went to visit your family I'm not upset -"

"Well I didn't," she hastily interrupted. "And where I was isn't your business."

The rift that had been present since Lydia's first disappearance grew to its largest, most cavernous extent. My heart dropped, unable to see exactly what was ailing my closest ally. Without saying another word, she got me up out of bed and handed me my day clothes. As I had grown accustomed to doing now, I dressed myself.

"Your cousin is leaving today. Do you wish to see her?"

I shuddered. Did Lydia know what happened? Everyone saw me as an object of pity. They doted on me, constantly asking if I was broken. I was damaged porcelain. Though, since I saw Rhys, the worst memories of that night were locked away with a powerful key.

As I buttoned my bodice, I glanced at my bedside table. The pearls were still there. Every day, I checked the necklace just to be sure I wasn't lost in a hallucination. Their resurrection was reality, and I placed them around my neck.

"No, I do not wish to see her again." I abruptly replied.

More days passed, and Lydia remained closed-off. Maybe it was the shadow of the Magistrate. Maybe she felt the Presence, too. I could sense fear. It went beyond that. This was tangible fear. It was one she understood, not just felt. Underneath it all, I knew who it involved. I didn't breathe a word of Lydia and Jackoby – keeping the promise I made long ago.

The family pushed me into seclusion. November came, and I wasn't allowed to receive letters or see anyone outside of the family. Each day that went by felt one closer to death. Sister Marie-Katherine came back from the retreat, glowing from spiritual renewal, and consoled me.

As the presentation drew near, each lesson was preparation for battle. The Magistrate's witch hunt intensified. It was something that caused me to keep the book of folklore hidden beneath my pillows. Since the night before the ball, I still hadn't read it – but instinct kept it with me. If it kept the Presence at bay, I wouldn't let it go.

"Celeste, you must remember something," she told me out of the blue one day. It was a full month after my birthday, and the days grew shorter. "The Magistrate is a powerful man. Do not fear his evil. You must remember that you do not answer to him, but to God."

I looked up from my heavy history book, dumbfounded. These words seemed so unnatural for a nun of the Magistrate's Holy Church to be saying.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I see the pearls around your neck. You wear them every day, do you not?" She eyed them. I clutched them protectively. "I see that they must be very precious to you. Jesus spoke of pearls; did you know that?"

"I think so," I murmured.

"Jesus said not to cast our pearls to swine." At her words, I gave her an uncertain nod. I'd heard this before, but only somewhat. "He was telling us not to give our treasures in life to those who will not care for them. Now let me tell you something important.

The Father considers you a treasure. I can see his face in yours. Even if you cannot, I can. He will not allow you to be cast to the pigs. No matter what happens, the Father is greater and will protect you."

She retracted from me, and in that second my heart knew what she was talking about. My mind went back to the book, to the Presence. I thought of the way it – like the Magistrate – attacked whenever I reached for something important. It wanted me to leave, to forget my task as I held the dusty book to my chest.

"Is it true?" I meekly asked. "Are there things that we know in our hearts, that the Magistrate wants us to forget?"

Sister Marie-Katherine ran to the study door and locked it. She made the sign of the cross, pulling the curtains closed.

"I am telling you this because I care for you. I can see that you are set apart by the Father. What I am about to say mustn't leave this room." The Sister continued speaking.

"I love the Father more than I will ever care for the Magistrate. The Church is under magisterial control, and very few agree with it. The Lord has still preserved us. The reason for that is simple – because the Lord doesn't abide by the rule of man. He preserves his word through the pure of heart. The Magistrate wants to change that." She paused for a moment. "So...the answer to your question is yes."

The Sister drew back the curtains and pushed open the door, and we said nothing more of it. I felt the Presence at the door, trying to get in. Marie-Katherine kept it away. We moved on, and before I knew it there was only two days left until my meeting.

Lydia came into my room in a panic that night. She roused me from deep slumber. Her look of dissent was gone. It was replaced by one of tenderness and concern.

"What is it?" I exclaimed.

"You must come quickly. Your grandmum is terribly ill...she's seizing all over the place. The entire quarter is trying to keep her stable and Father Joshua is coming to administer her last rites."

I thought I would throw up as I ran behind her. Grandmamma had been growing feeble – but in the last few weeks she seemed strong. I ran with Lydia at top speed, but every step seemed too slow. I wished I could teleport.

If this was the last – I couldn't miss it. Not for the Magistrate. Not for Winston. Not even for myself. She loved me profoundly, and I loved her. If I was too late, I already made up my mind that I wouldn't be able to forgive myself.

We stopped at her bedroom door, and to my slight comfort the entire scene was extremely quiet. There wasn't a hint of turmoil, a sign she was still here.

"Be very calm," Lydia instructed me as we stood before her door. "If she's still..." Lydia searched her mind for the right word, "present; you can't startle her."

The room was filled with family and clergy. Sister Marie-Katherine sat at Grandmamma's bedside, while Father Joshua stood over her with a bible, some holy relics, and an empty vial of anointing oil. I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming. Her eyes were open and glassy like a corpse, but her chest was rising and falling. Deterioration encompassed her pale and shriveled body. My teeth wouldn't ease, and soon I tasted blood. It trickled down my chin.

"Celeste," Sister Marie-Katherine quietly uttered. She picked up a tissue and came toward me. "Your lip is bloodied. You mustn't do that right now. If your grandmum wakes, the sight of blood could frighten her."

The nun took the tissue and gently dabbed it over my lip to soak up the blood. I remained silent and tuned my ears to a conversation going on beside me. I saw Beeti in the corner of my eye, speaking to Father Joshua's apprentice.

"If she passes now, what will happen to the inheritance?" She whispered.

"I am not entirely sure how that should work," the clergyman replied. "But I assume that it will naturally go to the next in line. That is how it always has been."

"But what if...the next person in line hasn't been decided?" She asked again, a thin veil over her distress.

"Then, whatever keeping the heir from legitimacy would be legally undone. Families in the Imperial Realm must have an heir. Money and power can never float freely. The Magistrate would never allow for that," the clergy quickly replied. "What about the girl? She's the daughter of your eldest, is she not? Isn't she next in line?"

"Not yet."

"But she is seventeen!"

"She's...a special case," Beeti explained. "You do not know of it? I thought it was widely known that she was taken here under special conditions."

"No, I'm afraid I don't keep up with much worldly gossip. But, I can tell you that if she is here under special circumstances, your situation is quite unresolved. When Lady Abilene dies, the child's acceptance of the inheritance will be automatic."

I tuned out, feeling a chill. Grandmamma began moving her fingers. I clasped her hand in mine. It was still warm, and her chest was still rising and falling with each involuntary breath. She weakly turned her head a few degrees so that she could meet eyes with me and it immediately filled me with sorrow.

From behind her hollow face and trembling hands, her soul was beginning to ready itself for departure. She slept through the next day. We took shifts sleeping in her room, making sure that she was still breathing. That night I slept at her side.

It was the eve of my meeting with the Magistrate. In this state, I felt the Presence strongly. Grandmamma couldn't protect me from it. Once she passed, it would bring another dreaded choice.

The Devereaux clan would be left with not only a loss of their matriarch – but with the absence of an heir. My choice would be rushed. If I chose the fortune, their world would change. No one was as concerned about this as Beeti. It was what caused her to resent me from the beginning.

It was what she had feared all along – for I was the only thing standing between her and her daughter as heirs.

She felt that it was hers, and so did her daughter. They had never said so – but that was the true reason for Stella's cruelty. Initially focused on running me off, Beeti eventually quieted. Her methods became covert and calculated. Soon, the Magistrate would be watching us.

I was more than a threat. Now, I was an enemy.

Beeti struggled to stop me. She was driven mad trying to find something – anything she could use against me. She crept up the hallway into my room, believing I was still at Grandmamma's side.

"Now...what on earth could she be hiding..." she rambled. "She must be hiding something...I know it! Now, where could that little ruffian be hiding her secrets?"

She tiptoed across the carpet and ran her hands over crisp bedlinens. Beating her hand on the pillows, she felt something hard. A smirk rolled across her face as she slid her hand underneath and touched its green cover.

"Primitive Folklore," she read aloud, taking the book into her arms. She opened it to the story about the secret prince, marked by the folding of the page corner. "This is absolutely perfect. Perhaps I can give the royal guard good reason to try her for witchcraft!"

At that moment, I turned the corner to my room. When I poked my head around the corner, Beeti quickly thrust the book behind her back.

"...Aunt Beeti?" I questioned when I saw her. "What are you doing here? And why are my pillows on the floor?"

"Oh...yes..." she spluttered. "I was in here with Lydia! She saw a rather large rat. The poor girl was terrified. It turned out to be a simple shadow. I was just about to leave."

Beeti kept the book out of sight and rushed to her chambers. She locked the door, clinging to the object of my downfall. In this witch hunt, anything could be used as a weapon. It didn't matter what it took to rid me from her life, either; even if it meant using witchcraft herself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Alone With the Devil

The house was silent. People still moved about doing daily tasks because they knew they had to, but they did so voicelessly. The night before was nearly sleepless. Every few hours, I woke up on the floor screaming. Anxiety gnawed at my bones. There was no way to escape this now.

"Get up," was the only thing that Lydia told me when she walked into my room that morning. It was long before sunrise and the house was filled with the Presence. It was frigid and dim despite roaring hearths in each habited room.

Lydia led me to the bathhouse. Wren was already there. She grasped one of my appendages, then the other, examining them for unseemly markings. She found a stray pen mark on my wrist beside my wrist and gave me a weary look before telling my attendants to start scrubbing.

"It's the law that you must be unblemished to come before the Magistrate." Wren informed.

The attendants scrubbed me until they knew my skin couldn't take it any longer. They lathered my face repeatedly until the last speck of dirt was gone. My hair was pulled into a tight bun and fastened in a net. A droopy black dress was then pulled over my head. It wore like a bag, hanging off me like Marie-Katherine's habit.

"You're ready," Wren told me after topping my head with a plain black veil. My heart was thumping even harder now. My eyes burned, but I held the tears.

The servants bowed as I passed, giving me tribute as a queen leaving for war. Every step brought dread. Even the sound of gravel beneath my shoe caused me to shiver. I came to the door of the cart shaking.

"You alright?" Jackoby quietly asked.

I nodded, but we both knew it was a lie. Everyone was depending on me now, so I had to be strong. I sat down in my seat and looked back out the window at the respectful crowd. I scanned their faces, seeing people with lives and families that rested on my shoulders.

If I couldn't be strong for them, no one would.

Archie pulled the reigns, and the horses began moving. We pulled out of the drive and onto the open road, and I could hardly contain my anxiety. The Presence reached into the carriage, tightening. I remembered Sister Marie-Katherine and prayed. It chased the darkness away momentarily, sending me into a doze. It felt like only a second passed when Wren nudged me.

"We're here."

We pulled up to a mansion with a door twenty times the size of ours. A man in a dark blue tuxedo opened the carriage and escorted us. Our feet on the ground, Wren and I respectfully curtsied. Although a servant of lower caste, he had more power than we did. Offending a single member of the household meant our heads.

"Welcome to the Magistrate's Grand Palace!" The man bellowed.

Humor mixed with dread. I had to keep from gawking. It was extremely difficult, I'll tell you that. The man wore a top hat and overcoat embellished with the Magisterial Crest. Bronze eyes were present on his body from head to shoelace.

"Thanks be to the Great Magistrate for allowing us this opportunity to honor his reign!" Wren replied from a well-rehearsed script.

"Come," he instructed. "First you must tour the house. The Great One insists! Then you will be presented to him. I am Bernard Edwinson, Head Caretaker of the Magistrate's household."

Without another word, Bernard turned from us and briskly walked into the house. We followed him obediently as he gave a detailed oral history of the foyer.

"...Two hundred years ago, the Magistrate commissioned three brick layers and three stone masons of the 6th caste to come and help design the marble in the foyer." He explained, reciting from a script of his own.

For the first time since we were outside, Bernard turned to us. The servant was standing on a narrow, golden carpet while we stood next to each other on the marble.

"No, no, no!" He exclaimed in a near shout, "Please, take your feet off the marble! Only the Magistrate's shoes may touch it. Stand in single-file on the rug! Oh, heavens, now we'll have to sterilize the floors again. Do you realize how much scrubbing it takes to make something spotless for the Magistrate?"

I was well-aware. The raw flesh on my arms was still burning.

"My apologies! It won't happen again, sir," Wren exclaimed as we jumped onto the rug.

"It had better not, for if either of you steps out of line today–" the flamboyantly dressed man began ranting, but was cut off. A figure came into view at the top of the staircase and silenced him.

"Bernard – is that any way to treat our guests?" A familiar voice called. When I connected the face to the voice, I nearly fell over.

It was Winston.

He saw my expression and held a finger to his lips. I held my breath. Why was he here?

"The Magistrate would never approve of this kind of treatment. You must be more lenient about these things, Bernard." Winston half-scolded. He came down the steps and sat at my side. "I will give them the grand tour. Go on your way."

Bernard gave Winston a cursory nod and left the room. As soon as he did, I whispered into his ear:

"What are you doing here?"

"My father was invited long ago," he whispered in return. "Your scheduling isn't a coincidence."

When he said the words, I didn't know if I felt anger, happiness, or shock. Winston always made me feel a tad stressed. I prayed he wasn't here to do anything rash.

"Since when do you get a free pass to come here?" I argued.

"Since I'm the Duke of the Northern Coast! Celeste, the Magistrate is my uncle," he whispered in return. I momentarily paused, not having really pieced together his title with his lineage until now. Still, I wasn't satisfied. I was under too much stress to be anywhere near content.

"Why exactly did you do this?" I whispered back to him in angst. He ushered me across the carpet and into a long hallway before giving me his answer.

"I have always vouched for your family," he responded, almost annoyed. "If he knows that you're a friend of mine he might be a bit easier to please."

I saw the flaw in his thinking. Winston was haughty. It would be easy for him to miscalculate someone's fondness. What if this alliance was an entanglement? Too much was riding on this. Feeling the Presence, I held my tongue.

The duke showed us around the palace until the Magistrate sent word. The place was so vast that we probably would have gotten lost and missed the appointment if there wasn't a set time for it.

"This is his art gallery," Winston explained as he ushered me into another corridor.

Massive paintings hung from almost every wall, most of them depicting former magistrates and their families. Some pictures were shockingly ghoulish, one of them depicting a mound of dead bodies. It was unexpected and frightening. I turned my head and witnessed another unsettling picture. An emaciated man knelt before his wife and two babies, a wicked man holding a gun to his temple. There was another family next to them, but this one was slumped in pools of blood.

"Oh my –" I muttered, about to vomit.

"Oh..." Winston whispered, seeing what startled me. He stepped in and turned me away from the gruesome picture. "That's a painting of an execution from the Great Wa. No one is fond of it."R

Winston's words struck me as tender but avoidant. That was always how his people were. Oppression seldom touched them, so they pretended it didn't exist. The paintings impacted me in a way they never would for Winston. In the detail of every hollow and bloody face, I saw myself. A sickening feeling overcame me.

"The Magistrate has summoned you!" An intimidating guard declared.

I wanted to escape at that moment, to be anywhere but here. It was built on palpable darkness. But, there was no time. The guard took my arm and rushed me to a holding room at the door to the throne. Wren and Winston followed closely. The double doors were solid brass and bore artwork that gave me a chill. Each was engraved with the eye. Gilded serpents coiled over the surface of the handles. A muscular man stood on guard, stone-faced and carrying a sword.

"He's in there." The first guard told me.

My mind was in a frantic rush, so I put my arms forth and nearly did it. The stoic doorman broke his silence and blocked me.

"Not yet! You must wait to be called in and introduced!"

Now I was trembling. Wren and Winston stood behind me, holding their breath. I backed to the wall and collapsed.

"Celeste, darling," Wren anxiously reassured me. "You must calm down."

She grabbed my arm and posed me before the doors, reminding me to breathe. The doorman motioned for me to enter. The Magistrate's throne was plain now.

"You may enter," the muscular doorman told me in a deep, authoritative voice. I entered meekly, Wren and Winston following. "Announcing the arrival of Celeste Devereaux, ward of the 3rd caste!"

My eyes remained at my feet, daring not to look at him until commanded. The movements of me feet were not steps, but shuffles. Only the pattern on the carpet indicated where I was. I saw the ruler's feet and knelt before the throne.

Although I was carrying out these acts as flawlessly as a well-rehearsed play – my soul was screaming. It could sense something dark and evil about this room. It was the strongest indication of the Presence I'd ever felt. My spirit wanted to flee. Before it could, the man spoke up.

"Celeste Devereaux," he began. "State your business in my court."

"Your Highness, I come to you as a messenger. My family implores your continual blessing over our estate," I recited. I kept my head low as I was told. I was certain that he would grant it and dismiss me soon.

"And your family has refined you to please me?" He quizzed. That was when I began to choke from within. "Miss Devereaux, I know a great deal of your family. Where is your grandmother, the matriarch?"

For a few seconds I forgot how to breathe. The Magistrate was speaking to me, and I could sense no amount of goodness or kindness in his tone. I had to close my eyes and force the words.

"She is ill, O Respectable Magistrate," I spoke up softly, making sure to say my words in the court dialect. "The Lady Abilene Devereaux is presently confined to the bed."

"I see," the Magistrate replied, sounding completely unsurprised.

He then gave the command for Wren and Winston to stand up, but ordered that I remain kneeling. Still looking at the bottoms of his feet, I could see the man rise from his throne and move toward me.

"You may raise your head."

Even though I could hardly find the strength, I did it. When I looked up I saw a man that looked far more human than I expected. The man in the pictures I'd always seen looked twenty years younger than this one. There were wrinkles around his eyes. They were all pupil.

"You are unblemished from what I can see," he arrogantly remarked. "And you appear to have been well-refined..." He trailed off for a moment. "Winston Everen, she is a friend or yours, yes?"

"Yes, O Great Magistrate." Winston respectfully replied.

The man suddenly took his hand and grabbed my face. He acted as if he was giving me some medical examination, tilting my head this way and that way and apparently getting a look of what he obviously already knew was a human face.

"You've done well," was the next and only thing he said before dismissing them. "You may go."

We all stood, relieved no one had been disgraced. Wren and Winston respectfully bowed and turned around as the doorman opened the entryway for them. I began to shift my knees so that I might stand up, but before I could the Magistrate stopped me.

"You may not leave yet," he suddenly spoke up. "Winston Everen and Wren Devereaux, you may go. The girl must stay with me for a while longer. I wish to speak to her alone."

I dared to look over for a second – just a second – so that I could see what Wren and Winston were doing. Their faces read bewilderment. Then – as if by instinct – every servant in the room abruptly left. After they were gone, the doorman secured the pathway so that we were both alone. The ruler snapped.

The Magistrate's personality shifted from regal to terrifying. The man took his hands and violently forced my face toward him. He could have shown them all, but he waited. The Curse thought that revealing himself this way would be much greater fun.

"I know more of you than you believe," he snared. "Elissa McClellan!"

He thrashed my neck so violently that it might have broken if the blow was any harder. He came in closer to me, piercing me with hate and throwing me to the ground. I was left without words now, my mind unable to fathom what was going on or why it was happening.

"W-what?" I stammered.

"Silence! You foolish girl – I am your king! Don't speak out of turn!"

He paced, fully transformed into another beast. I was prostrate, my chest on the ground as I lifted my head. I glanced at him carefully, terrified when I saw the intent in his eyes.

"Why should you be so surprised?" The leader sneered, asserting himself. "I am the Magistrate! Do you think I am that stupid? I know all things. I know who you are, Elissa. You are a 10th caste. You are a child of mixed lineage – a child of rebellious parents! You've attempted to change the way our world works. I don't like change."

He lurched toward me as if about to kick. I closed my eyes in anticipation for physical pain, but none came. Instead, he laughed madly. The ruler's eyes met mine in a sickening stare.

"You rebelled against the laws that I made to protect you, Elissa. I gave you the choice, but you wouldn't decide. You violated my law, but you're not casteless. Why is that? Give me a good reason."

I knew it was rhetorical, but I felt a sudden anger begin bubbling up from within that caused me to give him an answer. His words were intended to belittle me and to destroy me, but they only caused me to seethe. I felt a surge of bravery travel through me. It caused me to open my mouth and say something I knew I'd regret:

"Because I am not yours."

"What did you just say?" The Magistrate spat. I glared at him just as I glared at the judge a year ago. "Tell me what you just said!"

This time I stood up, feeling even bolder. I said it one more time:

"I'm not yours."

"That's what I thought you said," he came back and kicked me to the ground again. "Be stubborn, Elissa. It will only hurt the ones that you love most! I have power over everyone, and you aren't excluded."

"You have no power over me," I told him again, undefeated. I remembered Marie-Katherine's words. Only God did.

"You are nothing, Elissa McClellan. You were born a 10, and you were born to law breakers. Your father is a deranged alcoholic. Your mother..." There was a momentary pause. He began pacing wildly. "...Was a traitor. You know we are not fond of Jezebels in this court. She ran off with someone poisonous and accepted the consequences. She was a Jezebel – just as you are! Dignified as you may seem, in my eyes you are no better than a prostitute. "

"That's not true!"

"Oh, be quiet!" The man interjected. "You naïve little thing! I've killed hundreds like you. Their families went with them. You're a small thing," he seized my arm and yanked me upwards to demonstrate my lack of physical prowess. "It wouldn't take much to kill you – but I won't. You're far too important a piece in my game to do that. At least...not yet. You see, I didn't call you here to give you my approval. You will do all that I say, suffer all that I command you suffer!"

"That's the only reason why you brought me here?" I boiled. "To tell me that I am powerless against you?"

"Everyone needs to be reminded of my power," he snarled again. "I also wanted to inform you of something very important. I am aware that your grandmother is ill. The old pass, and when they do a young one must take their place. She will pass soon – but you will not take her place. Instead, Beeti will."

"Beeti?"

"Yes, Beeti will inherit the Devereaux Estate. Beeti is deserving– she's always been the one I intended to allow the family title to fall on. She is a loyal, well regarded citizen of mine." He smirked. "I think you'll find that I mingle with her more often than you know."

A chill went through me. I knew what this meant. Beeti was his eyes and ears. That was how he was going to continue watching me. I thought of her last night, snooping through my belongings. It made me go pale.

"Though, this is a much larger matter than who-gets-what. You are not worthy of being an heir. When your grandmother dies, you will not take the fortune. And I don't care who is next in line, even if Beeti is stricken dead you will not be allowed to take it! You simply will not."

"Why is that?" I challenged again.

"There are forces at work that must be preserved, Elissa. I won't allow you to hinder them. I am the Magistrate!" He shouted. "I was going to give you grace, Elissa...I was going to send you back into your caste to live the rest of your life peacefully. I have seen your true colors, and I'm not inclined to leniency.

I won't tell you much...but I will tell you this: if you breathe a single word of our encounter, I will kill everyone that you have ever loved. Every friend, every family member – whether young or old. Not even your servants will be spared. You will die too...but your death will come last. Speak of this once, and I will execute them at your feet."

I was overcome with the most sickening feeling. Even if he had no power over me – he could unleash hell on my loved ones. My skin went cold and dead. My expression hardened. That was when his eyes finally met mine.

"Will you do as I say now?"

I nodded.

"Good girl." The man sat back, his personality shifting. "Now go out to your family. Tell them nothing of this, and be wary of your actions. I will be watching you every moment."

Just like that he waved me off. I walked out of the room in a tremor, unable to see the welt he left on my face. Wren and Winston were standing on the other side unaware of the altercation.

"How was it?" She asked.

"Excellent," I lied, choking. Wren caught a glimpse of the red marks on my face and winced.

"What happened to your face, dear?"

My lower lip quivered. The doorman hovered. I couldn't understand it – why must I have been so hated? I wouldn't dare think of it now. This was not about me anymore. There were others to protect.

"I walked into a banister and fell. That's all."

No one believed it, but no one questioned it.

"I suppose you were just awestruck," Wren chose her words carefully, almost speaking in code. "Let's return home and celebrate."

Their concern was unspoken but unanimous. He ushered us into the carriage without a farewell. Even once we were far from the palace gates, I felt unsafe. The Presence watched me.

Meanwhile, the Magistrate gloated. The man was overcome by something much more sinister than pride. His mind was sick, his soul unwell. I didn't know this, but after I left – he began ranting to an empty room. He argued with himself in mad bellows.

"You fought me, Julius," a deep voice came from his mouth, clearly not his own. "You were prideful, haughty! You let her go! Why must you let her escape me so easily?"

The Magistrate continued an insane murmur in his empty throne room. The voice wasn't his. It was something that knew what knew human could. It was the embodiment of fear and hatred. And now, the Curse communicated this audibly through his human puppet. Back and forth, they argued with each other. But, the Curse was in command.

"But, I will soon have her. I did as you instructed – now we will have her in good time," the Magistrate pleaded in reply.

"No! You have disobeyed me, human. I am the giver of your power. If you would have only given me complete control, I would have been able to take her right away. But now, you must wait. The time was right then, but now it will not be right again for quite some time.

"Why are you so consumed with her?" The Magistrate shouted.

"Julius, I can see what you humans cannot. It is your duty to obey!" It asserted in reply.

"But what has she done?" The Magistrate begged again. The Darkness sent a sharp pain through his side. It would allow him no control.

"Silence!" It commanded. "If you disobey me...she will bring us both death! She is not as frail as she may look to your human eyes. I can see with eyes unseen that she will be the end of our reign forever."

"What will she do to us?" The Magistrate answered, defenses numb from pain. His will eased, and the will of the other consumed him.

"She will destroy me; the one who has given you power and protection! She will destroy the two walls. First, the one that keeps the people here separate. Then, the one that keeps the Other World from this one."

"Should that not cause your power to increase?" The Magistrate dazedly answered, his skin pale and his eyes glazed and hazy. "If our worlds are no longer separate, we might rule them both."

"No, you fool! I am omnipresent, not omnipotent. My foothold is here and it is there. If the two worlds become one, I will be reduced to one. When the peoples become one, there will be too many to stop! I must be kept here in you, and my other presence must be kept there in him. It is the only way."

"Then what must I do, Great Power?"

"Do not allow her power. Extinguish any chance she has of gaining a foothold."

"I have already done that, Master." The man replied, suddenly regaining a part of his consciousness. "I have told her not to take the fortune! I have exercised my might against her."

"No, slave. That is not enough!" The darkness growled. "You can only make her fear you for a little while. She already senses us. She has stronger allies on her side than we understand. She has the Eyes. While she lives, she could realize her full power and destroy us."

"Then what must I do?"

"You must kill her!"

"When, oh Master – when shall I kill her?"

"You shall not kill her yet. We must not reveal ourselves to them while the grandmother is still alive. She also has the Eyes, but she realizes it. You must not go near her! No.

"This is what you must do: watch her closely. When the wise woman dies, take the girl. Do not wait – if Elissa still lives, destroy her. I have already summoned forces from the Other World. They may take her before you need even lift a finger! Only do as I say, and you will not fail me."

"I will not fail you, Master. I will do more than succeed." The Magistrate sinisterly responded. "When the time comes to kill, she will already wish that she was dead."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Air

"...I don't know what happened," I faintly heard Wren whispering to Grandmamma that evening. Her episode was over and she was sitting up, no longer near death. "After he asked to see her alone, they took us away from the door so that we couldn't hear anything."

"She has done all that she could do. And you, my dear – have done all that you could. What's done is done. All we can do now is pray."

The door was cracked slightly. Grandmamma saw me there, beckoning me in and telling me to sit at her bedside. I shuddered. Feeble hands trembling, she gently combed a strand of hair from my face. She saw the welt underneath it – now a bruise – and placed her hands back on her lap.

"Dearest, please don't be afraid," Grandmamma whispered. "No matter what happened – you have made me proud. You have such courage."

She insisted I share a cup with her to clear my head. Molly brought up a kettle of blooming tea, this one a bundle of green with a passionflower bursting from the center. My fingers tremored as I held the cup. I felt my throat tighten as I sipped.

"I need some air," I told her.

Grandmamma agreed and dismissed me, telling me to take a long walk in the garden. I took in a breath of the cool evening. The beauty of nature was still only a small bandage over a mortal wound. I escaped the courtyard into the labyrinth, as I always did. This time the entire atmosphere felt void.

My feet crackled over each fallen leaf as instruments in a symphony conducted from below. I bent down and picked one of them up, holding it to the moon. I had never stopped to think about how intricate it was – finger-like veins spreading across its coppery surface. It was dead, but seemed so very alive.

If something as simple as a leaf could be so detailed, what about a person? How could something much more intricate than this delicate treasure be so easily disposed of? Why were humans made of glass? I dropped the leaf, watching it gently float back to its brethren.

I wandered out of the maze and past the clearing. The distance I went no longer mattered. The farther away I was from them, the less danger they were in. I unlatched the gate and began walking the woods.

I found the cherry trees. Now they were barren, but their memories still stood. Their glory last spring was treasure. When I thought of it, I could feel no sorrow or pain. The Presence temporarily subsided.

I closed my eyes. The forest was light again, and the fragrant blossoms were raining down all around me. They collected on my shoulders and brushed the tip of my nose like snowflakes. I forgot what fear was.

As I opened my eyes again, I saw that the world was dark.

There was rustling in the bushes. Now my heart was like a child's again. I felt the glimmer of hope, an untrustworthy instinct in the darkness. I reveled in my memory, looking hopefully at the source of motion.

"Rhys?" I called out.

The name slipped out as foolishly as my lack of awareness. As soon as I uttered a word, whatever was there froze. The hope faded. I stopped in place, careful not to make any sudden movements.

"Hello?" I called out again, softly and deliberately in case it was an anxious animal.

The bushes rustled again.

"Please, show yourself," I now begged in a raspy, fearful whisper.

The bushes rustled one last time, and in the faint moonlight a tall figure emerged, eyes glowing. It wasn't Rhys.

"Hello, Princess." It said to me sinisterly.

When I darted, so did he. The dastardly man grabbed my arms. I pulled back, opening my mouth to scream. He quickly muffled me. The hand he used to restrain me was big enough to hold both of my wrists firmly.

"Stop squirming!" The man commanded. "You're easier than I was told you'd be. All I had to do was dwell here, and on the very first day you came right to me!"

The man laughed as he dragged my feet across the forest floor. I still never gave up, pulling against him with everything in me. His grip was iron – inhumanly strong.

"You are in for a treat, you see," the man gloated. "I'm bringing you to the one who has been seeking your soul for quite some time."

I was at his mercy, but continued fighting. It wasn't my nature to die defenselessly. Strangely enough, he didn't fight back. He bore down without pain.

"Stop it, I say! I could easily break your bones!"

Then, why didn't he? I continued kicking. It seemed important that I wasn't broken upon delivery to his leader. The assailant handled me with firm care, as if I was fine china. Something caused him to freeze. There was more rustling in the bushes. We were not alone.

Within a second, another tall silhouette flew from the brush and tackled him. The sinister grip loosened, I freed myself and stood. My mind begged my feet to run, but they were glued. My body trembled. I caught a glimpse of my rescuer's face as he pinned the assailant with steely grip.

It was Rhys.

"Elissa, go!" Rhys shouted as he looked up at me, apparently laboring to hold the man. "Run, and don't look back!"

My feet unlocked, running into the trees. Instead of heeding Rhys's words, I heard a sound that made me turn my head. It sounded like the struggle was over, but I sensed something. It had an aura of incomprehensible power and made my hair stand at attention. A cool gust came through the forest, pulsing each tree. I hid behind an oak and made the sign of the cross.

Once I looked, there was no turning back.

Rhys was no longer pinning my attacker with his hands. Yet, somehow, he hadn't let go. Now he was holding him without his hands. The attacker was high in the air, apparently restrained at the neck, and Rhys wasn't even touching him. There was no proper explanation but the supernatural. He was a creature with powers of air, one of the monsters in human skin.

If I thought I was in trouble before, there was no telling of the trouble I'd be in now.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Sealed with a Kiss

At first, they spoke to each other in a language I didn't understand. It was full of flat vowels and rolls of the tongue that reminded me of the Latin I heard in Mass. Some of the words were thick and guttural, coming from the backs of their throats like the Gaelic my father spoke with his shipmates.

"Faol ka oeg, rya-kta!" The perpetrator spoke, voice raspy as he grabbed at his invisible noose. The words must have been inflammatory, because Rhys tightened his grip and spoke the next ones with fury.

"Oeg rya-ka! Eihe nak joat ch-ma oon."

I heard them speak for a minute or two like this, then a strange thing happened. I began grasping the meaning of the conversation, their language quickly melding into mine as I listened. Each word transitioned euphorically into a sound I understood.

"Luca, leave her out of this!" Rhys yelled at the assailant, dangling him in the air. "I'm the one he wants, am I not? What has she done to become part of this?"

The man squirmed, hands frantically gripping an invisible chain around his neck. He glared at Rhys, spitting. He called him by a name I'd never heard before.

"Oh, but you are mistaken, Prince Aurelian! She has everything to do with this now! She's seen you – and the Darkness has seen her!"

The invisible noose tightened.

"You dare associate her with the darkness?" He snarled. "Don't say such things! Leave her alone, or I'll –"

"Or, you'll what?" The man interrupted, rasping underneath his grasp. "Kill me? Go right ahead. I dare you. I know you won't do it – because if you do, you know what will happen. The Darkness was always meant for you! Kill me and it will only find you sooner."

The valiant knight was caught. He eased back, putting the man down. The words he said was true – he couldn't do it. If he was to remain the way he was, he could never stop running. Luca sneered.

"I knew you couldn't do it. So did Faolan. You just don't have it in you. Not even enough courage to defend the one you love!"

"Leave, now." My liberator growled. Luca still didn't move.

"You can't keep on running forever, Aurelian. Fate has spoken. You've let your emotions run too deep. You've become too closely entwined in her for Faolan to ever let go."

"I said, leave!" He barked again, sounding clearly defeated. "Go back to your king. Tell him that if he wishes to take me, he must stop being a coward and take me himself. But, leave her out of it. Now go!"

Knowing another fight would be useless, Luca disappeared. Rhys – Aurelian – or whoever he was; closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. The silvery-rose color in his cheeks was gone. I held on to oak bark, hands splintered and trembling.

"Elissa, come out. I know that you're there."

I slowly stepped out from behind the tree, dumbfounded. This explained nothing, yet it explained everything. I expected he knew of my presence because of supernatural intuition. Rhys opened his eyes.

"How did you know I was still here?" I dazedly asked.

"I could hear you moving back there from the very moment you stopped," here replied. "If you're going to hide like that, you should work on your footing."

I sensed torment in his soul. Something else loomed, but it wasn't the Presence. The Presence was darkness, but this was light. It was a very intense light that, in many ways, was less comfortable than the dark. I could have run away, but I didn't.

I was compelled – compelled by a feeling I couldn't quite explain – to stay.

"Your name isn't Rhys, is it?" I began.

"No, it's not."

My eyes met his in a trance. Who was he? What was he? Was it possible that he was something more? I came to him and gently brushed my hand over his face. Oddly enough, he didn't pull away. I traced the outline of it with my finger.

"How much did you see?" He asked.

"Enough."

Perhaps I didn't know everything, but I saw the truth. I'd seen evidence of a power beyond the natural world. It was no longer just feeling – a taste or sense of something uncertain. I knew that he was real, and I knew that he was more than human.

"Who are you?" I gently asked. He knelt before me.

"I am Prince Aurelian, firstborn heir to the throne of the Amari people; Highest Chief of the Night Kingdom."

He bowed his head as if I was a queen. Then, he kissed my hand. I didn't understand why he bowed to me – someone born of much less. I knew that his words were true. I'd seen too much to dispute it. I gently grabbed his hand and urged him to stand.

"I am sorry that I have brought you into this," he lamented. "It would be best that now you go. We must not see each other anymore."

No matter what happened, my life was already in jeopardy. I didn't want to leave. Instead of fear, I felt drawn to him. I refused to accept his denial.

"No, Aurelian," the name tingled as it came from my lips. "I have seen too much to go back!"

Aurelian did all he could to avoid my eyes. The inevitable truth stood before him, but it was a truth that he couldn't accept. It pained him beyond words.

"It's too dangerous. You must go and forget this moment."

He urged me to go, but I stood my ground. Instead of leaving, I only came closer.

"You just saved my skin. I refuse to forget!" I declared. "I owe you a debt of life."

"Elissa, you owe me nothing. Especially not after all that's been done to you," Aurelian protested. I hushed him.

A powerful wave of emotion swept us. I stood on the tips of my toes to reach him, overcome. He couldn't fight any longer – sweeping me into his arms. Our noses delicately brushed against each other. Even though he knew inside that he shouldn't have, he still didn't back away.

First it was just a peck. Then, he came in for more. We exchanged a fierce, passionate kiss filled with light and beauty. Our lips danced wildly and gracefully. His hot breath caressed my chin, stirring my senses and awakening the woman inside. His hands moved back and forth over the crook of my neck like ocean waves. The Earth became still and silent, taking on a fairy-like glow. It put us into a trance that no darkness could infiltrate.

When it was over, neither of us said a word. We quietly and reluctantly parted. Even though Aurelian knew he was a plague to my safety, he kissed me anyway. He shuddered, realizing what he had done. There was no escape. We were bound.

"You must go now," he whispered. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise. But, you must return home. No one can see you here with me."

I wished I could stay there for eternity, but I nodded. We were bound by more than a kiss; I could feel it. Aurelian also felt it, but it caused him dread. There were far greater powers at work than my mortal being considered.

We parted from each other in a daze. Though deeper in the forest than I'd ever traveled, I found my way back onto the path without any problems. You might even say that the trees parted themselves.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Entwined

"No, Winston. You don't understand. I can't!" I told him four days later.

We stood on the upstairs balcony, arguing over my secrecy. Ever since the incident, the Presence was heightened. I wasn't the only person who could feel it. The Estate was engulfed in a dark, shadowy cloud that everyone noticed. The kiss with Aurelian felt like a distant dream.

The Magistrate's oppression over our home intensified. Every day, he spoke on the radio about new methods of torture and execution he would use for perpetrators of witchcraft. The people in the house could only guess the reason, but I didn't have to. I knew that the announcements were made for me.

"Celeste! Why must you be so stubborn? Why can't you tell me what my uncle has done? It's no secret that something happened while you were alone." Winston put his hands on my shoulders, eyes stern. "Did he violate you? Celeste, tell me the truth. Are you still pure?"

The last four words filled me with heat. I pulled away from him, fuming that he'd even connect the two. I told him the day after the incident that I wanted no more of him. He took it as an invitation to pursue me further. I was at my wit's end with his oafishness.

"Winston, stop doubting me!" I screamed. "You know just as well as I do that your uncle is capable of many things. I can't tell you what he did to me," I paused, on the verge of crying. "I cannot put you in harm's way."

"Celeste –" he began, but I quieted him.

"Stop calling me by that name," I demanded in tears. "It's not my name! Don't play stupid! He knows my name, and so do you."

He beckoned me again, but I couldn't stand it. Concealing who I was didn't matter anymore. The Magistrate hated who I was. Nothing was more detrimental.

"Alright, Elissa. I will admit the truth to you: I've known your name for a long while. It's never mattered to me, because I'm in love with you."

My heart dropped. I knew he was infatuated, but I never guessed love. The way he spoke was genuine and heartfelt, without any doubt. As much as I detested him, I still felt dread. I didn't want him to die because of me.

"Winston..." I whispered in horror. "No...don't say that. Please, whatever you do, don't say that –"

"Elissa, just listen to me. I'm sorry about the way I phrased my question. I only meant that, if he touched you, my feelings are unchanged. I want you to know that as long as I am here, I will use every ounce of my power to protect you." Winston's next words came with foolish pride. "He can't hurt me. I am his great nephew!"

I shook my head. Even Winston didn't know the capabilities of this ruthless man. As much as I protested, he wouldn't cease. He gently took me by the wrists and pulled me in closely. He did it with a tenderness I'd never experienced from him before.

"Elissa...I'd like to propose something. It's an idea – just an idea. It's always been my intention to do this, should my uncle threaten you. Well...it has actually been my intention to ask you regardless..." Winston was stammering, approaching a question so large that he could barely make his way. "I wanted to ask if you would consider becoming my wife."

The notion filled me with distress. I grimaced and bit my lip. Winston read my expression, unable to conceal the hurt. He got on his knees and made a case for himself.

"Just consider saying you're engaged to me for the time being. I know you're not of age – but if you were my fiancée it would at least give you a small amount of protection. It's all I can offer you right now."

"Winston, I – I can't. I can't marry you," I stammered in response. "Not now."

"You don't have to marry me in the end." He pleaded. "Only say that you're engaged now, and promise that you'll consider me eventually. I love you, Elissa. I only want to see you safe."

I couldn't stand it anymore. Winston had to know the truth. He was willing to involve himself in my danger. If he was ever to understand the monster we faced, I had to tell him.

"Winston, it's not that I'm not fond of you..." I sobbed. "I've seen things that I dare not say. If I tell you, he will do his very worst."

"Elissa, whatever he has said he will do; tell me. If we remain close, it will be much more difficult for him to take you. I am his blood. Even the Magistrate is not without the scrutiny of family."

It wasn't a far-fetched notion. Winston caressed my cheek. I felt slightly relieved, realizing that there was truth in what he was saying. I made up my mind. I didn't want to tell him the entire mess – it seemed too dangerous. I would tell him only enough so that he understood the Magistrate was scrutinizing us.

"Alright! I will consider. But first, I must tell you the truth."

"Yes, please. Tell me anything," Winston replied.

"...I can't tell you here. We have to wait and meet somewhere else."

"Do you believe we may be followed?"

"Yes. That's why you must tell absolutely no one."

He gave me a cursory nod, and we agreed to meet later that day. None of us knew exactly when or where, but we promised each other that we would. I sent for him when I was ready. I was unaware of it, but even among the servants the Magistrate's eyes and ears were everywhere.

"Winston," I whispered. We stood on the staff stairs. "I will tell you. But you must vow never to tell a soul. And if they find out that you know it – don't wait. Leave this place as fast as you can!"

Winston urged me to begin. I gave him loose details of my encounter, hoping not to reveal anything that might seem too blasphemous outside this hall. Even that was enough to condemn us. I left out his monstrous shift in personality, the beating, and the welt he made on my face. It was a black bruise now, tender to the touch. The only thing I told him about was the fortune and the Magistrate's threat.

"Elissa...I don't know what to say," his voice crackled. "I can only tell you...we must all be careful. I will take this matter to the high court –"

"No!" I demanded. "Don't you understand? You can't breathe a word of it! Promise me that you won't. Please!"

I was such a fool for telling him!

"Very well..."

Maybe he was just prideful, or maybe he was stupid. I sensed arrogance in his tone. He was trying to find a way around my warning. It was fatal ignorance.

We parted. For reasons of safety, I insisted that we used different stairwells. As I made my way up the stairs and grasped the door handle, I heard a set of nimble footsteps on the other side. I prayed it wasn't one of the Magistrate's spies.

I turned the brass, relieved when I saw that Beeti wasn't standing against the wall. Though, as soon as I stepped into the hall, I felt the Presence. It came after me as a thick, foreboding shadow. It came after me, and I ran frantically to my room.

When I crossed through the doorway, it fled. Wind gusted through my balcony doors, slamming the door shut behind me. I watched the key – stuck into the lock on my side – turn by itself. Blinding light came from the balcony, making me squint as I saw the sunset. It soon dissipated, and I saw Aurelian standing beside me.

"Elissa, it's me! Don't scream!"

I was terrified. I jumped back, almost smacking him in the face before I realized it was him. Then came the wave of emotions. I saw his face and felt a burst of energy and joy, then anger.

"Where have you been? And how did you get into my –"

"Elissa, calm down!" Aurelian hushed. "I had to see you."

"But – but, why here?" I argued in response. "Don't you realize that my house is being watched by the Magistrate?"

"That's why I'm here. Your home and family are under a greater threat than that of the Magistrate. I've tried to stay away. I've tried to keep my distance from you for a very long time, but now we're entwined."

"Wait," I asked. "What do you mean 'greater threat?' What's more dangerous than the Magistrate?"

Aurelian took my hand. He drew back one of my curls, revealing the stark black mark on my cheek. The prince touched it tenderly. Usually, even the slightest pressure made it throb. This time, I felt no pain. Aurelian's hand emanated warmth and healing.

"There are powerful forces after each of us. Now that we are involved, these forces have become one."

"I don't understand..." I murmured.

"What has been watching you is now watching me, and what has been watching me is now watching you. As of today, there is no way for me to let you go through this alone."

Now I was lost. What was after him? I was already in enough of a mess as it was. As if it hadn't occurred to me already, this put my family in even more danger than before. The warmth on my face ceased. I pulled away, as did he.

"Why did you come here then?" I seethed. "What is your purpose with me?"

"I came here today...because I wanted to apologize to you," Aurelian fell to his knees, pleading with my soul. I felt his spirit grab mine. "To apologize and explain. I'm sorry that I've robbed you of a life here – but perhaps things will work out differently. It's only fair that as we're forced to be in this together that you know the truth."

"Very well," I meekly responded, collecting myself.

I motioned for him to take a seat somewhere around the room, though he refused. A gentleman, Aurelian found it uncomfortable to stand – let alone sit – in my room. I tried to make do with the situation, kicking off my shoes and slumping over my vanity. I sensed that his words wouldn't be pleasant, so it was best that I took them sitting.

"First of all, you know I am a prince," Aurelian began. I nodded. "You know I'm not...from your world." I nodded once again. "But, my world is much like your own. Although I have powers that your mortals do not, my world isn't all that different from yours. The same curse that rules your rules my own."

"Curse?" I echoed. "I suppose that you could call the Magistrate a curse...but he's human!"

"No," he sighed. "You see – that's it. He is the Curse. Well, no...he's inhabited by it."

Aurelian stopped speaking when he saw my face. I was lost. His words made as much as sense to me as they would have been if they were in gibberish.

"Curse?" I echoed again. Aurelian let out a breathy sigh.

"It's hard to understand, but it's the truth. Your magistrate is inhabited by a curse. A legitimate, living, breathing entity. Everyone in his line has been possessed by it, causing them to be merely puppets of its will. That's why he does such evil things."

"That makes sense..." I let out, faintly beginning to follow.

"My world is the same way. My people came to aid yours in war long ago – and when they did, your curse became our curse. Your curse sits on the Magistrate's throne. Our curse sits on our throne. For your people, it passes down when the host dies. Your people die natural deaths...but mine cannot. For us, the predecessor must be killed by his successor. It's a bit complicated really, but that's at least the gist of it."

Suddenly, I understood. It seemed a logical explanation for the illogical. The story sounded vaguely familiar, but I didn't think of it as the story in my big book of folklore. Aurelian made it sound... real. Even though his humanity was uncertain, he made it seem human.

"I have a brother," he continued. This time he simplified his language. "An extremely unbalanced brother. He's my twin, but he considers me an enemy. All our lives, he's reviled me."

"Because of this curse?" I chirped, beginning to grasp the concept.

"Only in part. My father treated him as a bastard. He didn't even give him a name – he took one himself and vowed to bring fire with it. My brother lusted for the power in his anguish. But, in my world, you can't fully embody it until you become King. The hunger for it is what drove him mad."

"So, then he doesn't have the curse?" My mind veered off course. I was lost again. Aurelian knelt and squeezed my hand gently.

"No, he has the curse. He's sitting on the throne in my place, and it lives in him. He believes I will return and steal it. I honestly don't want it – but he's gone mad. He's made it his life's goal to destroy me. And now that he has the power...he can.

"I'm telling you this because our destinies are entwined. It's who I am. This is my battle, and it will become yours. Faolan is after you, and the Magistrate is after me. Regardless of how we feel about each other, our fates are interchangeable."

We were in the same battle now, an alliance of evil desiring our destruction. I had a sudden thought. If this was fate, maybe we could work together to change it. The powers I was dealing with now were much bigger than I was, and somehow that offered me unexpected hope. It gave me an idea that might save us both.

"If our fates are interchangeable, maybe we're not meant to die. Maybe you've found me so that we can work together. Maybe we're meant...to save each other."

"That's a hopeful thought," Aurelian darkly replied. "Things are much more complicated than you understand. You're a human from a world without knowledge of the powers or worlds beyond it. If anything, I should be protecting you."

"Perhaps I don't come from a world with magic," I shot back, slightly offended. "But I'm not powerless."

"Compared to the things that want me dead you are. And besides, even if there was a way for us to help each other – how would you propose we do it? It's not as if somehow this is going to become what your people would call a: 'kumbaya!'"

"I'm not expecting that," I sighed. "All I'm saying is that maybe, we're meant to rely on each other in this. Strength is not all dependent on physicality. Nothing is unchangeable. Just the fact we're not alone anymore proves that. We need to make a plan. Otherwise, our fate will be bleak! Together, there's a chance, just a chance –"

"Lady Elissa!" A voice sounded in the hallway.

It was Lydia. She put her hand around the doorknob and fiddled with it before realizing it was locked. She searched her apron pocket for her key, placing it into the slot. I panicked, scanning the room for a place to hide my guest. It was too late.

She jovially swung the door open, whistling a tune as she carried a stack of towels. They obscured her vision slightly, so she didn't see the stranger standing beside me. She seemed happier today than I'd seen in quite a while.

"The ladies in the laundry room just got a fresh supply of linens! They're scented like lavender! I brought you some to try!" She began, head still behind the stack. "I also brought you some fresh towels –"

She was nearly finished speaking by the time she adjusted her arms. Obstruction lowered and head tilted, she froze. Lydia stared at me, then at Aurelian. The towels left her arms and scattered across the floor as she opened her mouth. Lydia tried to scream, but nothing came.

Aurelian had stolen the voice right from her throat, and barred the door shut behind her.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Lydia's Secret

Aurelian took her voice like a creature of nightmare; leaving her unable to scream as I often was in my terrors. Poor Lydia was silent and petrified.

"Why did you just do that?" I angrily exclaimed.

"I – I panicked," he stammered. "She was about to run and tell someone!"

"So you took her voice?"

"It was the only way!"

"Well I'm sure that she's going to have a lot to say now, seeing that you've stolen her voice and barred the door behind her!" I agitatedly yelped. "What do you intend on doing now? Are you going to make her forget that she saw you, or are you going to let her remain mute forever?"

"No...I ...I –"

"You should have disappeared! Why haven't you gone away? It's seemed so easy to do all of the times that you've spontaneously showed up and left me over and over again in that last nine months!"

Obviously, when I said nine months, Lydia completely misconstrued what I was talking about. She stared at my abdomen – slight as always – and wondered how long she'd been missing. Her eyes bulged from their sockets.

"I don't really disappear. It doesn't work that way. There's a degree to which I must plan when I do! It takes preparation and focus, and things that your people would see as 'magic'..."

"You have to plan it?" I echoed back, now fuming. "You mean to tell me that all of the times that you deserted me, playing with my head as you left me behind – you planned it?"

"No, I promise it wasn't like that!"

"Then what was it like, Rhys?" I challenged. "What could possibly have been going through your mind as you did it!?! Was it that you didn't want to implicate me or anyone else in this chaos?"

"Elissa, please calm down! We can't sort this out if we're quarreling!"

Amid the arguing, I had forgotten about Lydia. She was still mute and clearly distressed. We looked at her in unison, realizing what a spectacle we were. Lydia shook her head in disbelief.

"Miss, I am so sorry..." The prince began. He took a step toward her, but she clenched her muscles tightly.

"Aurelian – it appears to Lydia that magical creature standing in my bedroom has just stolen her voice. Considering you're the magical creature in this scenario, I think it would be best if you let me explain this." I voluntarily stepped forward and put a hand on my friend's shoulder.

"Lydia, I'm so sorry. This is a lot for you to take in, but please bear with me," I slowly began. "This might not be the best way to put it... uh, there is no good way to put it. You know the fairy tales you loved reading as a child? The ones you said are like faith and love and all that?"

She nodded slowly.

"...Let's just say, this very well might be one of them."

Lydia's jaw dropped. She gave me a blank stare and then glanced over at Aurelian. In the awkwardness of the moment, he cordially bowed and introduced himself.

"Prince Aurelian, firstborn heir to the throne of the Night Kingdom," he ever-so-formally introduced himself.

Lydia's jaw was on the floor. She slowly closed her mouth and stood up straight. She glanced at me, then at Aurelian, and then back at me again. As her pointing finger paired us, I blushed and spoke up.

"We are, sort of." I stammered. "Our situations are sort of mutual right now. I mean, we do like each other. But, nothing is set in stone."

"It's not?" Aurelian challenged. I looked over my shoulder and glared at him. We were not going to quarrel over this.

"Now that Lydia knows," I calmly turned to Aurelian. "How about we ask her if she can keep this a secret?"

"You can't ask her, Elissa. Her voice is gone."

"Well then – why don't you give it back, Prince Charming? I'm sure she understands now." By now she was still shaking her head, but I had to proceed if she was to get her voice back. "And Aurelian, I'm sure she specifically won't tell anyone when she gets it back."

"Elissa, you needn't persuade me as if I'm mindless. I'll give her voice back as soon as I'm sure that she won't screech upon my returning it."

Now, I just had to convince Lydia.

"Now Lyddie, I know this is a shock to you, but it's very important that you don't tell anyone," I explained to her. "You're my friend. I trust you. Do you promise that you won't say anything?"

She nodded. It was obvious that she was still in shock, but now she was beginning to follow. Given, it was probably just because she didn't want to be muted for the rest of her life. I glanced back at Aurelian and gave him a pleading look.

"She's not going to say anything. Now give her voice back!" I exclaimed. He waved me along, urging me to give her fair warning before he granted my request. "Alright, Lyddie. Aurelian is going to give your voice back. But, I'm telling you this now as a good friend – when he does, you had better not say anything. If you do..." I struggled to search for an adequate answer, "your voice will be taken away again, this time forever! So, do you understand? Do you promise that you absolutely, positively will not make a sound?"

Upon hearing my warnings, she hurried to nod. She gave a rushed motion with her hands as to tell us that she understood and we'd better hurry to get her speaking again. When it was unanimously understood, I felt a wave of air drift across the room and blow over Lydia's face and hair. She closed her eyes and tried to force the air up her throat one last time.

"Yes, Elissa. I promise," she suddenly whispered. As soon as she did, she covered her mouth. She could speak again!

Over the next ten minutes, the door remained barred as explained our predicament. She struggled to remain as composed as possible. Even though Aurelian was attempting to be friendly, it was obvious that Lydia didn't want to lose her voice again.

"I understand that there's probably not much that you can do beyond keep this a secret," I moved to explain. "But, if there's any way you could help us it could mean something very important. I'll leave it at that."

"You know I think of you as a sister, Elissa...but I don't know about this." Lydia massaged her temples.

"I understand that this is difficult to grasp...especially now," I gave her hand a tight squeeze. "But, if you help Aurelian, you'd have the chance to do something that no one in our world has done before. You could honestly change things."

"I don't know," she hesitated. "It's not that I don't believe you...I honestly do. I believe in this more than you know – perhaps even more than I know myself. It's just..."

"It's just what?" I pleaded. "Is it anything other than shock? Something I've said or done? I know things have been different between us lately –"

"No, Elissa...it's not that," Lydia interrupted. "As magnificently shocking this is, there are other reasons this encounter puts me at a loss. I'm sorry I never told you. I couldn't – and I probably shouldn't. But, I've done something very foolish. That along with the Magistrate's scrutiny probably puts us in more danger than we would have been before. And now...this?"

For a second she looked away from me, and I felt like it was my duty to reach out to her. I settled my hand on her shoulder, Aurelian silently watching her with eyes that looked as if they were reaching into her hurting soul.

"Lydia, please tell me. As I trust that you'll keep this a secret, you can trust that your secret will stay here with me. And, Aurelian certainly won't tell anyone." I softly whispered. "What is it that you've done?

The room fell deafeningly silent. Everything about her demeanor changed. She shifted from a closed box to an open door. Her expression was sober and truthful, telling me before she even said a word that this was not a light matter.

"You know I was gone quite a lot last month," she began. "And in the months before that. It's true – I was missing. It was no one's imagination. I was out sneaking around."

"Where?" I confusedly asked. "Where could you have possibly gone?"

"Not far...not until recently," she replied. "The servants covered for me – because you know, we don't rat on our own."

Her words were beginning to come in a frantic jumble, arising from a truly emotional mess. I still couldn't understand her fear.

"Every young girl sneaks out sometimes, servant or not."

"It's not that I was sneaking out for girlish reasons, Elissa..." she tearfully told me, wiping the moisture from her eyes with her stained sleeve. "It was dangerous because of who I was sneaking out with."

"Oh, Lydia..." I softly murmured. "It was Jackoby, wasn't it?"

"Oh, Elissa! Only you truly know...only you can truly ever know. We're in love. We've been in love for a very long time." She put her head into her hands and fell face-first onto my bed.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that. Just so long as you two weren't seen and you haven't been suspected –"

"No, Elissa!" Lydia sat up, collecting herself. "It goes much deeper than that. Our love caused us to do something very foolish. Something more dangerous than being affectionate in the same household. Our hearts blinded us." She paused. "Remember when I was gone the weekend of the ball?"

I realized the truth before she uttered it. She couldn't have – she hadn't. My mind flashed back to all those months ago, when Jackoby flashed Lydia a strange glance and talked about October.

"Lydia – you didn't!"

"Yes, Elissa. It's true. My name's not Lydia Berry anymore. It's Lydia Nielsen."

Now I fell onto the bed. How could she have pulled it off? And how on earth did she hide it from us?

"You honestly mean that you, actually –"

"Must I spell it out for you? Jackoby and I eloped."

Now my jaw was the one falling to the floor. I understood why she was closed to me. She jumped into the marriage from doubts, reluctance growing. The tensions caused by the Magistrate were an additional burden. She had everything to lose if the illegal union was discovered.

"Lydia...if you eloped, why did you come back?"

"Well, you see...Jackoby had been begging me for months. We were going to run away to the Desert Country, seeing that's where all the fugitives and runaways go. I had my doubts but agreed. After we were married, I worried what was going to happen to my family with no provider. I also worried what would happen to you when they found out we deserted."

"Did Jackoby feel that way?"

"Yes. I convinced him that we were needed back at the manor. After much protesting, he agreed. We've been trying to hide what happened ever since then. Our marriage isn't valid in the eyes of the Magistrate. If anyone finds out it could mean death for both of us."

"I promise I won't tell anyone." I told her, sensing the pain in her voice.

Lydia was truly aching. This world was made to keep their love apart. For just a second, I understood how my own mother must have felt when she met my father. In the silence, Aurelian spoke up.

"I hope you won't mind my interjecting, but do you love him?"

"What?" She spoke up confusedly, clearly not expecting to be faced with suck a question.

"No matter what you've done or how foolish you think it may have been, your love still matters." He said to her almost poetically. I think it caused both of us to soften just a little bit. She fell into silence for a moment before speaking up again.

"Yes, we do. Very much."

There was another momentary pause before Lydia spoke again. I could tell that something was riding on her conscience. She had to help us. It was as if God himself was reaching into her heart and telling her to remain open to the unknown.

"I probably shouldn't do this – but there's no way to get around it. I don't know exactly how much I can do, but I will help you."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" I threw my arms around her neck, not realizing that now I was being much louder than I initially intended.

"Hush!" Lydia rebuked me. "We don't want to tell the whole world what we're doing! Now, there's not much I can do – but, I know a few people who could help arrange meetings for you in secret. Jackoby also knows some smugglers who could help get you to the Desert Country if necessary."

The excitement of the moment rushed through my veins, and I looked to see if Aurelian had any input. I think at that moment we realized we still had no plan. Maybe finding a place to meet each other again would be a good idea.

"I don't know, Aurelian. What do you think? Would you like to meet with each other to discuss our plan?"

I looked into his eyes, taking note of the fact that he wasn't surprised by anything that just unfolded. My heart was set on a fantastic new hope, but Aurelian's was elsewhere. His look was grave and dismal. I got up from my quiet place on the foot of the bed and stood by Aurelian.

"What is it?" I softly asked him.

"I appreciate your willingness to help me...but, you see...although this all must seem so hopeful and bright to you, I am still the cause of your predicament. You needn't worry about me. The ones I worry about are those touched by my presence. I fear it will only bring danger," he gently took my hand into his. "For you, and now Lydia."

"Your Majesty," Lydia spoke up. "Your presence might bring danger, but has it not also brought good? You appear to come from a land of greater power than ours. Our Magistrate has power, but if he has reason to spite you, it is because he fears yours."

"Do you imply that my danger to you all is caused by jealousy?" Aurelian politely questioned her in response. The question didn't seem like an authentic inquiry, but more like a test. Perhaps the prince already knew the truth and was only seeking a consolation in response.

"In a way. I might not know much, but I do know that if someone is secure, they pay no mind to anyone else. The Magistrate may very well fear your power, but only because it is greater than his. It's...good."

"She's right, Aurelian." I gently stroked the back of his hand. "You may think you've caused this, but I would be in more danger without you. Think of the times that you've saved me, comforted me! We're in this together now. We must work with what we have. Otherwise, all hope will be lost."

"I know. I'm sorry. You're right – truly. That doesn't change that my priority is protecting you. I see danger nearer to you now than I would like to believe. So, I give you my solemn oath. I will do everything in my power to protect you." He bowed his head to Lydia. "And I shall ensure your safety as well, Mrs. Nielsen."

"Let's bear this burden together," I nudged. After that, there was a long pause.

"Is that truly what you want?" He asked me in a near-whisper.

"Yes. It is."

The prince closed his eyes for a moment before letting out deep sigh.

"Very well."

After a few moments, Lydia stood up. A new boldness became evident in her demeanor.

"My prince," she curtsied. "I know that you are good. Therefore, as of today – I vow to do everything in my humble power to ensure that you and the Lady are kept safe. Whatever needs to be done, I will do it."

"Thank you, Mrs. Nielsen. Though, I caution you. Lady Elissa has already put herself in danger, and this is a far more treacherous game than you know. Are you truly willing? You know...I do have the power to make you forget this. It would be difficult, but I can. For your safety."

"I wouldn't ask for that. For such a long time, I've held on to the hope that our world would be set free from the Magistrate and the castes. I do not believe in coincidences. If I am endangered for standing with good, then so be it."

It was evident that, like me, Lydia made her choice. The thought was empowering, yet it was terrifying all the same. Aurelian unexpectedly knelt before her.

"Miss Nielsen, I have seen your willingness to stand for what is good. Your act of courage will not be forgotten."

Lydia's face flickered into a smile.

"Now, as for our escape route," Aurelian began again, turned toward our new ally. He became princelier with each word. It was as if he was assuming the role of an army commander, tasking Lydia with her new assignment. "I like your plan. If you know smugglers, have them ready for Elissa in case I'm not with her." Aurelian met Lydia's eyes with a piercing stare, then quickly did the same to mine. "If I am unable to assist you, you are to take caution and leave this place at the first hint of danger. Don't wait."

"Why just me? And, what about her offer to arrange the meetings?" I spoke up, taking note of the fact that his name wasn't present in the last sentence. He gazed into my eyes and spoke softly.

"As long as I'm near, you needn't worry. I will protect you from your enemies to my last breath..." he continued, suspecting I might protest. "As you have promised to stand by me, I will stand by you. That is why you must heed my warning."

"Very well," I finally sighed. "But what about arranging our next meeting? Or, would you protest?"

"Oh no, I could never protest that," he told me lightly. "I do appreciate the offer...but I can very well give you my word about this: when I want to see you, there will be no human intervention needed. I promise, no matter what is happening or where you are; I will never be faraway."

Aurelian tenderly kissed my hands, and Lydia picked up her towels. He used his powers to move the furniture away from the door and clean up his chaotic mess. She turned from us and quietly inched toward the door, but was stopped.

"LYDIA!" A voice rocked the hallway outside. "Where are you? My word! You said you'd deliver the towels upstairs nearly a half hour ago! Now I have no clean towels for my bath!"

It sounded like Beeti, but it might have been her gruff maid. The screams were too shrill to be certain. She turned around and panicked, barely balancing the stack of linens this time.

"She's coming! Quickly, we have to hide him!" Lydia exclaimed.

In lieu of having just found out that Aurelian couldn't disappear at the spur of the moment, we panicked. We struggled to find some place to hide him. I caught sight of the closet. Without a single word, we awkwardly thrust him inside. As we did, it turned out that he was so tall that he smacked his head on one of the hanging racks.

We slammed the doors shut and fell against them as the woman thundered into my room. Somehow, Lydia did everything while still balancing the linens. We straightened up like soldiers. It was Beeti.

"What on Earth are you girls up to?" She barked.

"Nothing, Aunt Beeti," I sweetly piped up. "Lydia was just showing me the new linens. They smell of lavender, isn't it wonderful?"

Beeti wasn't won over in the least. She examined us suspiciously, attempting to decipher the nature of our disobedience. We remained positioned tactfully in front of the closet. She quickly became impatient with our shenanigans and ordered us to step aside.

"What are you hiding in there?" She attempted yanking me away from the closet door. "My word, girl! Let me through!"

I soon realized that fighting was no use. Aurelian was going to be discovered, or he wasn't. This might have been enough time for him to plan an escape. To be honest, one of his vanishings would be extremely convenient right now.

Beeti shoved me aside and gasped the handle on one of the double doors. I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip as she scanned the inside of my closet.

"There must be something in here," Beeti angrily rattled through my belongings. "Why would they have been blocking it if there was nothing in here?"

I looked over at Lydia and released a distinct grin. The prince was gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Guiding Light

Three days later, Grandmamma began slipping again. Her speech was garbled, her heart weakening with each beat. Everyone knew she was approaching the end. After the meeting with Aurelian, the Presence stopped bothering me. It bombarded other members of the household, but didn't dare touch me.

The Darkness gave the house an eerie, unstable air that discomforted Winston to the point of leaving. I sat beside Grandmamma late at night, wondering why it left me alone. I sensed that when she passed, it would return with dire consequences. Beeti came into the room, wet rag in tow.

"You should give yourself some rest, dear." I was too tired to notice the coolness in her tone. Lydia waddled in right behind her with a crate full of food and medicines that had just been shipped to the manor. Seeing how prepared the two of them were, I obliged to allow myself a night off.

"Goodnight," I told them, slipping out the room and into my quarters.

As soon as I was gone, Beeti knelt at Grandmamma's side with her rag. She dabbed it over her forehead as she slept, feigning care so that Lydia wouldn't smell ill-intentions. After a few minutes of this, Lydia woke her for medications. As servants are naturally expected to, Lydia looked at Beeti and insisted that she not exert herself doing maid's work.

"Please Miss, allow me to do that," she insisted. Though, Beeti refused. At the same time, Grandmamma silently opened her eyes and motioned for a glass of water. Eyeing Lydia's tray of potent elixirs, Beeti spoke up.

"Oh no, dearie. It's no work at all – just wishing to spend a few moments with my mother. I won't take much longer." Beeti's mode now seemed quite strange. As Lydia reached to get Grandmamma her water, Aunt Beeti made a jerking motion. It caused the glass of water and all of the pills in her grasp to topple onto the bed.

"Oh no!" The maid exclaimed, the puddle thoroughly soaking the sheets. Although it was clearly Beeti's fault, Lydia naturally assumed responsibility. "I'm so sorry milady!"

"Oh, you've done it this time! Incompetence! Incompetence!" Beeti snarled, causing her to blush and nearly begin to cry. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go down to the linen closet and grab a fresh towel! I'll keep my mother company while you go and fix this mistake of yours!"

"Of course, milady..." Lydia curtsied before scurrying out of the room. My grandmother was wide awake, but she was mute. Like a prisoner trapped in a glass chamber, the woman was all-seeing, but unable to move.

As soon as Lydia was gone, Beeti hurried to the medicine bottles and read their labels. There had to be at least a twenty of them on the tray, all varying potencies.

Beeti sifted through the bottles, reading none of their labels aloud. She had something specific in mind. After a few minutes of searching through the crate, a dark blue vial found its way into Beeti's pocket. The name didn't matter, nor did its contents. All that seemed to matter to her were a few small words printed on the back:

"WARNING: INTOXICATION AND HALLUCINATION MAY OCCUR WITH MISUSE."

Lydia came back into the room with towels and a new glass of water. Grandmamma's expression was weary and distressed. She knew exactly what her daughter was about to do, yet every time she opened her mouth it was futile.

"Well, I suppose I'll leave you with Mother now," Beeti jovially told the maid. "I'll be retiring for the night. Goodnight to your both."

Beeti got up and left the room, Grandmamma frustrated to the point of tears. Unable to understand the cause, Lydia wiped them away gently. She softly patted her on the hand as a comforting gesture, unaware that the woman was trying to communicate.

"It's alright Lady Abilene," she softly told her as she patted the towels over the wet spots on the bed. "I'm sorry about the mess earlier, but I'm here for you now. There's nothing to worry about."

Oh, but there was. For a moment, Lydia stopped dabbing the wet spot and froze. The woman's eyes said everything.

Meanwhile, I was drifting. I was in bed when I found myself awakened by a harmonious noise. I opened my eyes and sat up in a complete daze, nearly sleepwalking. Entranced, I slipped into my blue satin slippers and stood.

There was a thick velvet cloak hanging just beside the door that I draped over my shoulders. It was deep navy and embroidered with beads and a pattern of shimmering fleur-de-lis. Goodness knows it was there for a reason, otherwise I'd only be wearing my under-slip. I paid no mind to the fact that it wasn't there when I went to bed. I was hypnotized, in a state between dreams and waking.

"What on earth is that sound?"

It continued calling, sounding almost as a symphony Yet, it wasn't quite a symphony. It wasn't quite a song. All I knew for certain was that it was a call. My feet carried me down the hallway and into the staff corridor. I moved calmly and involuntarily toward the door.

On the other side of the door was a lantern. I took it into my hand and found myself winding down a nearly endless pathway, slowly regaining my consciousness with each step. My senses awakened as I realized I was descending into an unknown world.

In the manor, Beeti had retracted to the room beside the staircase, poison in tow. It was the one where I'd been trapped before humiliation, with walls that breathed darkness. She thought of her plan, knowing she had the Magistrate's blessing. The Presence flowed through her body freely.

Beeti took a seat and reached underneath a small table she'd placed in the room two weeks ago. She slipped her hand into a secret compartment and removed a green, leather-bound object. It was my book – the one that chased the Presence away. She cracked it open and thumbed through the pages until finding a card hidden in the center.

She held the card to her candle. A gloating smirk rolled across her face when she read its unholy words. These words were the only way she could consult with her great schemer, the grand mediator who was going to help her achieve everything she wanted. You see, these words were no simple passage or poem.

The words on the card were a spell.

As Lydia cared for Grandmamma down the hall, the woman wouldn't stop crying. Since she couldn't form words properly, my grandmother reckoned that this was her only chance. She could sense what her daughter was doing before anyone else could – and she was not going to let herself be powerless to it. Through her frailty, she fought to get Lydia's attention.

"Milady," Lydia told Lady Abilene in concern, "are you alright?"

For ten minutes, Lady Abilene had been crying non-stop. She couldn't move her hands, but now she mustered enough strength to move her mouth. As she struggled to move her lips, Lydia realized that Grandmamma must have seen or heard something grave.

BEETI, she seemed to be mouthing. She mouthed the word three or four times, then strained herself to take in the air necessary to produce sound. "B-ee-ti!" She finally expelled, the first word she'd said all day long.

"What about Beeti? Is she in trouble?" Lydia leaned in attentively.

"N-no," she murmured again. "Danger!"

After those two words, Grandmamma lost her strength and collapsed onto her pillow. Though the description was vague, she knew she had to find Beeti. Lydia's averted her eyes to the shallow crate, suspicions heightened.

The once-orderly tray of medicines was discombobulated. It was disorganized beyond the few pill bottles that had been knocked over earlier. It was clear they had been tampered with. She sorted through the collection with the inventory slip at the bottom of the crate. If there was a bottle missing, this list would surely tell her which one it was.

After a few moments of reckoning, she realized a bottle was indeed missing. It wasn't an anomaly – not with this medication. The drug that had been taken was one of the most potent and dangerous of all when misused, and for many it was a drug of choice for that reason.

"No," Lydia shook her head in disbelief. "She took the darclooxide!"

At the same time, I continued down the stairs as if I was in a waking dream. The way was dim, but my lantern brought strange contentment. Although alone, I felt someone gently guiding me down each step. The stairs became caverns, wooden boards turning into damp stones. Yet, in the cool underground I felt shrouded by overwhelming warmth.

I continued walking, not fully awake, but rousing. The moment I became fully conscious, the feeling of warmth vanished. The lamp went out. I took note of the stone arches and felt a pang of terror.

"Hello?" I called out. I heard a noise – perhaps a small drip or a creak in the cellar – and thought someone was following me.

Losing my inhibitions, I panicked and ran down the slick stone stairwell. I could only see blackness. Before I started running, I searched the lantern frantically. I searched for a button, a knob, or a switch.

Oddly enough – there wasn't one at all. It was as if my blind faith and euphoric calm powered it. Now that those were gone, the inkling of doubt in my spirit prevented the flame from returning.

I ran like a headless chicken; down a stairwell with no railings, no grip, and not even a wall on the left side. Even as I teetered over the abyss to my left, coming close to falling, my fear-stricken mind believed I was running safely from it.

By God's grace, I reached the bottom of the cellar unscathed. The steps at the bottom were slippery enough for me to lose my balance. Better here than there, I guessed. With nothing to hold onto, I fell face-first onto stone. No bones were broken, but it did bust my lower lip. I was met with a familiar bloody taste.

There was light just a few feet away. It seemed to appear out of nowhere. I got up and hurried toward it. The ground here was dry, even slightly warm. The source of the light was a torch that sat beside a towering wooden door. I was drawn to its handles, iron shaped like roaring lions.

I pushed on them and found myself in an underground courtyard. Torches and candles lit the octagonal plaza as stars underfoot. A vast ceiling spiraled overhead. It was barely lit by the torches, their glow easily lost in its immensity. On each wall there was a long, rectangular mirror. I came to one, surprised when it didn't produce a reflection.

"If you're looking for a reflection I don't think you'll have any luck. That's not a mirror," a voice echoed through the chamber.

"Aurelian," I told him, hypnotized. "It's you."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Dark Mirrors

Beeti held the card over a black candle, reading its mantra. As she recited the words, she burned the edges of the card. It was done exactly as the Magistrate instructed.

"Come to me, O Great Power!

I summon thee this very hour

I summon thee to my aid

To carry out a deed of fate."

With every line that she chanted, that part of the spell disappeared. The fire didn't not consume the card all at once, somehow controlled by the speed of the chanter. Beeti continued.

"As the garden wilts in autumn,

As the winter kills rebellious blooms

Perishes them with a chill to the bone

Show me the way that I might cut down the bloom

That threatens our leader's foothold!"

The last line faded from the card. It instantly became ash. First, they were only flakes of soot; but then they rose up and circled around Beeti's head. It turned to a colorful, sparkling aura that discharged golden dust. The cloud was alive, for it spoke to Beeti.

"What do you request?" The cloud spoke, only audible to her.

"I request that you allow me consultation with the Magistrate."

The cloud manifested into glass. It became a sort of window or mirror. It was a magnificent sight that only she could see. Although real to her, it was delusional to anyone else. The Magistrate's face suddenly hovered in the mirror.

"My servant Beeti," the Magistrate asked. "Have you done as I have instructed?"

She pulled the vial of darclooxide from her apron pocket and smirked. The Magistrate quickly gave a wicked smile in return. Then, he physically reached through the portal and took it to his side of the mirror.

"Well done. This is precisely what the Master has requested," the Magistrate said as he investigated the label of the narcotic.

He reached out and grabbed another vial from a nearby table, mixed it with another, and then with the darclooxide. When he did this, the bottle it was in fizzed and fumed until it oozed human blood. The wicked king smiled before handing it back to Beeti, the blood on his hands as well as hers.

"Mix this with the boy's wine, and then place the empty vial in the child's bedside drawer. I will send an officer to the scene who will conclude that she was the perpetrator. Do as the Master says, and you will also have witnesses. Then the act can't be refuted!"

"How will they see her? The girl would never poison her fiancé knowingly." Beeti dreamily responded to the mirror's instructions.

"Come to me when he arrives, and I shall grant you the power to appear to my nephew and all others as Lady Elissa. Lure him into a room with the promise of wine. You must remember to use the entire vial in his. Do not worry – it will not change the taste or the volume of the wine. It's magic." The man let out a wicked laugh. "Once he drinks, he will become weak and intoxicated. Then, the two tonics will cause him a swift but painful death."

"And what if he refuses to take a drink?" Beeti questioned.

"There is another way. He might refuse the drink, he still shall not refuse Lady Elissa. If the boy will not take a drink, simply sip some of the wine yourself. Sip it, but do not swallow. It will lace your lips with enough poison to cause death for the first person who touches them. Kiss him, and your deed will be done."

"Are you sure that he won't refuse me, Great One?" Beeti skeptically asked again. The Magistrate's eyes then narrowed in certainty.

"Should you appear in her form, he will be too smitten to refuse."

As Beeti conversed with this strange magic, Lydia was already patrolling the hallways to see where the powerful narcotic went. It was a sad fact that many of the servants in homes such as this were apt to steal medicines from the family. It was dangerous, but no less uncommon.

"Jak!" Lydia ran to the stables after scouring the property. She had been careful not to make open the fact that it was missing, for she knew that would probably do more home than good. "I need to know – who in these quarters would have reason to steal darclooxide?"

"I reckon that there would be quite a lot," Jackoby mused, half laughing. Seeing his wife's frantic expression, he became somber. "You know just as well as I do that those poisons are kept well out of reach of the people expected to steal them. Unless it was sitting out in the open, I don't see how anyone here could have taken it."

Lydia turned away from him in frustration, but he spun her around. Their eyes met for the first time in quite a while, and for just a few seconds there was quiet.

"Tell me what's going on," he begged. "We haven't spoken since...you know. Whatever trouble you're in, I want to help you. Now tell me what's going on!"

"I have to go."

"Wait, just wait!" He called to her, but she quickly struggled out of his tender grasp.

"There's no time! I promise that when this is all said and done you will know. All I can tell you know is this – if no one here took it, then someone in the house did. And that person, along with my closest friend, are in danger until I can find out what's going on."

Jackoby fell back into a pile of hay and sighed as she ran away. He knew that she had something important to do, but lately he just couldn't understand.

"Then go," he mumbled to himself. "Go and take care of them. It's not like I could be of any help."

Back in the house, she scanned Beeti's room. Instead of seeing her asleep, it was empty. After looking through all of the living rooms, parlors and chambers of the North Wing; she made her way into the hallway beside the grand staircase. It was the most sparsely visited region in the home.

Four doors down, Lydia heard faint murmuring. It grew louder and louder until she heard a distinct voice. It ranted and raved in odd harmonies, whistling winds, and hushed bangs. Lydia instinctually fell silent, tip-toeing through the hallway. Even she could sense the Presence.

"When shall I do this?" Beeti asked the dark powers in a daze. "When shall I carry out this most brilliant plan?"

"Wait until the old woman is dead," the Magistrate responded. Lydia heard only silence. "Wait exactly 6 hours from the moment of death, then carry out your deed. Then the power shall remain mine, and the money shall remain yours."

"Yes!" She suddenly let out a wicked laugh, her eyes glassy and white, the corneas missing.

The Presence possessed Beeti. Its will was hers. Lydia peeked through a crack in door and witnessed her in silent horror. She'd never seen such evil. Beeti's nature was quiet, conceited, and petty. She was as jealous as her daughter, but she never seemed possessed by such darkness.

"Wonderful," the woman said. "When the old woman dies, I shall carry out the plan. Elissa will be gone, the kingdom ours. When the girl is dead, I'll never have to worry about my title again!"

Lydia pursed her lips tightly. The next sight wasn't kept to Beeti's eyes. Even though there was apparently nothing and no one else there, Lydia saw something on Beet's hands. They were covered in thick, dribbling blood.

At the sight, she ran. Remembering Aurelian's words about the Desert Country, she searched for me feverishly. If this wasn't danger, then she wasn't sure what was. Now she knew the truth – Beeti was planning to kill me.

"Elissa," she whispered my name, combing the hallway outside my room. "Elissa!"

She came to my door and frantically twisted the knob. Somehow, it was locked. She reached into her apron for her keys and shook as she tried to figure out which of the one-hundred-ten keys on the hook was the one.

For her, finding the right key was like trying to find the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle, while dodging bullets in combat. She eventually gave up and mustered the energy to kick the door in. Even after this momentous feat of strength, the emptiness on the other side made her feel powerless.

"Elissa!" She called out, combing the Servants' Quarters.

She spotted Henriette in the kitchen, grabbed her collar and asked if I had been there. She asked one other servant, then two. Finally, she asked Jackoby in tears. No one had seen me. She called everyone to attention, giving them a heated explanation of what she had just seen.

"It's Beeti," she told them in tears. "I just heard her talking about doing away with the Lady! She was sitting in the room beside the staircase – it sounded like she was talking to someone. Then I looked in...and I saw it – I saw her with blood on her hands!"

"Calm down, calm down," Jackoby comforted his wife, who was now hyperventilating. "Now, what about Elissa? Did you see or hear anything that might indicate that she is in danger?"

"That's just it," she choked. "I heard her saying...at least I think I heard her saying...that she plans to kill her as soon as Lady Abilene dies! I don't know, perhaps she meant to kill the Lady of the House also."

"Don't blubber nonsense," Henriette remarked. "You could've just been hearing things."

"I wish it was so. I went to go find Elissa afterward...just to be sure that she was alright. When I looked –" Lydia couldn't bring herself to finish.

"Where is Lady Elissa? Is she okay?" Jackoby sternly asked.

"No," Lydia struggled to speak. "Well, I don't know. I went through every room in the house and...and...Lady Elissa is gone."

The servants began bickering. Many of them dismissed her hysterics – but Jackoby looked into his wife's eyes and knew. He stepped on top of a wooden table, pulling Lydia beside him.

"Everyone, listen!" He shouted. "You might disagree with my wife's account, but I know that none of you are loyalists. The rich don't know the meaning of our kinship – but Elissa does! We have to find her," he continued, "because we can't leave one of our own."

"Elissa's one of us!" Henriette shouted. She turned to the crowd of servants as well. "You know what has been done to her – and you know how Beeti's treated us! Everyone's been behaving strange lately. I wouldn't put it past her."

The crowd came into unanimous uproar. There were forty, maybe fifty people present. Although unspoken, the house was filled with rebels. They began planning their mission. It proved nonconstructive and they fell back into bickering. There wasn't one legitimate plan of action until a voice spoke up in the doorway.

"SILENCE!" A slight woman spoke up, dressed in a nun's garb. "Now, I haven't been here to see what's caused you to fall into such ruckus – but I have reason to ask if it has to do with Lady Elissa Celeste."

Lydia stepped down in silence, the entire room following her astonished lead. How could she have known?

"Sister Marie," Jackoby began. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to know about Lady Elissa. Is she the object of your concern?"

"She is," he told her, still standing on the table. "Now tell us why you came to the Servants' Quarters instead of the house."

Marie-Katherine looked around the room gravely. "I'm here because God told me to be."

"Oh my..." someone murmured in disbelief from the center of the crowd. Several others began expressing their opinions. Soon, the room was under another wave of bickering.

"Everyone, quiet!" Jackoby stomped on the table. He was also skeptical, but he was willing to hear her out. "How precisely did 'God' tell you to come here? If you are here for Elissa, first prove your allegiance by enlightening us."

"I need not prove my allegiance to anyone but my God! I am here because I had a vision. During my evening meditations, I heard a voice calling to me that said: 'Open your eyes.' When I did, I saw and heard the Lord telling me that Elissa was in danger.

He told me to come here, but not to go to the family. Then I saw a great darkness looming over her head and all of yours. There were other things I saw..." she hesitantly continued. "But they were nearly undecipherable to me..."

"What other things did you see? Please, tell me," Lydia begged.

"I saw Beeti, sitting beneath a black cloud. Her heart was set on death...her hands..." she stopped for a moment, "covered in blood."

At the very word, he jumped off the table and cornered the pious woman. Although she was known to be a decent woman, he was remarkably suspicious. How could she have seen such things?

"Are you involved in this?" He snarled. "Tell me the truth. Do you know where Elissa is? Who is behind this, and what conspiracy will they use next?"

"I not am against you, Jackoby Nielsen. You know I am no loyalist," Marie-Katherine told him sternly. "I came because I saw that Elissa is in danger. As soon as I saw it, I had Father Joshua mount the horses and send me to the Estate.

We have sensed dark magic brewing here for a long time – and Elissa is hunted by darkness. If you fear the child to be in danger, then my vision is true. The monastery and the convent are willing to help, but they cannot if you don't allow me to understand what's going on."

"Jak, Marie-Katherine is a trustworthy woman. I believe her," Lydia gently pushed Jackoby aside. "Sister, I believe your vision was right. I, too saw what you saw. Now Elissa is missing. Can you help us find her?"

"I will help you in any way I can," Marie-Katherine solemnly replied. "Have you been sure to look for her in the manor?"

"Yes. I looked everywhere."

The room fell silent. This nun had knowledge of the underground world that most others didn't. She sensed where I was hiding.

"Not everywhere."

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Healer

Time felt like it was passing at half speed. I stared into Aurelian's eyes, cradled in a warm embrace. It was hypnotic and dizzying. He put his chin to the top of my head, nuzzling and kissing it gently.

"If they're not mirrors, then what are they?" I asked him.

"They're doors."

There was a split second afterward in which I fully believed him. Then, skepticism came. Now I could see our reflections clearly, and I was positive that these were mirrors.

"Aurelian, I see mirrors, not doors."

"You see that because you're only looking with your earthly eyes. You have to look at them with another pair," he softly explained. "They're mirrors to you, but I'm about to show you that they are much more."

"Are these from your world?" I asked curiously.

"Not exclusively. It belongs to yours and many others. Except, your people don't understand how they work." Our hands melded, and he led me to a mirror. "They are portals to other worlds."

"Impossible," I muttered.

"Elissa," Aurelian whispered to me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "After all you've seen, why is it impossible? It is possible. The world I come from and many others are ones of untold magic."

The closer we were to the mirror, the eerier it felt. When we were arm's length from the glass, Aurelian kissed my hand and placed it there. I expected a hard, smooth surface; but, our hands went through it. The surface wasn't like glass. It was like water. I pulled my hand out, frightened.

"What was that?! " I yelped.

"It's a door to another world," he whispered, clinging to me. "Not my world, that's not safe. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea. I'm sorry I frightened you. I only wanted to show you this and perhaps even...take you somewhere."

As soon as he uttered the last three words, the prince regretted it. Even though he'd been brought up to command armies, his strategy with me wasn't so perfect. I knew his intent wasn't ill. It was simply flawed.

"Is that why you brought me here? Were you trying to steal me?"

The words wounded him. Instead of answering, he touched my face.

"You fell," he remarked. "And now you're bleeding."

"It's just a little scratch. Please tell me why I'm here!"

"I have many reasons. But before I tell you, I want to show you something."

Aurelian brushed his hand over my face, touching it the way he touched my bruise the other day. He gently pressed his finger onto my injury. It stung with pain for a moment, the blood still leeching out of it onto his fingers. Then, I felt a small jolt.

It was a burst of warmth, maybe even an electric shock. The bloody taste left my mouth. The burning was gone. I saw my reflection in one of the doors. The gash on my lip, as well as the remainder of my bruise, was gone.

"Oh, my –" I started in amazement, forgetting my inquisitions. "You...you..."

"Yes. I fixed it. I won't stand to see you suffer, Elissa. This is who I am."

"How?" I muttered as I stared at my reflection in shock.

"It's one of my gifts."

"There are more?" I asked. "I know I've seen some of your powers before. How many are there – are there very many?"

"Yes, though not all of them are as strong. My people are born with many talents, but one is always heightened above the rest. Sometimes two are equally as strong. Mine is the rarest and little understood ability of all."

"You have the power to heal?" There was silence on both ends. I couldn't tell if he was refusing an answer or just waiting for me to figure out that I had already answered my own question. "Do you use it often?"

"No," he later spoke up. "It's actually something I haven't done in quite a while...not since I was a child."

"But, it's fantastic. Why not?"

"I've had no one in my life to heal."

After that, Aurelian didn't say a word. I sensed his vulnerability. Then, I realized it. I was the first person in a very long time – maybe even a lifetime – who trusted him as he was. There was something in his life that kept him from believing that he was good.

"You've been alone all this time, haven't you?" I softly told him, realizing the meaning of his actions. My next words caused astonishment. "I don't need reassurance of your goodness. No matter what your powers are, I've always known that."

"You are a remarkable young woman," he told me in an almost-speechless daze.

"And you are a most unexpected prince!" I flashed a slight smile.

Then, it suddenly occurred to me that I still didn't know why I was here. This was a distraction. A heartfelt, beautiful distraction; but a distraction nonetheless. Sentimentality took a sour turn, and I looked at him in utter seriousness.

"Now, tell me. Why am I here?"

I knew that he was omitting something. A few seconds passed, and my patience was dwindling. I pulled away and looked into his eyes sternly, repeating myself.

"Why am I here?"

He still didn't say a word – now acting almost as if he was waiting. I opened my mouth to ask once more when I was halting by the screeching of wooden doors.

"That's why."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

As the Moon Chases the Sun

Lydia and Sister Marie-Katherine stood cloaked in black before us. Lydia was especially distressed. Covered in sweat, she looked as if she saw a ghost. The Sister clung tightly to the lion's mouth railing. They approached us slowly, uncertain if we were real. After a few steps, Lydia threw everything else aside and ran to us.

"Elissa, I've been looking for you all night!" She cried. "Do you know what time it is?"

"No," I softly replied, still tight in the prince's arms. Marie-Katherine spoke next.

"This part of the underground has an impact on the portion of your mind that perceives time...so do not be alarmed at what I say next." The woman took a momentary pause. "You've been missing for over twelve hours."

I untangled myself from his grasp, backing away from them all as slowly as I could. This wasn't right. It absolutely wasn't right! How could either of them have found us? I backed away from the crowd, ready to stand on my own this time.

"All of you – I don't care. I want an explanation as to what's going on!" I shouted.

"There's really no good way to explain it. I promise that neither Lydia nor I came down here with awareness that you were with...the prince," Marie-Katherine paused for a moment. "Lydia told me about everything on the way down – not to betray you, but because we feared you dead."

"Dead?" I echoed. Aurelian quickly came to me and tried to hold my hands, but I pulled away. Despite my resistance, he spoke up anyway.

"Elissa..." he began. "I know that it might be hard to understand, but as powerless a prince I am in your world, I foresaw this very moment. That's why I called you here. That's why I tried to convince you to come with me. I sensed the danger that you were in...and I knew that now was time. I only want to protect you."

I knew Aurelian wanted me safe, but this felt different. He remembered our bargain. We were supposed to be fighting side-by-side, but it seemed like he wanted to retreat. There was something he held back. He struggled to explain it, but Marie-Katherine spoke up for him.

"I don't know what's gone on down here, but there's something in the world above that puts you in grave danger. Graver danger than you were in at any point in time before," Marie-Katherine told me. Her statement was followed by a long silence. Lydia spoke up, and my heart dropped.

"Elissa...your grandmother is nearly breathing her last. Since you left, the entire family has started saying their final goodbyes."

"Then take me back! Don't let me stay here another moment!" I exclaimed in a fury. Rash tears crawled down my cheeks at the thought.

"That's just it...I can't," Lydia sobbed. She quieted, her voice cracking. "Because as soon as she dies, Beeti is going to kill you!"

Lydia neared me again, reaching for my shoulder. In the shock of the moment, I could only pull away. They must have been crazy, or maybe I was crazy. Confused, I continued backing until I was dangerously close to one of the portals.

Before I could comprehend it, I tripped, and began a backward descent into another world. Aurelian raced to me with superhuman speed. The mirror's gelatinous surface consumed my body, the liquid running into my nostrils and sucking the breath from my lungs. It stung my eyes with images of stars against blackness. Colorful plumes of stardust danced around my neck.

I felt pressure sucking in my cheekbones. I was weightless, but sinking in something thick and palpable. It was cold and fiery at once, like a night terror. Crystalline chunks of rock floated around my head, refracting light of unseen colors. It was painful, but devilishly beautiful. Aurelian grabbed my hand and pulled me back into reality.

When it was over, I was in his arms gasping for breath. My human heart was frantic to the point of failure, but when I met his soft gaze I was instantly calmed. He stroked my forehead as I came to, carrying me much like a husband carries his wife over the threshold. He placed my feet on the ground far away from the portals. This time, he stood behind me.

"I know it's hard to understand," he whispered to me. "But I can't lose you. That's why I called you here. Sometimes, I see what will happen in the future. Not far into the future; just the near future. The night before, I had a dream. I saw the Darkness over you. It hovered over you, tormenting your spirit and reaching out from the walls. I knew I had to protect you from it."

I shivered. The spirit he spoke of sounded like the one I felt constantly since his first appearance. I knew that there was darkness in his world and in the Magistrate, but I never connected it with what I was sensing.

"The Presence," I shuddered. "You're speaking of the Presence."

"The Presence?" Aurelian echoed.

"I don't know how to explain it. It's the only name I know it by; this terrible, sinking oppression that's more than a feeling. It makes everything around you feel dark and cold. Sometimes, it breathes through the walls and plays tricks with my vision. I thought it was anxiety for a long time, but it must be something more. I've had it since the moment I met you."

Aurelian shrank. His eyes emanated dread. Lydia shivered as well, feeling it also. Sister Marie-Katherine was neither fearful nor unguarded. She looked at the Prince in awe. Now she was certain her vision was no minuscule thing.

"Your Highness, I had a vision much like yours. That's the reason I came looking for Lady Elissa Celeste," she said in astonishment. "Now that I know the Lady's experiences, I'm certain that there is an oppression wishing to bind her."

Aurelian's expression became soberer. He clung to me. His grasp was a protective wall that kept the Presence away.

"It's not her soul that it wants," he started. Aurelian turned loosened his grip. "It's mine. 'The Presence,' as you call it, is the curse. It chases after me because it wants my soul. Wherever I go, I can only escape it for a little while. Then, it comes back, hunting me. Now it wants to destroy her for my insubordination."

"Or, maybe it's afraid of her." Lydia opened her mouth. She instantly covered it, the words coming from somewhere deep and otherworldly. The thought occurred in my mind at the same time.

"Afraid of a sun daughter?" Aurelian asked skeptically. Lydia was emboldened this time.

"You said it yourself in the Lady's room. The forces hunting you both have become one. And it's just like I said – someone that's secure in their power ought not care about anyone else. Maybe it's weaker than you think."

"It's a provoking notion," the prince started, sounding caught. "You know not the forces of which you speak. Elissa is in danger. The Darkness is already at work in this place, with many servants under its control."

There was bleak silence. Sister Marie-Katherine looked at me. "We must get you away from here somehow...the things that Lydia heard Beeti saying and saw her doing are no trivial matter. She is armed with poison and is out for your blood."

"The servants have already made a plan to smuggle you to the Desert Country. If you come with us now, perhaps there is time..." Lydia told me, grabbing my hand. I quickly pulled it away.

"No," I told her. Everyone in the room suddenly looked at me as if I was completely insane.

"Elissa...there are more people than just your aunt who want your blood," Aurelian insisted. "Remember what I told you. The Darkness has many servants in your world. It would be safest to leave now."

The danger of the Presence lingered behind thoughts of Grandmamma. The closeness of her passing was mentioned only briefly. All I could think of was how unforgivable it would be if I couldn't say goodbye.

Of course, it seemed rational not to give Beeti the opportunity. The consequences of remaining to see Grandmamma off seemed to outweigh those of fleeing. My heart wouldn't accept anything else. Though, it felt like the decision was already made. Lydia and the Sister nodded in agreement with the Prince. It made me boil.

"I won't be a coward," I hotly declared. "I'm not leaving. Where would I go to get away from this? Another world? Just let me tell her goodbye. Then, I'll go wherever we need to. This is MY decision. Darkness or none, Presence or no Presence; I need to do this."

Once I affirmed my stubbornness, the room was quiet. They couldn't sway my passions. Desiring only to help, Aurelian spoke up tenderly and reluctantly.

"Elissa...I'm sorry. There's obviously nothing that can change your mind. I cannot force you to come with me. But, do you trust me?"

"What do you mean?" I posed.

"Do you trust me?" He asked again.

I thought about it long and hard, and in doing so my anger began to wash away. It was a question that required an answer, an answer that required privacy. The Prince shared my thoughts.

"Could we be alone for a moment?" Aurelian asked the women.

Once they were gone, Aurelian and I found ourselves close again. I didn't speak, deep in thought. His fingers twisted around mine. Aurelian's aura was full of patience and passion.

"Yes, I trust you," I eventually told him.

"Then trust that I will protect you."

The prince held something back. There was confusion, then clarity. I quizzed him, waiting patiently and passionately as he did.

"Why do you want to protect me? This goes beyond obligation. You've been holding back. Tell me what it is."

We could very possibly die in these next few days, so he might as well tell me now. He touched his forehead to mine and nuzzled me gently. He began speaking a low, gentle whisper.

"Elissa, I've been alone far too long. I wasn't honest with you at the start, and for that I am truly sorry. I've been selfish and cowardly, running from my destiny." Aurelian's breathing became deep, reaching around my heart with hot tendrils. He continued.

"I knew who you were when I first saw you in the garden. I sensed your every strength and beauty. Before that, I saw you in my dreams. I've tried to deny, if only to spare you this burden. I cannot hide it anymore."

He overcame me with desire, placing his lips over mine in a slow, melodic kiss. Moist air brushed against my cheeks. Our lips parted, and he rhythmically whispered into my ear.

"You bind me in ways I rejoice and fear. You consume my thoughts. Even across the chasm that separates our hearts, I chase you as the moon chases the sun. Elissa, I love you."

I felt my body tremble with pure emotion when I heard the words. The words were poetry. I'd known it all along, even if I hadn't grasped it. We melted into each other even more. My slight chest leaned just above his belly-button. His finger rested on my chin, tilting it so that he could see my eyes in the pale-yellow lights of the cavern. I opened my mouth, hardly able to speak.

"And I've always loved you."

We exchanged another tender kiss, our hearts one. The beat of his was different than mine. It was stronger and resonated differently than a human being's. It was like a piece of solid gold being knocked about by a hammer. Somehow, it thumped in unison with mine. The world seemed hostile to us, but this felt right.

"I understand now," I uttered when our lips parted. "We're in this together. Apart, we have nothing to gain and together nothing to lose. I will go with you wherever it is that we need to go. But, I must tell my grandmother goodbye."

"Very well, my love," he told me. The concern in his face was evident. He knew that this might not be a wise decision, but he respected my choice. "Go to her, and then we shall plan from there. I promise that as long as I have breath, I love you; and as long as I love you, I'll never be far away."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The Eyes

Going home was the most dreamlike experience at all. When I found my own bed, unnatural exhaustion overwhelmed, causing a stupor that lasted a day. Lydia kept the staff and the rest of my family at bay, telling them I was violently ill.

"Wake up, wake up!" Wren shouted several hours later. She shook me awake like a rag-doll in an insane asylum.

"What time is it?" I groggily asked.

"It's time to get up!" She hastily told me, pulling me out of bed without regard for Lydia's warning.

"Please, just let me sleep!" I pleaded.

"You don't understand, Elissa," Wren rushed. "I know you feel poorly, but you must come and see Grandmamma."

As soon as she said it, I knew. My weary brain filled with energy. I lurched out of bed and made a run for the hallway. Servants and clergy piled into the space, clearly here for the same reason I was. Grandmamma was a wise and beloved woman, of whom none of the servants spoke ill. I used my small frame to my advantage, weaving through the otherwise immovable crowd. My lungs expelled a sigh of bittersweet relief when I reached her room.

"You're just in time," Lydia told me softly, sitting at Grandmamma's bedside. "She's been waiting for you."

Grandmamma was wide awake, though dismally still. When she saw me, her weak facial muscles moved into a smile. Wren came in soon after, kneeling at her mother's side and kissing her forehead. Even though she hadn't said anything in days, Grandmamma opened her mouth and spoke up in the clearest, most pristine speech.

"Darling Wren, I've had many hours alone with you. Now I wish to speak alone for a time with my dear Elissa," she expressed to my amazement.

Wren nodded in agreement with her mother's wish. She got up and began to herd the crowd from the room, but Grandmamma quickly displayed an untold amount of strength as she grabbed her hand.

"Wren, you are such a precious daughter of mine. Never give up your kind nature or free spirit. I love you."

Tears came down Wren's face as she said it. I knew what this meant, but it made no sense. If this was the end, why could she suddenly move and speak? How did she have the strength to grab someone's hand?

"Grandmamma," I softly sobbed.

"Child, don't cry," she soothed. "I wanted to tell you something. I cannot tell you if you're in tears."

I used my sleeve to wipe the tears and swallowed the rest. Grandmamma beckoned me to come closer.

"I must tell you something," she told me. "I see much more than you know. Not just in recent times, but in the past as well. Even some of the future. Today, God has given me the strength to tell you; which is why I know that today is my last."

"Don't say that Grandmamma! You are gaining strength, see? You could become well –"

"Oh, hush! I am an old woman. My bones are breaking, my joints aching...my lungs practically invalid for all but this moment! My time is approaching and you mustn't argue. I've lived a long time as the matriarch of this family, and now it is time that I passed that on to you."

At her last word, I shuddered. My mind whirled as I remembered what the Magistrate had told me. I remembered the danger I was in, past and present. The title of heiress wasn't mine. It was Beeti's!

"No," I asserted. "Beeti will inherit the Estate. I will not take it!"

"Elissa! You mustn't say that. That is not what I meant. I know what the Magistrate has threatened you. Do not worry – for all will be well with you in the end."

I fell back, stunned. How could she know? I questioned if these were the words of my grandmother, or a test from the Magistrate.

"How could you possibly know what went on between us?"

"Elissa...I am close to death. I see many things that those in their youth cannot. In life, I was also given a gift."

"Gift?" I echoed.

"It is a spiritual gift, Elissa. It's called the Eyes. You have it also. My gift has strengthened with age, as will yours. Only, when you learn to use it, you're destined to do great things."

"Grandmamma, eyes? What about eyes? I don't understand–"

"If only you listened with your heart, then you would!" She exclaimed. "The Gift of Eyes allows you to see and sense what human eyes cannot. Most people have it in their spirit, but it's rare for the Eyes to manifest themselves as they do in you and I.

"The Eyes is a gift that brings with it many others. For me, it brought wisdom. For you, it brings strength. It is a strength that comes with stubbornness and devotion, one of the most endearing gifts of all. The abilities you have can touch the intangible."

"I still don't understand what you're talking about," I told her behind a blank face. Truthfully, I was moved eerily by each word.

"Child, don't lie to me. I know you've felt the spirit world. You've seen and felt the Darkness. You've even given it a name. It wants you to fear it, for it knows you are capable.

As for the Magistrate, do not fear him. The Magistrate will not be able to harm any of the goodness inside of you. He will try, but he will not succeed. Because you are part of an order of seers, kings, and warriors destined to defeat him."

I was at a loss for words. Whatever skepticism I had was gone. My hands trembled in hers. The next words she spoke were almost startling:

"Your prince is here. He waits for you."

Unless someone broke our sacred truce, there's no human way she could know. I knew that her insight came from something greater. I struggled to understand that her gift was mine.

"Grandmamma, how could you know?" I sobbed, "How?"

"Long ago, I saw the chasm between our worlds shrinking. They will soon become one in you. After I am gone, you mustn't haste. Darkness will not cease its attempts to bind you, so always be wary. Your goodness can defeat it."

At her final word, Grandmamma's voice weakened. Wakefulness and strength faded from her body. She had delivered her message, and now it was time. After a few minutes, she spoke up again. Only this time, it was a weak, breathy kind of speech.

"It's time," she said, her eyes now wide open and gazing. "I see it – I see the Plateau of the Unknown approaching. I see my mother...my daughter...I see the Christ."

"No, no! Please, not yet! At least tell me what you know will happen –" I shook, realizing at once that she was leaving me.

I called out repeatedly, but it was no use. Maybe it was the Eyes, because I was certain I saw a bright light rise from her body. It was rising from the bed to the ceiling, searching for somewhere to go as it faded into vapor. I ran to the window and opened it quickly. The air left her lungs, and she was gone.

I broke down and wept. The woman who loved and protected me more than anyone else in this place was gone. It was like losing my mother again. I remembered the moment that I first saw her, dressed in a way that seemed gaudy to my uncultured eyes.

I remembered her first words to me at the casket. My ears heard them as sharp and direct. In reality, they were sober and awkward, struggling to meet someone she loved from a distance, while mourning a love she knew well. Beeti was the only person at the funeral that scoffed, yet I blamed her actions on the lot of them. I thought that Lady Abilene was no different. What an error I made!

I remembered the way I wove my hair into my mother's before they shut the coffin. I came to Grandmamma, now pale and lifeless, and did the same to her:

"The land beyond the sea is yours

The land beyond our sky."

I sang it to her as Delpha sang it to me, changing the lyrics to make her a queen. I collected myself, face still red, and prepared to inform the servants. Everyone stood at the door in silent suspense.

When I opened it, my face said everything. The clergy rushed into the room first. A doctor followed, then came the hoard. I took my nimble frame and once again wove through the crowd, silently and tearfully searching for my door. I slammed it behind me upon arrival. I fell to my knees beside the bed, kneeling as a child does for nighttime prayers. A familiar, warm touch graced my shoulders.

"It's time," he whispered.

Before I even turned my head, I knew. I took his hand and stood up. Grandmamma's warning echoed in my mind. If things were as she said, I couldn't wait. I tearfully nodded.

"I'll go."

"Good. You have an hour to gather what you need. I'll be watching from a distance, should danger arise," he instructed. "Ready your things and bring a warm cloak. Then, I will meet you in the maze of windows."

"Wait? I thought we were going to the Desert Country?" The thought of reentering the stunning but choking abyss filled me with anxiety. I felt my limbs sinking into the watery gel. Aurelian comforted me.

"There will be no pain this time. I'll shield you from it. We'll go somewhere warm and light, where we can live our lives in peace."

"Why not the Desert Country?" I still shuddered.

"A journey to the Desert Country is risky. It's long and tiresome because it's at the mercy of human hands. And although far, it's not out of the reach of our pursuers," he explained.

"Then why did you tell Lydia to take me there?"

"Elissa, I only wanted you to go there as a last resort...if I was somehow unable to protect you anymore."

I quieted in uncertainty. Once again, I felt someone else's will superseding mine. Then, I felt it. I felt his eyes imprinting on my soul. They urged me to search myself. I closed mine and remembered Grandmamma's warning. I remembered my "gift."

That's when I saw it. I saw the face of the Presence. It was a sooty cloud that overtook everything it touched. It was a mist, but it was also a man. It was vapor with a face and a shadow with flesh. It had no color. No light escaped from it.

It was a void that couldn't be described in human terms, but might be understood as raw power. It became everything and nothing. It sat on a translucent, golden throne; sending the man sitting there into madness. A woman stood at the throne with a heavy sword, smashing the seat until it shattered into thousands of glass shards. When I opened my eyes, Aurelian clung to me, sweating. It was clear that he'd seen it, too.

"You've seen the Darkness, Elissa," he said. "You've seen its face. We must leave."

I nodded, shaking after the revelation. The face of the Presence – now clearly the Darkness, was insanity and terror. Though, I had a sense that something still wasn't right. Something in the vision struck me differently than it did Aurelian. Instead of pure fear, there were undertones of hope. It felt like I was forfeiting a battle that had just begun.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Kiss of Death

"Here Lissie, you'll need your cape. The prince said so," Lydia spoke, preparing me for the journey. She draped the navy cape over my shoulders, the embroidery glittering. Lydia drew the hood over my head and cinched it in around my neck, careful not to disrupt my pearls.

While Lydia prepared my dress, Beeti waited. She secretly watched me, scanning the house. When we began our descent into the caverns, Beeti tested the vacancy of my room. Certain I was gone, she rushed into the seclusion of her vile den.

There, she sat with her black candle going over the same series of enchantments. The mirror-like portal appeared on the wall, giving her a means to communicate with her conspirator.

"I have already sent my nephew to the Estate," the Magistrate bellowed. "He will arrive six hours from now to 'console' her. Seduce him. You understand what must be done after that."

Beeti nodded, displaying a cruel grin. The Darkness released a plume of dark magic through the mirror. The magic turned into a cloud, one that was at first as black as a roaring thunderhead. It engulfed Beeti and stopped time as it began her metamorphosis.

The transformation brought pain and ecstasy. A thousand horned imps jabbed at her with hot spikes as the skin stretched over her new bones. Her limbs shrank, the width of her wrists becoming slight enough to be restrained by only a thumb and forefinger.

The color and length of her hair changed from short coal to long, wispy caramel. The lines on her face disappeared. Her unusually sharp, sallow features receded to delicacy and vigor. When the storm subsided, all that remained was a cloud of black, sparking dust and a new creature. The creature was venomous and out of place, like a spider emerging from a monarch's cocoon.

The Magistrate looked at Beeti triumphantly. He left the mirror momentarily, allowing her to study her new reflection. Beeti touched her girlish face in awe. When she opened her mouth, she was astounded by a new voice as well. The resemblance uncanny.

Bearing my face, the Magistrate blessed Beeti to carry out her task. She smirked, clutching the poison in her apron pocket. Testing the magic, she went into the hall and appeared to the servants in what she hoped was a convincing form.

"You there," she snapped to the first servant she saw. It was a Jackoby, having just emerged from Grandmamma's room after paying his respects. Beeti eyed him venomously. "What business do you have in there? Shouldn't you be in the stables, 12th caste?"

Hearing such unkindness come from my mouth was jolting. It hurt him, perhaps to the point that he regretted helping me. However, he was still a servant. He held it in, speaking cordially.

"Yes, Lady Elissa. I deeply apologize...I was only paying my final respects to the Lady. I will get right back to work, I promise."

Upon hearing my name, Beeti could only smile. It was the perfect mask for her deceit. Six hours later, Winston arrived, just as the Magistrate said he would. It was time to begin the temptation. The moment Winston arrived, Beeti put on another mask. This time, it was of a grieving granddaughter.

"Elissa," Winston whispered, taking her into his arms. They stood beside his carriage. "I came as soon as my uncle told me. I'm sorry that I left you before, but now I promise that I shall never leave you in your time of need again. Not until the moment you send me away."

Basking in satisfaction, Beeti held back wicked laughter. She replaced it with body language that begged seduction. She went along with every word, never grasping that my normal demeanor was almost always opposed to Winston. Even though it didn't seem like me, Winston was pleasantly surprised. She opened her mouth, knowing that Winston would hang on to every word.

"I would never send you away, my darling fiancé. Not now. Come into the house and get settled. Then we might converse a little. Perhaps your company might help me to forget the plight of these last few hours..." She told him softly, working her way into a light sob.

That night, no one had dinner at the communal table. Grandmamma was gone, and Wren wanted to be alone. That made it the perfect time to lure Winston for a drink. Beeti came to Winston's door and gave it a soft knock. Once he opened it, she became the perfect actress.

"Oh Winston...everyone in the family is too grieved to eat or drink together tonight. I was hoping that perhaps you might join me for a glass of wine... to help us forget our sorrows."

Winston knew he should refuse the order for morality's sake, but when he saw her appearance he thought again. She wore and alluring dress, her hair unbound in wild cascades. The dress was the color of death, but it was too suggestive for mourning attire. It was clear that she had scandalous intentions. As decent a man as Winston was, he couldn't resist.

"Of course, of course..." he shakily responded to the offer. He was half-dressed himself – clad only in his undershirt and a pair of long-johns – but he didn't wait. Winston followed each step into the vacant room across from my chambers. She took him in and locked the door behind her.

"It's more private here," she told him in a seductive tone. "No one will think to disturb us."

Winston nodded and sat down on a loveseat in the corner of the room. Beeti walked to a table on the other end, displaying two wine glasses that were already filled to the brim. She turned her back to him, removing the poison from its new place in her corset. She unscrewed the concoction of darclooxide and magical tonic.

"You will love the wine, it's foreign," Beeti told Winston, her back still turned as she inched the vial toward the glass. "It was a gift to Grandmamma long ago...she wouldn't want us to waste it."

The poison was just a few millimeters from contamination. One small nudge, and the deed was done. The red wine fizzed and turned black upon entry. For a few seconds she feared it would remain this way. Though, the wine soon returned to its usual color. Once it returned to the deep red hue, Beeti was careful to place the poisoned glass in her right hand while carrying the other in her left.

She swayed to the love seat suggestively, handing Winston the glass. She sipped from hers, unconsciously telling him to join her. Though, much to Beeti's dissatisfaction, Winston placed it on a side-table.

"Winston, why must you refuse to taste such wonderful wine?" Beeti taunted him beseeching eyes.

"Why rush? I desire to enjoy your company in good judgment, not while impaired," Winston nervously told her, second guessing himself in the face of scandal.

"One sip won't impair you..." Beeti trailed off, using my voice to mimic one of my most little-used, but enticing tones. She took another sip from the clean glass, but Winston wouldn't budge.

"You're grieving, Elissa...you're not thinking things through. I've seen many people like you revert to wine in times like this, and it's not as comforting as you believe –"

"Comfort?" She interrupted, inching her way closer and closer to Winston. "I do not seek comfort from the wine...I seek comfort from you."

At that moment, she grabbed his collar and gave him a passionate kiss. Winston became wet clay in her hands. He'd do anything she asked now, which brought her a dastardly thought. Killing him with a sip of wine was too easy. No, she was going to take this a step further.

She took a sip from Winston's cup – careful not to swallow – and laced her lips with it. She invaded Winston's space for the last time, placing a kiss on his lips that was the essence of death itself.

"Oh, Elissa...I love you," Winston whispered in a daze when their lips parted. Within a second, he was slipping away, his senses heightened by the poison at first touch. Beeti knew the end wasn't far away. She pulled herself off the dying duke and glared at him.

"I'm not who you think I am," she coolly announced.

"Then who are you?" The fading man asked in reply.

The effect of the poison came on full-force. Winston's skin became pale, his eyes glazed over and his limbs as stiff as a statue. When the pain arrived, Winston couldn't even scream. By then, he was so disconnected from his body that he couldn't form a sound. The rest of his death need not be detailed, for it's enough to give even the strongest person nightmares.

The entire ordeal lasted only a few minutes, at the end of which Beeti triumphed to the highest reaches of pride. Making it into an act of true revenge, the cruel woman knelt at Winston's side and gloated as he took his final breaths.

"Winston...I am not the object of your wholly unrequited love. I am merely an instrument of your uncle and the Darkness. You were foolish to fall into this trap, but you were even more foolish to question his power."

Even beyond his right mind, Winston understood. His tormented expression filled with the pain betrayal. Then, the life left him. Beeti stood up. The task was nearly finished now. She grabbed the empty vial of poison, unlocked the door and went back into the hallway.

Once she reached the other side, Beeti opened my door. She stuffed the vial into my bedside drawer. It was finished. She cringed, the external guise beginning to fade as her bones stretched and set back into place. The pain was an executioner flaying her with a hot knife. It gave rise to a sickening smile. Soon, Beeti would have everything she wanted.

All she had to do was wait for someone to find the body.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Doors to the Universe

Except for water dripping onto stone, all I could hear was the sound of Lydia's trembling. It was obvious that she was terrified of this place. I wasn't that comfortable, either. The awareness that this would be the last we saw of each other kept us from voicing our complaints.

"Lydia, it's alright to say you're afraid. I'm still here!" I grabbed her free hand, partially to comfort her and partially to comfort myself. She continued clutching our only guiding light – a torch – in the other.

"It's so dark in here," Lydia shivered.

"You know what makes me feel better when I'm in the dark sometimes?" I attempted to raise her spirits. "I sing."

"Of course you do," She dimly smiled back.

"Come now – don't you remember when we sang together? When we ran from Beeti's maid?" I asked.

"Oh yes! It was as if we were children again," she laughed. "What song did we sing again?"

"You know, I almost can't remember," I fumbled in response, contemplating. "It was from a fairy tale...perhaps it was that one about –"

"The prince!" We both said at once.

"How did it go again? Oh, it's been so long! Oh yes, I remember now!" She immediately started singing. Not long after that I joined in myself:

"In folly he thought he came

Only to bring her rain

But the love was within

Wrapped up in the skin

That she'd see to be him all the same"

I started singing with her during the second line of the song, but then something halted me. It was the Eyes. It came to me all at once, my vision flooding with memories. They were more than thoughts. They were clear and present experiences that played out just as they did when I lived them.

My mind went to the moment Lydia sang with me for the first time. Then, it went back further, to the raucous servants bellowing the song as they drank. Then, further. It went a time when my mother read sang to me at our hearth after reading from a fairy book she borrowed from Delpha.

I saw the cover and felt a strange sensation. The image stood out to me, and I wasn't sure why. When I came back into the present, I was unable to decipher the eerie feeling it gave me.

"It's a bit ironic," Lydia spoke up at the end of the song. "We've found our own prince in disguise, haven't we?"

"Yes, we have..." I replied, the uncertainty evident in my tone. As hard as I tried to send it somewhere else, the feeling refused to go away.

Soon, we reached the bottom. It was time to find the courtyard, but we couldn't control ourselves. We stopped where we were and wept.

"I guess that this is the end," she said. "I'm afraid we won't be able to see each other after this."

"Don't say that," I weakly returned. I couldn't find the strength to argue. "You are the best friend I could have ever asked for. I will remember you until the end. Besides," I stopped to sniffle for just a moment before trying to smile and carry on. "The journey isn't over yet."

"You're right. I'm getting too far ahead of myself in saying goodbye. I promise I'll stay here with you to the very end." Lydia told me, crossing her heart like a small child. After that she lowered her volume to a whisper. "Sisters stay together."

Lydia and I were almost to the corridor now, dreading each step. Even though I trusted Aurelian, I was still apprehensive about running away like this. Could this really be the answer? Running away instead of facing our problems? I knew it was a dead end – because once I started running, I'd never stop. Aurelian hadn't. And this was his idea, not mine. Before I could think of anything else, a pair of warm arms encircled me.

"Are you ready?" Aurelian whispered. The look I replied with screamed everything but certainty. Of course, I'm sure he expected it. "I have the door open for us, just long enough to step through, but first I want to explain something."

Right then, Lydia turned around and began to walk away. She hung her head low and choked on a flood of tears as she started back into the manor.

"Wait!" I called out, running in Lydia's direction and throwing my arms around her in a warm, bittersweet hug. The tears freely flowing, I whispered to her one last time. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, sister," she sobbed in return.

We let go, prying our arms away. For a few moments we stayed there, contemplating if there was anything else to do or say that would make this easier. There wasn't. With that, Lydia quietly turned away from me and disappeared to the surface world.

Aurelian and I didn't waste a moment after that. We emerged into the room of doors. One of the mirrors was glowing. Its glass was iridescent and pristine, displaying an image of a perfect night sky. It was anything but dark. It was painted with bright stars and nebulas, powdered with trails of stardust. I knew at first glance that I was looking out a window to the universe.

"Before we part from this world, I need to explain something to you that I've needed to give you clarity over for a long while," Aurelian started. He took my hand once again and directed me to the glassy night sky that had been painted as a reflection in the mirror. "This is not the first time I've opened a portal here. This glass is the portal I used to come from my world to yours."

"But you said that they were already open doors. You even showed me how they worked!"

"I did, but it's a different kind of door now. Remember when I first showed these to you? When you touched the glass and reached through? When you fell and I had to pull you out?" I nodded, still shivering at the thought. "Then, you were reaching through into nothingness. If I hadn't caught you, you would have fallen into abyss. I've connected it to another world. A safer one. A place where you and I can live at peace for just a little while." Aurelian explained to me softly. Though, I still was not yet satisfied.

"Where does it lead?" I asked, suddenly intrigued. "And how long has it been open for us? How long will it last?"

"I reopened it a few hours ago, but your world weakens my power. It won't stay open much longer." I felt a burst of wonder. If the powers I'd seen were a weak taste, what was their true extent? "That is why we cannot linger here very long. If it is open for a long while it could..." he stopped for a moment, "destroy everything."

"Destroy everything?!" I suddenly snapped. "If it is so capable of destruction how do you know it is safe for us to go through? And, how could you have been given the power to handle something so dangerous?"

"Well, it's not as if we use them very often," Aurelian told me, somewhat annoyed. "The only ones taught to open and close portals are those like me...people from my family...princes and kings."

The prince's last words came with a tinge of shame. To anyone else, it would seem strange that a wealthy prince would be so ashamed of his upbringing. But, I understood his plight. We both understood the ugliness beneath the façades of the rich and powerful. I could sense him now, inside and out. We were connected by something deeper than mere circumstances.

"What do you mean when you say that you can't use them?" I backed up. "Is it too strenuous to keep our worlds connected, or is it too dangerous?"

"Dying? Why?" I questioned, feeling my senses suddenly grow numb. My heart began to race now, my soul sensing a key to solving this puzzle that was beginning to emerge from the shadows. "How many are left?"

"From the time of my birth, there were around ten left. I've opened a portal once, twice considering today. As far as I know, my brother has done it twice. That leaves six, that we know of. There are always other ways to travel the universe, albeit difficult ones."

"You still didn't give me an explanation as to why they're dying," I told him in response, now feeling as if I needed to delay this departure as long as humanly possible.

"It's a very long and dark story, Elissa. I doubt you want to hear it." Aurelian looked into my eyes with depth and intensity. "We mustn't linger here any longer. It's all been carefully planned, we cannot afford a mistake!"

"The magic can wait! I don't even know where we're going," I firmly exclaimed. "You have to give me an explanation. There's something I'm missing in all of this – and I won't leave until I understand it!"

"Fine," Aurelian hesitantly told me. "I'll tell you about the portals. You're bound to misunderstand me, but I will. After that we must leave."

"You'd better start now."

"There was a portal that connected our worlds. It was a bridge, if you will. It couldn't be opened or closed, it simply was," Aurelian started. "My world was new, a place known as the Kingdom of Light. The people called it Amaranth, for the flower that never fades.

Your world was filled with darkness, so the people of mine came to your aid. The First King was naive. He gave in to the curse's temptations and was inhabited by it; separating our kind from yours for the rest of eternity. These portals are the only connection that our worlds have left."

The Eyes overwhelmed me again. A flood of images and sounds raced before me. I saw visions of my mother and father, singing and telling their stories to me as a child. I remembered the stories about the monsters in human skin. I remembered each word I'd read in Primitive Folklore. They came off the page and entered my field of vision, glowing. They were words that told I story I felt I knew – The Secret Prince.

"The Kingdom of Light...became the Kingdom of Darkness," I muttered, the words refusing to leave my view. "It became a land of eternal night. Aurelian, you're from the Night Kingdom."

"Yes, I am..." The prince trailed off. Before I could say another word, Aurelian grabbed my hand. His eyes pleaded with my soul, deeply bound to it. But, they did no good in convincing me.

"I can see it now! All along I've been missing it, but, now I can see. It's the Eyes, Aurelian. I have the Gift of the Eyes. It's shown me the truth. You're the prince! The one from all the legends. It's all happening as the book said it would, or did...and that means it holds the key to defeating the Darkness!"

My words came with intensity resembling lunacy, because whatever story I was talking about was something of which he was completely unaware. The once-docile portal shook violently. The calm, glassy surface of the door began to ripple and convulse. The ground was now shaking beneath us.

"Please, Elissa. Just come with me. We don't have much time until this portal closes! If we don't leave now I'll have to close it myself, otherwise it will kill us! Then there may be no way for us to leave!" Aurelian cried, "I promise I will tell you everything about myself, the history of my kingdom, anything else you may want to know. But, we must leave now!"

Aurelian grabbed me by the wrists again, desperately attempting to take me through. He simply didn't understand! I struggled, fighting until he let go. He released them voluntarily, never desiring the use of force with his beloved.

"Is this really the answer?" I yelled in reply, the room engulfed in harsh, noisy wind. "We don't have to run away from our problems!"

"We have no choice right now, Elissa!" He yelled back even louder in return. "Don't speak nonsense! There's no way we can face what desires our death!"

"But what if we can defeat it?" I screamed above the swirling storm. "I know the answer, but you have to close the portal! I have to go back into the house – it's our only chance!"

"You're mad!" Aurelian exclaimed. "The only chance we have to save ourselves is this portal! Once I close this, there will be no easy way back."

His eyes begged me to listen. I knew if I did as he wanted, I'd losing the missing piece of this puzzle. He wanted to be Rhys, the man who kept running; but my bravery compelled me to go the other way. He saw only one way, but I saw another that could change our destinies.

"You don't understand, Aurelian! There's a story like this in a book I've read. If I can find the book, maybe we won't have to run!" I backed away from him and ran toward the door. "You must close this portal. I don't care anymore – I'm not going to run. I'm going back into the house, because this is our story! The book can tell us how it ends!"

"Elissa, come back!" Aurelian begged again. "I'll close the portal, we'll find somewhere else to go. Just stay close to me!"

It was too late. I was going back, whether he wanted it or not. I refused to be a coward.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The Flight

The full weight of the portal was closing in on him. It was one of the heaviest forces in the Universe, but somehow, it bent to his will. The portal fought back. It spewed tornadic bursts of wind at his face, threatening to suck him in.

With every second, the glowing mass drained the power from his hands. Aurelian still had the strength to tame it. The door was no match for him. It eventually shrank from a long mirror into a frosty window, then into a looking glass. The prince held it in his palm as it let out its dying breath. It became a ball of black matter, then it disappeared into nothingness.

The prince looked over his shoulder, relieved that the ordeal was over. His relief turned sour when he realized I was long gone.

By now, I was already up the stairs; the passage of time warped in our brains by the power of the underworld. The path was murky and winding without the lantern as my guide. I climbed each step with care and determination. This book could hold the key to our fates, and nothing was going to stop me from obtaining it.

I surfaced in the Servants' Quarters and felt a lump in my throat. The place was warm with the sights and smells of servant life, but the servants were missing.

The tables and chairs in the kitchen were toppled and scattered. Napkins sat on the floor. A pot of water was boiling on the stove unattended. I came over and turned off the gas burner. That's when I felt wet fizz soaking the bottoms of my slippers.

I took them off and noticed the distinct, yeasty aroma of beer. I followed a trail of amber liquid into the common area, where the communal keg was knocked onto its side. I shivered. I walked through the dormitories searching for signs of life, but was met with open doors and vacant rooms.

Whatever happened here was violent and rushed. It had all the marks of a mass arrest. I shivered again, knowing this was connected to the Magistrate. I knew I had to get upstairs and find that book. Then, I had to get out of here.

I ran back into my room and began sifting through my belongings. The upstairs was as silent and unoccupied as the Servants' Quarters. When I went through my things, I also had a very strange feeling. My room seemed untouched, but the Eyes told me another story. I saw the Darkness standing in my place, in a recent past. It clawed through my things, a hungry cat pawing at a shivering mouse. I went through every part of my room, and the vision remained.

I looked on top of my bed, underneath my covers and pillows, and beneath the bed itself. Then I looked in the closet, my vanity, and almost all my drawers. Still, there was no sign of my precious book. I turned over some pillows and realized I still hadn't looked in my bedside drawer.

I grasped the handle and pulled. My ears were met with hollow rolling. The drawer was empty except or a small, glass vial. I picked up the peculiar object. Even unmarked, I sensed that it was something dangerous. Despite my instincts, I unwittingly kept it in my hand as I ventured to the room across the hall. Perhaps the book would be in there.

When I opened the door, the life drained from my skin. Tears welled in my eyes, but I couldn't find the strength to scream. A dead body slumped over the loveseat. It was the cold, pale body of Winston Everen. His fingers and wrists were twisted into a stiff, permanent writhe. They looked unnatural, almost broken. His face was the most disturbing part. It was contorted near unrecognition, with eyes that conveyed a glassy, betrayed death stare.

Death was a growing commonality in my life, but this didn't make sense. Winston was a young man in the prime of his life, how could this be him? When I finally took a breath, I felt a pair of arms swoop over me. A woman's icy hand muffled me, jeweled-end of her wedding ring digging into the skin of my mouth until blood dribbled down both.

"Hello, niece." It was Beeti. I struggled and screamed to break free, but a new and unnatural strength surfaced in the woman that kept me bound. "Are you looking for something? A book perhaps?"

For a few seconds she continued suffocating me, hand over my nose and mouth, pressing tightly until I felt my vision blur. The hand restrained me with strength that wasn't Beeti's. It was powerful and crushing. When my muscles began to relax into unconsciousness, Beeti released me. The air rushed back into my lungs and I gasped.

"What's going on?" I shook, muscles weak and speech slurred from lack of oxygen.

"That is a question that I should be asking you, my dear," Beeti snidely replied. I sucked in some air to muster a weak yelp, but she threatened to cut off my air again. "And don't scream. Otherwise you won't be getting your hands on the book that you so greatly need."

"Book?" I murmured, cold and shaking as I stared at the dead body a few feet away.

Beeti reached behind her back, materializing something that wasn't there before. As if by magic, she held my book of fairy stories, appearing out of the air. Beeti opened it to the Secret Prince and taunted me with it, flipping the pages back and forth while she dangled it over my head.

"I know why you need this book, Elissa," she eyed me venomously. "You're a witch. I've tasted the sweet power of magic, and I absolutely love it. Now I can use this book of prophecy to return what is mine, and more. I will take back my title, my estate, my daughter; and I can do take from you as you have from me."

"I'm not a witch, Beeti. And what have I ever taken from you?" I cried, my chest still heavy.

Recognizing the book, I unwittingly jumped up and tried to grab it from her. The page I reached for tore into my hand. Before I could latch on to it again, the book vanished. Beeti's eyes bled sadism, telling me that she sent the it to the farthest reaches of the Universe.

Like a petal fallen from a lifeless rose, I touched the parchment in grief. It was torn and incomplete. There was no way it could tell me how the story ended.

"That book belongs to me now, niece. Everything of yours belongs to me, even your dearest fiancé. And now you are mine, also. Your death will soon come, and then your blood will be on my hands," she leaned in closer to me, beginning to whisper. "Mine and the Magistrate's."

"What are you talking about?"

"You shall see soon enough. In fact, you should already know. You're the one who murdered your own fiancé." She barked.

"I – I don't understand," I stammered, the tears falling from my eyes.

"Look at him." Beeti bent down next to Winston's body, tenderly but sickeningly running her finger over what was once his face. "This kind of death...in a man so young, so wealthy...could only come from a strong, potent poison. One born of the deepest malice and most murderous thinking."

At that moment, my heart stopped. It wasn't her words that made me realize it. The Eyes revealed a scene of Beeti, tiger dressed in the skin of a lamb, watching Winston convulse and foam at the mouth.

"You murderous wretch! You killed him, didn't you?"

"Perhaps I did, but perhaps I didn't." Beeti taunted. She grabbed my hand that had the vial in it. "You've made this so much easier. See? The poison is in your hand!"

I struggled to free myself from her grasp, but this time she wouldn't let go. A large group of people moved into the room to restrain me. It was clear that this was no longer a simple confrontation – it was a trap. I was being framed for murder.

"Let me go, I did no such thing!" I screamed as two burly men held my wrists. They were Imperial Guards that traveled with the duke – unarmed by mandate, but strong enough to make my bones crack.

"You murdered Winston," Beeti snared. "And you're a witch. All the evidence will soon point to it, and the entire country will believe it. The world will have no better reason to purge you from its face!"

They dragged me into the hallway, where a small crowd of servants were gathered. Their faces were hollow and red with welts. Most of their heads were low and fearful. A few of my friends were gathered in the doorway to what used to be Grandmamma's room, watching silently as I was dragged away.

"Help me! You all know I'm innocent!" I shouted to them, though they remained silent. "I was nowhere near here until this very hour! You can attest to it, can't you?"

"Elissa, don't lie," Jackoby spoke up. "We all saw you today. We even covered you when you left with the duke. Our quarters were ransacked by Winston's guards because of it. I am no liar, but now I can see that you are."

These were my closest allies, and now even they didn't believe I was innocent. My mind whirled in complete disbelief. Why did they believe I was capable of this? Another voice spoke up among the assembly.

"I believe you!" It shouted, the voice of a young woman. She wove her way out of the crowd and shouted to everyone in the hallway. "I was with Lady Elissa all day today. She did no such thing! You know that she wouldn't!"

"Be quiet, Lydia!" Jackoby snapped. "Don't let your loyalties blind you. Taking her side will bring more trouble than you need!"

I was quickly dragged out of the hallway. Beeti walked behind me the entire way, acting as grand marshal of the parade. The men stopped at the closet beside the grand staircase and threw me in, locking me inside. I pounded on the door, but it was no use. Beeti sneered on the other side.

"The Imperial Guard will be coming for you first thing in the morning. Then your crime will be publicized, the public will call for your execution. You will be burned at the stake as the witch that you are!"

After that, she left. I fell to the ground and wrapped myself in tears. Now I was completely alone. I called for Aurelian madly, but he never came. Even my closest friend seemed helpless. There would be no trial – there never was. The Magisterial Police were hours away, deployed only for the most heinous crimes. Once the accusation came, the Magistrate would bestow the punishment.

"Aurelian, where are you?" I cried, burying my head in my knees. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I went back!"

I held the paper in my hands. This seemed like salvation, but now it was part of my demise. Perhaps Aurelian had been right. Even if the book did hold the end of my story, all was lost. It seemed that now my prince was lost as well.

This page was useless now, yet as much as I wanted to tear it up I couldn't. I sensed that I still needed to keep it, so I tucked it away in my corset. If I burned, it would burn with me.

When my tears went dry, I fell against the wall in exhaustion. Sometime after that, the doorknob started twisting. I stood up at once, bracing myself for what was coming. Dim lantern light seeped through the crack in the door. When it opened, I was astonished. The light grew, and I saw the face of one of my greatest allies.

"Elissa," Lydia whispered. She threw her arms around me and sobbed. "I'm sorry we didn't come sooner. The men who took you locked me up, too. Henriette helped me escape, but then it still took me a half hour to find the key..." Lydia told me in a frantic rush, stopping herself before she had let herself explain far too long. "But, that's not important now. I'm here. I only want to know, why did you come back?"

"I didn't want to be a coward," I told her, my voice raspy. "Why did you come back for me?"

"I could never leave a sister behind." She grabbed my hands. "But, there's no time to catch up now. It's 4:45 am, and the police are coming to make your arrest in less than half an hour. We must take you away from here now!"

"Where will we go? What about the underground?" I asked.

"Someone followed us the last time. The police have already closed it off. There's carriage at the edge of the forest that's ready to take you to the Desert Country. It might be dangerous, but our only chance is to leave now!"

"Has there been any sight of Aurelian?" I asked meekly, remembering the tremendous weight I saw on him in the caverns.

"No. It's up to us now."

I didn't argue this time. Instead, I ran. We wove through the least trafficked parts of the house, making our way to the side door in the ballroom. From here, we could escape through the courtyard.

When we peered through the glass, we stopped. There were officers everywhere. They held guns and surrounded a man wearing all black. He held a torch in his hand. Another man stood beside him, a rectangular box on his shoulder. It had lenses like a telescope and a ball of fuzz dangling from the top. They all stood around a mound of hay at the center of the garden, positioning a wooden pole in the middle.

"Lydia, they're all out there – waiting with guns – and, that thing on his shoulder –"

"It's a camera," Lydia explained. "It's what they use to make motion pictures and television announcements. It's like the microphones they use for the Magistrate's radio broadcasts. Only, it shows what's happening in real time."

"I don't think that they're going to arrest me," I said coldly. "This looks more like..."

"A public execution," Lydia numbly murmured.

Not knowing what else to do, we went back to the main house. There had to be another exit. To our horror, the outside of the house was surrounded by the police and military. We ran up and down the stairs, trying to find someplace to go or hide. There was no door that we could leave through, no window we could sneak out of without being shot by the guards waiting to close in on us.

The time for our escape was dwindling. By the time the clock struck five, we were stuck in the familiar but endless maze of my own hallway.

The front door opened with force I'd never experienced before. Thunderous footsteps rattled the walls. This was it. We stood frozen in the hall, realizing the futility of our escape.

"Lydia, you need to leave now," I whispered, realizing that I would soon be taken by the men.

"No," Lydia asserted. "I'm with you to the end."

Lydia grabbed my hand, and I grabbed hers. Instead of standing our ground, she did something unexpected. At the last second, she opened the door to my room and threw me in. She slammed it, locked it, and used her body to block it from the outside.

"What are you doing?" I screamed through the door.

"Get to the balcony and climb down!" She yelled. "The officers are already in the house. They'll have to go through me, first. Then, you can slip into the garden. That should give you enough time to get to the carriage!"

"They'll kill you!" I protested.

"Elissa, I'll be okay," she told me softly. I could tell that she was at peace. "We will meet again."

I did as she instructed, eyes hot and blurry. I grabbed my sheets and began tying them together, but my shaky hands made it nearly impossible. I threw them down and went to the balcony, deciding to take my chances. I took off my shoes, placed the hood on my head and looked down. It was more than a little drop. It had to be twenty, maybe thirty feet to the bottom. If I survived the fall, maybe I could crawl to the hedge maze and hide.

I gulped, getting ready to start over the edge. There was thumping and shouting on the other side of the door. The officers were here now, and they were demanding that Lydia get out of the way and give them the key.

"Over my dead body!" She shouted back at them.

"Move aside or it will be!" One of the men barked in response.

They knocked her out of the way, but she fought back. The thunderous clang of a rifle followed, bringing silence. After the bang, there was a thud against the door. I heard one of their boots shuffle something heavy. As they moved it, the object thudded again. This time, it expelled a loud burst of air. The breath was as strong and unwilling as the person it was leaving.

"NO!" I cried, falling to my knees.

That was when they began kicking in the door. Even their strongest jolts couldn't bring it down at first. It was as if something stronger than human will – something miraculous – was delaying their entry. I felt something grab me from behind. It pulled me up and spun me around, and within seconds I saw it was Aurelian.

"I thought you were gone," I cried.

"I promised you that I would never be far," he darkly replied. "If you want to live, take my hand."

"There's no way out, I've looked."

"There is a way."

Aurelian grabbed my hand and looked to the sky. It was filling with the pale pink hue of the sunrise, giving me a strange sense of peace.

"Elissa, do you trust me?" He asked, eyes earnest.

Against the tumult of my heart and the rising of the sun, I opened my mouth.

"Yes."

Aurelian swept me into his arms. He climbed to the top of the railing and stood there. Then, he stepped over the edge. The door erupted. A flood of men rushed through the other side, stopping to question their senses. For a moment, our faces were lit by the glow of the eastern sun.

Then, in the blink of an eye we were gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The Price of Darkness

After we escaped, the world fell silent. My pursuers had been outwitted. To this point, the tools of the Darkness were human. Their imperfection had caused failure. For that, the Darkness was angered beyond belief.

"You have failed me, Julius!" It growled that day, sending a jolt of pain through the Magistrate's body.

"I am sorry, Great One!" The man begged.

"Your apologies are useless. I must seek after a greater power to destroy them now. Do as I say and I may spare you from this pain," The Darkness groaned. "Do not fail to obey my word! There is something that I must show you..."

"Tell me what it is!" The Magistrate begged again.

"Open a window to the Night Kingdom."

Julius did exactly as the curse told him. He went into a dark room, recited the dark words of a spell, and manifested the glass that would allow him to communicate with the other world. In no more than a few seconds time, he was met with the smirk of the cruel King Faolan.

"It seems that the humans have failed," Faolan wickedly grinned.

"Your allies have failed also."

"Don't underestimate my power simply because my servant was useless," Faolan remarked in annoyance. "My power over her has not yet been exercised. You, on the other hand, were weak and disorganized."

"Underestimate your power?" The Magistrate remarked, his pride rattled by this seemingly arrogant youth. "You're much younger than I am. You're what – nineteen in human years? Twenty? I've been ruling this Empire for far longer than you've dreamed of ruling yours."

Now the younger king was seething. He didn't like his authority toyed with. His power challenged, Faolan decided that it was time he made an example. The cruel force gave its approval, and Faolan confidently smirked.

"Considering the difference between our worlds, I believe that I am your elder. One moment in your world is at least three days in mine, sometimes a year...so you should take care in holding your tongue," the king glared. "You have failed to carry out the tasks of the Great Power. Now the Darkness calls upon me to accomplish its work instead; not as its slave, but as its master."

"It calls upon you to control it? You're mad."

A sudden, choking feeling overcame the man. Now the Magistrate understood what this was. This was his punishment.

"Julius..." Faolan maliciously spoke. "The power with which you have dealt is no curse. The fact you consider it such makes you unworthy of it. That is why it brought you to me. It brought you to this glass so that it could take your power and give it to someone worthy. Now, let me teach you something about the power of my youth!"

The creature reached his bony hand through the glass and began draining the man's lifeblood. The power of the Darkness drained from the Magistrate's veins; cutting off his magic, but leaving him the madness. Its essence came into Faolan, uniting it's abilities with his. When he stopped draining life from the man, the Magistrate's skin was like leather. He was disfigured beyond repair, his bones frail as a man of one-hundred and twenty.

Julius's strength nearly gone, he collapsed onto the ground as a near-dead man.

"See, Julius? I am the most powerful. The Darkness favors me. Why? Because I see it as a gift. My youth isn't of the matter here, nor is your age," Faolan gloated through the glass. "Now you have a new curse. Your power is mine. Live out the rest of your rule withering in body and mind. The Darkness and its power remain in your family no longer."

A new darkness swept through the Magistrate's palace. His body disappeared, taken to a mountainous realm with blistering winds. Snow battered his shriveling frame, his skin that of a leper. He stood on a jagged peak, the thin air scarring his weakened lungs. A familiar, booming voice came from the clouds. It sent him a leather mask with chain bindings.

"Put it on," the voice instructed. The Magistrate did as he was told, hopeful that his master was back to free him.

"You've come back to me! Please, give me a taste of the power," he begged.

"I'm with you always, Julius. But you will never taste my power again. Only my madness. Cover your face, hide your shame! Your son rules in your stead."

With that, Faolan looked away from the glass. He closed the window and placed around his throne, confident but dissatisfied. His veins surged with vampiric power. Faolan summoned Luca. The creature's wife was called with him.

"Luca," he started once they had arrived. "The tools of the Darkness have failed the humans. Their ruler scoffs at its power. He scoffs at me." His eyes narrowed at the two. "For that, his power is now mine. The nightmares I created didn't fail, but you have. You've failed me, and for that you must pay."

Faolan stepped down from his throne for a moment and eyed the two. Then, he began the execution. He grabbed Luca by the neck and forced him to his knees.

"I will not be made a fool any longer," Faolan spat. "I have more power now than ever before. The humans have failed – but I will not!" He spoke in a tone that was deceptively soft. It was low and intense; a near whisper. "My brother is close now. Closer to the throne than the moment he fled! His shelter has been lost, his safety run dry. It is time for me to secure my power."

Faolan twisted his arm. Crack! In a single motion, Luca was dead. His wife shook hysterically, cradling his body in her arms.

"Woman..." The king stepped over, stroking the widow's face. "Is there anything you'd like to say before joining him?"

"Why must you do things this way?" She was shaking at first, but with each word she became angrier and bolder. "He only did as he was told. You live as though the Darkness serves you, but it's power is greater than anything you could conjure!"

"You don't seem to understand..." He venomously whispered. "I am the Darkness."

CHAPTER FORTY

Bound

At first, I closed my eyes; clinging to him tightly as he jumped. Then I felt the cool wind brushing against my face and hair and peeked. What I saw astounded me. We were walking upright in the sky – skating through the clouds.

The brilliant orange glow of the rising sun brought a short wave of calm over my soul. It was a sky of stained glass. The glowing sunrise lit our faces, changing color as we climbed. The sky dimmed until stars scattered across it in streams. Auroras of green and blue danced above us as wa;ked through the atmosphere. I felt the air become thin in my lungs, but as soon as I looked into Aurelian's eyes it became thick and filled with oxygen.

It was magnificent but short. It felt like seconds, but in truth we were in the sky for hours. When we landed, it was the end of a splendid dream. As soon as Aurelian put my feet onto the ground, I woke to my greatest nightmare.

The brown and green cushion of grass I knew was now a blanket of sand. It wasn't like the wet, grey sand I knew from my mornings on the beach. It was a sea without water; an ocean bleached powder that stretched beyond what our eyes could see. There were no leafy trees, very few shrubs, and an abundance of tall green columns covered in needles.

Coarse, grainy tendrils crested off white dunes. The wind was hot and dry at first, snapping up my cape wildly. Then, there was a cool breeze. The sun was barely visible now. Its final orange arc was sinking beneath the horizon. When the great star deserted us, the moon brought a rapid drop in temperature. I shivered.

"The evening has fallen upon us," Aurelian softly told me. "We should spend the night here."

We stood at the door of an abandoned chapel in the dunes. It was small and dilapidated, with shattered stained-glass windows and a toppled steeple hanging from the roof. It stood alone, the only building in this dry ocean.

Aurelian opened the doors, overwhelmed by a cloud of dust that engulfed us upon entry. We searched the entire building, making sure that no one made their home here. Considering the holes in the roof, it seemed unlikely.

We retracted to separate sides of the chapel. The wondrous flight was a temporary distraction from the horror we'd escaped. Now it all set in. The shock. The loss. The shame. I curled up on the ground in the far corner of the room, hugged my knees and sobbed.

Sand stuck to my palms and irritated eyes. After a few minutes, my eyes drifted to the stained-glass above the decaying wooden pulpit. There was a picture still visible in its shattered detail. Three crosses stood on Calvary, the middle one draped with a purple sash. A lion and a lamb sat at the foot of the cross harmoniously.

I was unable to disconnect the symbolism from Lydia; a result of my withering emotions and parochial education. I wondered if the slump in the hallway was someone tripping or knocking her unconscious. I wanted to believe that was it, but the sound of bullet-piercing-flesh still echoed across my memories.

The sound tormented me again and again. I couldn't forget the scene; the tremble in my voice and the certainty in hers. I thought of the book, feeling rough parchment against my chest. I pulled the page from my corset, a symbol of my weakness, and uncrumpled it in my hands.

"Why did you really come back for me?" I asked numbly.

"I made you a promise, did I not?" The Prince replied. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke up again. "...There's also nothing that has changed the fact that I am deeply in love with you."

"What do we do from here?" I asked after a long pause. This time, Aurelian inched toward me. Though he was a prince of great wealth and title, he didn't stand. He crawled around the pews to my side of the room, never leaving the ground.

"It's difficult to say," he softly began, taking my hand. "That portal is gone, but it's not finished yet. I'm here with you."

He tried to wrap his arms around me, but I quickly pulled away. Any chance at my life having meaning was long gone. I was poisonous and wretched, no good for anything but causing grief. I looked down at the torn page.

Oh, that paper!

This was why I was here. It was why I was safe, and my friends and family were not. Why did I come back for this useless token? I wanted to tear it to pieces, but something kept me from doing so. It was Aurelian, gentle and docile as a ray of sun in my sorrows.

"What is this?" He asked, intrigued.

"It's a page from the book that I went back for," I sobbed. "It's the only part I was able to get...this useless –"

I crumbled it up in anger, ready to throw it to the other side of the room. But, Aurelian halted me. The Prince quickly gabbed the paper from my hands. There was something about it that he could see now, something that couldn't be neglected.

"No, Elissa. Don't," he pleaded. He uncrumpled the page and placed it back in my hand. "If this meant enough to you for you to risk your life, I trust that it has great meaning. I know you, Elissa. You have a stronger, wiser spirit than you'd like to believe. At least take a moment to read it again before you turn it into rubbish."

I looked down again, realizing that the back of the paper was a new page in the story. It still didn't house the ending. I read the familiar part aloud with hasty, unbound breaths:

"It inhabited him, possessing his thoughts and giving him great power. It directed him to take the others of his kind and cross the bridge back to their land. The Curse lived through the King and brought night to the Kingdom.

"Greed overcame the royal family, and the eldest son killed his father to steal the throne. After many years, his children were possessed to do the same. For hundreds of years this continued, becoming the family custom.

"As their kings could not die natural deaths, each heir took it into his own hands. They would slay their father, becoming the new host at their predecessor's moment of death and assuming –"

At the last word in my sentence, Aurelian stopped me. The prince took the page and read it in disbelief.

"Where did you say that you obtained this?"

"I'm not sure where it came from. I found it in a church library. It's just a book of fairy stories –"

"No, Elissa..." Aurelian looked down at the page wide-eyed. "I'm sorry that I didn't believe you before. This is much more important than you and I could ever conceive...."

"I don't understand –"

"This is the history of my people. It's the word-for-word account of the First King, and beyond. It's the law by which my family rules the Night Kingdom."

Aurelian's words were rushed and awestricken. He gave me the paper with trembling hands.

"This page might not have the ending, but maybe it will have enough on the other side to guide us," he told me. "...Did this story mention a woman like you?"

"I wouldn't know, I mean...now it's just speculation, really," I stammered. "But, if this is about us, I would suppose that the next page applies as well."

I flipped the page, but I already knew. I saw the illustration of a prince hiding with his beloved. I remembered how this part ended. The prince and the maiden fled, then they were betrothed. I backtracked.

"Before I say anything else, I want you to explain everything you promised," I told him.

"What did I promise to tell you?"

"You said you'd tell me anything I wanted to know. It was when you were closing up the portal, remember?"

"I was under quite a lot of pressure then..." Aurelian hesitantly sighed. "Why must I always explain myself? I hate to admit it, but with you it never seems to end..."

"You promised," I reminded him. "I think I know what part of the story comes next, so please tell me yours."

"Very well. I'll tell my story. There will be no secrets this time. I can't promise that I'll recall everything, but I assure you that I will try. I only have one condition."

"And what would that be?" I asked the prince in return, seeing a light grin appear on his tormented expression.

"You must tell me more about yourself. I can see your spirit and feel it, but I know so little of the past."

"You can't see it?" I asked him in surprise. "I thought that you've always known...that your eyes could see that sort of thing."

"They see only small parts. Of course, there are many things I know now...but it might be refreshing to hear some of it first-hand."

Aurelian gave me a deep, gentle look. His hand was now in mine, warm and inviting. Realizing that I was safe, I agreed. Though, I still urged him to go first.

"Do you recall the name you first called me by?" He asked me at first.

"You told me to call you Rhys," I answered.

"It wasn't a lie. Rhys was the name I deserved. I chose it, because in one of the languages of men, it means 'running.'"

"You chose it because you were running away from your throne," I told him, the entire picture beginning to make sense in my mind.

"I wasn't always running like this," Aurelian explained. "I was born with a peace that very few in my world understood. Because of it, I was praised by some for being a peacemaker and looked at as peculiar by others.

"My mother died birthing us. My father was cruel. In my family, the bond between father and son is marred by the method of succession. An heir spends his entire upbringing pondering how he might kill his father. As terrible it may sound, it is tradition in my family...because...otherwise, we cannot die." He stopped for a moment, seemingly choked up. He continued.

"I was always told that when the time came, I would be able to slay him. I could never fathom it. My father was a wicked man, but I couldn't find the strength. They Darkness groomed me for it, coming into my thoughts and planting seeds of greed.

"Though the Kings of the past welcomed it, I saw evil. I feared my father's wickedness spreading into me. It's a terrible thing, Elissa. It draws you in and tempts you to do horrid things. Once you ascend to the throne, it consumes you. You become a monster, so cold and unfeeling that your soul becomes unrecognizable..."

Aurelian stopped again, despair clouding his features. Unspeakable atrocities littered his vision. I sensed his pain, tasting some of the horrific thoughts. The things he'd seen were too much to bear.

"Your father was cruel," I whispered to Aurelian, breaking the silence. "But you still loved him, didn't you?"

"I don't know. I think I wanted to care for him, but no son in my line 'loves' his father. He fears him. The evil of the Darkness consumed his thinking. If only you could have seen what I've seen...you'd know that his curse made him into a monster."

"I'm sorry..." I softly told him, gently squeezing his hand. "I had no idea. You don't have to say anymore. I've heard enough, and I know it's painful –"

"No, Elissa," he interrupted. "I must tell you. I made a promise."

I nodded, leaning on his chest and wrapping my arms around him. His words became subtle, delicate whispers in my ear. His tone was subdued as he stroked the back of my head in a sort of trance. It relaxed me, making a story palatable that would otherwise be terrifying.

"I didn't desire the curse – but even more than that, I couldn't imagine killing my blood. Tradition decrees that the throne be cleared around the successors eighteenth or nineteenth birthday; when the chief priests of the Darkness decide that he is ready.

"I always feared the day. Perhaps I'm a coward for it, but at least I'm not wicked. Even if our people cannot die, we still have a conscience. I refused to think that it was the only way. On the night I was told to kill my father, I threw my sword into the sea and ran away. I've been running across the realms ever since that day.

"What about your brother? I always thought that he was the reason you left."

"Faolan's not the reason I left, but he is the reason I'm in hiding. He's always desired the crown. He was a child of true blood, yet my father treated him as a bastard. The kitchen staff raised him until we were somewhere around ten.

"Then, he began displaying unusual powers. He could shapeshift himself and the world around him, in ways that our people rarely can. That's the only reason my father took interest in him. He sent him to be apprenticed by the Veils of the Dark Order, and it dampened whatever light he had.

"When I left, he saw it as the perfect opportunity to take my place. I don't know when, but my father is gone now. Faolan assumed the throne and seeks to destroy me. He's so consumed with hatred and insecurity that he believes my abdication is a farce. He believes I will come back and steal his throne, but I don't want it. I never have!

"But, to answer your question...Faolan isn't the real reason I left. Not even the fear of wickedness. I threw my sword into the sea, because I wanted to end the cycle of my world. Even if I'm seen as a coward, I will never become King by defiling goodness."

"So, you stood your ground," I spoke, sitting up. "You refused to accept what was unjust."

Suddenly, I understood. Aurelian's story was more than the words on this page. It was more than the words from his mouth. It was a course of action that ran parallel to my life, deviating from the straight line and making its way to a fixed point just as I did. We scaled our stories until we met at their peak, uniting after spending a lifetime climbing alone.

"Yes, I suppose that's right," the prince let out.

"Aurelian, a few months ago I didn't believe in fate, magic, or destiny. Sometimes I'm still not sure if I believe what I'm seeing...but, I can tell you something that might shock you. Even though I wasn't born into riches, my story is yours."

For the next half hour, I told him about my life in backward motion. It didn't matter if he already knew some of the details, or if I spoke about secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had nothing to lose anymore. I told him about my parents, about Beeti and Stella, and about Winston and the Magistrate. Then, I told him the most important part of my story. It came together as an epiphany - even though I'd already lived it – as I realized the truth behind my stubbornness.

"There was a time that I refused to make an unjust choice. It was one of the things that brought me onto this journey," I explained.

I told him what happened when I refused to acknowledge my caste. I told him of the miraculous but shady agreement my family made, and how Beeti planned to use for my misery.

When I finished, we fell silent. I fell back onto his chest and sighed. Our stories different in detail, but at their cores they were interchangeable. Peace overcame us.

"Ari," I spoke up, half cognizant. "There's something I've been wondering. Not necessarily about you, but about something that happened after we met."

"Ari? Is that my name now?" The prince smiled. I blushed.

"I'm sorry, I guess it just slipped out." I lightly bit my lip.

"Don't apologize. I like it," He tipped my chin toward his face. "In one of the languages of man, it means 'lion.' Now, what would you like to ask?"

"I didn't know that, Ari," I blushed again, the name tingling on my tongue. "I was just wondering about the pearls; the ones I was wearing on my birthday. I lost them in the fountain that night...then after I saw you, they were in my pocket. There was no explanation. They just, appeared there. That was you, wasn't it?"

I expected him to say yes, but this time he seemed uncertain. Aurelian looked at me in surprise.

"Unfortunately, I don't recall anything of the sort," He trailed off, but when he saw the look of disappointment on my face he spoke up again. "You'll find the answer you're seeking. Perhaps we'll even find it together."

We fell silent, reflecting on our stories again. I sat with my back to Ari. We searched our hearts, realizing that our lives were never going to be the same. I thought of the last part of the Secret Prince, the way my mother told it.

He came to her after the long night. Realizing their lives would never be the same, he asked for her hand.

"Elissa," Aurelian turned to me. We gently locked hands. "I am bound to you. That means nothing in this world, but among my kind, it's sacred. It's inescapable.

"As I said before: I chase you as the moon chases the sun. Even separated by world and kind, this love keeps my heart shackled to yours. It is a heavy burden amid war, but it is my destiny to be yours."

Ari ran his thumb across my palm, studying every line. He kissed it and lifted me up. I was moved, my eyes glassy but exhausted of tears.

"I shall never force myself upon you, Elissa. Steadfast my heart may beat; it longs only for your happiness. We must accept that as long as the war remains, our destinies are not separate. If it lasts a lifetime...we may never part."

My mother's words echoed again. Legend became reality. I held my breath, waiting for the words. He fell to his knees.

"I swear to you an oath of devotion, to serve you with my life. I know this life was not of your choosing. If you wish me to keep my distance, I will... You will not see me unless you summon me, and you will be free to pursue whatever or whomever you wish."

The prince clung to the bottom of my cape, bowing his head. Then, he lifted it and stood. He wrapped his arms around me and came in close, his breath hot and eyes hungry. Desire intensified in his being, but he tamed it.

"I don't wish you to remain at a distance," I told him, breathing heavily.

"Then be my bride."

The words came as a low, commanding whisper. Yet, they were gentle and patient. Ari kept my head tucked underneath his chin, holding me as if we were dancing. I was silent for a moment, entranced. Then, I came to. I pulled away from him, realizing the seriousness of the situation. Aurelian instantly regretted his words.

"I'm sorry, Elissa. I only hoped that you would consider it. I will not force you to wed. If your feelings have changed, I understand."

"My feelings haven't changed, Aurelian." I placed my palm back on his and laced our fingers. "I want nothing more than to be your wife. But, I'm not ready yet."

"If you desire me, I will wait," he told me, unwavering.

"Right now, our emotions are raw, and our passions..." I trailed off, looking into his eyes. "I'll make you a promise, and give it to you along with my heart. If we're both still alive, one day I will be your wife."

"Only if you still love me," he expressed in a tone that was filled with as much depth and passion as mine. "If your attractions ever fade, you mustn't force yourself. You're too strong a spirit to live loveless."

I sensed his feelings of unworthiness. I tilted his chin half-way - as he often did with me, albeit a much larger tilt – until our eyes met.

"I would trade the sun for you. You are my heart."

The prince was overcome. He pulled me in for a kiss that was barely chaste, failing to suppress his fervor. It was initially torrid, full of vigor he couldn't contain. It made me tremble as no kiss before. When he realized the intensity of his grasp, he loosened it and lightened his touch. He kissed me lightly on the forehead before distancing himself, shaking as he placed it there; treating my body as fine china.

"Now, how do your people do this? Right..."

Aurelian got onto his knee. He pulled a small, round object from his coat pocket. He held it up to one of the windows, illuminating it with moonlight. It was a ring with tiny golden leaves, swirling in formation around a perfectly round amethyst.

"It was my mother's, and all of the queens before her. The stone is said to shift in color when it touches the skin of one pure in heart." Aurelian explained.

He placed the ring in my palm before closing it in the center. Aurelian kissed my fist symbolically, then reopened it and placed the ring in his hand.

"What are you doing?" I asked at the peculiarity of his actions, mildly grinning.

"It's a custom of my kind, the Amari people" he conjured a delicate golden chain and threaded the ring though it. "The betrothed bind their hands. Once when the woman accepts, and once when they wed."

I nodded, realizing his world might not be so foreign after all. My people bound their hands. My father bound his to my mother – which the society of the Devereauxs thought was barbaric. Now, I was binding my hands to those of a Prince. He draped the chain over our right hands gently, palm-against-palm. He spoke in the foreign, rolling tongue that I heard in the garden. My ears didn't adjust this time.

"Katae-rya une, onya kit makta. Chae-tome." He looked into my eyes, translating. "Her soul binds as their hands to the promise, and his also."

He unbinded our hands and began fiddling with the ring. Before he removed it from the chain, I stopped him.

"Don't take it off. I want to wear it around my neck, for now."

He obediently nodded and clasped it right beneath my pearls; a symbol that although the times weren't certain, our love was. As soon as the ring warmed against my chest, I noticed it shimmering and shifting in color.

"What does it mean?" I asked him in astonishment.

"It means you're pure of heart."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Kaima Dahem

There was no explanation. The only indicator we had was a small inscription on the inside of the band, in an alphabet I didn't understand. Aurelian read it to me, familiar with it.

"Kaima dahem,." he told me. "The closest literal translation is: 'The pure heart rises.' It's a common phrase in the Amari language. We use it as a wish of goodwill or encouragement, to mean something like 'love endures.'"

"That's so strange," I mused. "It sounds like some poetic prophecy."

"No more or less than your metaphors. When you say, 'Pandora's box,' you don't mean you're literally opening a box. You mean that someone's actions will bring disorder. "Dahem is a special word in Amari, tied to our mythos about the heart. It is the symbol for love. Kaima means that something rises, usually when someone escapes death. Put them together, and you're telling someone that the bond with their mate survives past death."

Aurelian caressed my cheek gently with his thumb. I fiddled with the chain in my hands, uncertain as I spoke up.

"It still doesn't explain why it's changing color. You said that it's supposed to change on the pure of heart. But, I don't understand what that means for me – for us. I don't feel pure of heart."

"Maybe we're not meant to understand," Ari softly replied. "Among my people, purity isn't something you earn or do. It's difficult to explain. It's not just – holiness. It's not restraint. It's authenticity. It can't be retained through dogma, like your kind believe. It's simply something you are. If anything, the color of the ring is a symbol of the way we love each other."

I accepted the answer, but with slight skepticism. I felt like there was something more to this. That night, we went to sleep on the pews in silence, dissatisfied with the lack of answers.

A sandy wind came through the broken window above my pew. It blew over my face, irritating my airways and waking me in a panic. I was shivering against the bare wood of the seat, temporarily dazed as I fell onto the floor and yelped.

Hearing the thumping of my body against the wooden planks was terrifying; my half-cognizant mind rendering it as a gunshot. Aurelian woke and rushed to my side. His touch was calming, bringing me into the light. His gaze was full of gentle concern as he brushed his hand over my back. We said nothing, huddling against the wall and falling asleep again, this time in each other's arms.

In his arms, I drifted. It was the first time that I slept peacefully in nearly a year. Hours passed. Deep in the night, something roused me. It nudged me awake, speaking in voice that was deceitfully soothing. I opened my eyes to see if it was my fiancé. His chest rose and fell in deep slumber. The room filled with an eerie glow.

"Wake, Elissa, gently wake," an eerie voice echoed through the chapel. I opened my eyes and quickly began to regain a dazed state of consciousness. The voice spoke again. "Come here."

It came from a glassy cloud on the wall. It looked like one of the portals from the cellars. Hardly believing I was awake, I shot up. Aurelian remained dead to the world.

The Presence had found me. I felt it everywhere, yet I didn't fear it. It numbed my mind, placing invisible chains over my will. Once it had me, there was no escape. Any inkling of breaking free sent pain through my body.

"Stand up, Elissa. Come here," the voice beckoned.

The chains were pulling on me now, forcing me to move. Somehow, I found the strength to fight it for a time. It was incredibly short-lived. The power of its grip was too strong.

I turned my head, searching for Aurelian. Despite the commotion, he was still in deep slumber. That was when my eyes drifted to the strange portal. It appeared in the place of the glass mural and the pulpit, swallowing it.

The surface was pristine and alluring, rippling like water. It was like the doors from the underground, yet it wasn't. It was something much larger and more enticing in nature. The portal emitted green light that blanketed the room. It drew in my numbed consciousness as a moth to flame.

"Who are you?" I asked, hypnotized.

"I am the one who can determine your destiny, Elissa," it uttered. I looked over my shoulder, just to be sure that this wasn't the result of human trickery. This couldn't possibly be real, could it?

"Tell me what's going on!" I demanded, snapping to my senses.

I fought the chains valiantly, but this time their pull was twice as strong. When I didn't see anyone else behind me or to my side, I stared into the portal. There, I saw the vague silhouette of a man. Only, this one was taller than a man. He was about the size of Aurelian and stood with fiercer prowess.

"Do you wonder why you have been awakened in this manner?" The figure slyly posed.

"Tell me," I asked weakly, the strength and clarity of my mind lapsing.

"This room is under an enchantment. Your lover is under a spell, fast asleep so that we might speak uninterrupted," the voice explained. "I promise not to harm you. Only come closer to the glass so that I can see you. Then, you will know the truth of what is happening..."

Now, the binding of the chains was at its strongest. The spell temporarily took my concerns and buried them. The green aura and lulling voice drugged me beyond my cares.

As I came closer, I saw his features with greater clarity. I began seeing the features of a young man, much like Aurelian. Although the same age, the torment beneath his silvery features made his demeanor more advanced.

His skin was snowy and lifeless, with pearlescent undertones similar to Aurelian's. His hair was like a raven's feather. Beneath his eyes were tallow bags, sunken and tormented. There was a ruggedness to his appearance that testified determination. It was one of pain and obsession.

Above all, I was mesmerized by his eyes. They weren't cat-like or shifting, as Aurelian's. They were lustrous pools of pewter, a dark diamond-shaped slit in place of a pupil. Their silver glow pierced me. As I gazed into them, my spirit broke free of the chains, seeing an evil that I'd never met before. Sensing his pull weakening, the figure smirked and introduced himself.

"I've found you both, Elissa. There is nowhere left for you to hide. Do you still wonder who I am? You should already know. I am the one with the power to take and give life. I am the true Amar of the Night Kingdom."

Before he even said his name, I knew. I shuddered, an icy breeze raising goose bumps on my arms. My skin went pale, my insides cold. It was him.

"You're him..."

"King Faolan," he smirked at me as I shivered. His tone was low and intense, no longer an inviting song. "The true heir to the throne of the Night Kingdom and all of the other worldly realms!"

"What are you doing here?" I snapped again, my defenses temporarily freeing themselves from his farce. I pulled away and ran to Aurelian's side. I came within just a few inches of his sleeping body so that I might nudge him awake, but before I could touch him, Faolan stopped me.

"I wouldn't try to wake him, Elissa..." Faolan wickedly spat. "If you do, it might very well kill him."

Just nearly about to reach for Aurelian's head, I froze. Kill him? Surely this had to be a trap. But, I hardly knew the monster of my lover's tales. What death would he unleash upon us if I disobeyed?

"Kill him?" I trembled, coming back to the mirror-like object. "What would kill him?"

"Many things might kill him," Faolan snidely remarked. After that, he let out a wicked laugh. "I've put a spell on him, so that waking him yourself will result in death. Though, that's not nearly as deadly as what I intend for him. Now that I've found where he's been hiding I have no choice but to kill him myself."

"Why?" I helplessly shook. "He wants no part in the Darkness! Keep it, do what you like! Only leave him alone!"

I looked into the monster's silvery eyes. The smirk never left his face. I pled with him, but I knew the truth. I was speaking to the embodiment of the Curse. A keeper of evil.

"Oh, Elissa...I must do so, it is the law," Faolan explained coolly, feigning concern. "It's not that I want to kill him here. In fact, crossing over the threshold of this portal will bring more trouble than I'd like. It means one less passage into your world to do my bidding.

"Alas, it's the law. My brother is a coward. He is a fugitive...you know that better than anyone else in your world. As much as my brother has confided in you, has he not told you that the price for abdication is death?"

"Aurelian has broken no law," I snapped at him. "You're a liar!"

"Am I a liar, Elissa? I am the ruler of a world that human minds cannot fathom. It is my duty to rid realms of those who threaten our family. You might believe that I am the face of evil – a thief of the throne. But, my brother hasn't told you the truth of why he runs. Refusing the throne is the rejection of order and authority. For that, he must die."

"No," I shouted in return, "You lie! All that you care about is your power. He's told me that you intend to kill him in a jealous rage!"

"Has he?" Faolan mused. "Well then, you must know I have the power to do so. I can influence your world without stepping into it myself. All I must do is wave my hand, and he'll be dead without so much as my fingertip in your world. Seeing I've found him, I should break his neck right now!"

I fell silent. He could have been lying. Why else hadn't he done it? Then again, what if it was true? Surely, he had a reason for restraining himself. Faolan eyed me intensely. He loosened the will of the chains, realizing I was wrapped around his finger.

"What is it that you want from me? I'll do it, if only you'll spare him." I pled with him, voice plain and numb, the Eyes giving me a sense that death was close by.

"I regret to do it, but since I've found him, I'll have to bring him back for justice. Unless..." Faolan trailed off, smirking.

"Unless what?" My heart thudded.

"Unless...someone was to take his place."

"Take his place?" I echoed. "You mean, like as a human sacrifice?"

"If you'd like to think that," Faolan nonchalantly explained. "No one may leave their realm forever. It throws off the balance of our worlds. To bring things back into order, I must either take a life, or bring one back with me.

"It could mean death. Or, it could mean something different. There are many things I need. If you're willing to give them to me, I might spare him."

I fell into silence and looked back and Aurelian. He was still peacefully asleep. A choice loomed over me that could either save Aurelian's life, or end it. Faolan was going to leave with me, or he was going to leave with blood on his hands. I couldn't let the blood be Ari's. A chill ran down my spine.

"You can stop playing the games now. Just tell me what you want. What must I do to keep you from harming Aurelian?"

At the end of my sentence, his smirk rolled into a slyer grin. Faolan's tone became narrow and intense. His silvery eyes met mine in an intimidating stare.

"Come with me and agree to be my queen. Bear me a son to secure my line."

My whole body became cold and clammy. I clutched the ring on my chest before looking over my shoulder. I remembered my promise to marry Ari, but I also remembered my devotion. I would trade the sun for him, and if that was what it took, then I would. My love for him went deeper than my disgust for Faolan.

Whatever move I made would result in a loss. If I upheld my promise, the blood wouldn't just be on Faolan's hands. It would be on mine. If betrayal meant sparing him, so be it. I was compelled by love to protect him.

"I will go with you," I solemnly told the monster.

"And you will marry me?" Faolan hastily asked in return.

"Yes, I will marry you. But, only if you promise not to hurt him."

"Yes, yes, of course," he deceitfully assured. "Now, leave with me before I change my mind."

I took a few steps before stopping. I looked over my shoulder again, tears in my eyes. This was the only way that I could save him. I still couldn't bear the thought of parting. Without thinking, I darted back to Aurelian's side. Faolan became agitated, threatening to go back on his word.

"I only want to tell him goodbye," I told him soberly. Remembering my promise, my mind flashed to the ring. If I gave it back, maybe it would allow me a few more moments at his side. I turned to Faolan, unlatching my necklace as though I was returning the marital token. He gave a hasty but irritated nod of approval.

I bent down at Aurelian's side, ring in hand. Although he wasn't cognizant, I still whispered into his ear. Perhaps he'd hear me in his dreams, bringing him temporary happiness before he woke brokenhearted after the enchantment. I put my head on his chest, whispering.

"Goodbye, Aurelian," I softly told him. Faolan jealously watched from a distance, able to hear what I was saying in full but remaining quiet. "When you wake, there will be pain. But, know that I do this for you, my love. My bond. My dream. Kaima dahem."

My words caused Faolan to seethe. I bent down to kiss Aurelian, but the very notion made Faolan cross. He narrowed his gaze, thinly veiling his petulance.

"Kiss him, and he's dead!" Faolan threatened. "You are my bride now. You must be faithful to me. Otherwise, I won't keep my word. Now, return the ring."

I tried to slip it into his empty palm, but couldn't. I wanted it close to me. I had a strange sense that if I kept the token, he would return to me. Instead of abandoning the ring, I unlatched my other necklace.

I slipped the pearls into his hand as a signal of distress.

I hid the ring in my bodice and pulled away. My heart instantly filled with dread, sensing the great evil I approached. I stared at the face behind the glass and fell under his influence again.

"That's it. Come closer. Give in to me," his voice lulled. It became another hypnosis, drawing me to the rippling glass.

When my palm touched the portal's watery plane, it sank. I felt something snap my wrist, cold and leathery. Faolan pulled me to the other side with gloved hands. I came out on the other end, shaking and gasping for air. He locked his arms around my waist with crushing strength. He stared at me with those piercing eyes of silver ore, handsome but wicked.

"Now you've seen the face of your nightmares." He whispered something in Amari that made my limbs weak. He draped my body over his arms as he spoke. "Tek-ma losh nya..."

The words paralyzed my will, my body still able to feel each sensation. My vision blurred as we moved through a dark corridor. Faolan carried me into a labyrinth of mirrors, setting me onto a translucent seat of crystal. He took our right hands and bound them quickly. This time, the chain burned my flesh.

"Katae-rya une, onya kit makta. Chae-tome," he recited. He whispered into my ear once more before the world went black. "You're mine now."

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

King of Wolves

When I came to, I realized that I sat on the cursed throne. It was glassy and mesmerizing, containing a swirl of dark auroras. Its beauty was a façade. I sensed its evil in the deepest reaches of my soul.

"Welcome to my domain." Faolan stood before me, hand extended. I shivered. He seemed annoyed, but not entirely calloused. "Do not be afraid, my betrothed. You will learn to appreciate the power I bear."

My eyes widened when I saw that Faolan stood on the edge of a colossal drop. The throne was situated on a pedestal at least fifty feet in the air. Mirrors lined the walls of the regal chamber, reflecting our faces across a hundred sheets of glass. It was maddening to look at.

"What have you done?" I shook, the power of his enchantment lost.

I felt his eyes dissecting me, sizing up my slight guise. He was a lion, cruelly playing with the mouse under his paw before overtaking it. I fell against the crystal seat, my back pushed forward again by a presence that sent needles into my spine.

"Nothing, yet," Faolan remarked. "I don't intend to violate you, Elissa. You're much more valuable as a willing bride. Now, come with me, and I will show you the truth of my powers."

His words were deceitfully calm. They were gentle and soothing, but they still made me shiver. Faolan offered me his hand again, but I shuddered.

"You timid creature!" He raved. "You'll understand this soon enough."

Faolan took my hand, but with less force than I expected. I followed him down a steep set of stairs beside the throne. He took me through a pair of double doors and into a corridor that was shrouded in black.

"You think that I'm the monster? Perhaps I am, but he is no better. My brother has indoctrinated you. You have the Eyes, so I can show you myself!"

He grabbed my waist in the darkness. Then, the room became light. We stood in a snowy forest, purple sky dancing with auroras and watched by a massive scarlet moon. Icicles hung from the trees, magnifying the streams of color above them. A slender, black haired boy sat in a frigid clearing. He huddled beside glowing embers with no protection from the elements but a thin, black cloak.

"Do you see that child?" Faolan asked. "The one left to die in the snow?"

I nodded.

"He's a child of the Dark Order, on watai. It's the journey into adulthood. This is the place they send them to find strength. They realize their powers and care for themselves, or they die."

"That's terrible," I replied, watching the boy shiver. I broke free from Faolan's grasp and ran to the child, but when I did he faded away.

"He could neither see nor hear you," Faolan explained. "It's a memory from my past."

"Was that you?" I asked.

"It was only my shell. This is the place where I found myself, along with all of the others," he continued. Suddenly, a ravenous wolf appeared. It came to the King and bowed before him, its keeper. "It is where I gave myself a name. Before this, they called me a bastard."

"But, you're not," I began. "I know your father was cruel. It was cruel for him to send you to those people – to force you to live here. That's no reason to turn to the –"

The wolf suddenly snarled. Faolan turned to me, grabbing my wrists and pulling me inches from his face.

"Do not speak of my father! I was forced to endure far worse while my brother was groomed for the throne. The Order didn't persuade me to go on the watai. I chose it.

"It is here that I became the Chief of Shapeshifters, the Master of Wolves! I realized power that my brother will never know. It is here that the Darkness spoke to me, and I took my name. Faolan.

"In your world, it is from the tribe of your father's mother. It means wolf. In mine, it means fire. They were fitting for the kind of revenge I vow. You see, I am not to be trifled with, Elissa. While I was here, realizing my strengths, my brother - the child with a name – stood idly."

"That can't be right," I struggled. "Aurelian's a tender soul. He hates suffering."

"That's what makes him weak. While I grew nameless, he read poetry and 'enlightened' himself with prophecies that go against the very nature of our world. All while I suffered!

"When he had the chance to rise, he ran from it. He would never save me, so I saved myself. He believes the Darkness is wicked, but I tell you the truth – it's power. He rejected it, and now it's mine!"

My chest tightened has he raved. His story was without deception, but it was maddening. I feared him now more than any other moment, because his words corrupted my thoughts. My mind took up arms against his influence, locking itself and refusing to believe the blame he placed on my love.

"You're wrong. I know you've suffered – but, your words betray you. You say Aurelian's tenderness is weakness, yet you expected him to free you from the man you both feared! You were children. A child has no say in how they're brought up!"

His eyes narrowed. I thought he was going to strike me, but he retracted into thought. His wolf growled, then whimpered. It mirrored his state. Just as Faolan brooded, the wolf hung his head low, pacing. It was no less dangerous than a snarl.

"You're very compelling, Lady Elissa. But, although I cannot argue, you don't sway me. I didn't just bring you here to pity me. I brought you here to show you my power."

His words made me shiver again, as I remembered something similar come from the lips of the Magistrate. He tightened his grasp around my wrist.

"If I can't make you understand Aurelian's faults," he continued. "Your promise is dead to me as he is. I've chosen my side, and I must preserve my line. You will be my bride, and you will provide me an heir. Or, you're both dead."

I started shaking uncontrollably. As I did, the ring dislodged from my bodice. It toppled onto the snow, amethyst glittering against the tiny gold leaves of the band. Faolan stared at it, picking it up and placing it into my palm with terrifying coolness.

"My mind isn't made, Elissa. You're not a faithful bride, but I already knew that. I knew the moment you conspired against me."

"Why didn't you say anything?" I shook.

"Because I didn't take you here to serve as a mere wife," he growled in reply.

At that moment, the snow melted. The violet sky and red moon vanished into blackness. We were back in the corridor, damp and cold. He used magic to thrust open the doors to the throne room. He dragged me across the stone pavement, kicking and screaming. He hoisted my body over his shoulder with ease, starting up the stairs.

Surrounded by mirrors, I caught a glimpse of a new object sitting beside the crystal throne. It was a gilded cage. When he reached the top, Faolan shoved me in and locked the door. I placed my hands over the bars, but they sliced the insides of my palms. The sides were made of golden daggers.

"Don't bother trying to find a way out," Faolan warned me at once. "The cage is enchanted. I am the only one who can unlock it."

"Why have you done this to me?" I desperately screamed from behind the bars. He only laughed.

"Ha – I've done nothing to you yet, foolish girl. Right now, I am simply using you to get what I want," the monster answered.

"I thought that we had a deal. I would marry you, so you would spare Aurelian!"

"I made no promises," Faolan snidely remarked. "I merely suggested that that I might spare him. Did I not also say that you may suffer something else?"

"You're going to kill me then," I uttered darkly, head low.

"Oh, don't lament it," Faolan rolled his eyes, somewhat annoyed. "I didn't say I was going to kill you, did I? Perhaps I will...perhaps I won't. My terms were that I would bring you here to serve a purpose..." He gave me a deranged look. "A purpose that will give me everything I want and more."

Faolan reached his hand into the cage, attempting to caress my face in his sick fit of rage. As soon as he brushed against it, I pulled away.

"What is it that you want, Faolan? You already have the throne! You almost had me. I was going to give myself to you...willingly," I spoke up angrily as I backed into the knives. The last word was brought forth with evident disgust. The pain of the blades ripping through my dress was just as terrifying as his unstable and ferocious nature.

"Silence!" He demanded, leaning into the bars. They barely cut into his near-impenetrable skin. "I want my line to continue, so perhaps we will wed. But, it will not be on your terms. First, there is another matter to attend to. Then, I'll decide if you live."

He took my sliced palms into his hands. Whereas Aurelian would have healed them, Faolan's touch caused them to bleed until I felt dizzy. I spat at him, finding the strength even through the blood loss.

"Why must it be this way? You've already won a throne that wasn't yours. Must you do the same to me, a human being who cannot be won or claimed?"

In an instant, Faolan snatched the ring from my bloody hand and taunted me with it. He threw me a rag to press over my wounds. It wasn't a kindness on his part. He shook the dagger bars like they were nothing, reminding me that I held no more power than a sparrow in the mouth of a cat.

"You can be claimed," he said spitefully. "And now you belong to me."

Faolan's prisoner, I still couldn't be defeated. I might be powerless in comparison, but I could find strength in my words. A passionate burst came from behind gritted teeth. I threw my rag aside, grabbing the bars again.

"I don't care what you say. I will never belong to you." Blood spattered down the cage, but I didn't care. The pain killed my fear. "I belong to no one. My heart is Aurelian's, and his mine!"

"Then why don't you take this ring as a token of remembrance," Faolan jeered, throwing the ring back into the cage. "Now all that you'll ever have is your memories. From this moment, the rest of your life will be filled with the ache of your missing love!"

I cradled the ring in the raw flesh of my hands. When the amethyst touched them, the bleeding stopped.

"You're wrong," I said without thinking, "If think you can keep us apart, you're wrong. When he sees that I'm missing, he'll come for me."

Faolan laughed at my ignorance. I was no threat. In fact, it was all falling into place as he wanted. He touched my face again, at first gently, then with the harshest malice.

"Yes, he will come for you. I assure you, he will."

I fell into silent horror as I realized the meaning of his words. Faolan hadn't crossed into my world to kill Aurelian, because he knew he couldn't. If he crossed into the church, the Prince would have sensed his presence.

No enchantment could keep him paralyzed in the face of such evil. Faolan needed Aurelian to come back willingly. He needed to use something that could weaken him for slaughter. For that, he needed a convincing lure.

What love or purity could save us now?

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

The Labyrinth

It had been three days since I arrived. Faolan played endless mind games, bringing me through rapid highs and lows of kindness and cruelty. It caused my strength to dwindle into dust. All the while, he didn't harm me. He needed my body intact.

The King of Night placed a garland of golden leaves on my head. The crown was like my ring, vines wrapping around an amethyst. I was sure it was another game. He smirked.

"Your prince is coming," he reminded me. Every time he said it, I withered. "Though, it has been three days. Perhaps it's time to reconsider to whom you owe your affections."

"I will do no such thing," I glared at him, mustering the little strength I had left to stand. "It doesn't matter where he is or how long it's been – you know nothing of true love!"

"True love. I know everything of true love – I know that there is no such thing! True love is just fable," Faolan mocked.

"To my people, you're just a fable," I cleverly shot back. The King sneered.

"You had better hold your tongue, especially considering my new offer."

"What offer?" I cautiously replied.

"Today, you serve your purpose. I could dispose of you after that, or, you might serve me instead..."

Faolan deceitfully softened. He became tenderhearted, acting as though he was willing to give me love. Faolan snatched the ring from my hands, examining it. Then, he reached back into the cage and slipped it onto one of my fingers. I remained motionless, sober-faced and silent.

"Your company isn't so terrible, nor is your beauty," he began, stroking the back of my head through the pointed bars. I winced. "I've decided that you will be my queen, after all. You will learn to love me, then you will bear us a son."

"So, then you will spare Aurelian?" I asked him in surprise.

"This isn't a replacement for the plans which I have already made," he glared. "It is an offer to spare you from a fate that would otherwise fall upon you both."

I pulled away from him in disgust. Although my opposition was clear, he continued persuading me.

"Allow me to spare you. Your powers of sight are but an infant in the vastness of potential. I know them well. I can teach you how to harness them. If only you knew..."

"Never," I grunted. "I won't let your darkness snuff out my light that way!"

"Then at least marry me, Elissa. Your marriage will be payment for my mercy."

I backed away from him in an instant. For a moment, I pitied him. I spoke up, pleading with all my strength, hoping that I could soften the monster.

"That's what you're missing, O King! Love is not a debt owed to another unwillingly. It is a debt that two souls owe each other willingly and eternally. I can't marry you as payment for mercy. I will only agree if you spare the one I love."

My words caused him to retract as he did in the forest, actions mirrored by the beast. This time, they did something new. I could see they might have penetrated his heart of stone. It only lasted a moment – a false flag that raised my hopes in a dangerous way. Faolan used his magic to open the lock and free me from my gilded prison.

"You're letting me go?" I asked in confusion. Before I could think one more thought, Faolan grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his trapping embrace.

"No," he whispered into my ear. "It appears that your prince is here.

"No," I muttered in cold shock, "No..."

"Oh, but he is!" Faolan wickedly told me. "He's just opened the third-to-last portal...he's risking it all to save you. He's crossed over now – and he's just in time to have a little journey through the labyrinth!"

"The labyrinth?"

"Yes, the labyrinth! He's lost in a barrage of traps and illusions. By the time he reaches me, he'll already be half dead. His soul will be crushed. Considering it takes quite a lot to kill my kind, you'll soon see that my power surpasses anything you can fathom."

"You're lying again, I know it!" I exclaimed, unable to say anything else.

"No, this time I'm afraid that I'm telling the truth," he smirked. "Why don't we watch as it conspires?"

Faolan took his free hand and gathered air into crystal. It became a floating window that revealed whatever he wished. In the glass, a young man ran through darkness. He was unprepared for battle, but valiant nonetheless.

There was a sword in his hand. The knight ran through a maze, sweaty and terrified by the moments he lost chasing every dead end. My heart dropped when I realized who the valiant young man was. It was Aurelian.

"I'll give you one last chance, Elissa. Stay with me and live. Refuse me and suffer the same death as he." Faolan lowered his voice to a whisper.

Life and death danced before me. I closed my eyes, contemplating.

"I'd rather die."

Faolan bent down and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I writhed, his touch burning like acid.

"Very well. You've made your choice, but I'll be patient. Hearts change when they taste the Darkness. Now, it's time for you to serve your purpose." He suddenly released me from his grasp, throwing on me on the ground with such force, I nearly fell off the pedestal.

"What are you going to do?" I shook.

"I'm not going to anything," he glared. "You are going to bring my brother to me."

"Whatever magic you use – I will defy it!" I shouted at him in return. "I will fight it with every ounce my being, I will –"

"Oh, silence, foolish girl! You cannot defy me. My magic is one of the strongest forces in the realms. It's stronger than the will of any mortal," Faolan spat. The familiar pressure of his invisible noose tightened around my body.

"Now, you are going to find my brother in the maze. Then, you will lead him to me."

"No, you're still wrong. The moment that I see him I will tell him everything you intend-"

"You still amuse me, Elissa," Faolan interrupted. "You think I haven't contemplated that? I'm putting you under an enchantment that will force you to do all I desire. If you so much as breathe a word of my plans, you'll find yourself mute."

Faolan flicked his wrist, and in the next breath I felt my heart and lungs crushed beneath an invisible weight. The sensation slithered across my limbs, moving them painfully down the stairs. It was a thousand venomous snakes sinking their fangs into my flesh. The more I fought, the greater misery I felt.

Human instinct caused me to relax, if only to survive. The burden on my psyche was too much. When I wasn't fighting, I was overcome with feelings of devious calm and strength. It was invigorating.

I heard Faolan's voice and saw the corridor transform back into snow. He was there, arms around my waist, whispering in my ear as Aurelian would. His words started out deceitfully soothing, then turned into vehement promises.

"Hate me if you must," he told me, hands trailing the bare skin of my neck in the way of a lover. "I can offer you permanent ecstasy. You still have a chance to change. Give in to the enchantment, and it will remain your reality. Fight it, and you've rejected me.

"If you fight it, Elissa, you will die. And if you somehow triumph, I will still win in the end. Whether it comes from your womb, or the womb of a whore; my seed will sit on the throne."

I was thrust out of the snowy landscape, into a place that was strangely familiar. It was something I saw in my memories, but much darker. I exited a bitterly cold stone tunnel into a garden. For just a moment, I deviated from the will of my master and gazed at the sky.

It was dark purple and devoid of the stars I knew. The Ursas were missing, replaced by a formation that looked like a roaring lion. There was another constellation that looked like a five-petaled lily, glowing faintly beside a mammoth moon. It crimson, as the one in my vision. It's light dimly bled over the horizon in deep rose.

My neck snapped downward. I was attacked by the sensation of a ten-fanged spider digging into my skin. I gave in, shaking, and felt a wave of calm. The King sent me into the labyrinth, a stringed puppet, and beguiled me with images that mirrored my memories. The maze resembled the protective hedges of the Devereaux Estate, only these were made of briar and thistle.

It was a forest of thorns – some so large they were better suited on the tip of an arrow. Besides its deathly lining, the Presence ruled this place. The heat was blistering, yet it was also so bitterly cold that the tops of my ears became frostbitten. It was the Hell's belly, and my mind fought with my body over entering it. Before I felt ten thousand bee stings, or a beast slitting open my skin; I was pushed into the labyrinth's thorny clutches.

Giving in was dreamlike. I knew that with each step I took, the feeling was fighting for complete control. Faolan overcame my body, even transforming my appearance. He lowered me at a fountain in the center, revealing my reflection in the water.

My blood-stained frock was gone, replaced with a sultry dress of blue silk. Transparent chiffon draped over it in layers, gently whipped by the breeze like the garb of a Greek goddess. The golden crown still sat on my head, now off center because of the torment that writhed my body. I shivered.

A voice called out in despair. When I recognized it, my instincts overrode the enchantment and all its punishments. I shook the ghostly vipers from my arms and stomped on their heads as I ran to my love.

"Elissa!" Aurelian shouted, seeing me in the distance. Fire raged around us, smoke clouding our view. I ran toward the sound of his voice.

"Aurelian!"

We carried on blindly, plunging into the smoke guided only by the sense of closeness in our spirits. A ceiling of fire shot over our heads when I saw his silhouette. None of the chaos mattered. No madness could keep me from his arms.

"Oh, Elissa!" Aurelian cried as we threw ourselves into an embrace. He held a sword in his right hand, my pearls wrapped around the handle. "I thought I lost you!"

"Ari–" I started, filled with equally as much emotion.

The fire subsided, and he returned the pearls to my neck. That's when Faolan's will overcame me. I tried to warn him, but I became mute, just as the King said.

Faolan sent words into my throat and began parting my lips in deceit. I fought it, remaining silent and shaking as I fell over Aurelian's chest. Instead of punishing me with peril, he overwhelmed me, allowing my helplessness to be my torment. It was worse than the ten-fanged spider.

"Aurelian," someone else's words came from my lips. "It's been three days! I thought you'd never come."

"It only seems that way because the time in this world is distorted. I'm sorry I didn't wake sooner. I came as soon as I realized that you were gone," Ari explained, caressing my face in his hands. It was a welcome touch after the ones that poisoned me. "Time passes differently here than it does in yours. A moment in your world can be a day in mine, sometimes two or three. But that doesn't matter anymore. I'm here now."

We sat in silence for an eternity, my heart screaming while my mouth was unable to make a sound. In the silence, Aurelian looked into my eyes. He became disoriented, dazed by the spell over my features.

"You look...so beautiful," he admitted as he stared at me with an awestricken gaze. He adjusted the golden wreath on my head, tracing the pearls on each leaf and inspecting them in a trance. "You wear the Crown of the Amari Queen. It suits you."

My heart dropped as I realized the trap was working. Aurelian's inhibitions were gone. My appearance lured him beyond reason. Where he should have seen danger, he saw only desire.

"Oh, love, let us leave this horrible place. When can we go home?" The girl inside of me softly beckoned.

"Yes, yes. We must leave at once," the prince stammered.

"Come then, let us leave the maze. I have escaped from your brother long enough to see that there is another open door in the castle. It is the one that Faolan used to take me here – and we can use it to get back."

"Are you certain?" He suddenly asked me, apparently climbing out of his trance. "If you've been here for three days, it seems that he surely would have closed it."

"My love, I am certain!" Faolan spoke through my lips. "I saw it with my own eyes, I even crossed through it! Besides, it's our only chance to get out of here!"

"Elissa, I don't think you understand how dangerous it would be to go back into that place," Aurelian begged.

The trance over the prince's mind was fading. As his awareness gradually came back, so did his caution. He began sensing the strangeness in my aura.

"Elissa, you don't seem well," he remarked. "Are you alright? Has anything been done to you that I should know about?"

"Of course, something has been done to me," the voice shot back bitterly. I wept as I said the words, but my tears weren't farce. "You failed to reach me in time. Now, I'm – I'm –"

"What did he do to you?" Aurelian looked into my eyes with a glare that could pierce steel.

He tightened his embrace, protectively encasing me. Ari's anger brewed as his mind went through the possibilities. I saw his right-hand clench around the sword, and for the first time since we met, I sensed darkness in his heart. The next words broke him.

"I'm with child." I saw the fury in his eyes.

"Did he force himself upon you?"

He clung to me, arms shaking as my body tensed under the full weight of the moon. It crushed my lungs, but I fought in vain against the next words:

"No, he did not. Please don't be angry. Faolan's been kind to me, and I've agreed to marry him. Only for the sake of the son he says I carry."

As soon as I said the words, I saw his spirit sink. Despair washed over his features.

"No – no, Elissa. You can't marry him," The prince pleaded. "Whatever he's told you, shown you, made you feel... it's part of his lie. You may not even carry his child. It could be part of his trickery. To place memories in your mind that never occurred, to deceive you that he might later do as he wishes. Faolan is consumed by his curse...deceived by it–"

"I know he seduced me. He's not the man I want," the enchantment barked in a way that I probably never would. "But, if he is what you say, then fight for me. Allow me to decide. Let me bring you to the portal."

"But it's so dangerous –" Aurelian protested again.

"Trust me."

Deceived by magic, the protesting prince became malleable clay in Faolan's hands. Heartbroken, he agreed to follow my lead. He took my hand, the magic taking us to the innermost part of the castle.

The entire way, I was screaming internally. I continued fighting against the monstrosity until my protest became so vehement it killed a colony of unseen bullet ants that nibbled on my gooseflesh.

She's stronger than I thought...I nearly heard Faolan lamenting.

My resolve inched above the torment with success. Instead of banishing the enchantment, it began battling it, the two wills evenly matched. He plagued me with more horrors, but I angrily quashed each one. It sent me onto the floor, screaming. Aurelian caught me, preventing my head from smashing onto the cold stones.

"Aurelian!" I screamed through my pain, able to speak over the voice for the first time. "None of it is true! Go back now! This isn't me! This isn't me!"

I yelped, then I was silenced by an intense choking sensation. It was as if I was dying, but he knew I wasn't. He'd seen this kind of torment many times before, but never seen anyone rise above it as I had. If I continued defying it, he knew that the magic would plague my body with pain until it stopped my mortal heart.

"Go!" I said again, fighting as my body began to seize.

"No! I know what this is," Aurelian exclaimed. "I will not leave your side. You must stop fighting it, otherwise you're going to die! I have to get you out of here"

The prince's tone became uncharacteristically forceful. Watching me suffer was unbearable. It also did something else, something that very few things could. It made him furious. His anger from earlier boiled over, morphing into protective intensity.

Despite my protests, he took up my seizing body and ran down the dark corridor. It was to no avail. Faolan saw all. He quickly blocked every escape, bolting every window and passageway. I continued fighting with the curse, writhing and near death from the pain. Aurelian placed my body on the floor, speaking to me gently in the chaos.

"Elissa, you have to listen to me," he coaxed. "Stop fighting it. I know the truth now. You needn't worry. I won't let it hurt me. But, you must do as I say. If you don't let go, it will kill you."

"But...I can't let it win," I told him, shaking and pale.

Even if it took my life, it wouldn't matter. I was going to die anyway. I internally wept, realizing that despite our wakefulness against his deceit, Faolan was still luring us. I gazed at Aurelian, hoping that if this was our last moment, I would make him happy. Whatever the future brought, Aurelian wanted me to live now. I stopped fighting. Not for myself, but for him.

"This isn't something that you can win or lose. You have to let it take over for now," He continued persuading. "It won't last forever. These things never do. Soon it will fade and you will be yourself again. But, you must let go."

Little-by-little, I gave in. Not as I did earlier, to experience pleasure instead of pain. This time, I slipped as the mind does from wakefulness into sleep. Faolan eased his grip, finished with me. The Prince cradled my head in his lap.

"At least we're still together," Aurelian grimly muttered.

In the next breath, I was taken. The place where I rested my head became a frigid void. Even though his arms held me tightly, they weren't enough to shield me from Faolan's magic. It was the realization of every nightmare – all the fears that kept him running. He stood up, sword in tow.

"Where is she?" Ari shouted at the ceiling, his tone bleak and forbidding. "Wherever you're hiding, know that I'm coming for you. You will regret that you ever did this! As long as I live, I will find her!"

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Fallen

I woke to the feeling of a bone-chilling chain fastened to my neck. It was heavier than any of Faolan's torments, and no less invisible. My mind was back under my control, a harsh and splitting pain coming with it. I looked up from beneath the breath-stealing power of the noose and saw that I was back in the room with the crystal throne and a thousand mirrors.

"It seems we have a visitor. Well done," Faolan whispered in my ear.

I turned to see the monster, frightened just as much when I heard Aurelian's boots clinking toward the door. As the doors creaked open, I saw my him reflected bleakly in every mirror. I wanted to cry out, but Faolan tightened the noose and threw me under his arm.

They spoke to each other in their common tongue at first. My ears adjusted again, just as they did in the forest.

"Mach-duma, oona chae-ma," Faolan began loudly from the throne's ledge. The Amari faded into my tongue. "Welcome, brother of full blood. It seems you've found what you've been looking for."

"Mikta bah," Aurelian growled. It was gibberish to me, but I sensed it was a pejorative. "Eihe nak, chae-ma ik-tome. Why do you only desire ruin?"

It was clear that Aurelian was of no humorous approach. He carried a sword in one hand, and now a shield in the other. The Prince eyed me cautiously, contemplating his next move. When he moved his feet, Faolan tightened his grip around my neck. I was hardly breathing.

"What have you done to her?" Aurelian growled, standing his ground, praying the creature's grip would loosen.

"I've done absolutely nothing to her," Faolan spat in return. "In fact, I've been more than hospitable. Haven't I, Elissa?"

He took his free hand and tauntingly stroked my cheek. I squirmed in his grasp. He released me momentarily, a ring of red where his hand had been.

"You're a sick man," I told him in a raspy voice. Then, he grabbed me again, bearing down on my windpipe even harder.

"Please – please! Stop!" Aurelian begged. Although Faolan wasn't one for bartering, he allowed air back into my lungs. "Why must you do this? I'm the one that you want. She's innocent!"

"Innocent?" Faolan scoffed. "I beg to differ! She knows of our world now, she knows of you. Innocence is born of ignorance. She can no longer call herself ignorant in this – so why should I spare her?"

"Faolan, please, I am your brother," Aurelian continued pleading. "Cease your riddles! You hold an innocent woman's life in your hands now...I beg of you, free her and end this madness!"

"Madness? You call this madness? No. Running from this throne is madness," Faolan barked. "Why would I free her now? Because of your pleading? Because she's your love? None of that is of any matter to me, brother. Not after what you've put me through in this life!"

Aurelian's pleas and prayers were useless. Nothing was going to stop Faolan from crushing me. If he moved, my pain would only worsen. The Prince stood his ground, negotiating.

"I won't spare her for you," Faolan spat again. "You don't deserve to see her alive. Not a man like you, who knows such privilege and yet rejects it. You're a coward, Aurelian, a coward! Perhaps I should see to her death...that her suffering will serve as a punishment for your cowardice!"

"Don't you dare harm her! If you don't free her in this instant, you'll sorely regret it!" Aurelian threatened him, eyes narrow and feet ready to lunge up the steps.

"Oh, but you're mistaken!" Faolan spat through his teeth, clutching me even tighter. "After today, I'll regret nothing!"

"What have I ever done to you to deserve a punishment such as this?" Aurelian despaired, witnessing me toil before him. Faolan remained completely unmoved. "What has she done?"

"You know what you've done! You are the firstborn. That is your sin! Although we shared the same womb, you came first. Because of it, I was the forgotten.

"Do you know how many times our father's court referred to me as the 'palace bastard?' It was because no one in our world bears twins. Not a single Amari prince has ever had a brother of full-blood! Even though my blood is pure as yours, the world thinks I'm the son of a common whore!"

The brother raved, temporarily relieving his grip as he reminisced bitter memories. Aurelian saw the shift in his demeanor, reading a vague softness in his brother. The pain was raw and justified, and Aurelian used it to reason with him.

"Faolan, I didn't know I had a brother, much less a twin – not until you entered the Dark Order. Father never told me! What he did was wrong. He kept it from me for the same reason that he kept you away. He feared what we were. He feared the Amaranthine Prophecy!"

"Your prophecies," Faolan scoffed. "You spent a lifetime studying them while I suffered. There may be power in their words, brother, but they threaten the Great Power that rules our world. Your rejection of it only signifies that this throne belongs to me."

Faolan appeared to lose interest. He looked off to the side, staring at crystal throne and its deceitfully bright aura. The moment that he looked away, Aurelian took the opportunity to charge. It was still just as useless as before. Faolan was never off guard.

The wretched man swung his arm and dangled me over the ledge using his powers of air. It was the same motion that Aurelian used to restrain Luca in the forest. With each step the prince took, he threatened to let go. Then, Faolan began draining the life from me vampirically.

"What are you doing?" Aurelian shook in the face of this strange, evil power.

"I'm doing what I do best," Faolan remarked. "I'm taking the life right from her soul!"

It sucked the vigor from my face rapidly, causing me to deteriorate before his eyes. Aurelian remained frozen where he was, watching in silent horror. Faolan continued draining, taking my life force into his veins. My skin paled to the color of virgin snow.

"Faolan, stop this!" Aurelian pleaded, my face hollow and white. "Whatever magic you're using – stop it this instant! Stop it or I'll kill you!"

"Take one more step, and I'll take more of her life." Faolan threatened in return.

Aurelian eyed him, the anger welling up inside. He saw that I was suffering. If he didn't make a move soon, I was going to die anyway. Perhaps it was risky, but it seemed to be his last chance. Aurelian took in a deep breath, mustering up his courage. It was time to be bold.

"What's the use?" Aurelian challenged, "If I don't kill you now, she'll meet her end at your hand anyway. If I pierce you, the magic dies with you."

"Who's to say she won't be dead before your sword reaches me?" Faolan taunted.

The power continued bleeding my soul. This time, I wilted more rapidly. It shrunk the corners of my brain, eating my sanity. I reached out to Aurelian and pleaded for him. It was something that haunted his mind for many years afterward.

"Aurelian," I called out in a raspy voice. "Help me!"

My eyes drifted lazily, the muscles unable to control their motions in my sockets. They stopped at one of the mirrors. I wasn't dead, but when I saw myself, my sense of pain went numb. The lack of oxygen to my brain made me feel like I was flying. I watched my reflection, the peril unfolding as a seemingly eternal picture in the glass. Faolan continued gloating.

"Your pleas are useless, brother. Are you blind? Can you not see that this is how I win? You're helpless. You know that with every step you take forward, I will bring your love closer to death. Soon, she will be dead – a causality of your foolishness."

"Is that what this is about?" Aurelian pleaded, now in tears. "That you think I am a fool? Is my status as the eldest such a sin that you would kill the one I love most? Keep the throne! I'm not here to take it from you. I only want her!"

"That's just it brother! It's not about who you are...it's about what you've taken from me. All our lives you were groomed for the throne. Yet, for some reason you were too tenderhearted to take it yourself. It was yours, but you never wanted it. Though, I did.

"It was my deepest desire, my one love! As long as you were here I could never have it! It left me hungry, loveless and empty! And now...I'm going to do the same to you!" His eyes narrowed. "See? I'm taking the only thing you have left, and I'm destroying it...just like I destroyed our father, and just as he destroyed his."

Now the taunting was too much. The mention of his father was the last straw. He looked at my face again, barely clinging to life in Faolan's clutches. It was all or nothing now. If he didn't move, I'd be dead. One small gasp came from my mouth at that moment, and Aurelian broke.

"You vile wolf!" Aurelian snarled.

If there was ever a chance of saving me, he would have to take it now. He raised his sword and climbed toward the throne. It only lasted a few seconds, but for me it felt like eons. Faolan kept his promise. With every fraction of a step, he sadistically took more or my essence. Seeing my life fade sent Aurelian up faster. Perhaps there was a small chance he'd make it before the last light of my dim aura burnt out.

When he neared the top, Faolan stopped feeding off me. He loosened his grasp. With every step the prince took, I was closer to my death plunge. Aurelian raised his sword. The grip loosened. One more step. I was slipping. Finally, Aurelian reached the top of the flight and charged. The grip opened. Faolan released his hands from around my neck, and I found myself in freefall.

"NO!" Aurelian shouted, throwing his sword to the ground and reaching out.

It was already too late. I toppled on the ground, my bones shattering on impact. I was awake just long enough to see Aurelian reaching down from the pedestal, eyes filled with fear. My body was broken now, limp and weary. The movement of my chest was shallow and labored, and I knew that the end was coming.

I made my eyelids heavy, closing them in hopes of sparing him the sight of morbid, glassy eyes. I used my last strength to turn my head to the side, hoping that gravity would help keep them shut. Then, I drifted.

That was the moment that I died.

Air expelled from my chest. The prince was impaired by grief, nearly forgetting where he was. He turned from his bloodthirsty brother, falling to his knees.

The protection of his sword and shield were dangerously in Faolan's reach. He grinned at the sight. This was it, he realized. His brother was broken and weak. Faolan reached for the sword.

Unaware of the present danger, Aurelian gazed at my body. I was the only creature who trusted him – the only thing he ever truly loved. I was the only attachment in his nomadic existence. It caused something to surface in him that wasn't present before. The blackening anger I sensed in him earlier festered. The Darkness hovered over him.

He was hardly able to hold me before I slipped through his fingers. It left a void in his heart. The void was anger and despair. Then, it became more than just anger. It became rage.

Aurelian sensed his brother. He quelled his tears, staring calculatedly at the reflections in the corner of his eye. Faolan stood over him with the sword, gloating and ready to jab.

"The girl is dead, brother. You have nothing left to live for! Perhaps it is time that you joined her? Now I finally get the thing that I've wanted since we were children; your head," Faolan kicked Aurelian in the stomach, causing him to fall onto his back.

It only winded him for a moment. Ari stayed there, waiting for Faolan's pride to cause a fatal error. No matter what he said, the Prince remained silent, studying his movements.

"I took her here to continue my line after I erased your claim. That was my only folly. Now, I realize that I never needed her womb. Without an heir, I'll be able to reign forever."

He raised his sword high, perhaps a little too high. There wasn't a doubt in Faolan's mind that he had won. That was his fatal pride. In his arrogance and mockery, Faolan didn't realize that he transformed his brother into a new beast. The next few moments were utterly surreal.

Instead of letting himself be slain, Aurelian grabbed the end of the sword and wrestled it out of his brother's hands. He took it back into his bloodied palms and kicked Faolan to the ground. The kick came with a vengeful strength that left the threshold of self-defense. A new person overcame Aurelian, a person made of blind fury.

Aurelian thrusted his sword into Faolan's stomach. The brother was already down, but whatever new monster dwelled in him didn't ease. Aurelian was made of stone, refusing to let up as he sank the metal into Faolan's tough, otherworldly organs. His passionate fury was soon interrupted by the gruff sounds of a dying man.

"Well done," Faolan suddenly spoke up, mouth filled with blood. "It seems you've turned the tables on this...just as I always dreaded."

He began coughing up his bodily essence. It was everywhere, pooling beneath them as it left the opening in his abdomen. It wasn't red, but tarry black. It bled onto the ground as ink.

"We're more alike than you thought," Faolan spoke up again. As soon as he said the words, Ari returned to himself, horrified.

"No..." he replied, vehemence turning to shock. His senses suddenly came back into focus and his mind back under his same, docile control. The damage was already done.

"Then why do you continue to drive your sword into my body? You have already wounded me beyond repair." Faolan told his brother in a raspy, pressured voice.

The prince realized his knuckles were white. They clenched the handle of his sword with all the force in his being. Aurelian's weight was a firm anchor on the blade, keeping his brother pinned. It surpassed what was necessary. He let go of the weapon and jumped up in horror.

"I'm sorry I underestimated you," Faolan maliciously spat. "You're worthy of the throne after all!"

"You're a liar!"

Faolan looked up at his brother, features washed in astonishment. The coward was still running. It was inescapable now.

"Am I?" Faolan challenged. "This was always meant for you. The throne is yours now. You are the King! The curse has already seduced you. Soon, it will tempt you to accept its full power. Then, you will transform into the thing you fear most.

"Then I'll fight it! I'll fight it with everything in me," Aurelian shouted.

"Open your eyes! This is your fate! It's only a matter of time before the throne consumes you. You can try to resist it, but no one can for very long. It only takes one moment of weakness...then it consumes all that you are." He stopped to cough for a moment, more inky blood pouring onto the ground.

The new king backed from his dying brother in horror. He couldn't have done this. Yes, the world needed to be rid of this evil tyrant. My death was now avenged. But, Ari knew the consequences of doing it himself. It was the very thing he'd been running from.

"The throne is yours now. You've freed me from its seductions. I drove myself mad with power because I tried conquering it...and even if you resist it, you'll find yourself with the same madness," Faolan warned. Aurelian stiffened. Even with blood on his hands – justified or unjustified – he still couldn't accept the curse.

"Then I'll go mad! I'll accept this title, but I'll never accept the curse that comes with it."

"I won't argue with you over this. The Darkness is leaving me. The blackening influence on my life is already lessening. I feel it. Where else is it going to go, except into you?

"No Amari king has ever resisted the Darkness. If you try to fight it, it will tempt you fiercely." Faolan took in a shallow breath, nearing the end. He coughed one last time. "As for me...I suppose you've already given my just punishment. An eye for an eye...a tooth for a tooth...

"Though, be warned, brother. Although I am freed of this oppression, my plans were not in vain. Even as I drift away from you at this moment – one day you'll wake and find that I'm still with you.

"I'll be watching you from where I next sit, waiting for the moment I can make what is yours mine. The throne and all its power belong to you now, but they will not belong to you forever. One day, I'll be back. It will be easy for me to steal your throne– because now I know exactly how you are. I know that you're exactly like me."

Faolan's final declaration went quiet. The last black drop of blood came from his wound. His movements became weaker and his body became still. It appeared that he was finally dead; dead at the hand of his brother.

First came the shock, then the terror. Despite his intense revulsion, his mind momentarily escaped its mode of self-blame. He glanced over the steep ledge, down to my lifeless body.

The memories of my tumult flooded him. Unable to think of anything else at that moment, he raced down the stairs to my motionless side.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

The Pure Heart Rises

"Elissa!" Aurelian shouted as he reached the bottom of the stairs. My ears were long numb to the sounds of reality.

I was clearly dead, but the King vainly hoped that it was an illusion. With each step toward his nightmare, he hoped that maybe there might have been some life left in me after all. He prayed that I was a simple mirage, a trick of his brother that only appeared to straddle the damp stones. When he came upon the body, it became plain that this wasn't the case. The Prince fell to his knees and cradled it in his arms. He searched for warmth, but there was nothing.

"Oh, Elissa..." he whispered, embracing my mortal body in denial.

He took my hand and brushed it against his face. It was cold and stiffening. The color from my complexion was drained to permanent, ice-grey slate. However, it wasn't ghastly. The effect of gravity was slightly different here, so my eyes and lips remained shut. My hair was spread out gracefully, cascading on the ground like a soft fawn halo around my pale guise. It left Aurelian with stormier bleakness than the depravity of the King's Curse.

"I'm sorry that I've done this to you."

In his moment of weakness, the Darkness began taking root in him, just as Faolan said. It was a hungry one, and these were the moments it preyed best. The Darkness stalked Aurelian, coming around him and touching his shoulders with a poisonous shroud. It came around him in embrace, tightening quickly and overwhelming his senses as a boa coiling around a stunted cub. It whispered to him in the greatest seduction, urging Ari to open the door.

It begged him to unlock the gate. It wanted to consume him, giving him a small taste of power that was invigorating. Let me in, it told him. Unite your powers with mine, and make her live again as our masterpiece! Take me, King. Rule me. Rule her.

The prospect was tempting. The voices soothed him, beckoning him to take his seat at the Crystal Throne. He cracked the door only slightly. It crept through the crevices in the wood. Then, he looked down at my icy face and remembered a time it bore the warmth of the morning sun. The door shut abruptly, cutting off the rest of the shadow.

The ring sat on my finger, the amethyst no longer swirling with color. My spirit uncontained, it ceased its shift and paled to a solid purple. Ari clutched my hand desperately, hoping it would bring me back.

Of course, it didn't. His mind filled with images of love and light. I was a love so strong and true that even the simple thought caused the Darkness to tremble and cease. All the while, the Prince continued weeping. He knew he'd have to take my body and leave this place, otherwise some servant would find it and bury it alongside his brother in the family tomb.

To the Amari, an engagement to the King awarded the burial rites of a crowned princess. It was a double-edged sword. I was his princess, true and bound, but to the Amari I would be remembered as Faolan's wife. The very thought of seeing his beloved buried next to her captor sent shivers up his spine. He would open a portal and take my corpse back to my family. Then, he would stay there...

Right. It began sinking in again. He couldn't do any of that, because he was bound to this place. He was bound to that glowing seat of authority for the rest of eternity. Bound to the power of his crown, of a curse that stained his soul as ink, and portals that would soon be dead as I was. He stared at my face, unable to move without telling me goodbye. The Crystal Throne called to him with all its fortitude, but its might was brittle. Ari shattered its call, a throne of glass.

"Oh Elissa, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't save you...that I came when it was already too late..." He whispered in grief, tears falling over my resting soul. "I've seen true beauty in you. I've seen it in everything – your innocence, your strength – it is not only an outward beauty, but one that lives in your soul...How I've loved you...How I still love you!"

He collapsed over my body and wept in the most dreadful kind of chorus. Then he became convinced of something particularly strange. If nothing else mattered, this surely did. It was something that he couldn't escape. He was compelled by love to do it.

"Elissa, if your spirit still looms here somehow – let it see me bestow upon your lips this final, parting kiss."

He lowered his head and placed a soft, delicate kiss on my cold lips. For a few seconds, nothing happened. The room was just as dreary as it was before. The Prince lingered there some more, struggling to unbind his heart from what he believed to be that of a dead woman.

Then, the miraculous happened.

First, the amethyst ring on my finger came alive again. It shifted from unmoving purple to every color in the visible spectrum, just as it did adorning the finger of the pure and living. The Prince didn't notice the miracle, for he was still preoccupied in his grief.

Color began rushing back into my skin, life into my bones. My flesh became warm to the touch. The stiff limb that he held in his hand became excited and malleable once more. Feeling the warmth, Aurelian opened his eyes and fell back in astonishment.

The face that Faolan drained gaunt and hollow, refilled with youth and life. It became even more invigorated than it was in living. My former features returned, but this time they were inhumanly beautiful because of their glow. To him, it had always been beautiful, but this was different. I was being transformed into a new creature at his feet.

Fear compelled him to stay. Whatever was happening to me was either terrible, wonderful, or both. The next act seemed impossible. He put his ear over my chest and heard the rhythmic thud of a heartbeat. In a few moments, a breath of new life entered my lungs and caused my body to jolt awake.

Lightning flowed through my veins. I sat up, opened my eyes and gasped. I was a maiden pulled from the water at high-tide, sucking in the oxygen as death expelled itself from my lungs. I was so terrified that I fell backward again. Aurelian was quick to catch me.

"It's...it's you...Ari," I mumbled, robbed of my new breath. The way it lifted my lungs felt somehow different. Aurelian hovered over me, his face speaking of both joy and dismay.

"Yes," he weakly laughed. "It's me, Ari...or whatever else you'd like to call me."

"What happened?" I asked again, headache surging.

I couldn't say anything else, Aurelian pulling me in for a wet and blissful kiss. I was hardly cognizant when I tilted my head, catching our reflection in the hundreds of mirrors littering the walls. The memories returned – dimly, thank Heavens – and I realized where I was. I remembered very little of those dreadful, sickening moments spent being drained of my life at Faolan's hand.

I remembered some of the altercation, but mostly, I remembered the descent. The oxygen deprived freefall played endlessly in my view. I saw my reflection gliding through the air and felt my bones shatter as they hit the stony ground. I remembered turning my head and closing my eyes. They were open now, and my bones were mended.

I had died, but now I was alive again.

"I was dead...and now – you – you're here! That must mean that I'm dead, or you're dead...but, I feel alive–" I rushed breathily, exhausting my new lungs.

"Calm down Elissa," Aurelian hushed me pleasantly, beaming only somewhat. "We're both very much alive."

"But, how?" I dazedly muttered.

"I can't explain it, but it doesn't' matter. You were dead, Elissa. Dead in my arms. I kissed you farewell and then, you rose–"

I put a finger to his lips. Fresh from my death journey, my spirit was awake and sensitive to matters beyond sight. The Eyes were no longer a separate entity. It was another sense, embedded into my consciousness. My mouth opened weakly.

"Kaima dahem," I said, unable to control my lips. It came out like a dream, as a force beyond my reckoning. "The pure heart rises."

Ari's eyes drifted away from mine, appearing disturbed. He sensed that the voice speaking was only faintly my own. He feared that something else lived in me. He stared blankly at the ledge above us, his appearance dismal. I used what little energy I could muster and tilted his face close to mine.

"Do not fear. Love is strong enough to conquer anything, even death."

His heart was a tug-of-war. The Prince kissed my hands, almost weeping. He was soft to me, yet his heart was hardened in fear. He wouldn't tell me what he'd done. He couldn't. The Prince caressed my face for a moment, mesmerized. His soon winced in pain. The stranger came back to the door, calling to the part of itself that was already inside. Aurelian's gaze turned protective as he struggled to keep me from the monster ravaging his soul.

"We should leave this room of death," the Prince darkly uttered.

The ruler gently lifted my feet. They quaked beneath me, the limbs of a speckled fawn slipping on afterbirth. The Prince caught me again, the inches haunting him as stories after the long fall. I felt light-headed, slipping from consciousness. What a cruel trick this would be, if my resurrection had been the final farce of his dead brother! The life didn't seem to be fleeing from my cheeks as before, but he feared that this could be the start of another painful death.

"Aurelian, I'm fine," I protested as he carried me out of the room. There was no one else with us, and it seemed mad to call for help in a castle that was vacant.

"No, Elissa. You're weak. You need a doctor – you need rest!"

"Shouting for someone won't do you any good. There's no one here. I've gone three days in this place without seeing a servant of any kind," I stopped and began shaking. My strength was lapsing, my still-transforming body mimicking illness in a way that made Ari panic.

"No, they're here. They will come, and they had better come soon!" He called deliberately into the shadows. "The servants here only appear when they're needed. And right now, I need one a great deal!"

As Aurelian kicked the doors open and left the throne room, I noticed a strange vacancy. I suddenly remembered beast and his invisible noose. The memory left a ring around my neck that, although healing, still felt tight and raw. I glimpsed one mirror reflecting ten others, focused on the place where Faolan stood beside the Crystal Throne.

Ari was rushing about madly, too panicked to notice. Something about it left me with the sink of incompletion. I didn't see a slain king. There was no hint of struggle in the spot, no blood or body. The place where he stood was a pile of black, glittering dust.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Beasts of the Shadows

"Someone, come now!" Aurelian shouted again, unaware of his foe's absent body.

A figure suddenly appeared in the shadows, seeming to materialize instantly. The servant surfaced into dim torchlight. I studied her, my eyes burning and clouding feverishly as the sweat trickled down my forehead. My head felt lofty and my aura dazed, but I could tell that she was neither wraith nor banshee. I stared at the face of a meek girl, around thirteen, terrified as she left her hiding place. She trembled, but the steps she took toward us made her the bravest in the castle's employ.

"Can you not see that she is ill?" Aurelian spoke harshly, mustering regality amid stress. "Fetch her a doctor!"

"I don't think that the Wolf King would be very pleased if I did that," the servant girl shook.

Ari shuddered. They still didn't know. This girl was brave and defiant, going against the wishes of the man she thought King. He was hesitant to say the words, knowing that they would send his shadow closer to the door. He took in a deep breath and spoke up with the force of a thousand armies.

"I am your king now."

The maid fell to the ground. As he said it, dozens of other servants came from the shadows to do the same. They bowed before him, begging for mercy. What terror would he inflict for their insolence?

"You're King now?" I asked Aurelian in a hushed voice.

Hurt washed over his features. I knew what he had done. The King took his eyes away from mine. I felt only tenderness toward him. He knew I could never loathe him for it, so he loathed himself.

"Batila! Batila!" The maid trembled in horror, putting her face to his feet. "We did not know! We did not know!"

"There is no need to be afraid," Aurelian assured them, motioning with his head for the people to stand. His tone become increasingly authoritative. "You're here now, so help us. Prepare a room for my amara, and send a messenger raven to Daggerwood. Ready my horse."

"Yes, of course, Your Majesty!" Several servants called at once before scurrying around us in a chaotic jumble.

Someone came to take me from his arms, but I refused in a panic. I clung to him, a small child among barking hounds. He gazed into my eyes, hushed and comforting. He said the next words with certainty. They lacked the dark tint of the first time.

"Yes, Elissa. I am the King now." The servants tried to pry me from his arms again, but he shooed them. "Don't touch her. I shall carry her across the courtyard."

We didn't speak, my consciousness eroding as a seaside cliff. It chipped away unsteadily, in small pieces and large chunks. Several servants walked ahead of us with torches. It was against the protocol of earthly dynasties, but a necessity to light the way in a world ruled by night. The way their flames hit the archways in each corridor made them less intimidating than they appeared to unaided eyes.

At the same time, I saw new details stretched out as silhouettes, beautiful but chilling in the light. Stone creatures glittered against the torches. There were wolves, ravens, serpents and foxes watching in the place of gargoyles above each rocky column. There were more animals, too many to count, and some with features I couldn't decipher. Their carved furs and scales were gilded and their eyes jeweled.

The statues cast rich shadows, strained and distorted into another beast. Each creature had its secrets stretched over the wall. The raven became a mighty phoenix, lending its wingspan to serpent. The slender snake became a dragon with an open mouth, its coiling tail now a breath of fire. The thick neck fur and arched back of the wolf became a lumbering bear.

They all faced each other in battle, except for the fox, which was the most curious of all. The shadow of the fox sprawled into an ewe in the center of the chaos. Unlike the others, the statute corresponded with its shadow, albeit strangely. Her head stood at attention, mouth opened and appearing to suckle from the sheep's teats. She was cunning born from innocence.

My mind eroded before we exited. I felt my senses go dull until we were under open sky. The air opened my eyes and stung my lungs. Snow fell onto my hair and eyelashes with the same delicacy of the cherry blossoms in my distant land. Aurelian glimpsed the top of my head briefly, reminded of it, and turned to the crowd that faced him. They watched us silently, bowing in procession.

I closed my eyes, mind swept out to sea. When I opened them, we were inside of the castle again. It was another wing, and unlike the others, it was warm and smelled of perfumes and incense. Aurelian carried me over the threshold into the queen's chambers, placing me onto a bed of furs beneath a canopy of purple satin. A fire roared in the hearth, burning on special logs that filled the room with the smells of spiced honey. As his arms parted from mine, I could see that his eyes were the same color as the walls. They were dark, crystalline pools of violet.

"Your eyes, they're unchanging now...like amethysts," I marveled, caressing his face. He didn't meet mine, looking into the hearth instead.

"Yes," he told me, gaze still averted. "It's because I'm home. I've assumed the role of Amar, the King of my people. When I run, they change as I do. When I'm where I'm intended, they also become as they're intended. They will remain this way as long as I'm bound."

My eyelids became heavy. He turned to me as they fluttered, flickering between open and shut. The King touched my face and leaned over my body, kissing me tenderly. I was weak, but aware. I kept my eyes closed, savoring the perfection in every sense but sight. The warmth of the hearth and its sweet scent brought me life. I broke into a cold sweat, the feverish smolder of before gone. I needed no doctor.

I felt his lips press against mine gently and repetitively. He knelt on the ground, while I was limp on a pile of hide at the level of his eyes. His hand pressed against my stomach gently and chastely, tracing it as though there was something inside, then it left.

No, I heard him say. Though, I felt his breath in my ear, and none of it moved as a spoken word. He pulled away from me, and I opened my eyes. He avoided me again, head turned to the fire. I heard his voice in my thoughts clearly, though his lips never moved. Never again shall you be lost to me.

When he turned back, I pulled him down to my lips for another kiss. I never will be, I called out in my thoughts. It touched him the same way, for when we parted he finally turned to me. His violet eyes met mine, and he shuddered, seeing that they were the same color.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Sun Daughter

I drifted from the world of waking as quickly as I drifted back into it. Cold metal rattled against my skin. It came down on my ankle with such fortitude that my muscles did an involuntary dance. I roused, the grogginess making me uncertain as to whether I'd slept an hour or a fortnight.

I opened my eyes to see a tiny man standing at my bedside. He wore an apron filled with tools and herbs, an empty slot in his caddy for the rod in his hand. Startled, I sat up and grabbed at the furs, scurrying to the other side of the bed.

"You needn't worry, Princess. I'm only a doctor," the stocky man assured me.

"Oh, hello..." I shyly let out before the man moved to examine the top of my head.

He tapped my brow with a milky but translucent stone, smooth and cool to the touch. He moved it down my face to the middle of my neck, where the sensation fought the sting of my raw flesh. The stone drew the heat from it, but the pressure it placed on my tender bruise made me wince.

"Hold still, young amara. I will lessen the pain," the dwarf spoke, reaching into his caddy. "The Clan Amari calls the plant blisterbrush. We call them dewaran."

He took three large, silvery-sage leaves and dipped them into a basin on the floor, then draped them over my neck. They reminded me of a pot of lamb's ear I saw at market once, only massive in comparison. They were downy and oblong, with a toothy structure where the leaf came to a point. It didn't puncture. Instead, it melted into my skin. It stung at first, then it soothed me as snow on a sunburn.

"What does dewaran mean?" I asked a few moments later, sinking back in relief.

"Eh, it's a word from an old dwarfish tongue," he told me, accent lilted similarly to my father's but somehow still distant. "It's just, dewaran. I'm a doctor, not a linguist. Tea?"

He motioned for me to sit up and walked to the hearth. He used a long iron hook to pick up a piping kettle that hung over the fire. It whistled, sending its steam over the special logs. Instead of lessening it, the fire roared and sent an even stronger spray of spiced honey into the room. The doctor used a thick cloth to pour the water into two porcelain cups, filled with fresh herbs so aromatic that they melded with the sweet air. I took notice of his height as he poured them.

Dwarfish. The word was awkward to my ears, bringing with it visions of childlike imps with tipped ears and capped heads who danced in the forest. The doctor was far from the description. He was slighter than anyone I'd seen, making me seem tall in comparison. He was stocky, but well proportioned. His hair was long and white, accompanied by a beard of the same color and wrinkles that brought wisdom to his expression. Slim, grey almond eyes magnified twice their size through a pair of round spectacles he wore on the bridge of his nose.

"You may call me Dock," the doctor said to me as the tea steeped. He took an earthen carafe and tilted it, spilling amber liquid into the glass. He handed it to me, ruddy cheeks aglow in the heat.

"Dock," I repeated, trying to be polite. The brew met my taste buds with sweet astringency. "Very curious name. What did you put in this?"

Dock grinned as if the question was as basic as asking the color of the sky. Was it even a question at all?

"That would be mead," he grinned, then bowed. "And let's put niceties aside. I see the peculiar look on your face. Are there not dwarves in the realm of men?"

"No, actually," I spoke up. "Only stories."

"Well, consider yourself introduced. And stories?" Doc laughed again, a jovial kind of person. "What kinds of stories could you have about us? The only stories I've heard about dwarves in these parts is just news!"

"Oh, we have quite a few. Fairy stories, mostly," I told him, the concoction of herbs and honey wine trickling down my throat and clouding my vision.

"Ha, fairy stories. What whimsy. Sure beats any truth we have 'round here. If the word isn't about another dwarf getting carried off by the shadow birds, it's usually about some drunk adventure someone had outside of the mines."

"Mines?" I asked, eyes wide. "Would you happen to live with six others?"

"You presume to know a lot about my kind, don't you?" Dock spoke in a slightly sarcastic tone. "What a small number to figure! There are far more of us than seven. In these parts, I'd say there's a good seven-hundred! In the Helmlands there's over seven-thousand, and beyond the Sea of Glass there's a whole country of us."

Dock examined my arm and changed his look to one of great seriousness. The dwarf looked into my eyes solemnly.

"I am not a palace doctor, Amara. Your King braved the dagger trees to find me, knowing what a rarity it is to find a true healer near this place. No one here could help you. The Veils are filled with too much darkness for the Amar to trust you to them.

"Their dogmas would keep them from figuring your condition, anyhow. A great deal requires explaining, Sun Daughter. But, for now I must tell you that you are in no condition to leave this place on your own. You are going to be here for quite some time before you can recover fully."

"I – I don't understand," I confusedly spoke up. "What has happened to me?"

Dock's expression begged that he knew what it was, but he kept quiet. The warm old chap gave me a friendly pat on the arm and told me he'd see me again soon. Aurelian paced the hallway outside my door. Dock turned to face him, the King's eyes filled with worry and woe.

"When are you going to tell her the truth?" Dock asked him, bold and unafraid of the Amar's power.

He spoke as though Aurelian were his own son, stern and investigative. Dock fell silent enough to confirm Aurelian's suspicions.

"So, it's true then. She's become like me," The Amar lamented. Dock cut him off.

"I've only read of such cases. It appears that she is like your kind, but still human. Transformations from one kind to another are rare. It's as if she's united herself to both worlds, both kinds. Her body continues changing, making her weary as it uses the energy to restructure itself."

"Why would this happen?" Aurelian asked in despair, Dock's words still not resonating.

"You're the one with the healing gift. For now, it's be best seen as something beyond ourselves. It is possible that your soul bond caused it. True love is stronger than anything under our moon or her sun."

"Perhaps I've bonded with her – perhaps I haven't," Aurelian paced, trying to get off the subject. "That doesn't answer my question. Could I have caused her to become...like me? Have I chained her to this place?"

"I've told you all that I can see. If she's part human, she cannot be chained. If she's part of you, she won't want to leave."

Having done all that he could do, Dock abruptly went back into my room and picked up his things. Before he left me, we had one last exchange.

"Are you leaving me?" I asked, lamenting the prospect of being alone in this strange, new place.

"I'm going home, my dear! I promise we shall meet again," Dock answered. He gave me a clever wink. "I see a light in you like no other – so consider us allies."

I sat awake for nearly an hour afterward. I had slept so long that my body refused to go back. It was an unbearably lonely feeling. I felt a small burst of vigor in my weariness and threw my legs over the side of the bed, standing up. The softness of the furs, the warmth and the smells from the hearth couldn't keep me stationary. I defied the orders of the doctor and moved around the room.

"Katar chi-a Amar hoom?" A slight voice chirped. It was the little girl, meek but brave, I remembered from my waking. "Amak twa chai mae, maht cor dinae-cha."

She carried a silver tray of meats and cookies into the chamber. She spoke a few more sentences, but my ears refused to adjust. Why was it that I understood her before, but the language only made sense in bits and pieces at a time? Was it their lips, or was it my ears?

The young girl was bold enough to show herself and yet still shook. What bravery, I thought, seeing a clear reflection of myself in her quivering doe-eyes. Her hair was a kind of gray, but not of an old maid. It was paler than my moon, and had a touch of lilac. She wore it in a long twist down her back.

She set the cookies down with Dock's mead and stood blankly, waiting for dismissal. She was silent, having said all that was commanded. Her expression was indeterminate, eyes waiting to either wince at a slap or receive praise. I sat on the white pelt beside the hearth and motioned for the girl to sit next to me.

"Come now, all is well" I told her calmly.

She moved as the stone in the walls, stiff and nervous that the fire may jump out and blister her as dragon's breath. When she finally sat down on the rug, she fell into the beast's massive coat and stroked it with her palms. It was downier than anything either of us had ever felt. It was also massive, covering more of the floor with one section of thigh than an entire buckskin. I offered the girl a sweet biscuit, neglecting the mead for her youth, and continued talking to her in my loneliness.

"You're so young to be here. Then again, my world is the same way. Some start serving at seven or eight. There are travesties everywhere," I gently remarked as I offered her a piece of meat.

She approached each morsel cautiously, then couldn't contain herself. She devoured the food ravenously. Hunger drained the blue color from her eyes, hanging from her sunken face like amulets. Pale skin stretched over twig-like bones, and I remembered a time when mine were the same.

"And my, you're brave," I continued. It was clear she didn't understand any of my words, but she relaxed all the same, the fire making her drowsy. Something in my voice soothed her, bringing the child near. The closer she came to the hearth, the more her hair became like a blanket of forget-me-knots. She uttered a word in her language that I almost understood, placing her head in my lap and falling asleep.

"Matar-ka."

It sounded almost as if she said the word mother. As she drifted, my eye caught the nape of her neck, partially covered by the thick, blue braid. It wasn't as pale as the rest of her skin. I saw it was raised and red. I moved her hair, the child now sleeping, and saw that her neck was covered in welts. Some were new, but most were old scars. They wove down her neck in a gruesome pattern, extending well beyond where the skin met cloth. It was the rough sigil of a whip, and it littered the back of a child no older than thirteen.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

The Beast King

"There is a way, young King, but I will not discuss it with you here," Dock told him. "The walls have eyes."

"Please, tell me what you know. The walls will not hinder you," Aurelian begged.

"What I know, I dare not utter. Otherwise the Darkness will know in full," the dwarf replied.

Dock spoke to him indifferently, with wisdom and coolness. Yet, it caused fire in Ari. There was an inkling of rage in his soul that wasn't there a few days ago. He took the dwarf by his collar in anger, pinning him against the wall. The dwarf was light enough that lifting him was no more difficult to Aurelian than moving a feather with his breath. His caddy tumbled forth, instruments falling onto the floor.

"You will tell me your secret, healer! Tell me how to protect her from the Darkness, otherwise I'll crush you where you stand!"

The voice coming from Aurelian's throat almost wasn't his, yet it still was. The dwarf looked into his eyes without fear, and as soon as he had pinned him up, Ari put him down. Darkness overcame him for but a moment, and it made him shudder.

"I plead with you, Dock, Son of Dorne. I don't know what came over me. I beg your apology..."

"You lie, King. You know it very well. You cannot protect her from the Darkness," Dock told him as he picked up his things. "If it has become you."

Aurelian came to his knees. "I have not accepted it in full. Barely at all. I've fought it's call. I haven't even seated myself on the throne."

"Barely is still some," Dock told him hastily. "Barely add dye to a fleece, and you've still changed its color. You cannot be one and the other. Not as a King, and not with this darkness. Garment-maids reject stained wool, but they'll take the dirtiest cashmere. They dye it darker to make the impurities pleasant to the eyes. Just as the Other Power does for you. It's given you a stain, Great One. And the longer you sit idly, the more it dyes you black."

"I know my sin," the ruler pleaded. "I am no fool. The Dark wishes to stamp out my light, and when there's none left in me, it will still be brightest in her. It will take her from me again, then there will be nothing left. If you will not help me, please help her."

"You needn't implore me, King," the dwarf began. "I intend to help the girl, and to help you. The Spirit of Darkness sees through the stones of your pillars and hears the echoes in your halls. It hovers and follows you through every door. Mount a stallion and follow me to the hovel where you found me. Then, we will speak."

He dismissed Dock and sent a servant to ready his horses in the stables. Then, he went into his quarters and donned his thickest furs. His cape was the pelts of two maned direbears, brown and massive. One side warmed his body, and the other stood as a symbol of the amar's might. It draped his back intimidatingly, head and muzzle reconstructed at the top so that he looked like the monster while it covered his head. Above his hood was a crown of golden branches. A golden chain bound the skins to his neck, a pendant with the life-tree hanging from it.

He slid on a pair of thick leather gloves and made his way to the stables. He intended to go right there, but the sweet smell of spiced honey drew him in. Ari slid down the hall into the Queen's Wing, unable to resist the temptation of seeing my face once more.

When he crooked his neck through the doorway, the sight filled him with sadness and yearning. At first, he studied me, sleeping on the pelt beside the fire. The flames brought out the new glow in my complexion. Every curve cast its shadow, tugging at his eyes. Then, he saw the little mountain girl sleeping in my arms.

I cradled her with the tenderness of a mother, hardly knowing her, yet protecting her all the same. How much more love would there be for my own children? Children she'll never have with me, he thought grievously. If she remains, a child that she'll never know past suckling. He knew what would become of me. If I survived the delivery, I would live only long enough to wean before birthing sickness overcame me.

"My Liege, the Darkness waits for no one. We must leave quickly, before it touches you again and changes your heart," Dock stood behind him, never having left his place in the darkness outside my room. He peered in after Aurelian. "I've been watching them closely. She will make a fine mother."

"To her own children, yes," Aurelian replied, Dock's words echoing his thoughts with bitter resonance.

"Forget not, she's escaped death before," the dwarf raised an eyebrow. Aurelian only slumped, his riding furs bearing down and making his usually formidable back begin to ache. He looked into the healer's eyes and shuddered.

"I can't forget it. I never will."

They came to the courtyard, a crowd of courtiers and slaves gathering. They bowed their heads in fear at the man in the beast-skin. Two horses were ready in the yard. Aurelian mounted his, a tall cream stallion with flecks gold in its hair and speckles of silver and bronze down its neck.

"Oken, old friend," Ari whispered to the creature, stroking the top of its head. "You'll get us there."

He was a formidable horse, the size of a clydesdale. His with silky, somewhat wavy hair protected each of his slender limbs from the snow. He was no gelding, with several foals and grand-foals to boot. Yet, Oken was as gentle and loyal in demeanor as the one who rode him. He was Ari's since childhood.

Dock rolled his eyes at what he had been given. His mount was a small, spotted pony with thick furs that covered its eyes. It stood no more than four measures tall and seemed to drown in the small hill of snow already gathering in the courtyard.

"This beast will sink into the drifts beyond the castle. I can ride a full-sized horse, if you please," he remarked. The stable boy shook in his boots.

"Healer, the only other steed suited for snow is the mount of the Wolf King. He's of erratic nature, only ever able to withstand the Wolf. They were of one mind. Now especially, none can tame him," the boy held the reigns of the pony, trembling from both fear and shiver. Aurelian dismounted, handing his reigns to Dock.

"I will ride the Wolf's mount," Aurelian conceded. "Bring him to me."

The boy dared not disobey. He bowed and then turned from them, hesitating as he entered the livestock gate. There was loud whinny in the barn, accompanied by a young boy's scream. He stumbled out of the stalls on his knees, clutching his chest. No one of the courtiers or the slaves came to his aid. Aurelian clamored to him and bent down in the snow. Dock hobbled after them, clumsy on the ice.

"I'm sorry, my liege," he spoke in a raspy voice. "The Wolf's horse wouldn't take to a harness. I tried, Amar...I tried..."

A hooded figure appeared beside the stable. It was one of the Veils. This one was wounded fatally, but it was not enough for him to escape failing the Amar. The veil moved closer to them, whip clutched in its bony hand.

"You needn't worry about this one, Amar," the cloak told him. "We will teach him the consequences of insolence! He will go from this world bearing his pain and mine."

Aurelian struggled to his feet, watching the color drain from the boy's already hollow cheeks. He waved a hand, bidding them away, before crouching down again. The veil refused to leave, even for the King.

"It's alright, boy. You've failed me none," Aurelian soothed. The veil drew back his hood, revealing a pale bald head and eyes of onyx. Disgust ruled his heart, but concealed itself well behind stoic features.

This one will learn sooner than the boy, the veil's voice haunted Aurelian's thoughts. It didn't tap at them in gentle amazement as mine did. This voice was a harsh, surprising cold that invaded his sacred mind. Aurelian tried to ignore the cloak, spirits pulling his limbs east to west, unrelenting. He looked at the boy, face blue. The King tried to focus on him, what he could do in that moment, but fear ruled him.

Dock unbuttoned the boy's shirt to reveal a cavernous mass in his ribs, blood pooling and congealing underneath his skin. He struggled to breathe now, the lack of air causing his senses to dull. Aurelian distanced himself in horror, remembering the same blue tint in my features as Faolan drained my life's blood.

"The boy's bleeding internally," Dock said. "His lung is pierced."

"Can you help him?" Aurelian frantically asked, the cloak looming over him.

"My pomaces and tinctures will do him no good," Dock looked at the boy grimly.

My gift, Ari realized. Maybe his gift could save the boy. He placed his hands on the caving bones, some poking through skin, and began concentrating. He felt the warmth begin to come from his hands. The boy opened his eyes for a moment, sucking in the air as if it was working. Then, the warmth dissipated. The boy writhed, coughing up clots of thick, viscous blood onto the snow before falling unconscious again.

Aurelian panicked, trying again and again to make the healing come back to his fingers with horrific results. He felt the death leaping from his hands, unable to control it as it turned the boy's wounds black. He stopped breathing, and Dock settled his hand on the King's stooped shoulder.

"He's gone, Amar. His spirit is in the Plateau of the Unknown. May the light guide him into the Land of Eternal Sun, in place before the first breath of the worlds. There is nothing more we can do here – we must ride."

Aurelian stood, face blank and icy, and clenched his fist. He went into the stable to face the foul creature. No one stopped him, holding their breaths as he disappeared. When he saw the beast, coat raven as its mane, he looked into an eye so dark it was nearly lost in the sea of shadow. It neither thrashed nor kicked, allowing the King alone to lay his hand on its face. It was ice as he mounted it. He trotted forth, ignoring the dead boy in the snow, burying his pain beneath a look of stone. The Bear King rode past the masses on a horse as placid as the Crystal Sea; the beast seeing only Faolan.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

The Mountains Will Remember

When I woke hours later, I left the forget-me-not girl sleeping on the pelt. I covered her in more furs when I realized the chill invading the room. I stood, legs still fresh and wobbly from my birth. I yearned for answers, and I yearned for Aurelian.

The corridor was like a damp and miserable cellar. Tapestries and flags hung from some of the bannisters, but they were poor sources of color against the slate of the walls. There were few windows, a small one in the hallway that let in the moonlight.

I moved my neck and gazed out at the snow blanketing the labyrinth. Ever since I'd arrived, I could only see night. No matter where I went or when, the sky was reddish black. There was no sun, but the stars shined brightly in its place. They gathered around the moon, the great centerpiece. It was several times larger than mine, taking up a quarter of the sky and glowing eternal crimson.

"Crystal seas and crimson moon..." I dreamily cadenced.

There was a tap on my shoulder. I was startled to see another girl, somewhere around fourteen, shaking. I realized her shiver was not of fear, but of the cold that seeped in through the opening in the wall and gnawed at her bones. She opened her mouth to speak, but this time I understood.

"Excuse me, Princess. I'm only a maid, but I dare not neglect you. Is there anything you need? I don't think that I've been told you were being allowed out of your room."

Princess. She was the second person today who'd called me that. Why were they referring to me by this name? I hadn't been married yet! Had I done something that led them to believe I had been born of nobility?

"Oh, no," I started, but stopped her before she left, realizing the opportunity I had. "Though, I would like to see my fiancé, the King. Could you help?"

"Right, right, of course," the girl stammered, the very mention chilling her. "I can find someone that will send for him. Shall I escort you to the throne room?"

"No," I told her tensely, mind flashing to the hall of a thousand mirrors and its endless horrors. When I saw the fear in her face, I softened. "I want to wait somewhere else. You can have my room until I get back. There's tea, cakes and mead if you're old enough. I wish to see the grounds."

The girl smiled slightly. She bowed. This one had skin that was near silver. Her hair was like the forget-me-not girl. There was a scar between her eyes. I was sure it had a story that would make me shudder.

"You are most graceful, my amara. May I speak of your dress?"

"Yes, of course," I told her.

"It's rather cold out. Winter fell upon us three nights ago. You're liable to get frostbitten if you leave without furs. Please, let me find you something for the snow."

The girl nodded, walking me back to the room and nosing into my wardrobe in a way that reminded me of Lydia. When she turned, I saw similar scars on her back. She draped a cloak of green velvet over me, then covered my shoulders with a long grey pelt and fastened them together with a belt of leather. She slipped my hands into a pair of leather wristlets, taking notice of my shifting amethyst. Her eyes drifted to the girl sleeping by the hearth.

"My half-sister," she told me, amazed. "Why does she sleep here?"

"Because she's welcome to," I replied, uncertain. "She was weary and hungry. You should stay with her. And tell me, why is it that you two don't speak the same tongue?"

The servant looked at me confusedly.

"We do. I speak Amari as plainly as you do."

I bit my lip and sighed. What kind of magic was this? I said nothing further about it, realizing that the answer wouldn't be found in either of their moon-like faces. I spoke to her softly, urging her to rest.

"What are your names?" I asked.

"I am Cressida. The one sleeping on the direbear pelt is named Kita. We are the daughters of Barr Synder Dracontyte; bound to the service of the Wolf King when we were babes," she curtsied, and I saw that one of her earlobes had been cut short. I brought the girl to her feet and placed my hand on her shoulder.

"That king is dead. Consider yourselves unbound."

The girl met my eyes, wide and blue, filled with shock. She stood at attention.

"Do you mean to free us, Amara? Only the King can do that."

My gaze intensified. I roused the little girl from sleep, bundled her in furs from the wardrobe, and did the same for Cressida. I took dry food from the tray and tucked it into a linen cloth. It was plentiful, with enough bread and biscuits to last a day or two if they rationed it.

"Can you brave the cold?" I asked Cressida intently. She caught on in an instant. I handed Kita the linen and bound it with a knot at the top.

"No," Cressida replied. "But beyond the walls of the castle, I hear of a place that is warm enough to bear in the winter. They only allow the smallest children to go there, as they're too young to run very far."

Cressida closed her eyes and muttered something incomprehensible. Her breath became so hot that I could feel it from where I was standing. When she was done, she took us into the hall, and a tot tugged at the hem of my dress. I lifted him to my hip and bundled him in the furs. He must have been no older than four. This one had no whip scars, but his lobe had been cut as Cressida's.

"Our brother, Oryon Dracontyte," the eldest told me.

My spirit sensed a great wraith, bursting with anger as I moved. We went outside to the gardens, maze covered in thick snow, and the children shuddered. The boy cried onto my sleeve.

"Hush, little one. This place holds no danger for you now. The one who controlled it is gone," I assured him. We walked past it in white splendor. I placed him on the ground, tying the pelt around his body. It was so large that I fashioned the top of it into a hood and bound it around him like a cape. The cold ripped through my velvet, but I was willing to endure it for the child.

"You seem to be someone who would know a lot about this place," I smiled at him warmly and deliberately. "Is there anywhere special that you would like to go?"

My offer made the boy feel uncertain. The child looked as though he feared this might be a cruel trap that would end with a whip. After Cressida promised him that he would be safe, the small one looked up at me in relief and pulled on my arm.

"I know somewhere that you'll like," the small boy smiled. "I know I like it. It's a great big apple tree beside the seashore. Haeda and I play there when Doam says we have no more chores. We like to draw in the sand and pretend to sword fight with fallen twigs from the apple trees..."

I nodded, and he led us out an iron gate, away from the snows and onto sand. We walked a distance from the castle, and with each step the world became warmer. Soon, the castle was a dark battlement in the distance. It towered over us with all-seeing splendor, briars growing over the walls that surrounded it.

The cold no longer knifed at my skin. The sand was a warm white cushion, absorbing the light of the moon and keeping the snow from sticking. There was a sea not far off that gleamed, its surface crystalline, but peaceful. It was unlike the deceitful beauty of the crystal throne. When we reached it, the little boy began singing a familiar song:

"Crystal seas, crimson moon...

Blood-red roses and lives anew,

Where the scarlet lilies bloom

Under the midnight sky!"

I shuddered. How could he know it? His sisters joined in the singing and swung him playfully in their arms. They laid in the sand for a few moments, enjoying the moonlight away from that beacon of darkness in the distance. Cressida remained the alert one.

She turned her head when I did, seeing the thunderheads rolling in. Lightning struck one of the castle towers, bringing unnatural screeching with it. The storm was roaring angrily and tangibly, beyond the pounding of thunder. I felt an urgency like nothing else, scooped the little boy up and handed him to his sisters. I felt a shadow approaching.

"Take your brother, and run. Keep the furs, and use your rations wisely. Get as far away from here as you can," I told them. Cressida leaned in, touching her forehead to mine as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Thank you, Amara. We will ever forget this. Nor will the rocks of the mount. Call on the serpent, and it will send you a dragon."

Free the others, True Amara, I heard Kita's little voice say in my soul. The children moved toward the water of the sea. They stepped onto the surface, hardening under their feet as they walked. I felt a hand settle on my shoulder, and they disappeared into the mist.

"Elissa," Aurelian whispered in my ear.

I turned to see him standing behind me, a grim look over his features. He wore bearskin underneath a crown of golden branches. An amulet hung around his neck that displayed a tree of life, roots running deep as the branches were tall.

The tree was divided into four sections, each one displaying a season. The first was covered in white crystal, the next in purple flowers. After that, the leaves became lively and green. The last part of the tree was embellished with flecks of red and brown. The seasons were beautiful and balanced, but they didn't exist in this world of perpetual night.

"Ari," I muttered. He rubbed my shoulders, his look solemn but tender. "Who were they?"

"Slaves. Children of Faolan's opposers," he explained. "They're Dracontyte, Keepers of Mountain Beasts. The Darkness wanted to bind them, but you've freed them. For that, you've angered it gravely."

CHAPTER FIFTY

Scarlet Lilies

"Why are they bound here? They're only children." I asked, gently pulling his hands from my shoulders.

"The Dark Order sought their mothers and snatched them as infants. Barr Synder Dracontyte was a man opposed to the Darkness," he explained, head lower with each word. "Every king takes slaves like this. It's a way for the curse to retain its power. Take the children of your opponents, and the neigh-sayers will be few."

"That's horrendous," I remarked. "We must do something about it!"

"Indeed, Elissa. My family has many sins to atone for. I must repay a thousand debts. Today, I free them all." The words were victorious, but his tone was dark. His violet eyes brooded.

"Ari, this could be the start of something wonderful," I caressed his cheek. "We could work together to make a change in this place, instead of running. Why does it trouble you?"

"It's not an easy task, Elissa. This is the way my family has ruled for generations. With every move you make against it, the Darkness will take something. It knocks at your door...waiting for it to crack, so it may gain a foothold."

"Aurelian," I took a step back, hands falling to my side. "You haven't taken it, have you?"

He looked away, eyes drifting to a spot in the sand where red flowers grew at the base of an apple tree. My eyes wandered there as well, focused on a speck of white in the sea of scarlet. He answered me, eyes finally meeting mine.

"I fight it with every breath."

There was light in my spirit. I grabbed his face again, noticing that it was closer to mine than it ever had been. I smiled, stroking his cheek with tenderness and strength.

"Then, there is hope," I smiled.

I brushed my fingers through his ashy hair, golden streaks red in the crimson moonlight. I parted with him, eye caught again on white in the sea of rose. I walked to the apple tree and plucked the white blossom from its bed. It was a white lily, still closed as I cradled it. When I came to Aurelian with it, the flower bloomed in my grasp and began glowing.

"Impossible," he muttered. He took it into his hands to investigate, but as soon as he did it closed and ceased its glow.

"What is it?" I asked, equally as astonished.

"Something that doesn't exist in my world, just as the sun or the daylight or any warm season. Yet, you've brought it to us. It's a white lily, blooming among the red." He placed it in my hair, watching it bloom and glow again. Ari smiled slightly. "So many signs with you, my amara."

"What is that?" I asked. "You are the Amar. Is the Amara the Queen? Everyone calls me that, but they also call me 'Princess.'"

"Amara is the mate of the Amar. She is the Queen. Though, you are not crowned. So, they call you the Princess," he kissed my hands, hypnotized by the lily as it bloomed beside my violet eyes. I broke his trance.

"Is this the place? The place the people sing of in 'Midnight's Song?'"

Aurelian tensed, his eyes meeting mine with an air of shame. He looked at the flower again, plucking it from my hair and playing with it in his fingers. As he did, it withered.

"Yes, it is."

The man turned from me, clearly ashamed. He acted as though I must have thought him reprehensible for keeping it from me. For the first time, he irked me.

"Don't be ashamed or upset with me. I only want to know the truth," I spoke tenderly. "We're soon to be married. No more games. No more secrets. We've overcome death together, Ari. What more is there to lose?"

I could lose you again, I heard him in my spirit. You'll die like the boy. The mention of the engagement made him shudder. I was the fading flower, turning brown and crumbling apart in the autumn of his hands. The black horse whinnied across the sands, tied to a bramble bush and kicking its hooves like a bull. He turned to the creature and threw up his hand. He shouted Amari that made me drowsy.

"Hitka mohen!"

The shadowy stallion's limbs went weak with mine. It laid in the sand obediently, becoming mild as a puppy under the King's influence. I felt it, too, but kept my senses.

"What was that?" I asked him, bemused and startled. It was not his usual Amari. This one had a darker edge to it, like the words Faolan whispered when he baited me. It brought me back to that moment, the breath caressing my ear with its unknown utterings. "What did you say, and why can't I always understand it? Is it some sort of spell, some torment?"

I fell onto the sand, crying and shivering. Winter crept to the coastline in a frigid breeze. It gave me goosepimples. Aurelian fell down behind me, wrapping my body in his thick cape of bearskin. I felt the softness of the fur against my exposed skin, coupled with the warmth of his chest. It was still him. He was still my Ari.

"Do you want to know what I said?" He asked, wiping the tears from my eyes. "It was no spell. I told the animal, 'beast, hush!' That's all. I promise."

"Why can't I hear it? Why do their tongues sometimes sound like mine, and other times just hard clicks and mumbles?" I was leaning into his chest, crying.

"It's your eyes, Elissa," he explained. "Your seer gifts. They see and they hear." He stroked my cheek. "But, you only hear what you must hear to understand. Sometimes, words need no language to have meaning."

"Will it always be like this?" I asked.

"Only when you need to understand. One day, your eyes might decide that it's better to make you learn for yourself. But, for now, they guide your ears." He wiped another tear from my eye and moved the hair from my face.

"If it's no spell, then why does it paralyze me?" I suddenly asked, shivering again. He held me tighter for a moment, then his grasp loosened. Now, the only thing that kept us bound was the pelt. Its mass engulfed me all the same.

"Because I am King, and that is my new power. I command, Elissa. Things bend to my will. I can control minds and hearts with a simple whisper," he breathed darkly in my ear. "Does my power frighten you?"

"No," I answered quickly, noting the intensity in his voice. "But the way you're speaking does."

He turned me around and placed his hands on my shoulders, turning the space around us into a tent of cloak. He looked into my eyes gravely.

"That's not my intent. I never wish to control you, Elissa. Never in my life, be it a night more or a thousand years. But the Darkness, Elissa. It will. What you felt was only a taste. I intended the beast to sleep, but even standing near me with that power was enough to touch you.

"That's how an amar beds his wife. As a slave. You felt it with me, just as you felt it with my brother when he took your mind. I cannot do that to you. I cannot bear it. The Darkness came to me that night on the ledge. I've been resisting its pull for as long. I haven't taken it fully, but there's some already inside. I have to protect you...from myself."

"You're strong enough," this time I caressed his cheeks. "Our love is strong enough. I trust you, Ari, I do. I know you'll never hurt- "

"No, Elissa," Aurelian interrupted. "I wouldn't. But it would."

"It is not you, Ari," I asserted.

"No, but it is strong enough to become me," he replied. There was a look on his face that was soft but solemn. This time, he kissed my hands. "You don't understand. I can't expect you to. There's something I must do, Elissa. You can't be here for it. You must go away, back to your people, where you're safe."

I stood up on the sandy bank, heartbroken. He followed me up, but I broke from his grasp. Beyond his furs, I was frigid. I shivered, but it was better than the searing heat of his affront.

"No," I muttered, hot tears blurring my vision. "I cannot leave you. Please – I have nothing there, no future. My life is here with you, now. We were to marry, live our lives together..."

"And you will live your life, Elissa," he grabbed my hands. "You'll marry. You'll live a long life and have many children. But, that life doesn't exist for you here."

"But, I want to marry you. I want to have children by you. I know you love me. We're bonded," I cried.

"I know. I know. I want that too. I wish it more than anything else in the world – to live my life alongside you. But, it cannot happen. If my seed lives in you, you'll die bringing it back to me."

"Then I'll scar my womb!" I shouted, "I'll make myself barren. Will that keep you bonded to me?"

"Do not say such things!" He shouted in return, then lowered his voice to a gentle whisper. "I will always be bound to you...that's why I cannot let your fate be the fate of the other amaras. Never. And I will not let my curse keep you from your heart's desire.

"I know you want a child one day, Elissa. When the Amari read a mortal, they see many things. They can tell their pains and desires. They can see glimpses of their destinies. I saw it in your eyes when we first met. It was in your future, and I saw you beaming."

"How do you know that it wasn't our future?" I sobbed. He stiffened.

"Because you bore a daughter, and the Amari kings bear no daughters. She was – will be your world. You are my world. Your desires are mine. I cannot deny them."

"Then don't deny me," I cried. "I still don't believe it. Whatever you saw – it can't be so rigid as that. Can't destinies change? Don't send me back! We can find another way. We can defeat this beast inside you. Then, we can be together again."

"If only it were that simple, my love." I saw his stony eyes glistening. They were becoming wet and glassy, but he held back. "If there's ever a chance of our future, the beast must be dead. But for the beast to be slain, it must weaken. For it to weaken, you must go. You must."

His demeanor remained soft yet sober. I couldn't move, feeling as empty as I would if he were dead. My arms and legs went numb. I collapsed again. Ari caught me, never far behind.

"When the beast dies, will you come back to me?" I asked meekly.

"When it weakens, I will see you again," he whispered, taking me into his arms. "I will never love another. Our bonds are not the bonds of men. They do not dissolve by ink. They are eternal, even if they are unfortunate as ours."

"I will never love another," I touched his face gently.

"I hope you do, my Elissa. I pray you do," he sighed. Then, he waved his hand at the horse. "Rata ka-cha."

He breathed another Amari command, this one making the horse stand and making me weaker. I was near limp. He couldn't help the way it hypnotized me. The stallion and I reacted very differently, yet the command was the same. It was: "succumb to me."

"Where are we going?" I asked him in a daze.

"Back to your chambers," he remarked as he saddled me on the black stallion. He sat behind me, wrapping me up again warmly, and held me as we went.

"You're not sending me home?" I asked as we trotted. There was bitterness in my heart, knowing that his mind was made.

"Not yet. Your bones are still weak. They must mend," he whispered. He had so much strength and balance on top of the well-controlled animal, he was able to keep his arm around me and the reigns securely with just one hand. "Then, you're going home."

We rode silently along the shore of the Crystal Sea. I felt cool wind hitting my face against the warmth coming from its cloudless waters. I turned my head to look at it as we went. Color danced through it in streams great and small, circling around the streaks of our moving reflection. I could have sworn that my eyes were Aurelian's same shade of purple.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Lovers Lost in Time

Aurelian and I barely spoke after that. Every conversation was bitter and painful, knowing that every moment brought us closer to never again. Strange things happened within my body.

My bones felt weak and brittle for several nights, then they were completely recharged. My hair and nails grew as if I'd been injected with keratin. The fawn tresses at the middle of my back now reached well below my waist. The ends of my hair came alive, growing longer each time that I chopped them. The palace groomers

Every time I passed by a mirror, I saw that my eyes were no longer their characteristic shade of chocolate. They were violet amethysts, like the Amar's. Ari was in denial that I was like him, but I caught on quickly. My resurrection brought me more than a second chance at life.

It brought me an entirely new one. My old world was dead, and his refusal to hear festered in me.

"Why would you send me back?" I argued with him a few days after the beach, stubborn as the brick walls of his fortress.

We sat next to each other in the dining hall, eating silently at an enormous table. We ate the drumsticks of a creature that was neither fowl nor pig, but a cross between the two with springy rounded limbs and a flat nose. The meat was buttered and oozing with juices. I took a bite before I broke the silence, tasting something like spiced sausage. I could hardly stomach it for my nerves. I could hardly stomach anything at all lately.

"Please, Elissa, eat," Aurelian pleaded. "You haven't eaten in days. I want you well again."

"Why, you can ship me back to have my head cut off?" I angrily spat.

"You know I wouldn't send you anywhere you'd see harm," Aurelian replied, wounded. "I must send you back. You're too fragile for life here. It will devour you."

The tears streamed down my face in passionate protest each time I thought about it. This time, I was especially exasperated. I opened my eyes wide and pointed at my reflection in the wine glass in my hand.

"You know the truth, Aurelian! Look at my eyes. I'm like you now. Isn't that reason to let me stay?"

"I don't care if you've become like me or if you've turned into a fairy queen!" The King fumed. "You know that you can't stay. I have no choice in the matter, and neither do you."

"I don't have a choice?" I quizzed him, "I didn't have a choice to become like this, but now I am! What if it's true, Ari? What if I am like you...what if I'm immortal?"

"Then you'll have lots of time to sort out how you feel about me," Ari muttered under his breath.

"You're so stubborn!" I cried out in anger. I paused for a few seconds before speaking up in the softest of tones. "This is where I belong, at your side. If this is who I am, it's where I should be. Don't you love me enough to see that? Do you still love me?"

As he often did during our arguments, Aurelian stood up and turned from me. He paced. I did the same. I knew that my words pained him. I sensed it from the pit of my soul to the part of it that even the illiterate can read.

"Elissa, I still love you. I love you more than I can bear," he faced me again, eyes bleeding torment. "I love you and desire you more than you'll ever understand. But, I cannot let my desire to keep you become selfishness. If I keep you here – you'll have no choice but to live and die as the rest of them!"

"That's your fault, Aurelian! You think that I don't want you; that I wouldn't be here if there was another way. I've made my choice, and I choose you!" I sobbed, shivering. Aurelian picked up my face tenderly.

"Even so, I cannot allow you to be harmed again. If my selfishness keeps you here, that's not love. That's why I must do this."

"Why isn't there another way?" I continued sobbing. "You say you're sparing me, but you forget that you're sending me back to a heap of ashes."

"No, Elissa. It won't be like that. I have a way –" Aurelian started, but I turned from him and went to my chambers.

There was no way to change his heart over this, and his motives were secretive and confusing. I thought him callous for keeping me in the dark, but in truth it was only unspoken to keep the walls from hearing. Our hearts ached to the same desperate tune. I came to accept that he wouldn't change, knowing that I wouldn't, either.

I opened my eyes one night to see his staring at me from the foot of the bed. I knew when I saw his hand extended that this was the last. My eyes pleaded with his and became misty.

"It's time, my love," he whispered.

"Can we put it off?" I asked, still groggy. I reached for his hand, and he gently accepted it.

"Only for a moment," he responded. "Then, you must go. It won't hurt, so don't fear. It will be like falling asleep."

I sat up, clutching the furs to my nightshift, shivering since the hearth was out. I eyed him with desire and restraint. His hand was still wrapped around mine.

"Lie next to me while you put me to sleep. Talk to me. Hold me. Sing to me. That's all I ask."

He slid onto the bed and held me closely. Aurelian ran his fingers through my hair and pulled me to his chest. He whispered to me.

"I'm sorry, Elissa...I know you don't understand why I'm doing this... but know that it's only because I love you," he started. "I know that by now you suspect that this is the end...and you're right. It is."

"And you know that I'll never accept that," I told him in partial anger, the tears clouding my view. He continued to caress my face, using his finger to gently wipe the water from my eyes.

"I knew that you wouldn't. I've always known," he told me in the same manner.

"No, no!" I cried. I just couldn't help it. Aurelian quickly put a gentle finger to my lips and hushed me.

"Listen. I know you don't want to do this, but we must. This is the place from which I will open the portal. Before I do, I want to tell you something...for I know you will need an explanation as to where you going and how things will be when you get there..."

"I know, Aurelian. You don't need to explain," I sobbed again. "I'm going back to the place where my family is dead and I'm wanted for a murder I didn't commit –"

"No, Elissa," Aurelian softly interrupted. He sorrowfully looked into my eyes, breath hot against my face. "I promised I wouldn't see you harmed. I'm sending you to your old home, the one I met you in. You'll have the brightest of futures there."

"How could that be? I'm wanted for murder," I exclaimed.

"When you arrive, it will never have happened," Aurelian quickly told me. "I give you my word. I've done and will continue to do all in my power to make certain that the Magistrate can't touch you. Your aunt will have no power to harm you, either. Though, the first thing that you must do is expose her. If there is a need to prove Beeti's intentions, know that the poison is in her pocket."

"Now you sound mad," I told him. "The murder is already finished. The executioner waited for me in the courtyard. You speak as though it hasn't already happened..."

"Because I'm sending you into a time that it hasn't." Aurelian quickly responded. Suddenly dumbfounded, I fell silent. "My new title also comes with many new powers, Elissa. Some are powers that even I don't fully understand."

"You don't honestly mean..." I trailed off, finally getting the gist of what he was saying.

"Yes, Elissa. I can set back time."

I fell into silence again. Then, I had a thought. This might not be the end. Why hadn't he thought of it before? We could fix all of this. We could go back to a time that he wasn't king, that we were still together, and he could touch me without fear of death.

"Wait –" I suddenly lit, "If you can set back time...why not use it to set back time here as well? You could set it back to the moment that I left you in the church...you could keep me from leaving and keep yourself from becoming King! Then we could stay together –"

"No, Elissa. It doesn't work that way. The things that have made me King over this land cannot be changed."

"We've changed things before! Maybe you could try to change this..." I dug my head into Aurelian's chest and wept bitterly.

Seeing my pain, he softened his demeanor again and tilted my chin so that our eyes met. His hand caressed my head and made its way down my back desirously. He studied my face intently, tracing every ridge and dip. He kissed me with fervor, tugging on my lip, memorizing the feeling of my lips pressed against his.

"If I could do that, I would," He cadenced afterward. "I'm only able to set back time far enough to undo the greatest damage I did to your world."

I stiffened in Aurelian's grasp. I still couldn't come to terms with this. I never would. But, instead of begging, I composed myself.

"Aurelian, I realize that this is probably the last time I'll see you. I also see that nothing is going to change your mind from here, so I'll stop begging." I started soberly. "Would you grant me one last request?"

"Yes, of course," He insisted, the pleading evident in his voice. "You can have anything at all, just so long as it's not another plea to stay here."

"It's not."

"Then tell me," he whispered.

"Ari, let me sing to you."

The King took my hands and kissed them. It clearly touched him more than anything else in his world could have. The glossy coat over his eyes was clear evidence that tears were coming. He kept them down and composed himself, flashing me a weak smile.

"Of course, my heart of hearts."

I kissed him passionately, singing in his ear:

"Crystal seas and crimson moon

Blood-red roses and lives anew

Where the scarlet lilies bloom

Under the midnight sky..."

My mind became drowsier with each word. I knew he was beginning to do it. I stopped for a moment, burying myself in his arms, and he shook. To keep from weeping, he also sang, encouraging me to continue:

"Dance with me to Midnight's Song

A tale of lovers, old and young

Sing to me of a world beyond

The earth's entrapping walls

The moon hangs low in a clear black sky

Painted stars shine brightly

Midnight sings its enchanting song

Illuminating the night...

Under scattered stars, and bright full moon

The bonds of fate unite the two

Blind to what they both shall do

Entwined in love's duet..."

The words were nearly too much now. We sang into each other's ears softly, Ari holding me more tightly with each word. I felt connected to him in full, young lovers caught in eternity. The King sang the next verse to me in a delicate whisper:

"Under scattered stars and bright full moon

A single kiss will bind the two

Under the midnight sky..."

I felt my consciousness fading. Even though that was as much as most people sang, I knew that there was another verse to the song. There were many others, lengthy and little used, like the extra verses you find in a hymnal. There wasn't much time left. I continued leaning on Aurelian as I sang one last verse in his ear. With each word, I became drowsier under his enchantment.

"Dance with me to Midnight's Song

Before the rise of the Eastern Sun

As the snow falls down

Our hearts are one

Keep me here in your arms..."

Aurelian knew the lyric that was coming. Overwhelmed with emotion at what was about to happen, he softly joined in with me to finish the lyric:

"Under the midnight sky..."

That was when the trance hit me. It wasn't sleepiness, it was paralysis. I could feel myself slipping. I wasn't going away yet. Not without telling him one last thing. I put a weak hand to his face and kept my eyes open as long as I could, affirming my stubbornness.

"It doesn't matter where you send me or what darkness you face. I will never give up! No matter what warnings you give me or what fears you have, I'll never stop searching for a way back to you. I have always loved you."

"Don't say that," he hovered over me. "You have to go on with your life. Once you go back, the world will be yours. You'll have friends and family, a husband and children. No one will be able to hinder you and hurt you anymore..."

"No," I interrupted him, my last cognizant plea. "I'll never stop loving you. I will search for you and for a way to break this curse to my dying breath. I'm coming back. When I do, I'll destroy the thing that torments you. I'll rip it to shreds and shatter its throne of glass."

After the last word, I became too hazy to form words. Aurelian hovered over me, tears escaping as I sunk into the bed. He studied my face again, fading, and spoke in a final parting breath.

"I know that you can't speak now, but if you can still hear me, you must know something. I didn't put the pearls in your pocket that night. My precious Elissa, I'm reaching across time and putting them there now."

I closed my eyes and felt his lips touch mine. I slipped from reality, falling out of Ari's grasp. Soon, my side of the bed was empty. There was a dip in the furs where Aurelian caressed me. The place where he held my body close to his was a wintry void. He sat up, alone.

My body fell through the void. It was consumed by water that I could breathe and taste. I fell quickly, but without fear, as a vivid dream. My body came to a halt, thudding onto thick carpet. I opened my eyes to the darkness.

The adjusted quickly. I glimpsed my reflection in the bottom of a wall mirror. My mirror. My old bed and balcony door reflected in the glass. Gas lanterns flickered faintly on the walls, illuminating the coral wallpaper. For the first time since I saw his face, my spirit couldn't feel Aurelian's.

"Ari?" I screamed out in despair. "AURELIAN!"

Nothing.

Madness ensued. I crawled to the mirror, legs still numb, and banged against it with my fists. I called his name endlessly, slamming them violently against the glass until the amethyst on my finger pierced the surface. It cracked in the middle, fragmenting from every side, tumbling over me in a wall of glass and blood.

"ARI!" I continued weeping, pounding against the floor.

Blood smeared across the blue rug, the fibers burning my cuts intensely. It was still less pain than the void. I curled into a ball and sobbed. The tantrum was loud enough to be heard in the hall. A servant followed wailing and cracked open my door. She turned brightened the room with her lantern, finding my ashen-faced, bloody body on the floor.

"Elissa?" The servant shook. "No – it couldn't be..."

She rushed to my side, calling for help, and pulled me away from the glass. There was life and anxiety in Lydia's pale blue eyes.

Now I knew that I was home. This time, for good.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Canary

This was the Darkness. It was a void beyond all hope. It brought me beyond sadness or anger. It started as grief and faded to catatonia. I rarely moved from my bed, walked and ate only when someone led me. Sleeping was my only refuge. I saw him and spoke to him there. We met in a place filled with sunshine, beneath a tree that's hanging flowers reminded me of purple wisteria. It was a tree he called "amaranth."

When I woke, the room was cold and dark. This will pass, a small voice cried in my spirit. It sounded like Ari, and it was the only thing that gave me comfort. I remained confined to my bed, my tears all used up, unable to speak. They found me on the date that Ari and I first declared our love.

No one knew where I had been, and I gave no answers. My body had changed, too, they realized. No doctor could explain it. My hair was several inches longer, I was three inches taller, and my chocolatey brown eyes became indecisive hazel. To avoid scandal, our social circle was told that I'd been kidnapped by rebels and rescued by the Royal Guard.

I didn't have the mindset or energy to expose Beeti, but that didn't matter. My unexplained condition put a dent in Beeti's plans. If she was going to carry out the murder, the constant chaperoning of my bed and my lack of leaving it were indestructible alibis. Everything changed. The day that Grandmamma died in the last timeline came and went in this one with no death at all. She became well again and lived for a year afterward.

Weeks later, I opened my eyes after another dream of passion and sunshine. The room was grey, lit by an invisible sun behind a blanket of clouds and downpour. Lydia slept in a chair beside my bed. She was soaked from her shoulders to her boots. Her wheat-gold hair was tinted darker by the rain that drenched into her net. I turned my aching neck to see a little yellow flower in a vase on my bed stand.

I wondered if she knew, if she remembered. I wondered if any of it happened here. It felt so real, but my dreams felt real, too. The amethyst was real, and it never left my finger. But, maybe it was a trick of my mind. If it happened at all, Lydia would know who he was. I opened my lips, dry and pale, and spoke up in a raspy voice. It woke her instantly.

"Lydia," I meekly spoke up that day, "I have to ask you something."

"What is it?" Lydia shook.

"Do you remember him?"

Did she remember, or had her memory been wiped clean? Was it just my imagination? She scanned the room before meeting my eyes with certainty.

"Yes," Lydia replied. "And I'll never forget."

Silence followed her words, and emotion came over my features. Aurelian wasn't a dream. He was as real as the sun, the stars, and the air we breathed. I knew what I had to do. I sat up in bed and placed my feet on the ground.

"I need to speak to my family and each of their attendants. Not just one or two people. Everyone."

In less than ten minutes, half of the family was present. A handful of staff came with them. Grandmamma was now strong enough to be wheeled in with everyone else. Winston was also present, alive and well in the house, arriving the moment he heard of my illness. Beeti stood behind the crowd, fiddling snidely with something in her dress pocket. I saw that her hands were red and blistered, as if she handled hot coals.

"There is something that I must tell you all about my ordeal," I began, gathering strength as I directed the crowd. I stood up against the wishes of everyone present, refusing to take a seat despite my wasting legs. "I have been silent for many weeks, unable to speak of what happened to me and why. I'm ready to talk about it now."

"Darling, wouldn't you like to wait until we're alone?" Wren suddenly spoke up, flabbergasted. She came and knelt at my bedside, whispering. "If the details are delicate, you only need to speak to Grandmamma, Beeti and I –"

"No, you don't understand. I'll save the details for the family, but there is something that cannot wait," I spoke up again. "It is something that could mean life or death for everyone here."

"Then say whatever you feel you need to," Wren sighed, clearly still in shock. I eyed Beeti and took in a deep breath before I began speaking again.

"There are many reasons that I was gone..." I started, trying to conjure up a believable explanation. "I cannot say much, but someone here intends me harm."

The crowd fell silent. Winston came forward.

"Is this about my uncle?" He whispered. "He's gone now, and his son rules in his stead. You needn't fear anymore."

"No, Winston. It's someone who lives in this home." I looked up at my aunt again, finding the courage to say what I needed to say. "Beeti."

Every eye on here, she began backing away in dismay.

"You're absurd! Why would I intend you harm?" Beeti snarked at first. Her arrogance caused a sudden rush of anger to burst forth from within me.

"You know exactly why you'd intend me harm," my eyes narrowed. "You wanted me dead with public approval. You were going to kill Winston, and then you were going to see that I was killed for your crime!"

The gathering shuddered. These were harsh accusations to make within a family. I was insane – wasn't I? This couldn't be right. Though, Lydia shuddered. She'd seen Beeti's encounter with the Magistrate all those weeks ago...but this time she'd kept it to herself.

"Lady Elissa speaks the truth," Lydia stood up. "Beeti does want Elissa dead, and she was willing to use witchcraft to do it. I saw her conspiring before my very eyes!"

"What on Earth?" Beeti denied once more, moving slowly to the door. "You're all insane! There is absolutely no proof of this – so why take either of their word for it? Lydia's a servant, and Elissa's clearly not in her right mind. Why would I carry out such schemes?"

"Because you wanted Lady Elissa's fortune. You thought her unworthy, cause' she was born like us!" a servant suddenly shouted up from the crowd. Several others came forward after that, all making similar statements and telling their own accounts of Beeti's apparent coveting. Though, after a few moments of the chaos Grandmamma had enough of it.

"Everyone, quiet!" She shouted from her wheelchair, immediately beginning to shoo some of the servants away. "This room is too crowded. Unless you have something to say that isn't tittle-tattle; I want all of the servants back in the hallway and the door shut!"

Half of the room left at her command. Lydia stayed, along with the family, Winston, their lady's maids and valets. Beeti's guilt was in question, but one thing that was certain was that I spoke with my own voice. I wasn't going to stop now. Once the door closed, I spoke up again.

"Grandmamma, it's true. Beeti wants us dead!" I cried. "I'm speaking out of my right mind this time. She intended to poison Winston...then she was going to kill me."

"Hush, child," Grandmamma exclaimed. "Murder? Why should you think that Beeti has been planning such a thing? Usually, I would side with you. But, you are ill, my dear. There is no proof that your words are anything more than a hallucination, or dare I say, a fabrication."

If I couldn't prove my case, Beeti would have greater reason to raise hell. I seemed insane. Unstable. Maybe I would become so angry in my ramblings that I would kill Winston in madness. Beeti smirked.

Remember that the poison is in her pocket. The words came into my mind. I heard them clearly as they were coming from Ari's lips.

"I can prove it!" I suddenly yelped. "The poison is in her pocket. She's been carrying it around, plotting to use it on Winston ever since he arrived."

Beeti's expression became dark and dumbfounded. Her eyes bulged and sunk at the same time. The look of sheer fear on her face gave Grandmamma doubts about her honesty.

"Beeti, show us your pockets," Grandmamma demanded in angst. "Take out all of their contents so that we might be done with this."

"Why should I?"

"Come now, show us what's inside. You act like you're carrying a bloody knife in there, so get on with it."

Beeti still refused. Suspicious, one of Winston's valets emptied her pockets by force. The moment he reached in, the weapon came into view. The attendant wrapped his hands around the unmarked vial and held it up to the light.

The bottle contained a liquid that was colorful and fizzing. It was certainly not an innocent bottle of dye, the tube so hot that it scaled the man holding it. It must have been poison. Slow to accuse her flesh and blood, Grandmamma ordered that the vial be wrapped in a towel and placed in her lap.

"Beeti...what is this?" Wren asked at once. The tube scalded my grandmother through the towel and through her clothes, a violent jerk of her legs causing it to roll from her thighs onto the ground. The valet picked it up, placing it on the bed stand next to my canary-yellow flower. The heat had no effect on the wood, drawn only to the flesh of living things.

"This little urchin only desires to slander me!" Beeti barked. She smirked before speaking up again. "It's an iceberry tonic for my joints. It's hot to touch, but the tonic is entirely harmless. You can even try it if you want. Go ahead – take a sip! I have nothing to hide."

"I don't know, Beeti," Wren exclaimed. "I love you...dear sister...but what should happen to us if this is poison? You insist we not take Elissa's word for it, so why should we take yours?"

"If you can't test it, then you must assume my innocence," Beeti announced proudly.

"There is a way that you could test it," Lydia interjected. She eyed the yellow flower in the vase. "Highborn homes always teach their servants how to test something's potency. You can see if it's poison by what it withers."

"Ah – yes!" Winston chimed up. "Our servants do this with every new shipment of medicine and wine. It's been a requirement for the staff in every governor's estate since the assassination of Julius the Fourteenth."

He was right. It was a sparsely mentioned happening in the history of our empire, as it proved that even the Magistrate was mortal. Julius of Mallard Ridge was the fourteenth magistrate. The sword that cut him down was a poisoned bowl of plumb stew.

"This is a canary flower," Winston explained. "Pretty, and useful. It's the standard organic matter they use to test for poison."

"Like a canary in a coal mine," I muttered. Lydia nodded.

"Because it's quick. One drop in this vase, and we'll know. If it's toxic, the polluted water will cause it to wither instantly," Lydia explained.

"That proves nothing. Even if that hideous flower rots, how would you know if it was because of your fly-by-night testing? It could be a trick from the little witch," Beeti snarled, pointing at me.

"Elissa is no witch," Lydia glared. "And this isn't witch craft. Even your noble duke knows that – so why are you so afraid?"

Unable to argue anymore, Beeti fell silent. Lydia went to the bed stand, uncapping the vile liquid with a cloth. She covered her nose at its hot and foul stench. She gently pushed the bloom aside and tilted the liquid death into the clear glass vase. A single drop hit the water, fizzing and smoking on contact. It danced, bleeding into the vase and turning it putrid green, then purple, then black. The room was speechless. One-by-one, the leaves of the canary flower became crisp and brown. They crinkled and withered, disintegrating when they touched the water.

"It's true..." Grandmamma muttered in shock. "It's...poison."

Beeti tried to run, but the servants made sure she didn't get very far. They restrained and threw her into the same dank, dark closet where she imprisoned me on the other side of the timeline. The Imperial Guard arrived in the morning and arrested her, but of course, the flower alone wasn't enough evidence to take the head of a royal friend. Word spread throughout the aristocracy, and she was taken out by the guillotine of public opinion.

She was shamed from her position in society and relegated to the same life as her daughter. She was cut off from the Estate and sent to live with her daughter in the Southern Country. She took up residence with the Austents, betrothing her daughter to Albert in hopes of taking a small cut of their fortune in pineapple farming.

The new magistrate left me alone. He was young and volatile, but cared nothing for my name or class. I didn't feel the Presence anymore, not even in the closet stained by dark magic. For a moment, there was peace.

Grandmamma died a year after my ordeal. She died painlessly and at rest. This time, the loss didn't burn quite as much. Before she left this world, she made her final request to me as a gentle whisper in my ear:

"Elissa, you must carry on my legacy. Become the heir. Use your strength to carry the fortune and use it for greater things."

I kissed her hands tenderly and nodded my head. This was what she wanted for me, and this was also what I wanted myself. There was nothing to stand in my way now. Once she passed, I stood as heiress. I took it because of my love for Grandmamma, but also because of something else. This destiny was mine. If I wanted to move on in my life, I couldn't deny it anymore.

I finally made the choice, and it was mine.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Fiery Heart

After the papers were signed and my ascension celebrated, I felt a tinge of sadness. There was still a void in my heart. I still saw him in my dreams sometimes. I remembered the gentle tug of Ari's lip on mine, the soft caress of his fingertips against my skin. I saw the glow of love on Lydia and Jackoby's faces and remembered when it sat evident on mine.

I kept their marriage a secret, setting them up in a cottage in Elion. Sister Marie Katherine helped my father, now institutionalized, by putting him under the care of a parishioner close to the cottage. With money came greater flexibility, and I assigned them new identities with a simple bribe. Slipping lower-castes and up and down the ranks discreetly was much easier than hiding the marriage of a 3rd caste with a 10th.

When Lydia visited me, her belly was swollen with child. The two years apart were nothing when I saw her face. I held her hand as she labored in the room across from mine. Where I once found death, there was the scream of new life. She held a baby daughter in her arms, skin the color of chestnut.

"What are you going to call her?" I asked softly, the baby suckling. Lydia smiled at me.

"Elissa. Elissa Grace."

I held her not long after. The babe opened her mouth and yawned, face still red and powdery. I cradled the child of my namesake, beaming. I walked through the garden wearily that day, apron stained with afterbirth. Winston approached me, never far off. He bid me to walk with him through the cherry blossoms.

"Your friend has birthed a child," he began. "It's time you experienced that joy. It's been two years, Elissa. It's time we wed."

My ears were dull to him. I only paid attention to the cherry blossoms. The way that the breeze carried them brought me back in time, bringing me brief visions of a man with eyes piercing and cat-like. I thought of little Elissa, the way I held her, and then of something Aurelian told me long ago. It was in your future, and I saw you beaming.

"...And I believe that the Gellman's have expressed interest in attending," Winston proudly announced to me, unaware of my sinking heart as we walked underneath the pink canopy that I found love under long ago.

"I can't do this, Winston!" I snapped at him, jerking my arm away.

"You can't do what?"

"I can't...do...this!" I repeated. "Ever since I became the heiress, all you've done is cling to me. I'm sick of it!"

"Of course I have, darling. Now that you're the head of this estate, our castes aren't so different. I can finally have you without the fear of losing much of my circle."

I pulled away from him in disgust.

"So, that's what this has been about?" I asked him, gaze narrowed.

"It's not difficult to see," Winston remarked, the annoyance evident in his tone. "You needed me before, but now that the stars have aligned. The time is right, we can finally enjoy each other!"

I needed him before? Even in this reality, Winston's actions never saved me. Love and wisdom saved me. I saved myself, wisdom and alliances as my strongest weapons.

"If you truly loved me as my mother loved my father, your love for me wouldn't change based on my caste. If you truly loved me, it wouldn't matter if I was a lady or an urchin," I sternly told Winston, watching his lips furl into a snark.

"But, I do love you, Elissa! Your caste doesn't matter to me, it's just..."

"It's just the treatment that comes with it," I finished for him. Now, Winston was without defense.

"Maybe so. But, I still don't understand what this has to do with our wedding, Elissa! I love you and that is that. Why question it?"

"Our wedding," I echoed, fuming. "That's just it, Winston! You don't understand what true love looks like. You've thrown wedding proposals like confetti, and you want to carry out this marriage whether I approve or not. If you truly cared for me, you'd respect my wishes."

"I care for your wishes–" Winston stammered. "I only wanted to give us the grandest of weddings..."

"Again, with your talk of the wedding!" I sighed again. "Why can't you understand what I'm trying to tell you? If nothing else, I never needed you. Why do you insist that I ever did?"

"Isn't that how it's supposed to be, Elissa?" Winston exclaimed, finally beginning to understand my angst. "A bride relies on her husband and satisfies him. Besides that, you're still small and vulnerable..." he stopped for a moment, taking notice of the change in height that I'd experienced after my return. "Even if your past adventures seem to have...changed you."

I closed my ever-changing eyes, feeling the ache of my broken heart. It was broken, but it was still strong. I wasn't a baby machine with a bank strapped to my back. I was a woman ready to soar.

"No, Winston. This has gone on long enough! There will be no wedding."

"Wait, you're calling it off?" Winston gasped.

"You can't call something off that hasn't been planned. I will marry who I want, when I'm ready." I paused for a moment, searching my mind for the last words. "The one who holds my heart will also have to hold my fire. If he's willing to hold that, he's strong enough to hold me."

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Dawn

I never stopped searching for him. Every year on that November day, I set a torch ablaze and went to the deepest parts of the underground. By year three, I could navigate blind. I kept the fire, lighting the stones and stroking them in a way that brought them life. They stretched and danced as distant memories. Of the dying portals, there were still at least two left. Besides those, Ari hinted that there were other ways to travel the worlds. I engrossed myself in study, trying desperately to find them.

Mite Olke was the first of many books I studied. I found the book of folklore hidden beneath Beeti's mattress on the day of her exile. I kept it close. I familiarized myself with its stories and verses, then I moved on to more. My room was a library, littered with books and melted wax from candles burned down to their bases. I searched fairy stories and world histories for answers, hoping they would somehow lead me back.

In July of my twenty-fourth year, my search came to an end.

Wren was gone on her honeymoon, and Lydia and her family staying across the hall. Little Elissa ran at my heels constantly, playing alongside her brother Tanfer, a tot with eyes like his mother. They slinked around the Estate with three kittens they found in the hedge maze.

Jackoby planned for his family to take an evening ride, introducing his children to the horses he knew so well. They invited me along, so I went to my room to don some riding clothes. When I entered, I heard a hollow, metallic echo.

The surface of my mirror rippled.

I reached my hand through and smiled. Destiny called me. I nearly stepped through, then I thought Lydia and my godson, and my goddaughter namesake. I went to the notepad on my desk and scribbled a few words. I sealed it with red wax, pressing my family sigil into the hot ooze. As soon as Lydia read it, she'd understand.

I reached into the back of my closet and wrapped the blue velvet cloak around my shoulders. It was the first time I'd touched it in years. It fell over me, smelling of the winter snow and spiced honey of my other home. My joy was inexplicable. I touched the surface of the glass again, my arm sinking. I dropped the note on the ground as I stepped through.

The stone in the walls was beautiful now, and it pulsed with warmth. I followed the smell of incense and perfume down a corridor with open window. The crimson moon hung low in the sky, brighter than I'd ever seen it. It gave it the hue of a sunrise.

I walked into the Queen's Wing and found it warm, but ruled by cobwebs. A velvet curtain hung over the entry to my chambers. I drew it back and stepped inside. The hearth roared with flame. A man stood before it, soaking in the heat, his back turned from me.

"Ari," I huffed in disbelief. "Is it really you?"

Tension engulfed him at the sound. He was sure it was spirit or farce. Then, he sensed me. It was a physical presence he hadn't felt in many years, and it smelled of valley lilies. His spirit drank mine in. This was no illusion.

"Why are you here?" He gruffly spoke up, too shocked to face me.

"You didn't know?" I asked at a loss. "The last portal. It opened in my bedroom."

"I told you never to come back here."

I was wounded by his callousness. Then, I recovered. I stood tall, remembering a discussion we had on a white sand beach in a distant age.

"Is the beast dead?" I whispered, nearing him. He remained where he was, back to my face.

"Weakened, but not dead," he said. "If it frightens you, go back now."

I put my hand on his back, but he didn't resist me. It reached to the nape of his neck, down his shirt. I studied the feeling of his skin, pressing it against my thumb just to be certain he was real. He didn't resist me.

"I'm not afraid," I whispered.

When my skin touched his, my eyes opened in clairvoyance. They perceived his fear and passion. I saw visions of a man in two places at once. He was lying on a stone table, deep in slumber, where his other self ran through fields of sunlight mixed with flame. He sat with me under the amaranth tree, caressing my face and breathing into my soul.

A wraith hovered over him, waiting for him to open his eyes. It grew tumultuous and impatient, calling out to a dying branch of the tree it grafted onto his. The wraith was cut off from it, trying desperately to keep its invasion alive in him.

When it could bleed his unconscious soul no more, it came near death and left the chamber. In place of the tree, fruiting its black harvest, it left a dormant seed. The Darkness left the castle and bounded to some far-off forest.

Then came the dawn.

"You still love me, don't you?" I asked, reading him still.

There was silence. I spoke up again.

"How long has it been? How many years?"

For a fraction of a second, Aurelian glanced at me. His gaze returned to the fire, head low and disconnected from what was happening. Whatever he saw on the stone table must have driven him mad. I shuddered for a moment, holding my breath. He spoke up softly, washing away my fears.

"It's been ten years, and I've never let you go."

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the tears. I knew that he loved me. I knew it. As faulted as we were, our love hadn't failed.

"Then why don't you want me here?" I tested him equally as potent in response.

"I didn't expect you to come," Aurelian muttered, clearly dodging me. "I'm not the person that you once knew. You need to leave this place while the door is still open."

I stepped in front of him, forcing his eyes to face me. Mine were longing and soulful. All that I could see was Ari, the same one I'd always known. Instead of turning back, I leaned in closer.

"You still haven't taken it, have you?" I whispered. "You've fought it all of this time, and yet you still believe that you're a monster."

"Perhaps I've resisted it," he began. "Perhaps I've spent every night in endless sleep, damned by the temptation of a thousand curses; pain that could only be curbed by the thought of our time together. Even then, the pain has changed me."

"I've changed too, Ari," I cried. "Whatever change you've seen, I've seen also. I'm a grown woman now, yet my love has remained constant. Does your wane?"

"No," Aurelian spoke up after a moment of silence. "My love for you is pain, and it runs deeper than the Crystal Sea."

"I suppose that makes you a very pained man," I remarked. He moved his head slightly, his eyes finally meeting mine with intent.

"The pain of our love is not the pain of the Curse. The pain of your love is beautiful and faultless. It's given me the strength to resist what has tried overtaking me."

There was a glint of light in the darkness, a glimpse of strength in weakness. Our hearts remembered their unity. It was wonderful, yet terrifying.

"You should go back, Elissa. Don't stay here," Aurelian pleaded. "You don't know what you'll face if you stay."

"I don't care what I face," I boldly declared, "I'm here now. I will stand by you in whatever pain or temptation you face, and I won't stop until it's gone and dead."

"Please don't say that –" Aurelian argued, though I hushed him.

"If you didn't want me here, you would have never let me come. It's like when you let me kiss you for the first time," I let out another bout of tearful laughter. "I know that you want me here. What will it take for me to show you that I'll always love you?"

The halls echoed with the metallic boom of the portal snapping shut. One of the last doors to my world was gone, and I was planted firmly in this one. There was awe in the Amar's eyes. I could tell that he was shaking, too.

"Would you still trade the sun for me?" He asked, voice faltering.

I fell into his embrace and buried my head into his chest. Nothing could take him from me. No curse, no king, no poison or presence. I traced his lips discerningly, and brushed my fingertips against his newly gruff chin.

"Always," I whispered.

I settled my hand on his face and kissed him, for I was not afraid.
