 
Terribly Lottey

By Lacie Perry Parker

Copyright 2014 Lacie Perry Parker. All rights reserved. Cover art by Chad Roslan.

Smashwords Edition

Table of contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Part I

Chapter One

Wits Are Feeble, Humor Is Wry

Especially When You Think You're About To Die

Well, here I am. Found one of the servant girls with this book and just knew she stole it. The leather binding is almost as good as the ones I use for lessons, and I know all too well that no one would have given her a gift. So it was just as well that I took it from her, and saved her the shame of father finding it. My father, Sir Devingrole is in fact the descended of an earl. So that makes me, very far-fetched-ly, royal? I have always believed that. Mother says I act and look more regal than the rest of the family, and that is all too true. So what else can I do but believe her?

I am the middle child of two brothers, or devils, might I say. Fiendish creatures. Why did God create them? It's hard sometimes to tell that they are even the same blood as I. My family is very noble, but Dichard and Frederam sometimes are a tad on the brutal side. Not in public, of course, but I know for a fact that when Dichard is hunting, nothing¬– no one, for that matter– is too innocent of a target. And Frederam, the younger of us, never hesitates to use his fists when a servant steps out of his place. I must say, though, I'm not the sweetest with them either. I don't use my fist, heavens, but I don't care to be around the creatures for more than is necessary. All my ladies maids do is nag, asking a list of never ending questions that rolls over from day to day. I often wish all the work was done on its own, so we wouldn't be bothered with someone else doing it for us.

I must set my quill down and dress for supper. I anticipate it, for afterwards I shall sit for a portrait. Although it is most uncomfortable and unnatural, I can't help but say the outcome is always well worth it.

The most noticeable difference between me and the rest of the family is my eyes. My mothers are violet, my father's such a dark, royal blue that it nearly matches, and the boys are all in-between. Sadly mine are of a more common color– a sort of pale emerald green. A dreadful coincidence I must add, that most servants I run into have something of the same. But I do suppose it gives them something to gloat about– they have something in common with me. Not that I would sacrifice anything for them, heavens, but it must make them feel a bit bigger than the small insignificance they are in truth.

For the portrait I wore a light blue taffeta gown, lined in velvet in satin. The color distracts from my eyes, and I blend in more. I had my hair peppered, as is the style: darker hair. I must admit it's an atrociously saddening thing; my hair is so light. Almost as if I worked in the sun. But, of course, one could simply look at my complexion or even the softness of my hands, and see I hadn't worked in my life. And I am proud of the fact. Nor had my mother, the urchin of a lady. Sometimes I don't even know if I love her, we are so different. And she won't even let me court sweet Willy Gangrun, no matter how many times he begs father. I find the situation jovial. He may be a bit on the homely side, but I'd go with a pig to escape this wretched hole for any amount of time. I say, heavens, we need new servants. Two nights ago we sat nearly ten minutes waiting on our Spiked Chicken. If the fire takes that long to stoke, it should be started ages earlier!

Today we go to watch the peacocks dance. Not very sure why they call it dance, however. The only thing they do is run around while we play croquet, eat cakes and the like. And mingle. I do sorely suffer from companionship. Mother offered to have one brought it from a fine little land called Frumndun, but then I learned they have squinty eyes. I told her rather loudly that she knows all too well I am too good to have only a funny looking imp to gossip with! I'm not sure if she agreed, but I think she called me a name. She swears very frequently that if I weren't her daughter, she'd ship me off to Frumndun, so I could wallow in the sand in develop squinty eyes, and she does sometimes add that may help me to stop looking in the mirror every other second. I scoff at her puny remarks. I tell her, why? I'm the most regal and elegant one in the household, and everyone would be lost without me.

She said, "Lost in their own jubilance."

For the peacock dances I usually enjoy dressing upscale as ever, to try and draw attention from the peacocks and more to me. Magnificent creatures, they are, and I find it mighty difficult to duplicate those magnificent feathers. Especially sprouting out of my tail end, which I found to be rather impossible when it comes time to enter a carriage. Then they become crumpled and quite unruly, and by the time it comes to croquet and bending over to get the ball, which I rarely do on my own– only when the servants are insufficient, the feathers don't even stand up. And floppy feather remakes are not attractive, at least not yet. And it would be too much of a burden to make them so.

I now flee. Must find something to wear, haven't had a new dress made since last time. Pity. Perhaps I shall design one later. With feathers elsewhere than the rear.

I have found I take joy in writing down my daily events and thoughts. It's as if I were writing a letter to me, that no one is permitted to read. That makes me think– must hide the book from the servants. For who wouldn't die to know more about my life?

There is one person– shall I say her name? Jyne Perr. How can a girl with only two syllables in her own name be worth anything? She is a nice sight, however not nicer than I am. She has long dark brown hair, which unfortunately needs no peppering. I admit to jealousy there. Her eyes are so blue that they appear black, the color of her wretched heart. Oh– has she a heart? I'd hardly know. We don't speak directly. It's a case of she-knows-I'm-better-but-won't-admit-it, so she avoids me. Very dramatic.

I overheard, "Tell the balloon if she wins, I'll let her borrow my seamstress. Perhaps she can fix that moon of a dress." Apparently she lacks no sarcasm.

My dress was no balloon, however! Heavens! It was just a large skirt, to draw attention. And it obviously did, according to her. But I would bet no one took a bit of notice to her, in her slim fitted skirt and bodice. So thin it was as if she wasn't even there at all.

But, perhaps I should try her technique. After all, it couldn't hurt.

I just called in my seamstress and gave her my new dress orders. A velvet navy blue that was snugly fit all over.

"Would your mother approve?" She asked.

And why would that matter to her? "You'd do best to let that to me!" It took more strength not to backhand her than it did to yell at her. She left with her eyes cast down, which in my opinion, is where they should stay.

Life is anything but droll around here, in this Devingrole Mansion. Maybe the king and queen will come and stir things up a bit. Except that would be about as likely as me getting a job as a scullery maid.

"Lady Perr has asked us over for tea." Mother told me, daintily wiping her mouth with her one hundred percent wool napkin. Anything else makes her itch.

Her words only slightly annoyed me. Even though I hated the grit of Jyne's bones, it wouldn't stop me from peeking in her wardrobe if I were given the right chance. I am afraid my brain is failing to come up with new ideas for my own gowns. And since she seems to be so popular (I came to conclude it was her naturally dark hair) any style she had would be worthy of me.

I set my fork on the dark wooden table. I felt a mile away from mother, though she was hardly across the table. "When mother? What shall we wear?"

So I sit on the windowsill in my room, staring at the vast sky. Except for today, it seems so shallow. And purple. More purple than blue. And I have decided I shall wear a pink satin gown, the sort that flops down over the shoulders. I shall have one of my ladies maids search out my longest, whitest pair of gloves.

There's not much more to write, until I get back.

This is how it went.

We pulled up to the Perr Mansion, our carriage rattling the way it does. A servant boy helped me out, though he was hardly in the position to do so. He had on the sort of clothes a stable boy, or a hall boy would wear. In fact, I think he was a hall boy.

I wonder why they're called that?

The steps leading up to the house are grand, I must admit. White marble inlaid with the most silvery silver in special little designs that I made sure to step on. The door was opened for us at once, and I won't even mention what kind of wood the door was made of.

We were led to the biggest of the three parlors where Jyne and her mother Jyssel were waiting for our arrival. We took out seat at the tea table, saying our hellos:

"Oh, Jyssel, dear! So good of you to invite us!"

"Oh, Marish, I knew it had been too long!"

Jyne gave me the most devilish little smile.

I wrinkled my nose and nodded. She didn't deserve my smile turned upon her.

The tea they had prepared for us was of the oddest sort; it was completely clear. It only changed color when I added my sugar. "Lady Jyssel, wherever did you get this magnificent tea?"

Lady Jyssel swallowed a snort. She was an odd cookie. "ParKesh, dear, ParKesh!"

When I didn't look enlightened, she continued.

"ParKesh are known for their rare and expensive teas. Jyne's father had to take a trip there for business and brought back simply loads of it!" She laughed into the air and took another sip, spilling it down her chin.

I stared down into the tea. I was so foolish! I knew at once that I would have one of my ladies maids get me a book from the library so I could study ParKesh, if that's even how you spell it, and know just as much as dreadful Jyne and her even more dreadful mother.

The cakes– I didn't even ask where they came from. I had been humiliated enough for the day.

Speaking of humiliation, Jyne was wearing no gloves.

"Dressing up is fun, isn't it dear? For tea? Especially when you wear your grandmother's old things." She smiled glaringly and drank her tea.

She looked so ugly at that moment: her chin four inches longer than usual, for it is a little long, the poor dear, her eyes bulging out, and her long fingers like claws around her delicate china.

She was wearing a gross, dark green, that made her skin look so very dark– like a gypsy. In fact, she looked so much like a gypsy, I had to tell her.

"Dearest Jyne, have you been out with the gypsies lately? Your skin seems to have darkened since last I saw you."

The pig ignored my comment. She was good at that.

And another thing I ought to mention about Jyne– if ever one though that I were impatient with servants, they should visit little Lady Jyne Perr! She hesitated not a second before she backhanded one of her ladies maid while we were for a stroll in the gardens. One thing I admire about her. The only thing.

"Where are my fans, imp? If I break a sweat, I'll break your back."

I figured I'd have to remember that line. The servant girl hurried with the fans, so hurriedly that she fell at our feet, tripping over herself. Jyne jerked her up and slapped her across the face, and that mark is still there to my knowledge. I would have felt bad for the girl, except, one, she is a servant and, two, she wasn't very pretty. And, oh yes, three, she was a servant. That ruined her chances.

"She's a replacement," Jyne told me. "They are simply the worst."

Replacement for what? "What of the girl she is replacing?"

Jyne laughed, her deep husky voice. "The one she is replacing isn't well. She got herself hurt. Why, are you in need of another servant girl?"

"I wouldn't know," I said, trying to sound intelligent. "I try to have as little to do with those matters as possible. If it were my choice, I'd have all the servants turn invisible, that way I wouldn't have to lay eyes on them."

"I see we have something in common," Jyne looked at me with an evil smirk.

We may have a million things in common, but that wouldn't ever make us friends. And I know we both feel the same way (another thing in common?).

I conclude that the replacement girl was replacing someone Jyne had brutally beaten– or perhaps she had fallen out of a tree.

Mother found my book and told me it was rubbish to waste my time writing things down in a book.

"It's better than wasting away my brain, being dumber than Issa Leesa!" Issa Leesa is mental, or at least that's my opinion.

"At least Issa Leesa can embroider!" Mother and I often have these shooting-words-back-and-forth games.

"Yes, but did you remember? She uses her teeth!"

"That's– she does?"

"Yes mother, that's the only way she can accomplish anything. She has the largest teeth in the country."

"Maybe you should try it then!"

"Or maybe not!"

Since she thinks the book is rubbish, I shall write in it all I can. Use ever second of my spare time writing. Maybe that will teach the wretch a lesson. What if she were to read this? Would I be punished for calling my mother names? Of course not! I'd faint and win father's sympathy. Except... father was away. In fact, he has been gone quite a long time. I think I shall go find out very quickly.

By the way, I can embroider.

This... this is a shock. But I don't know what's more– that I wasn't told before, or that I know now.

I have no father. Not anymore.

As is the fashion, all lords of mansions go on business trips and father had gone to Umblrania. He said he would bring me back a sweet little parasol with all the little pink– anyway. He was on a business trip in Umblrania when he and his horse were struck by a bolt of green lightning.

Oh, how dreadful!

And how odd.

It's hard to accept. But I suppose I must be strong; for it would not be wise of me to stress myself and therefore ruin my perfect complexion– and crying will do that.

I must say, heavens, I have been craving food lately. And it is as if everyone knows it. A manservant in a billowy hat– which was quite ridiculous looking, actually– just came in and gave me four little cakes that taste quite good. They have white powdery things sprinkled all inside and I keep dropping crumbs on the paper and in my ink. Or maybe it's that everyone keeps bringing me food, and that's why I think I am hungry? I don't wish to suffer my waistline, though. I am not the thinnest in the world, though no where near plump. But I fear that may change if I keep up these new habits.

Heavens how fast I have forgotten about father! Maybe it will not be hard to get used to his absence. I hadn't realized he had been gone for a while anyway.

However, his absence will give me an excuse to throw a party. A rather quaint cotillion, for mother will be in mourning, but I will not wear black on behalf of a man I hardly new.

Gasp– I hardly knew him? I suppose it's true! Ah, well, that explains the lack of emotions.

I am off to tell mother of my little party plan.

"You want to throw a cotillion on behalf of your dead father!?"

"It's not as if I am celebrating his death–"

"Think how people will talk, and, oh– what are you wearing? Green!? You are supposed to be in mourning!"

I refused to wear black. Yet, as I am sitting here, I am wearing black.

Life is harsh and cruel to me.

I have decided to take up riding lessons again; since there is little else to do on this horrid piece of property I call my home.

My instructor's name is Horrace, whom I'd like to call horror-face. He is short and muscle-y and bulky and has the most horrid scars all over his face. I asked him what they were from.

"Leopard attacked me."

It is difficult to allow him to help me onto my horse, for that requires for him to touch me. And that is most revolting.

And he treats me like a baby sparrow! As if I were plain. Oh, I don't mean that he treats me as if I were ugly or homely; I mean he only lets me trot around in circles for the time being.

Tomorrow I shall force him to let me gallop. On my own.

"Who cares what you think is wise?" I asked, looking at him down my nose.

"I just don't want you to get hurt, milady–"

I snorted. "As if you care."

I allowed him to trot me around in three hundred circles. When I began to get dizzy, I told him to let me alone– I wanted to go around in circles by myself. That was perfectly safe. What could happen in the corral? So he bowed himself out of the way and let me be.

Of course I know how to make a horse go faster– I squeezed the horse's sides. And off we went, out of the corral, and out into the fields. The flowers were so high that they nearly towered over my head, and I sneezed quite a few times.

Colors whizzed by my head: yellow and purple and orange and red. I meant to close my mouth, but I got a bug before I had the chance. My stomach cramped and I nearly vomited.

After a minute or two I was ready to go back, so I tried to jerk the horse's head the direction she should go. But the lazy beast– she jerked me back and went the other way! My hair was so windblown I was afraid to touch it– not that I could, for if I had let my hands off the reigns I would have gone flying off and into a pile of tall flower stalks.

I starting screaming and flailing my legs, anything to make the stupid thing stop. But it wouldn't. I jabbed my legs into her side, trying to hurt her so she would slow. She only went faster.

"Horrace!" I shrieked. The stupid man– he should have known better than to let me do something I wasn't ready for! I didn't know how to stop!

I saw what we were headed for, and my life flashed before my eyes. It was a little duck pond, or stream type body of water. "Horrace!" I shrieked again. "If you don't stop me I'll have you whipped 'till your head is numb!"

I heard him shout, "Whoa!" Not to me, but to the horse.

And it stopped.

But I wasn't ready. I went sailing through the air, skimming flowers along the way. And I fell into the stream. "Aaawoo!" I yelped, spitting mad. Someone was going to pay for this.

And... this part... should I write it? Oh, I nearly fainted.

I was bleeding.

So now I lay in my bed, my knee bandaged up. Oh, if it leaves a scar... when I am well enough to walk I will beat everyone in this house with the sharpest brambles in the woods!

I beat Jacy, who is one of my ladies maids, over the head with my fist, and she stood there taking it. Would you like to know why I beat her over the head?

"I think, maybe miss– milady, you could be overreacting?" She was speaking of my knee. I told her I couldn't walk for at least another week, and she disagreed.

So I beat her over the head. And that's what she gets.

But how I would much rather beat Horrace over the head! With a stick! Oh, flying through the flowers I attained these awful little things, chiggers I think they called them, and they ITCH. So very, very, very badly. I am afraid they have upset my mood somewhat.

When I found one of the little red bugs behind my ear, I wailed. "MOTHER! Mother! Oh, mother, come quick!" So a million people, which were all servants, save mother, poured into my room.

"I'm infested!" I squealed. I showed them the bug.

One plump servant woman took it from me and squeezed it. "Do you itch anywhere, dear milady?"

I didn't, until she mentioned it. Now I can't stop scratching. Oh, my skin! My skin my skin my skin is red!

"Mother, you have to do something! Call a magician or an herbal healer or something!" I screamed at her, not sure what to do. It's so very frightening– knowing you have insects crawling on your body.

"Pull yourself together, my dear, you're not dying. It isn't as if it's the end of the world." Her tone didn't show she thought I was her dear.

And how could she not be worried about my skin! How was her lovely daughter supposed to catch a husband with red skin!? "But mother– it is the end of the world if you don't bloody do something!" I screamed louder, for she was about to leave my room.

She stopped and turned. She stared at me for a second, and then her hand went flying.

I hate her.

She slapped me across the face, just as Jyne slapped her servant girl. Mother slapped me as if I were a servant girl.

"You are a tormenting brat, girl. I am lucky I have two other sons to make up for you."

And she left.

So I am here all alone in my bed, and no one even wants to come near me. And I just know why– I look disgusting. A nasty scraped knee and red itchy bumps all over.

This morning Dichard came to visit me in my current state. I was grateful to him for not looking upon me and seeing my imperfections, but seeing me as his sister. His one and only sister.

"Guess what I did to Horrace?" He said, a wide grin on his face.

I forced myself to sit up. "What?"

Dich sat himself at the end of my bed. "I took him hunting with me."

"As a companion, or as a target?" I sniggered gleefully.

"Ah, I wouldn't shoot him, Lottey. But... you won't have to worry about him being your riding instructor anymore."

I bit my lip, trying to figure out what he did to him before he could tell me.

"He got lost."

Too late.

"On his own?" I asked, knowing very well what the answer was.

He shook his head. "And I don't think he'll find his way home. He was a little... disoriented."

So, that visit from my older brother made my day a little bit better.

And just a note: even if prince charming were my riding instructor, there would be no way I am getting back on a horse. It is going to be difficult to sit in a carriage, knowing those unruly creatures are pulling it.

I think I am better today. It has been three days since my accident, and although my knee is still bandaged, I believe I can manage. I am sitting in the parlor with my breakfast tea, dreading the day. My life is a total bore. But what is new? Who doesn't have a boring life around this place? At least Dich and Frederam can go hunting and the like. I am confined to the house and the gardens. And the gardens are brownish for some reason; that makes me in a wilted mood.

I had a ladies maid that was not Jacy make me a special powder to cover my face. It kind of soothes the itching too, although I didn't commend her for that. Wouldn't want her to get a hot head. She isn't even an herbalist, and she told me she wanted to me. I didn't slap her, although I should have. All servants should know their place is where we out them– and that doesn't change, unless we put them somewhere else.

Someone has arrived in a carriage. I hope it's the king and queen.

"Mister Willy Gangrun is here to call on you, milady."

At that moment I was ever so grateful for the face powder.

"Show him in," I said. Mother was on a walk with some other important Ladies and Lord knows where Dichard and Frederam were. No one need know Willy was here until he had gone.

In he came: red hair and all. Tall and lanky, not so dashing, but he brought me a chocolate rose.

"So nice of you to drop in, Mister Gangrun."

"My pleasure, Miss Devingrole, and please call me Willy."

I smiled, and underneath the smile was deviousness. "You may call me Lottey then, and won't you have a seat, Willy?" I gestured to the settee to my right.

"I was just finishing my breakfast tea. Would you like anything? I wouldn't want to make you thirsty." I took a sip, nice and slowly. That is when he shook his head to answer my question, and quickly handed me the rose.

I took it placidly, and smiled brightly. "I shan't eat it– it's too much of a picture!"

He smiled and looked down. "I was wondering, since your father is gone, uh– God rest him, do you think I would be allowed to court you?" He looked like a rabbit, a twitchy nose, and impatiently nervous. "I know I should be asking your mother, since you father– God rest him–"

"God has rested him, Willy! And my mother isn't here at present. You have done the right thing." I cut him off, taking another sip of my tea, which was now cold.

"So– would you– do you–" Willy couldn't seem to find the right words. He will be most annoying to court. But as I said before, anything to get me out of the mansion.

"Of course I like you, Willy!" I bit my tongue, and it hurt. Lying always made me bite my tongue. "What shall we do?"

Willy loosened his collar. He was turning red, and he looked as if he would explode. Or melt. "We could, go... riding. My father had magnificent stables, and–"

I sat my teacup down with a rattle and a thump. I nearly choke. "No. I do not ride. Bad experiences." I lifted my skirt and showed him my knee.

He flushed, embarrassed at me showing him past my ankles. I just smiled.

"Butler– or whatever you're called– can you show Mister Willy out? I think I hear mother." I turned to my guest. "Thank you so much, Willy. Oh, the fun we shall have." I pulled the rose to my nose and smelled it. It– it didn't smell. Then I remembered it was not a rose, but something edible and I jerked it back down. "Ta," I said. And he was shown out.

Mother came in to find me eating my rose (how could I resist?) and sitting on the plush velvet couch in our best parlor.

"Was that Willy Gangrun I just saw leaving?" She looked angry. But I was gleeful, so spiteful, I didn't care.

"Oh yes mother, it was. I took the chocolate and shoved him away."

She came closer to me, her hands on her hips. She knew otherwise, I could tell. "Then why in heavens did he say, 'Thank you Lady Marish, your daughter is an angel, I'll send notice next time I come to call' then?"

I sat up. The chocolate was scrumptious. "Well then maybe I told him I was going to court him, because he asked me and not you."

She reached forward and jerked the chocolate from my hands and slapped me. Slapped me. Again. And I wanted to slap her back.

"You are too young, Sharlotte Marish Rose Devingrole!"

I stared at her. How dare her. I stood up and reacquired my chocolate. "Stop me then, mother. Stop me."

And I left the room. Heavens, that woman is difficult to live with. My brothers are lucky they have me.

The chocolate made me sick and I vomited all last night. I dirtied probably three chamber pots. I haven't left my room since yesterday, and I don't plan to soon, either.

Needless to say, my brothers haven't visited me.

And Dich is right. Horrace is gone. I feel no loss.

Three days have passed since I was ill. The sky has been gray for several days now, since before Willy came to call. I don't know why, but I wish it would turn back blue so the garden would come back to life. I don't even have anywhere to go when I am sad, which is constant now. I thought that maybe a miniature dragon would be a good pet, but then I remembered how deathly afraid I was of the one Frederam had once, but that was mainly because it caught my dress on fire.

I can't even have an animal for a friend! With so many people around me, I really do feel alone. And it isn't fair, not one bit.

Maybe I should go tromping in the servant's quarters, and wallop everyone I see. Hitting people always makes me feel better.

Had a strange occurrence last night. I think it was a dream, but it was so real. I dreamt father came home. I ran to him to give be gathered into an embrace, but he hit me. I fell to the dirt. When I stood up he hit me again, and again, until I woke up.

I quickly grabbed my hand held looking mirror to make sure I didn't have any bruises on my face, and I don't think I did. But it was dark then, and I am too afraid to look again now that it is light.

A ladies maid entered my room, scaring me. I jumped; my bed creaked. "What's your name?" I asked, breathlessly, and the question sounded a little odd.

"Caribess, milady. Are you alright?" She looked at me, and the tray she was holding tipped to one side.

"Of course I'm alright," I snapped. I sounded so bitter. But, then again, I felt bitter. Like a rotten soy nut.

She gave me my breakfast and left in a rush. Probably afraid of me. Then Frederam came in, and he had a funny smile on his face.

"Good morning," I said in my new bitter way."Very good. Has Willy called again?"

My eyes shot up and met his. "Mother told you about that?"

"You're such a scatter brain," he shook his head.

"So suddenly?"

"I read your book."

I put my hand behind my back, touching my pillow protectively, which was where I kept the book. Behind it. "You low, filthy rotten beheaded duck."

"I know. Can I give you some tips?"

"Tips? From you?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "You should write your events as if they were a story. I think you write things as you want them, and it's difficult to comprehend."

I snarled. "No one is supposed to read it except for me, so what does it matter?"

He shrugged again, this time smiling widely, and he left.

But maybe his suggestions aren't so bad. Maybe someone will want to read this book someday, a commoner, who wants to know the whole life story of the magnificent Sharlotte Marish Rose Devingrole.

I fear they would be sorely disappointed.

It's been a week since the dream. I haven't thought about it once, but it flashes through my mind earlier when I was bashing one of the servants.

The garden is beginning to bloom again– and for that everyone is wonderfully gleeful. Frederam says everyone is happy because I will be in a better mood, but who wouldn't be happy about the garden coming back to life? Soon I will be able to look out the window and see pinks and purples and blues and reds– and greens! I had one of the servants plant me some edible herbs. I want to be able to go out into the garden and not have to retreat into the house when I get hungry. Pulling food out of the ground– well, having someone else pull it up and hand it to me; can't get my hands dirty– is going to be such a convenient treat.

Even mother thinks so. We are slightly on speaking terms, although I do my best to avoid her. I suspect she does the same. It really makes life easier, and it's no hassle.

I have the most wonderful news! We are going to be paid a visit by a longtime friend, mother has told me, and they have a daughter my age. She sounded so happy, almost tearful when she told me. And not only that, she has been so happy lately: she has started her own garden, with her own hands and everything, so she is always pulling weeds and picking seeds, and she sighs often. But it's a happy sigh. These must be very great friends of hers. I once asked their names, but mother didn't seem to hear me.

This visit is doing well to mend me and mother's relationship. She hasn't slapped me once in the past week.

We have lots to do to prepare for these guests. Everyone is acting as I if it is the king and queen coming. A room has been prepared in the east wing, but the odd thing is that it is the only room that has been prepared. I asked mother where the daughter my age would sleep, and she told me not to worry about it.

If she thinks the girl is sleeping in my room with me, she has another thing coming.

I've pounded so many servants today it's a blessing the floors are still whole.

Dichard surprised me today with a tiger pelt. "Shot him myself, and, well, I attempted to do the skinning but I don't think I'm quite ready."

I took it in my arms and rubbed it on my face. "Oh, Dich! It's so marvelous. I should have a shawl made of it so I can show it off."

It really was magnificent, with its rich oranges and blacks and yellows, zigzags going in every direction. And it was softer than I'd imagined a tiger would be.

Dichard had laughing eyes as he bowed at me. I decided not to reprimand him for mocking me.

I folded the pelt and laid it on my bed. "Don't anyone touch!" I screeched at the nearest maid before I left my room.

Mother was in the dining room, discussing flower arrangements with the gardener servant. As much as I despise the servants, I really do mention them rather often.

"Petunias, peonies or poppies?" She asked, as if she were a bowl of glitter.

"Anything that isn't red," I retorted. She ignored me and kept her business with the gardener servant. I swept past them and went out onto the balcony.

Behind our mansion there are hundreds and hundreds of mountains, right after the valley. It's rather nice to look at, but I'm glad I'll never have to cross it. If I were a man I would, however, to go on a business trip. How I hate business dealings and such. I would abhor to be bothered by money matters! And working hours, and how much to pay whom. I don't know a thing on the subject. And I don't plan to.

I wanted to do something special for the visiting family, something to make us seem regal. So they would enjoy their stay and tell everyone they know about their joyous stay at the Devingrole Mansion. And perhaps the king and queen– whatever their names are– would hear and they would come to see if the rumors were true.

Oh, if only the country's castle weren't miles and miles away. I know I could make the prince fall for me. There is a prince, isn't there?

A life of royalty is what I deserve.

One week until the family comes to our welcoming mansion. How I wish I knew what their names were.

Today I went out into the garden. My herbs are growing, though not yet edible.

"What kind did you plant for me?" I asked some servant girl.

"I– I believe it is mint sprig and hink leaves."

"You believe? Well what if I believe it is something different? Will it change, then?" I rolled my eyes. What dreadful impertinence. And whatever she said– mint and hink. I do hope it tastes good. I am picky with my food, and I know what is worth putting into my stomach or not.

I dusted my hands off and strolled inside the mansion. We really do need some more tapestries if we are to make a good impression on anybody. But I don't want to make them– heavens! What a tedious task. I could never sit hours just to make something to hang on the wall, unless it meant I got to live in the castle.

I heard mother talking to someone in our second best parlor. She sounded so merry and gay– quite a turnaround from a month ago. But it made the mood of the household quite easier. Her voice carried easily through the warm air, though I could hardly hear the other voice. Then they stopped and came out of the room.

"Hello, dear," it was Lady Jyssel. Her eyes danced as she walked past me.

"It's so nice to see you having friends over for tea again," I told mother once Lady Jyssel had been led out by the butler-sort servant. I'm not sure if he is as high as a butler, but he does the same jobs (as I've seen).

"Yes, it is nice," mother said, but her eyes seemed to see right past me, as if she weren't looking at me at all. It was slightly odd. "She brought me some ParKesh tea." Then she brushed past me to work on her garden.

I am beginning to think the ParKesh tea was drugged. Mother isn't usually so jovial, and never nonchalant. But she is now. It's a striking change, but I'll say it's done her good, put color into her dreadfully pale and ugly cheeks.

I decided to give a lecture to all the servants– household ones, anyway, not the kitchen ones and such, only those who are seen. I called them to the hall at the top of the stairs and had them line up in alphabetical order. I know it's cruel, since they are all uneducated anyway, but I needed a bit of fun. So once they were lined up, I began speaking.

"As you all know, we are going to have visitors. And these people are so incredibly important– especially to mother, or to you, Lady Marish. And we must keep her happy, yes? You should all treat these people like the king and queen, whom I hold in the deepest honor. None of the scum picking you do about me all day long. I am a very tolerant person, but you may find that some aren't as easily won over. Have I made myself unambiguous?" I got no response. "That means understood. Do you understand? Or are you really that dumb?"

I got a handful of mumbled, "Yes'mum"'s and "Yes milady"'s. It was hardly at all satisfying, but decided to let them off rather nicely. My fist was sore anyhow, and I wasn't about to hit one of them and bruise my hand. How would that look for a first impression on these people?

"Back to your work!" I screeched, and watched as they all filed about into different rooms and down the staircase.

Lunch was anything but droll, seeing as I ate alone. No one was there, and I didn't bother to ask why. Mother was probably busy with preparation work, and I didn't give a care where the boys were. We didn't really keep track of each other that much.

I ate my spiked duck, which was a little on the greasy side. I bawled at the butler tell the cook if he didn't stop making food that would make me fat, I would make sure he didn't eat another rotten morsel for the rest of his measly life.

The Mansion was quite deserted, and I occupied myself to stroll around in circles, admiring all the portraits of myself on the walls.

I would really love to strangled whoever is responsible for bringing dark hair to be so very popular. I am the only one in my family's history to have such light hair. And it had to be in this era. So shameful.

The day is dragging by so dreadfully. It seems as though it will never end, although I no better. Everyday has its end, though it never comes soon enough.

Oh! Must dress in a hurry. Willy is calling on me.

I put on my new favorite gown– sort of in the style of Jyne's but in a dark purple with embroidered flowers. Much more becoming than a night blue. My hair hung loose in many braids, some coiled to my head. All my red bumps are far healed, luckily, and I threw the powder out the window.

I ran down the gilded stairs so gracefully, I am sure I looked more beautiful and elegant than a graceful swan. I met Willy at the bottom, and held out my hand. He did look rather nervous as he took it, held it to his mouth, but didn't kiss it. He dropped it like it was a dead fish.

"Miss Devingrole–"

"I told you, it's–"

He shook his head and spoke so quickly I couldn't understand. "I can't be on first name basis, Miss Devingrole. I came to tell you I am to be married– next month– to–" he sneezed.

How valiant.

"To... my betrothed. Forgive me if I've caused you pain."

I curtsied lowly, ready to spit on him. I couldn't decide what I'd rather do: fuss and whine and cry and make him feel sorry, or be as seductive as possible and make him regret his decision. "No pain at all." I kept my cool. "I do hope I'm invited to the wedding."

He made an odd grunt– somewhere between yes and no, and left.

And that left me in a daze.

I went back up to my room to let my hair down. It was giving me a headache. Now how would I get away from the house? No one else had to call on me– though I couldn't see why ever not. It was a bugging thought and I tried to make it buzz out of my head. But with nothing else to think of, it was really rather hard.

My hair was a ball of frizz after taking out those masses of braids, and I looked like a dandelion. "Lady Maid!" I wailed. I didn't know exactly who to call, at least not by name.

But for some reason, no one came. No one.

I felt very... alone.

Trumpets blasted, and I woke up screaming. I was used to being woken up easily, not with such a fright. I let myself back down, meaning to hit the pillows, but I hit the bed post. I wanted to bawl, but instead I yelled for my breakfast.

"What were the trumpets for?" I asked the servant who brought me my food.

"Well, for Lady Terre, of course," she said with a startled look.

But I was even more startled. "Who is that? The head of the household who is paying us the visit?"

The servant sighed. "Eat your breakfast, and then we'll dress you, and you can ask your mother."

I was about to scream in protest, but then I tasted the muffin. It was... very good. There were little bits of purple flakes that looked a lot like sleeping potion herb.

I lay asleep for seven hours.

By the time I woke up it was time for supper, and my stomach was emptier than it ever had been before. I can't remember the last time I had went without a whole entire meal. But being asleep, I couldn't have very well eating my lunch. Not that anyone brought me any.

I shot up, angry as a hornet. I saved my lungs, for I knew I was about to scream at everyone in this Mansion. I haven't yet, though, I sorely regret.

We had guests in this house! Since ten in the morning, and they had made me sleep until five! When our long awaited guests were here! I couldn't believe it.

I dressed myself in a flash, not bothering to yodel for help. Something had to be wrong. I fled down stairs, not feeling as graceful as usual. And as I came around the corner of our best parlor, I felt a bit awkward in fact.

We only had one visitor.

It was her, the girl my age. And she looked... she looked just like mother.

"Is she your sister?" I blurted, and everyone turned to look at me. Everyone being Dichard, Frederam, Mother and new girl.

Mother turned to me, and for a moment she didn't have any expression at all. Then she smiled.

"Dear child, come in." Mother was acting– I don't know exactly how to say it. Plainly, it was odd. Almost enchanting.

I came into the room, very warily, but also intrigued. For a few moments I forgot entirely about the fact I had just been asleep for seven hours because I was drugged.

"Who is she," I said quietly. She had raven black hair, the lightest violet eyes and perfect skin. Like a cloud. Sitting by mother, the two looked like two portraits of the same person, fifteen years apart.

"Let me introduce you to my daughter," mother said proudly.

Her words knocked me back about twenty feet. I coughed. "I have a sister!?"

Mother laughed, throwing her head back. Her 'daughter' grinned. "No, Sharlotte, you don't have a sister."

Wait a second, this did not make sense. Mother– my mother– was telling me she had a daughter, but I had no sister. That wasn't physically possible. Psychotically either.

I wanted to scream and yell and wail, and demand an explanation. But I couldn't. I just stood there, my throat all closed up. I couldn't talk, I couldn't breathe– it was strange. I felt fire consuming me, and I sweated as if it really were.

"Darling child, don't hold your breath so. It isn't healthy."

I let out in a gasp and said, "I don't understand."

"It's difficult, really. This is Lady Terre. When she was born, I was told she had died. But in fact, my midwife, who was barren herself, had taken the baby. I was devastated, as you can imagine, and didn't want the shame of a stillborn. So I was presented with you– and, really, I don't even know where you came from."

I wanted to vomit. Was she playing tricks on me? How cruel. This couldn't be right. It was mean. Dirty and filthy and rotten and mean. And it couldn't be true. "So– you are taking her back?" I couldn't even think of a reasonable question.

Mother slightly nodded. "Do you know what happened to her? The midwife took her and sold her– for quite a high price, I imagine; noble blood is precious– to a wealthier family who was incapable of producing their own. And now that they have passed on, the midwife confessed in full– odd, I know, and hard to believe. But could you ever mistake her as my own blood?"

My breath was rigid. I tried to keep it steady. I needed smelling salts, but I wasn't about to ask for them. Mother had known all along, forever, that I wasn't her child. And she never told me. Is that why she didn't mind slapping me? "I've always wanted a sister," I said, trying not to sound jealous and bitter (as I was).

Mother's daughter, Lady Terre I presumed, laughed a tinkling little laugh. "She just told you. You don't have a sister."

I clenched my fists and balled my toes. I wanted so badly so close my eyes tightly and never ever open them. "What is to happen to me, then?"

Frederam sniggered. I shot my gaze to him.

"Don't go crazy when you hear, Lottey."

"I don't ever go crazy, I'm quite capable of keeping my cool, you–"

"Would you like to hear, then?" Lady Terre cut me off.

I'd like to cut her off, and I don't mean just in the middle of a sentence.

"Tell me." I gulped. If I were being sent to another family to be adopted, maybe they would let me court.

Mother stood. Terre followed. "You will take your place, where you belong– as a servant."

My ears exploded, as did the world around me. I could hear myself shrieking, but I was so numb I couldn't tell if it was me or my imagination. Everything whirred; my stomach included. I wanted to throw myself to the floor, or tear Lady Terre's eyes out. But I stood still, my knees locked. And I started to hiccough.

"You're taking it quite well, Sharlotte." Mother sounded so spiteful. It reminded me of... well, myself.

We did have our differences. But she had raised me. She is the one I call mother, even now, now that I know that truth– that she isn't my mother. "Can't you spare me?" I cried. "I'll kiss your feet, dig in the dirt, I'll do anything! I just don't want to wait on you."

"Oh, you won't be waiting on us," Terre said.

I wanted to grab her by her silky, long hair and swing her around above my head until she popped.

"Who then?" I shouted, digging my fingernails into the inside of my palms.

Mother came up to me and put her hands on my shoulders. I wanted to take her arms and shake them violently, until they came out of her shoulders.

"Lady Jyssel has kindly offered to take you in. it was Jyne's idea. You should thank her, really."

I jerked away from her, staring out in disbelief. Of all the horrors in the world, this would be the worst. The scariest, most frightening and humiliating thing I will ever, ever, ever encounter.

I know how Jyne treats her servants. And she hates me already. I can feel the time will come when skin and hair and appearance won't matter. It will be difficult just to stay alive at the Perr Mansion.

"How could you do this to me!?" I screamed at mother, backing off slowly. "You raised me! You said you loved me! I don't understand! What did I ever do wrong!?" I quieted my voice, trying to stop my uncontrollable shaking. "I even wrote good things in my book about you. And you don't even care." I wiped the tears from my face violently.

Dichard stood up and took a step towards me. "That's a lie, Lott. A lie."

I stood, still trembling all over. "How would you know?" I spat.

"I read it. And I quote, 'would I be punished for calling my mother names?'" He stared at me, a piercing stare.

I wanted to kill him. But he is so much stronger than I.

"And you said that you wouldn't be punished, but win over fathers appeal." He paused again. "Father isn't here."

I did all I could to keep from falling to my knees. "You're the closest thing now, Dich. The closest," I whispered. But his eyes were cold, and looked past me. As if he'd already forgotten me.

They all looked like that, except for Terre. She looked as if she knew me all too well. It made me hate her even more.

I looked at them for a long, hard, second. Then I let out a scream, "I hate everybody!" I screamed so hard, long and loud that it tensed and strained all the muscles in my body. I turned and fled to my room, wishing I had never woken up.

And that's where I sit! On the bed that's no longer mine!

How is this for you, Frederam? Story-like enough for you??

Chapter Two

I sit in deafening dread. I don't even really know how this is all happening to me. One moment my life is only slightly dreadful, but near perfect, and now this– it's like a burning living hell, in which I have been cast into. What do they say in books? A pit of despair. I am a basket of desolateness. And no one even cares.

I don't meet eyes with any of the servants when they come in to clean my room and ready it to be made into a guest bedroom. I'll soon join their ranks.

I've been told I can take only limited things with me.

I look no one in the eye, and speak to no one. Especially not her. By that I mean Terre, my not-sister. I hate her more than I have ever hated Jyne, or anyone. It's all because of her.

I still cannot get over this shock. It's hard to realize what is going on. I want to think they will change their minds, but I know... I know this is for real.

And I don't know what to make of it. I mean, I have no friends, no one in this world who cares about me.

And obviously everyone else knew before I did. It's why Lady Jyssel was here. It's why Dich gave me the tiger pelt. It's why Willy came and said he couldn't court me.

Because I am NOBODY!

Forgive me if these inkblots are unreadable. But sometimes tears are actually uncontrollable.

I can't even bring myself to say anything I normally do, such as heavens, or awful, dreadful, or horrid. Everything seems so foreign.

Even me.

I feel dead. And so, so meaningless. Why was I created if everything was just going to be taken from me? I would rather be dead. But I am too much of wimp to kill myself.

The wagon has arrived to take me away. Yes, a wagon. This will be like a funeral procession.

I will write down what happens– if I live.

And the worst part is that I have no one to miss me.

The trip to the Perr Mansion was awkward, deadly and the silence was deafening. Not a bird chirped, nor a cricket. There were no clouds in the whitish-gray sky. The wind didn't even blow. And the person driving me (I can no longer say servant– for I share the title) didn't make a single noise the whole time. That really killed me.

The things I brought with me: my tiger pelt, two changes which I regret to inform are peasant dresses, this book and a sulfur pencil which is hard to read, but who cares now? And a handkerchief and I think that may be it. I have never owned so little.

For some reason, this feels like only a trip. As if in a week or so I will be allowed to come back home and the horror will be over. All I can do is to pray.

When the wagon pulled into the stables I caught my breath. It wasn't beautiful or scenic– it reeked. But I couldn't complain. For how did I even know my room would be any nicer? The thought pricked my eyelids with frozen tears.

Once the horse was put away I was led to a door around the side of the Mansion, something I had never even seen before. But I suppose my mansion, or now it is Terre's mansion, I suppose it has one too. It was the only door the servants were allowed to enter and exit from, I was told. Unless otherwise directed by the master or mistress. I was taken to the Freniar, which I am told is the same as a butler-type servant. The Freniar is in charge of everything, and makes sure everyone stays in their place.

I had always thought that was my job.

My poor little measly sack of my only belongings was set in the kitchen to wait on me.

This is the scary part. I had to face Lady Jyssel and Lady Jyne, and they would tell me what my position was in this dreadful play of life.

"I'll take her," said a plump woman, wiping her hands on a dirty apron. She then took the apron off and tossed it aside. "I'm Clessle, Sharlotte." She extended her hand, and I assumed she meant for me to shake it.

I hesitated, but I knew I had to... touch her. She probably hadn't washed her hands in hours, or days, and Lord knows what she had been touching. But I had to get used to this formality, even though I found it most revolting.

"Hi– hi. You can call me Lottey. Only my..." I was about to tell her only my mother had called me by my whole first name, but then I remembered. She wasn't my mother.

The torture I was first shown was the ten flights of stairs that separated the servants from the nobles. I was out of breath before we even started trekking.

On the way to whatever room both Lady J's were in I just knew I was going to be one of Jyne's ladies maids. And that would be the end of my life. But as we turned the corner–

"No, mother. I didn't want her to be one of my ladies in waiting. That's not what I meant for."

"Then–?"

"I meant for her to be a scullery maid."

I turned milk white all over and almost tripped over my own foot. Scullery maid. What a word to hear ringing in my ears. Wasn't that the most incredibly low job one could possibly have?

They– she – obviously meant for this to teach me a lesson.

As we entered the room, I kept my eyes low as I could without tripping. I did not want to meet either of them in they eye, especially not Jyne. Or Lady Jyne, I suppose I should write, should someone of importance find this book.

I felt my white turn to red in an instant as Lady Jyne laid eyes upon me. I wanted to charge at her and scream every insulting word I knew of. I wanted to shake her silly, make her mental. But I stood, just as I had with Terre.

This was my place.

"Servant's do not usually confront the mistress to be told their position, but we both know your situation is different, Sharlotte." Lady Jyssel's was odd with coldness, and sternness. Was there a side to her I didn't know of?

"You are to take the place as scullery maid. You will do as you're told. No questions asked. I believe you know that?"

I knew I wasn't supposed to actually answer that question. I stayed silent.

"Good. Clessle will show you to your quarters."

I swallowed the word quarters. I knew I wouldn't get much room to sleep, and I suppose I knew it would be quarters, but it was still a shock. I have always gotten just as much room as I want– and now this. It's so menacingly shocking, and I barely even realize what is happening around me. Or that I am even alive.

But I am.

I could feel Lady Jyne smiling fiendishly down on me as I followed Clessle out of the room and back down the rickety wooden stairs to the servant's quarters, where the kitchen and everything low and dirt was kept.

Clessle showed me my room, which is separated by curtains from the rest of the servant girls. When she left I collapsed the little cot, and held my breath. It smelled mildew-y.

But what could I do?

Oh, if I had the courage, I would run away in a blink of an eye.

But I am a coward. And I fall prey to my own helpless mind.

After about ten minutes a girl poked her head around the corner of my curtain. "I have time to show you your duties."

I sat up and stared at her. I wanted to scream now?? Instead, I just stated it. "Now?"

She gave a weak nod.

I rolled myself off of the cot which is not very far from the ground, and stood up. I wanted to sigh, but I felt frozen inside.

"I'm Keelei," she offered. Her voice was very quiet and subtle.

"I'm... I'm Lottey." Why bother with the whole thing.

She didn't offer her hand for me to shake. I didn't know if it was rude of me not to offer it first, as if she expected it, but I was too dazed to really care.

I followed her out of the curtain-sectioned rooms and into the kitchen. It was steamy and hot and reeked of fish and boiling water. There was a skinny woman– not to mention extremely tall– standing at the stove, poking the flames provokingly. The stove was tall and black with a tarnished green look to it, and there was three or so large pots steaming. I didn't want to ask what they were; I feared they would be my meal, and they did not smell good. (I learned later that the dishes were for the family, and they turned out smelling much nicer than when I first saw them.)

"That is Ursula," Keelei said, pointing to the skinny and tall lady at the stove.

I swallowed hard and nodded. Ursula didn't take notice of me.

"That is Fredoi, the cook. He is originally from ParKesh, and used to cook for an unbelievably rich family there. Or so he says."

Fredoi was a stern looking sort of fellow, a bit of mustache under his nose that stopped before it touched his lip, and that looks like a bloodied nose, if you ask me. He is tall and thin, though not as thin as Ursula, and wears a big pink hat on his dark black hair. The hat looks like a rotten mushroom.

"You've met Freniar," Keelei continued. "He's instructed me on what you should do. Ursula has many a pot needing scrubbing, and I'm sure that'll take at least a good three hours. After that..."

Keelei kept talking, and talking, and talking, and my head spun at an incredible rate. I felt tears choking me, but I was afraid of being beaten. I held my breath and waited for her to be done instructing me. Then a boy entered the kitchen from outside, looking to be about two or three years my senior. He looked so very familiar, but I just couldn't place it. I wasn't sure if it was because I felt to poor to think, or because Keelei was talking to me.

"...Oh, that's Ryse the hall boy."

Hall boy! Then I remembered. The scum who opened my door when I came for tea about a month or two ago. He certainly was out of his place then. But... scum? How could I call him scum when he and I were on the exact same ranks now!? We had the lowest jobs in the world!

"Now, Lottey, I have to get to work. It's about time for Lady Jyne's bath. But the sinks over there, and–"

She didn't even have time to finish. Another ladies maid came rushing in, yelping at her to get the lilies out of the garden so they could sprinkle them in the water before Jyne saw they weren't there.

I used to have baths with lily sprinkled water.

I walked over to the sink. And I didn't know the last thing about washing dishes. Where was the water? Where was the soap? I broke into sobs. This was all so stupid!! I hated everything and everyone around me. And I was stupid. I didn't even know where to find hot water.

But then an image flashed through my head: a flying whip. And I bit my lip to stop my bawling.

"Do you have any clue what you're doing?" asked a good-natured, but almost teasing voice. I turned and saw it was Ryse.

I wanted to speak, but didn't want to speak, for reasons I needed to forget. But why should I forget who I am? Perhaps if I were bad and were thrown out I could run away to ParKesh or someone and feign a kidnapping and–

"That big pot over there over the fire is your water. It has to be warm to clean the dishes. There's a little bit of lye left, but you'll need to make some more tomorrow." Ryse took my silence as a no.

But he was the last person I'd want help from. A hall boy? "How do I get the water from... there to here?" I asked uneasily.

Ryse stared at my funny for a few moments. Then he went over to the fire, took the pot by the handle, and dumped it in the big basin known as the sink.

"You have to do it next time." He sounded as if we had made a deal.

I stared at the water. It looked scalding. And I had to put my hands in it.

Oh, my hands would be dry and red and I'd be lucky if I didn't get blisters!

"What is lye?" I asked. I tried to keep my haughtiness toned down, but I felt utterly barmy.

Ryse stared at me again. I don't like his stare.

Lye is a toughing, spiny sort of soap used by servants. It's made out of– oh, should I write it? I felt on the verge when I asked Ryse–

"Animal fat. And different herbs and flowers so it can do its job properly."

So I washed the filthy, stinky dishes in scalding hot water using animal fat to scrub off the dried potatoes and burnt fish off the bottoms.

It makes no sense! And it makes me so... I don't know how to explain.

Maybe I can find the courage, so I can leave this place. It's so horrid and wretched and dirty. I am too good, and I know it. Everyone else around may not, but I do.

Besides the foul pots and pans, I scrubbed numerous things today. I don't want to mention them; it simply sounds to low, so horribly low, and that is something I am not. I was forced from my status and this is only temporary. I know it. It has to be!

I cannot go on scrubbing things.

I know I am just jabbering absolute nonsense about absolutely nothing that makes sense, but I have dirt under my nails!!

I try to keep my dignity as I write these loathed words. But it's so hard– oh it's so, so hard. I don't want to cry. I don't want to.

But I am.

And this cot is rather hard.

This house is a revolting pail of muck.

For everyone who lives above the servant quarters, it is even– might I say it– nicer than the Devingrole mansion. People bouncing around, ordering dresses and having teas, having their picture painted on a sheet white canvas.

So why can't it be like that down here?

Today I was awakened by Keelei. Rather reluctantly, I might add.

"Lottey, you should have been in the kitchen an hour ago."

I opened my eyes and glared. There was no light in my room.

"How I am supposed to know what time it is if I can't even see the bloody sun?" I demanded, rather harshly.

Keelei didn't answer. She looked almost... well, I wouldn't say offended, but displeased. Her head went down as she spoke. "Ryse is waiting to teach you how to make lye."

I threw the thin blanket onto the floor in a huff. "Where's the wash basin?" I asked impatiently.

"We are allowed one bath a week. If you would like to wash your face in the mornings you will have to get up an hour early and go to the stream behind the mansion."

Astonishment hit me like a heavy brick, and I didn't dare to ask any more questions. I had slept in my first shift, and even though it was wrinkled... if no one care if my face was clean, who would care about my dress?

"Thank you, Keelei, you can go now," I said sharply. The girl had a funny look about her– cannot figure it out. And she left.

Glad to be alone for a few moments before my treacherous day began, I stood and closed my eyes and realized just how much the genuine shock of everything was hitting me so hard... my situation, and my future...

...and I felt dizzy.

My name is Sharlotte Marish Rose Devingrole! Not scullery maid, not servant, but future lady. I tried to swallow but choked. I bit my tongue and swallowed the blood. I was suddenly scared and weak, but at the same time I felt so defiant I wanted to run up to Lady Jyne's quarters and drag her from her satiny bed and throw her out of the window. I didn't know what to do.

Me? Make a sort of makeshift soap?

And then scrub dishes with it.

I had to figure a way out of it. Had to. Have to.

I ran out into the hall and caught Keelei by the arm. She spun and looked apprehensive.

"Keelei– I cannot work today. I have a dreadful pounding head and my–"

Suddenly I heard a scoffing laugh. I turned and saw a small pallet in the corner of the hall, and a trunk with breeches slung over it. And I saw Ryse sitting on it, next to all the worn rubbish.

"Of course, Lady Lottey, you can have a day off– if you want a lashing that will sting and throb so bad your stomach will turn out, and will make work seem worse than death."

I wrinkled my nose and bit uncouth words. What a boorish, awful and coarse person. And I had to have him as an instructor.

I'd rather take Horrace back.

Keelei kept walking after Ryse had explained to me why I couldn't stay in bed for the day. "But that's unjust!" I advocated ominously.

Ryse looked up at me, lacing his boots. He stood up and took a few steps towards me, closer than I favored. "Tell me, Lottey, would you have given any of your servants a day off?"

He left me with my knees locked. I heard him go outside, stepping nonchalantly onto the cracked tiles.

Would I have given any of my servants a day off?

I knew the answer. Of course not.

But– there was a reason behind my reasoning. Servants were used to being treated as servants, but I was not. And so, when servants or hall boys or scullery maids had a throbbing head and swimmy stomach... they should just work. Like normal. Doesn't that reasoning sound– correct?

I unglued my feet from the floor and forced myself out the cracked doorframe. Ryse was about two hundred feet away with a big cauldron sort of pot, and it was over a fire. He had a mixture of items around him. I could tell what some were, but most of them were totally foreign. Such as the white gloopy stuff, and the black liquid in a bowl next to a sponge. Not to mention the florescent powders.

"What are... these things?" I asked him when I reached him.

He glanced up at me, busy cracking the shells of nuts and grinding their powders. "The white is animal fat– a lion's fat. Jyssel wouldn't have any other than the best. The black is liquid berry sulfur, which is a complicated process to explain to a close-minded person."

Close-minded indeed.

"The different colors are the grounds of Ger and Hud, ParKeshan nuts. They weaken the potency of the black coloring from the berry sulfur, and change it to a lighter tint. I don't know what Fredoi or Freniar would do if Jyne or Jyssel came down and saw someone scrubbing their pots with black water–"

"Jyne visits the servant quarters?" I blurted, quickly remembering that the quarters weren't as close to hell as I'd always imagined.

Ryse ignored my question. "I'm going to show you this once, only. I have my own duties, you know, and don't get to sleep 'till they're through. You're just lucky one of us volunteered to put up with you."

"Put up with me?" I blanched.

"Watch closely."

I bent down, as much as I hated to, onto the juicy grass. Ryse added two parts lion fat, one part berry sulfur liquid, and three half parts of the nut grounds.

"Remember that," he told me, as if he had explained the whole thing to me out loud.

I nodded, though I didn't know how I would. Next he stirred it, twenty times to the right and nineteen times to the left. When I asked why it mattered which it was stirred, he simply ignored me. He had an awful habit of ignoring the questions he didn't want to answer.

"Now, if it bubbles because of the heat, then you have an absolute, ruined batch. You can't have air in the soap. After you stir it in the correct proportions, you must leave it set for fifteen minutes. If it sets for a second longer, it will bubble from over-exposure to the air. If you don't let it set long enough, it will never harden.

"After its fifteen minutes you are to take this stone– ParKeshan marble– and place it over. Take note not to hover over it."

"How will I know when it's done?"

"Don't worry about that. You'll know."

So Ryse left me to do his hall boy duties while I was left to the rest of the lye making. I waited fifteen minutes, and I knew for a fact that I was correct. I counted on my own– and never once was confused. I set the marble on top of the soap mixture, and–

I wailed.

It had sunk. The brew was a light purple, and it had completely engulfed the ParKeshan stone. And no one had heard my wail, so I supposed that I was left to deal with this dreadful problem on my own. I knew the soap was too hot for my delicate skin, but... there was no way I was going to dump it out and start again. Someone would have my neck.

I rolled my sleeves back and dunked my hands in.

It sizzled for a moment or two, and my hands went numb. I grasped the stone, but it was heavy. And it was wedged funny. I pulled, and thought I had it, but it smashed my finger against the side of the cauldron. I yelped. Pain surged through my fingers on up to my shoulders. I pulled again, and slung it out and onto the grass. There was a crackle and a hiss, and then silence.

My hands panged and I looked down at them. Blisters. And maybe even a boil or two. I wanted the heave all the bile from my stomach but I was too afraid. I saw the stone lying there in the grass. Keelei had something about a stream that ran behind the mansion; most likely the same one near the Devingrole Mansion.

I knew what I had to do.

I yanked the stone from the grass and dashed in the direction of the stream. I could use the excuse of washing off the stone, and I could soothe my hands. Oh, I was so foolish. Who cared about wasting a few measly ingredients? Next time I would know better.

The stream, oh where was it? I closed my eyes while I ran helplessly and pictured it in my mind: clear and shallow, tulips growing from the bottom, swaying under the water. Heart and star shaped stones, just perfect for jacks. And– oh! I could already hear my hands sizzling in the water.

"Iyahh!" I opened my eyes and found that they were. I had found the stream and tumbled in. I had smashed some daisies, but my hands felt a bit better. Not relieved, but a livable state. And the stone– oh. I felt sick all over again.

I stared at the stone– no, I glared at it. It laid there at the bottom of the stream, and it was cracked. Straight down the middle. I reached forward warily and touched the crack. But when I touched it, it moved. The crack moved. I pushed it off.

It was only a bit of river kelp.

That relieved me a little, but it didn't prepare me for the relief I would need when I saw the cauldron of lye I had left.

Bubbles, bubbles, everywhere!

It took me three tries after that to get it right.

After I had succeeded, and Ryse helped me cut it into bars, I thought it was time for me to retire for the night. But he laughed.

"It's not our fault it took you all day to finish your first task."

My first task?

I still had the whole days' worth of dishes to scrub with the new lye I had made. Freniar allowed me to wait until morning to do the kitchen floors, and that was only because of my 'past situation'.

I did not get to my spiting cot until at least three in the morning. And, you little evil book, you are extremely lucky I took the time to account all of this!

Sweat dripped off my brow in the size of walnuts. The lye soap mixed with hot water and slung all over the floor– it smelled something awful. One could tell it was of animal origins. It was early morning, before the sun; I figure the sooner I was finished the sooner I could get to bed. I slept soundly, no matter how unpleasant and rigid the makeshift bed was. If I didn't sleep soundly, I wouldn't get enough sleep in, and the day would be twice as bad– if at all possible.

Grime had wedged itself in the most impossible corners and creases of the floor. And the mop I was to work with, well, it was, as well, impossible. I tried to scrub the horrible tile as best as I could, but the color of it didn't look clean even when it was. That only made things worse.

I heard someone coming down the hall. It was about time they had been up and about. I felt glamorous almost, the first one to their chores.

Slip, thud.

My neck spun around. I saw a girl on the floor with a stunned look on her face.

"If you're going to be a-moppin', you have to hang up the sign!" She howled at me.

I hadn't the slightest what she was talking about. Then I saw Freniar and Fredoi and Ursula running from their rooms. And they stopped, rather suddenly. Ursula and Fredoi tended to the girl who was still on the floor, and Freniar carefully made his way over to me.

"Girl, I don't care what mansion you're from. God gave everyone common sense." He pointed to the wall, where there was a sign that said dry. Freniar took it violently in his aged hands and flipped to over, and it said damp. He gave me a good stare and went on his way.

It turned out the girl, Diin, whom 'I' had caused an injury to was a ladies maid to Lady Jyne. And she had twisted her ankle.

"It's swollen," Ursula had told me, "and it needs to be up for at least today. We are going to have to expect you to do her duties in addition to your own."

It was bad enough to have to face Jyne, but it would mean another night with not enough sleep. A two-person load would take me even longer than yesterday. I wanted to spit and say, "Make me!!" but I kept seeing a whip in my head. That was the only reason I had to stay where I was put.

One good thing came from being a ladies maid for a day: nicer dress and frock. Although it was a little snug (too many ruffleberry-tarts in the past) and I was strictly instructed not to wear it when I did my own duties. I said I didn't think it would be much of a problem.

I carried a silver tray and followed a line of three girls, with me in the middle, through the house, up the stairs and into Lady Jyne's room. And there she was, lying in her silky, fluffy, nice smelling bed. A full night's rest was on her face, and a black satin nightgown clothed her. We maids set our things down on her gilded tables.

"Leave me," she waved her hand, as if shooing us.

I wanted to wave something at her.

"Except you," she looked at me. My knees locked and I could feel the dread on my face.

The other two left, left me alone with the brutal Jyne. She didn't seem to really notice me; she went on with her breakfast, taking a browned biffle wheat crack with a heap of orange jiggly stuff.

"Mmm," with a lick of the fingers. "That must be the absolute best marmalade I've ever had."

I thought, "From ParKesh, no doubt?" But apparently I had said it aloud.

"Yes, as a matter a fact. Miss-witty, I see. Nothing breaks you, then?"

Everything breaks me. I was sore all over. But I kept silent.

"I've heard about your double duties for today. But you know, I think I sort of like the sight of you. Maybe it can be a permanent situation."

"A higher ranking could be nice." I didn't want to meet her eyes; for she'd she the hatred I had icing inside for her.

"Oh, no," she laughed. "You'd still be a scullery maid."

My knees buckled, but I caught myself. Oh, what a cruel heart. Someone needed to lie to her and make her a servant.

"Well, I suppose I shouldn't keep you. You probably have a mile of work loading up as we both waste breath."

I turned to leave and put my hand on the cold doorhook.

"I haven't dismissed you!" She smiled evilly.

I stood and waited.

"Okay, you may leave. But I may want you later. Be on the lookout."

I heard her laughing still as I scurried down the corridor. What a horrid, nasty person. And I had never liked her! Never, far before the day we sat in her garden, when she was whacking her maids every which way. Oh...

Would that be me? Would she beat me? She hated me enough to. I feared, though, that I'd wallop her back. It would be simply a reflex, though she'd probably reflex right back at me again. And then I'd see that dreadful picture that served as my conscious: the whip.

Oh, to serve the unworthy. What torture.

Altogether that day, I emptied twenty-four chamber pots, re-mopped the kitchen floor and down the hall, dusted thirteen armoires and five china cabinets, helped the stable boy muck the stalls, and, oh... I can't remember what else. But on top of that, I had to tend to Diin's ankle. Jyne allowed her ice, precious ice– and only for a swollen body part! Wouldn't it be put to more use in our warm, daily water?

I feel as if my back is broken in two sorrowful pieces. I've been used the past three days to haul milk from the barn to the mansion. It seems that every odd, unoccupied job is laid upon me. I am a little proud of how I'm handling myself, however; haven't exploded at anyone in a while. Not since Ursula told me to do something I was already doing. But, I suppose I should forgive her; all of us have such a lot on our minds we can't tell which way we're walking most of the time.

Jyne didn't call on me again that day, and I was terribly, immensely grateful. I am not scared of her. I do not fear her presence as most maids do, for I have now experience in both positions. I know that as long as nothing is done to trigger a blow to the head, none will come. Unless, of course, the Lady is in a horrid mood– servants are the most perfect target to take anything out on, naughty as it is for me to say it.

I am awaiting word to find if I have a permanent position in two jobs. I dread it. I will never get sleep if I am to always to do double work, and therefore I will always snap nastily at anything said to me. Unless of course the one speaking to me is Lady Jyssel (which I find to be extremely rare). I haven't yet said anything really nasty to Jyne. I almost want to on purpose, just so I know what to expect when something slips out unexpectedly. But when will I have to chance?

Hopefully never.

It is late night as I write, and I sit in the doorway to the outside. The moonlight isn't as bright as it could be, but that's my luck. If anyone does ever read this, it will be awfully difficult–

I just found Ryse over my shoulder. Argh, his rottenness. He really does bother me.

"It really isn't all that difficult."

I spun on him, and demanded to know exactly how long he had been reading over my shoulder.

"Long enough to know your favorite words. Horrid, terrible, nasty..."

I tried to bite my tongue down, but it wouldn't stay. "I don't like you."

"I hadn't noticed."

I grimaced. His teasing smile was terribly menacing, and I wanted to rip from his horrid mouth. He sat down beside me. I scooted away from him, just a tad.

"If you are in such dire need of sleep, maybe you should try your bed." He folded his arms on the tops of his knees, and I sensed he didn't expect a response.

That was fortunate. I didn't plan on answering.

I closed my book and ran my hands over it. This book, I had taken it from a servant. One of her very few belongings, I had took it. But it still belonged to a servant now. It was as if the first pages were written by an elegant Lady, and the latter by a terribly dirty scullery maid.

Oh yes, I know why. They were.

"You don't have to talk to me. It's nothing different; not much of anybody talks to the hall boy. Except to screech orders."

I couldn't help but let escape a slight giggle. Then I straightened my mouth into a thin line again. "Could you not sleep tonight?"

He scratched his back and shrugged. "I could, until you thundered down the hall and woke me."

"That's when you decided to snoop?"

He grinned. "How could it be snooping, when I was doing it quite openly?"

He, of course, had a point. But I didn't let on that I was aware.

"I'm going back to the floor. The dirty work takes a lot of energy, you know."

I watched him get up. He sleeps in his clothes. Either that or he got dressed in the middle of the night especially for me. "I'm sorry I woke you. I'll try to be more mouse-like."

"Ah, no worries."

I almost feel sympathy. A low job, no comrades, depleted pay. Suppose I'd be more like him if I hadn't been in the Devingrole Mansion for fifteen years.

Horrors, horrors. And just thought nothing could get any worse. Doesn't that usually make things worse?

I was summoned to the upper part of the Mansion this morning. Right after milk hauling. So out of breath, and rather sweaty, I made my way up ten flights of stairs to find a smiling Lady Jyne.

And I knew immediately.

"Oh, dear, so glad you are prompt." She held out her arms welcomingly, but I did good to stay ten feet away.

"Milady," I said with a terribly forced curtsy.

What an evil smile, is all I could think. What an evil smile.

"I've done you great honors, poor wretch. You have been given the honors of serving me." She sat her flat rear on an orange settee.

I started swerving forwards and backwards, though hardly noticeably. I wasn't really shocked. I was traumatized.

"Don't look so grateful," she puckered.

"Can't help my emotions." I kept my eyes on her, trying not to look insubordinately. I wasn't sure if I came across correctly.

Her eyebrows V-ed. "Poor wretch," she repeated, though louder and little tyrannical. She straightened her back. "I am kind. I have pity."

"Oh, I'm perfectly capable of my own pity, thank you."

Jyne looked stunned.

I kept my gaping eyes locked on her and curtsied automatically. "Thanks, thanks, many thanks, your ladyship."

We stood for five or six seconds, just staring at one another. But it seemed like five or six minutes, and it was beginning to become awkward.

"May I tend to my duties, ladyship?" Oh, how bitter the words.

Jyne seemed to snap, and she shrugged arrogantly. "I suppose you must. You are to be in the garden at two o'clock every other day, and every Sunday you are to bring me every meal. And– you may accompany me on some days for my daily ride."

Oh, no horses, I wanted to drone. Instead I nodded and scurried back down ten flights of stairs to find Ryse had tracked mud all over the hall.

"Oh, you muck-head!" I screamed, jerking the mop from the hall and preparing to mop quickly. It was my job to keep the kitchen and hall floors clean.

At ten till two o'clock I washed my face and changed my frock to tend Jyne while she sat in the garden. When I arrived, she was already sitting there, a light blue parasol over her head. She looked fat, even though she wasn't.

"There you are," said her shrill voice. She would make an excellent mother. "You are late."

"My watch must be slow, milady," I dragged the words off my tongue.

"Fix it."

I took one of the overly large fans and started waving it.

"Have you absolutely no memory?" she exclaimed.

I made a face. She didn't see me.

"Slower, dear, slower! You're going to blow me away."

I slowed it down. "That'd be terrible," I said without emphasis.

"Don't smart me, girl. I'll give a warning. Out of kindness."

Oh, how kind of her. I rolled my eyes. My arms moved mechanically.

I gazed out into the distance, and for once I noticed the sky. It had been a long while since I had taken notice of it. Before now, I hadn't had the time. It wasn't gray, thankfully. It wasn't purple. It was a normal color, a medium blue. It wasn't strikingly blue, and there were no clouds.

All of the sudden I saw stars– but they weren't in the sky. They were around my head, and I was on the ground. I then realized I hadn't gotten distracted and was waving the fan in Jyne's face.

Outraged, I jumped up and threw the fan across the yard. "You don't hit me!" I shrieked, and hit her hard in the nose. But as soon as I did, I felt sick and dizzy and wanted to run. I could see the whip, and knew it would be coming soon.

"Mothherrrr!!" Jyne screamed, so high pitch and abnormal– and quite childlike– that it was almost funny to watch. But, oh! The louder she was, the more nauseas I got.

The servant girl across from me had her fan suspended in mid-air, looking at me in complete astonishment.

I picked up my fan, started to back off, and then dropped it again. I didn't know what to do, but I felt as if I were about to be mauled by Jyne the angry tigress. She sat up, for I had knocked her to her back. Her nose was crooked. I gasped, half laugh, half shock, and choked on it. I'd be lucky if she didn't lunge forward and rip my own nose off.

I noticed Ryse chopping wood, rather far off, but he was watching me. He had probably seen the whole incident.

I knew apologizing wouldn't help, and I knew that as each second passed I was getting closer to my own agony. My head throbbed where she had walloped me, and I felt a lump rising.

Lady Jyssel came running from the mansion, holding her skirt up and looking very ruffled. When she saw the scene before her, she dropped her skirt– and her chin. She ran forward and smacked me across the face before taking Jyne into her arms.

My cheek smarted.

Lady Jyssel wailed in horror at her daughter's now appalling appearance. I had ruined the perfection of her face. She looked at me with the most burning eyes I'd ever seen, as if I were the dirt that ruined her best ParKeshan rug. "You wretched slug! You filthy dragon feces! Oh, how you'll wish you'd never been birthed! Oh!"

I was dumfounded, glued to the ground. I didn't know if I should run, or wait to receive my punishment. I was no cowardess, but I also was no fool.

I wheeled and ran. No one stopped me, either.

The rest of that day I worked as hard as my learning body would let me. If I was going to be whipped, toiling over my duties would be much worse if I had more to do.

No one has spoken to me all day long. Keelei and Ursula don't look at me at all, Freniar ignores me, Fredoi gives me looks of sympathy, and when Ryse looks at me– he looks worried. Why is everyone acting this way? I know I made a near fatal mistake, but I would cope with it as best I could. It wasn't everyone else's problem. When I asked Ryse what was wrong with everybody, or what was wrong with me? He sighed and told me if I didn't get all my duties done today, to let him know if he could help. I looked at him strangely, but that was all he would say on the matter. On any matter, really.

They are acting as if I am already dead.

I have thought it over– Jyne and Jyssel would kill me. It was inhumane. Of course, so were the two of them, but... it seems terribly illogical to murder the servant who does a better part of all the duties. It's obvious I'll be punished.

Isn't it?

I haven't been summoned. I haven't been told to meet anyone anywhere. Will they murder me in my slumber? Oh, that one will make it hard to get to sleep, but not that it's ever easy.

I just don't know. And not knowing makes me nervous.

No, I was not murdered in the middle of the night. But I'm not sure if I was better off because of it, or worse.

I was awoken in the middle of the night. By a man I have never seen before. He was hideously tall, and his skin was blacker than the berry sulfur. His eyes stood out like mushrooms, and I was given quite a startle when I opened my eyes to see him hovering above me. He covered my mouth with his hand, and gently helped me out of bed. I thought that maybe he was going to help me to escape. So I followed him, quite like a puppy. He made a motion to be quiet as we made our way out of the curtain rooms. I saw Keelei sleeping, so peacefully, next the three other girls. She would never have punched her mistress in the nose.

We passed Ryse in the hall, who pretended to be asleep. But I could see him watching carefully through slit eyes.

The night air was warm and smelled pleasantly. I wanted to speak to the giant of a man, but I was afraid, and didn't even know if he'd answer. He hadn't made a sound. So I wasn't sure if I was supposed to.

We walked at least a hundred feet into the jungley woods before stopping.

"I am to leave you here," he said finally.

And just like that, he left.

I was unsure of what to do, so I didn't do anything. I stood exactly where he had left me, starting to get very anxious. And I started wondering... why had he left me? And I started to think that maybe it wasn't for the best. I just hoped the reason he had left me wouldn't hurt.

It was dark– so dark. I couldn't see more than three or four feet in front of me. The trees were thick and no stars filled the skies. It was eerie, and waiting in an eerie place is very eerie. Especially when I had absolutely no clue what to expect– a man with a sword and a painted mask could jump out of the bushes and attack me and it would be just as startling as a kitten suddenly grabbing my ankles.

I wanted to sit down, but I was afraid. So I stood. I locked my knees for a few minutes, but that made me woozy. The air around me spun. So I bent my knees, but that only strained all my sore muscles. I wanted to wail. But a loud noise would disturb me, even if it was my own self. And it might alarm anyone or anything around at the moment.

Please, I thought. Whoever or whatever please come and get it over with! I had been waiting for a quarter of an hour. There wasn't even a sound of anything lurking about. And that made things all the worse.

"Boo," someone said.

I must have jumped ten feet in the air.

"This is your punishment for the cruelty you have inflicted on the Lady Jyne. May you never forget your sins."

I couldn't make out the voice, nor see the body it came from. If in fact it did come from a body. What did it mean? The voice, what was I supposed to make of that? I was so frightened my knees were hitting each other. It hurt. This was certainly punishment enough! But I waited, for I knew this couldn't be all.

And it wasn't.

The picture that had always flashes through my head– well, I couldn't see it. But I could certainly feel it. What else could sting like a million bees and a million mouths spitting a million shards of glass? I fell to the forest floor, gasping for breath, feeling the grass and dirt making its way into my mouth. It tasted bitter.

Then again. A blow.

I thought I had blacked out, but I realized I had just shut my eyes. And I couldn't open them.

So much pain was a shock– I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, and certainly couldn't speak– blood was sucked from my head and I could feel it flowing out of my back.

And again– and again– over and over. Until I really did black out.

"You're the worst one ever," I heard someone say.

I opened my eyes to a blurry world– and realized that someone was Ursula. She was wringing the water from a gray cloth over a little wooden basin.

"Worst what?" I said, attempting to sit up. I was lying flat on my chest, barebacked. But a sharp pain circulated from my back, and then everywhere, setting the world spinning again. So much pain was confusing, and I couldn't even stop it. That was new.

"You haven't woken up even once, until now," she said as she dabbed my lashings.

I cringed at the feeling. "Ow! Heavens, you're making it worse!" I gasped.

"You'll be glad in the long run."

Wow. She was tending to me when I had been whipped for doing something totally idiotic– and I had known better before I had done it. There was a closeness I sense about the servants that wasn't expressed. Could they possibly ever share it with me? I knew I didn't deserve it. And... did I want it, really? Was I really wishing to be accepted by servants?

Oh, to be full of so much uncertainty.

"But you seem to be taking it quite well. High pain tolerance?" Ursula continued.

It was at that moment that I realized just how much it hurt. Ursula saw it in my eyes, and handed me a chamber pot.

I took it and vomited in it.

"Don't have much to give up, do ya?"

I shook my head. Cold sweat ran down the side of my face.

"'Tis a pity how she does things. Takes all you're food from ya, and doesn't let you have any more for three days. A horrid three days they are, too. There's excuse to get off work for a servant of Jyssel's– unless of course she favors ya." Ursula looked at me. "I don't reckon she favors you."

I shook my head.

Lord– three days and no food. Three days, no slack on work, even with what seems to be a broken back. How absolutely terribly horrid. But– it was as if the facts didn't really set in; I wanted to be distressed and panicked, for there was great reason to, but I wasn't sure how. Some emotions I hadn't had to deal with at the mansion, and now, everything was a new and terribly startling experience.

Especially when it sank in.

And it did, oh, did it sink in. It sank and sank and sank until it hit my toes. And it hurt, my toes hurt, along with every other part of my body. I had to wrench myself for every movement. And whenever I leaned back on the wall or a tree out of exhaustion, I'd jump forward with a yelp of pain. What a perfect punishment the two evil Ladies had thought up. I had to work through all the horrid pain and I couldn't even rest, even if I had a chance to. Ursula told me they mean for it to be a humbling experience. But I told her I would not be humbled; no matter how hard they hit me, no matter how shocked I became, they couldn't take my pride.

The servants had no sense of pride. They had never been given pride; always too poor. It was an out of reach luxury that they really didn't even want. But, oh; if they only knew. Pride kept me going. It kept my morale up. For every time a lady or someone above me foulmouthed me, I could just think of what I would say back if I were at the same position on the ladder of life. And it helped me from feeling hopeless.

Though– how hard it was to not feel hopeless. I vomited every night, mostly bile or just air, from overworking and over exhaustion, and pain. It hurt so hard sometimes I'd just collapse. And I would sit, stunned, wondering such a simple thing could make everything so complicated. And it was amazing how much I could hurt and still stay conscious.

So many days have passed. I don't even count. There's no point. Life doesn't care if you've been a servant for four months, or four years. It's just as cruel.

Nothing really differs from day to day, except Lady Jyne's mood. I don't converse much with anyone here– have found that's really the style, I suppose.

Oh, style; what a foreign and forbidden thing.

Lady Jyne wears a full face cast. She has lilacs and irises woven into it, as if it will make up for her mummy like appearance. She is so awfully cruel– and I haven't fought back again, not even once. I'm not sure that its fear that keeps me back, but wisdom. Wow, I'm wise. What a new concept.

Sometimes I watch her eat her dainty little finger cakes, and try to remember what they taste like. But it's terribly difficult. I try not to let her catch me gazing, for when she does, she just makes things worse. Sometimes she offers little bites to the other servant or servants, but never me. Oh, evil, evil. I often imagine sneaking one when her back is turned, and sharing it with Ryse.

Freniar is throwing a party for all the servants. I hope I'm invited. I am a servant, after all, aren't I? Although I do like to pretend otherwise. The truth can't be changed, not likely. Not now. Not here. So it's to be expected. What's a servant's party like, anyhow?

I have been given a new task. It's preposterous! And it makes my fingers bleed.

Jyssel has set me to weaving. She usually weaves on the loom as a dainty little hobby of hers, but this ParKeshan thread (is there any other place across the sea?) is so coarse that it would rip her little fingers to shreds. As it does mine. Ursula put a salve on the cuts and wrapped them in old linen strips, but they always come off when I start a-weaving again.

The thread is an awful brown– not a color I would have ever chosen. Lady Jyssel wants it for a tapestry in her banquet hall. It is to be nine feet by four feet before I am finished.

I just pray she doesn't want me to embroider it.

The servant's party is to be held on Sunday night, after everyone is finished with their duties. Freniar explained to me it is an annual thing, and everyone helps each other out to make sure every can finish and attend the party. I hope we have tasty food. All I have seen for the past five months is a burnt tasting sort of meatloaf, and lots of corncakes. I suppose that's what we're fed because they are filling. Very filling. To the point it's hard to swallow, and makes me gag.

I only had the time to write a few words– and could get smacked smartly if I'm found.

Today with Jyne was horror, like always. I never look at her in the eyes anymore, and I think she takes it that I am afraid of her, which makes her quite smug. And that just makes me want to slap her all the more.

Today it was raining, the enormous raindrops falling into the dirt and marble pathways like crystals. So, needless to say, we stayed inside.

Jyne decided she wanted her nails to be buffed and shined, and maybe stained. The servant with me, Dechey, took her hands immediately and got to work. While she began she told me where to find all the tools for the job.

"Go and ask Ursula for some raspberry dye, and the shiner is in the drawer where the silver stays."

How revolting. Pieces of Jyne's nails in with their eating utensils? I am glad I didn't know that when I was invited to tea so long ago.

I ran down the ten flights of stairs and into the kitchen. "Ursula!" I rang out, "I need dyes for Jyne's nails."

She was cutting red potatoes. Skillfully, she motioned with her right hand to a high cupboard. "In there."

I climbed up on the counter, for it was far out of my reach. Even standing on the counter– I caught Fredoi glaring at me. My feet were clean; I had been a ladies maid all morning. I stood on my tiptoes and opened the cabinet. I reached up, stretching my arm as far as I could, and I felt a little bottle. That had to be it. I used the tips of my fingers to get it off the shelf, but I lost grip.

It fell and shattered on the floor.

Quickly I jumped down, avoiding the goo, noticing it didn't even have any color. I saw the shard of glass with the label on it. It was the raspberry dye. I moaned.

"Ack!" Fredoi exclaimed. "Get that off my floor before it colors, girl!"

"Ah," I said, enlightened. "So it does eventually gain color?"

He just muttered in return, "Clumsy little fool."

I retrieved the mop and mopped in a hurry. I salvaged the wrapper from the raspberry dye and got back onto the counter, taking more care this time. Perhaps there was another color close to raspberry.

I knocked another bottle out of the cupboard, but caught it this time. I nearly hyperventilated in relief. It said eb berry. I shrugged. It could be close to the same, and no one would ever know until I was safely out of swatting range.

I ran back up the ten flights of stairs with the eb berry, now entitled raspberry. I almost forgot the shiner; I dodged into the dining hall right before I passed it.

"Must you take such a dreadfully long time, wretch?" I heard Jyne calling.

I was rushing as fast as I would allow myself.

I fumbled until I found the horrid shiner. It was a block about three inches up and down. Made of a dark black rock, it glistened as I moved it back and forth. I clenched it safely in my hand and shut the drawer, following Jyne's howling until I found her and Dechey.

Ignored Jyne's, "Took long enough." I gave the shiner to Dechey, but she handed it back.

"What?" I said, pestered-toned.

Dechey rolled her tiny black eyes. "You are doing Lady Jyne's feet. I'm done with her hands, except for the stain. Where is it?" she said demandingly. I took it from my frock pocket and gave it to her.

She looked at the label, and then opened it, all the while looking at me. I made a face, and she started to her work.

"My, how fiery," Jyne commented.

While working, Dechey said, "Sorry milady."

"I'm not," I muttered inaudibly.

I bent down and took Jyne's feet from her silk shoes, wishing I had a clamp for my nose. Anyone's feet– especially the person I most despised in life– made me peevish, and a little queasy. And, no, her feet were not the most beautiful; no wonder she called on me to see to them.

"Don't take long; it's almost time for tea," Jyne yawned.

By the way, she is still wearing the face cast.

Scrubbing back and forth, I found it didn't take much anyway. I scrubbed as fast as I could, and I could feel the heat rising from her toes, from the friction.

"Ow!" she yelped, and jerked her foot.

Stain slung all over the front of Jyne.

"You're lucky my dress is the color of raspberries, you vile pig-head." She kicked me in the gut.

But it didn't hurt; I was to gleeful just imagining what color would appear on her dress later.

I just hoped I wouldn't be the one held responsible.

"Oh, enough shine already!" She waved her feet in my face.

I sunk back, utterly revolted.

"Here, Lottey, I'm done with it." Dechey handed me the stain.

I took it and painted very careful, as not to get any on myself. Her toes were the thinnest, boniest, and longest I'd ever seen. She just needed to keep her slippers on.

"All finished, majesty." I stood up, and quickly realized what I'd called her. "Majesty, I– your toes look so majestic now, milady." I curtsied and scampered off.

I can never remember to wait for her consent to leave.

Servant party is tomorrow. This is the closest I've been to ecstatic since I stole Lady Barbageg's ruby ring right from under her nose at the flamingo ball.

I haven't ever finished my duties faster. I was done before sundown, which was about eight o'clock.

I helped Keelei to arrange the crackers Fredoi had made for our party: he uses flavors Lady Jyssel buys in ParKesh. There is lobster, manifruit, pumpkin nut, and even fresh air– and I'm not really sure how that is supposed to taste. Keelei and I laid the crackers on a tray bigger than both of our heads combined, though it was in the shape of an oval. Along with the crackers we laid out eggspread, which is a concoction of Ursula's. The left over eggs (I really wish she hadn't told me her brilliant way of making it) were boiled and mashed, and then colored a light pea green color. She flavored it with various herbs and spices, and I must say that I cannot tell that it had been on someone else's plate previously.

That was our special dinner for the party, but we had a special drink, too. Fredoi had concocted a way to make ale out of a type of grass. The type, in fact, that grew around the mansion's pasture. It is green, but the taste makes you forgive it. It is so splendidly sweet. And that is what we get to drink.

After arranging everything scrumptious we went and cleaned up, and tried out best to look pretty– for me it's the first time in months and months. It was so nice. And Keelei, she felt like my friend. The kind of friend I have never had before, the kind who was being nice because she wanted to, not because she would be beaten until her brains poured out her ears; not because it was the only thing socially acceptable. We were having fun. That, too, surprisingly, is a new emotion. I thought I had had fun before, but I'm not sure I really had.

But that was nothing compared of what to come.

"Never knew Freniar could play the fiddle."

I would have never guessed the dark haired old man could be so good at something that wasn't antagonizing. But he had a blue fiddle on his shoulder, and was tapping his feet. Fredoi starting singing, about as good as you could imagine could any cook. Ursula was blushing heavily as she was being danced with by a dashing Ryse, pinkies hooked and twirling around.

"Are we late?" I asked Keelei.

She shook her head and smiled. "There is no such thing as late at a servant's party."

Everyone looked so unbelievably happy; how could any of these people be enjoying themselves, when they knew what they had to do tomorrow? I didn't quite understand it. But I hadn't been around long enough to claim any knowledge of servant hood.

I couldn't figure out what was best to do first; dance and be merry, drink and be merry, or eat and be merry. I thought, what would be the most polite?

But then I remembered.

There was no such thing as manners when you were at the bottom of the ten flights of stairs.

So... I couldn't help it! I tore through the air to the short legged table and began stuffing my face with crackers and eggs. There was so much– and it was unimaginably good– and it had been so long since I had food that had good flavor– or any flavor. I slowed myself when I realized I wasn't the only one at the table.

"A ravishing wolf."

I wiped the crumbs from my chin and looked up to see Ryse laughing at me. It didn't matter how good he looked– I didn't like him. I couldn't stand him. He was helpful, yes– but also infuriating and exasperating. Unfortunately I couldn't ignore him.

"I'd think a hall boy would know the feeling," I retorted.

He frowned.

Any face expression he made caused me to feel exposed.

"I was going to ask you to dance. But I think Clessle would be better company."

Save yourself the rejection, I thought. Although... it had been such an awful long time since I had danced with a suitable partner– not that he was the most suitable partner I had encountered in my life. But he was closer to my age than Fredoi, who asked me to twirl. Yes, he said twirl, not dance. But I caught his drift.

Especially when the twirling started.

I spun around and around and around while Fredoi sang very loudly. His booming voice echoed off the ceiling and bounced all over the place. I began to feel the food I had eaten at an astonishing speed as I was spinning as an astonishing speed– and Fredoi lost control of me, and I fell into Ryse and Clessle, knocking them to the ground.

"Goodness, woman," Ryse pushed me off of on top of him.

I sat for a second, still stunned.

He was the first person ever to call me woman.

I turned to help Clessle up, but Ryse was already at it. So with a huff I went and sat on a stool next to the food table and picked at a few crackers.

"Sorry to throw you, milady," Fredoi was at my feet, kneeling. His funny accent was stronger and for a second I thought he really meant what he said. He took my hand, as if begging for forgiveness.

I never knew he could be so melodramatic.

"No fear, poor histrionic prince, I shall refrain from having you beheaded." I leaned down to his level. "You would make a sensational theater actor."

All of Fredoi's facial features seemed to expand, and he jumped up. "But I am, smart girl! Have you experience?"

"No," I alleged, "Have you?"

He bowed and nodded solemnly. "Aye, before I was whipped and taken from my home in ParKesh."

I wrinkled my nose. "It seems as though everything in this house is ParKeshan."

"Aye, it would seem so."

"Not me," Ryse seemed to pop out, out of nowhere. "But I plan on going someday."

"Is it really all that great?" I asked distastefully.

Ryse shrugged, taking a fresh air cracker. "Never know until I find out for myself."

All of the sudden Dechey rushed at me like a frightened antelope. "Oh, Lottey, Lottey! What did you do?"

Ryse burst out in laughter. I looked down over my clothes to make sure I hadn't spilt grass ale all over myself. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Lady Jyne looks as if someone smashed all over her nails with a sledgehammer! Her clothes and face cast are all splattered black!"

I gulped. Eb equals ebony. Black. Obviously. My head started spinning as if I were still dancing with Fredoi. "Is she blaming me for it?"

"No," Dechey said, a panicky whine to her voice. "She's blaming Ursula, for putting on the wrong label."

I blanched. My fingers starting tingling. Should I say anything? Should I confess that I changed the labels? I couldn't let Ursula get blamed. But I couldn't get blamed, either! I couldn't find the courage to speak, nor the words. I stood with numb legs that felt as if they were nailed to the floor. And the nails went all the way through my head into my feet.

"Oh..."

"Oh, yes, I know! Isn't it horrible!" Dechey was wringing her hands, and they were turning white.

Ursula came running, huffing.

"Please don't call me a wretch," I pleaded softly.

"I won't, girl, but Jyne will." Ursula's mouth was a taught, thin line, and her eyes looked like those of a cobra's.

"I'll tell her tomorrow, I promise!" I bit my lip, terrified. I did not want another strange beating.

Ursula let out an oppressed sigh. "Try to enjoy yourself tonight."

It was hard after that. I couldn't twirl anymore; I was afraid I'd vomit. And the food hardly even tasted good. I laughed a lot, and talked a lot, and I almost frolicked. And I did have a good time. I really did.

When I went out to write by the moonlight sometime after the party, Ryse was already there. He was flushed, and his sweaty hair had the shape of that that had been run through by fingers. I hesitated at the doorway, and that was when he heard me. I couldn't leave though, once he saw me; it'd be terribly rude. So I took a seat some ways from him, but close enough not to be obvious. Or at least I thought.

"I don't smell bad yet. I bathed earlier today."

I looked at him questioningly, even though I knew what he was talking about.

And I kind of felt bad.

"I've been waiting a while for you. I," he looked at me. "I... you can't keep getting beat like this, Lottey."

I set my book down beside me and hugged my knees. "That's not really your concern," I said defensively.

"Have you seen the new stable boy lately?" His eyes were serious.

I shook my head. And it was fact; I hadn't, though I hadn't really thought much about it.

"Lady Jyssel's horse got colicky. It was the boys fault for not changing the water and feed."

I shrugged. "Are you worried about them sending me away?"

Ryse sighed pensively. "Yeah– well, in a way, I guess." He scrunched his face confusedly. "No, that's not what I meant. Not at all. Lottey, they didn't send him away."

"What do you mean," I said slowly. I didn't really want to hear his answer.

I suppose he sensed it, and didn't say anything for a minute. Then he nodded. "I guess it's not really my place to worry, but... I wanted you to know that."

"But I didn't mean to!" I burst. "I didn't know what color it would be, I didn't mean to defend myself when I was being attacked– I'm not accustomed, oh, shouldn't everyone know that?"

Oh, I despise Ryse all the more. I wish he hadn't told me. His best wishes went sour in my head. I put my hand on my book, yearning for the sorrow-eyed Ryse would leave me be so I could write.

"Jyne told you that you're accompanying her for a ride tomorrow, I suppose."

The blood drained from my body and I struggled to stay upright. "I am deathly terrified of horses."

Ryse smirked funny for a second, and then said, "She doesn't ride on horses. She would never sit on a smelly animal."

"What do you mean?" I sniffed.

"Oh, it's a droll business. She sits on a one person carriage while I pull her behind me, and her servant girls carry a canopy over her head."

That was relieving. "A canopy made in ParKesh?"

Ryse laughed.

"How far does she 'ride'?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Until she gets tired. It always differs from time to time."

"Thanks for the warning," I said, taking my book and setting on my lap. Hint hint.

He took the hint. "I suppose you're waiting for me to leave." He stood and waited for my response.

Oh, I tried not to be rude. But when I smiled, I couldn't help but realize how insincere it was.

"Ah, that's okay. Not many people want me around." His tone was far off.

I listened as he crept into the hall and found his pallet.

Trying to make up for my curtness, I leaned in the door way and whispered, "Goodnight."

"'Night," I heard. Far away.

Dust flew in my face as Ryse pulled and Jyne squealed.

I will try to record these events while pretending nothing is wrong.

A little servant girl walked backwards in front of Jyne's cart between Ryse and the wheels, fanning violently. I was so scared the whole time that she would get ran over, crushed in the wheels.

Lady Jyne has taken her face cast off. Why?

"The bloody black stuff is all over my bloody face and I look bloody horrridd!!!"

I was told that she looked as if someone had blacked her eye and sewn her face with black wire.

"But," Dechey said, "I think everyone who sees her will vote she should've left it on, no matter what it looked like. Her face is worse."

And she was definitely right. Lady Jyne's nose was absolutely crooked. She looked as if she had been born that way. Oh, my tongue hurts so badly– had to bite it nearly all day to keep from laughing. It's not even black and blue, so a perfect stranger wouldn't ask, "Poor dear, whatever happened?" They would try not to stare at it during a conversation. But it would be hard.

It was hard for even me not to stare at it, carrying the ParKeshan canopy over her head.

Oh, ParKesh. I'm just about tired of hearing about the place.

"I want to go past the winding road today. Fresh air if important."

As if she can smell it through her warped nostrils?

"Very good, milady." Ryse huffed for breath, adjusting his grip on the cart's handles. His face was red and sweat poured down in rivers.

I wondered aridly what the winding road was. It sounded fascinating– well, not really, but it was something to think about. I was getting anxious, not only because my arms were so sore they were numb from being straight up, but because I hadn't told Jyne that it was I to blame. I planned on tell her, but I didn't want to do it.

Oh, the winding road; it could be another dusty road, that swerved unusually; it could be another dusty road, but it went in winding circles; or, of course, it could be the road in front of me, that went almost straight up with no land on either side of it.

Heavens! Dread went through me. Oh, we wouldn't live through this little jaunt. How deplorable, lamentable. And how sore my arms would be when we finally arrived back at the mansion. I shouldn't be surprised if my arms fell off.

Ryse was slowing down.

"Keep going, boy! I told you I want to go through the winding road!" Jyne tried to kick him, but he wasn't in her reach, and she got the little servant girl in the head, instead.

But Ryse was going. He was just tired. Jyne wasn't an easy load, especially when we had been going for at least two hours already.

I'm just glad it wasn't me who had to pull.

I looked at the road in front of me; in about a hundred feet it would take flight at a horrendous angle. It had nothing supporting it. It almost resembled a staircase, but made out of light brown dirt. I wanted to reassure Ryse, tell him it's no harder than the ten flights of stairs, but I was afraid to talk; and besides, he had probably done this a million times over.

We reached the point of going up. Ryse's muscles strained as he lifted the front wheels off the ground. Us canopy holders began walking up at an angle, and my arms felt like gelatin.

I knew I needed to tell Jyne about the label switching. And I needed to do it before I lost courage, which I had seemed to have suddenly found for some reason at that moment.

"Lady Jyne–"

"What is it?"

"I need to tell you not to punish Ursula."

Jyne sniggered. "Just because you used to be so high and mighty doesn't mean my servants will follow you in a revolution."

My steps began wobbling. "No, that's not, milady, that's not what I meant. I mean that I switched the labels because I didn't know better and didn't want to get in trouble–"

"What??" her screeched busted our ears.

I thought she lunged at my neck with her teeth, but it all happened so quickly. My arms gave out and I dropped my corner of the canopy. It fell on the little servant girl who fell on Ryse who fell and then... then the cart went sailing through the air. It fell ten or fifteen feet to the ground below.

All six of us gasped.

Oh, I thought my inside were all about to become my outsides. For this klutzy movement I would be flogged until death, if I were lucky.

"I..." I felt as if I needed to explain myself. "I..." but I didn't know how. I couldn't feel my arms. I couldn't even move them properly to my face when I started bawling.

And everyone just stared down over the side of the road.

We knew Jyne wasn't dead. "Wahckahhw... you weasel-heads!! You've paralyzed me!!" she wasn't very good at calling names. And she was flailing her arms around, so we knew she wasn't paralyzed. "Boy, your pure-streak is over!!!"

My eyes shot to Ryse. He looked dead with fear. Or was it fear? I would say pride... but I don't think servants know pride. Maybe it was a different kind of pride. Whatever it is, it looked dead and about to elope.

My stomach was panicky with guilt. "But, Jyne– it wasn't his fault–"

"Aohhwhoh– impertinence! I am Lady to you, you, you wretch! And you can't keep taking the blame for everyone– it's not a good way to become popular, you know!"

One of the servant girls said to the little servant girl, "Kiki, go get someone to carry Lady Jyne home! Run!"

Kiki was... a fast runner. She didn't do more than nod before she took off– and by the time she did that, she was out of sight.

When the help came to help Jyne, all of us servants fled. Nobody beat Kiki back to the mansion, however. I wasn't sure what drove us: fear, competitive spirit, or fear. For me I'd say fear.

My back cringed with every move I made. And for a second I though, How can I be here??? I am Lady Sharlotte Marish Rose Devingrole!! But then I tripped and rolled a few feet into a bush. All the prickles woke me up. I shot up to my feet and saw the servant's quarters door right in front of me. The light in the sky was fading fast, as night crept up like a venomous bug. I was irked and could hardly move correctly as I urged my limp arms to pump as I continued to run.

When I got into the hall I saw Ryse packing his things.

"Are they..." I fell colorless. Were they sending him away?

"I'm getting away before they can touch me."

"But– but... where are you going??"

"ParKesh."

Should've known. "Well what do I do? I don't want to die any more than you do!"

He threw a satchel over his back. His eyes flashed fierce. "You can come with me."

Oh, he was the last person I wanted to be with at that moment. Fredoi would be a fine traveling companion, Ursula would be a motherly nuisance but quite acceptable, Keelei would be wonderful– "I don't want to die!" I repeated automatically. My brain was a smudge of nothing.

"I won't kill you."

I humphed. "I'm afraid both ways, Ryse–"

"Hurry and choose, Lotts."

Lotts. That was new. "Well then tell me that I have to go so I can make up my mind–"

"You have to go."

I was dumbstruck. I was going to vamoose with a friendly enemy to a land I was sick of even though I had never been. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe– he was going to wish he hadn't brought me–

"Go and pack."

Obediently I ran to my curtain space and threw everything I could find into the bag I had brought from home. I felt mechanical– in total shock and on the verge of a meltdown. The only reason I had ever thought I would run away was if I wasn't allowed to court when I wanted, and I had planned to take a footman, a servant girl, a carriage, and all the money we could carry.

This was basically the opposite.

I can hardly remember what happened next; I followed Ryse outside and into the woods, and we went as far as we could until we found the stream; we followed that until sunrise, and then we slept for a few hours; when I woke up, I wrote this.

How topsy-turvy of me, I know. I'm not sure what to think.

Will I die, or make it through this crazy whirlwind?

Part II

Chapter Three

Sometimes things

Come at you fast

It may be found difficult

To always be last

Yes, I know, I went with him. In split moment my life was changed.

Ryse is one determined fellow. He doesn't even speak. He walks so fast I can't keep up, especially not with all the branches and thorns and brambles grabbing my legs and ankles. I tripped once, fell on my face, and he turned around to help me up.

He doesn't say anything except, "This way," "That way," "Hurry up," "Stop falling," "Fine, we can stop now," and he found something new to say today: "We're almost there."

"Where?" I asked.

"There."

And that's all he'll say. How am I supposed to know where there is? I'm no geographical whiz. I don't even know what the town I lived in is called, if in fact we lived in one, nor do I know what the closest one is. I just wish it were bigger, therefore easier for us to find. I don't favor trekking through the forest.

"How do you know where we're going?"

He ignores me.

This only makes him grate on my nerves even worse. He is like– it's just as if he were one of my brothers... minus the violet eye thing. His are gray. And he's not as spastic. Nor has he given me a tiger pelt.

I have given up making conversation. It's hopeless. I just really wish I knew where we were going, what we were doing–

"Guess what?"

Ryse stopped and I toppled into him. His sudden excitement startled me to a pulp.

"We're here."

'Here'– or 'there' as he earlier referred to it. Was a bustling little town on the edge of the water. Cobblestone roads wove in and out of tall houses, all pushed closely together, and I could spot the masts of ships poking up over the rooftops. I could smell fish– and that wasn't as pleasant as I'd always imagined.

"Where is here?" I asked impatiently.

Ryse smiled wide as he gazed through the trees. "Corn City."

I flicked a bug off my arm. "That's a nice name." Except there was no corn in sight. The only thing I could spot from where I stood being sold by vendors was fish.

"I was born here." I watched and followed as he climbed over a fallen tree that marked a line between the forest and the town. The further we went, the stronger the smell got. Ryse seemed to enjoy it.

"Why are we here?" I ran my fingers through my hair, even though it was hopeless. Not that it mattered; from what I could see, the women here didn't even own combs.

"Unless you plan on flying to ParKesh..." he didn't finish his sentence.

Lord– we were going on a boat. A boat. Should I repeat myself?

A boat.

"Is it as frightening as a horse? Because I have never been on a boat, in fact the biggest body of water I've seen is–

"It would be very easy to leave you here."

I shut my mouth. As much as I loathed this person walking in front of me, I'd die of futility without him. If I were left alone, oh, who knows? I'd be taken advantage of, someone would steal all my belongings, and then use me as a bar maid and not pay me enough–

"What do you have to barter?"

I clenched my grip on my bag forcefully. "What do you mean?"

"Do you think I'm going to baby-sit you for nothing?"

I stopped right where I was. "You'll do well not to speak of me that way."

"And you'll do well to get rid of the Lady still left in you."

My mouth flew open. My pride was falling, falling... I had to catch it. But there were two things I had to choose from: my pride, and my life. One or the other would have to fall and splatter.

Oh, but why not save both and just not tell him? "Sorry," I spurted.

He ignored our little spat– he's good at that. "We need some money for passage on a ship. You've got to have something worth value."

I continued walking, rather reluctantly however. "I have a tiger pelt and a few handkerchiefs. I'm not giving up anything else."

"What is anything else?"

"My book and pencil."

"Oh."

They wouldn't be worth anything anyway. We had reached a cobble road and took it down a strip of fish vendors. I had never seen so many fish heads in my life. In fact... I didn't really eat that much fish.

"Do they taste good?" I quickened my pace to walk beside Ryse.

He looked at me. "What, the fish?"

"Their heads."

"Why don't you taste them and see?"

"I'm not too keen on trying new foods."

We walked on for about five minutes. We reached the docks, and I could smell the water. It was like salty fish. "What exactly are we looking for?"

We stopped walking. Ryse took a deep breath and let it out loudly, as if taking in the smell.

"If you were born here, how come no one knows you?" And if this town had been here that long, why hadn't I been told of it?

"I haven't been here since I was five. Parents died and I was sent to a life of being a stable boy, until I moved up to the hall."

"How glorious."

Ryse shot me a look.

"I'm not meaning to poke fun, or anything. Sometimes I just say the first thing that comes to my head."

"Well then maybe sometimes you should wait and say the second. We need to find a tavern now."

We started walking again. "That's a relief. I'm so tired I'm about to fall apart."

Ryse sniggered.

I tried to ignore it, but it was making me infuriated. "What?" I demanded.

"You." He turned to face me, walking backwards. "You can't stay a tavern unless you have money." He rubbed his fingers together. "Which we don't."

In that moment I wanted to cry. I felt so terribly low. "Then what do you mean?"

He resumed walking beside me. "There are overnight jobs you can get to earn some food, and sometimes a little money."

"And a bed?" I hoped.

"In the hayloft, I suppose."

My bottled emotions burst. "And get all full of those– what are they called? Triggers? Going on a boat with you is enough, but–"

"I think you mean chiggers. And I didn't make you come with me–"

"Yes you did."

"What?" He turned around. We both stopped.

"Don't you remember? You said, 'You have to go'. So here I am." For a second I thought he was going to smack me across the face. He didn't. He spat in the dirt instead.

He resumed walking. I resumed following, but to keep up, I was nearly running, holding the stained hem of my dress above my ankles. "You know, we don't have to like each other–"

"Don't worry," he interrupted.

"–to get along." I paused. "I wasn't. And it's rude to interrupt."

"You'd know the meaning of rude, wouldn't you?"

I humphed and sped my pace to get away from him. But then I realized– I didn't know where in the world I was going. So I slowed down again.

"I'm sorry, Ryse." I didn't want him to leave me in the middle of the night. Oh, I was so afraid of being abandoned. Like a forsaken rag doll.

I waited a few moments, but he said nothing. Oh, no. He wasn't ignoring me again, was he?

"Please don't ignore me."

But he did. Finally we reached a tavern, something called Traveler's Bluff, and we entered through the cracked door.

As soon as we made it through the door a glass bottled shattered on the wall right by my head. I shrieked and unconsciously turned to leave in a rush, but Ryse grabbed my arm.

"Yeah, don't let her leave!" Yowled a voice from somewhere in the whisky drowned crowd.

I shuddered and wobbled. Ryse, oddly enough, drew me closer to him. To protect me? I was all to glad for it! And how did he expect me to work in this sort of environment? I'd either faint with fear, or end up–"What can I get ya?" A grungy, scary, toothless and a little on the plump side lady greeted us with a smell worse than the fish. "Better hurry up and decide if it's food you're wantin'. I'll have to be addin' more water here 'fore long."

"We're looking for work, ma'am." Ryse sounded so professional, calling such and utter pig ma'am.

"Aye.. Got some pigs needin' feedin'. Your lil lady can do that, suppose. And, oh, got some horses needing tendin'. Stable boy done run off. You can do that. And when you're done, come and tell me; 'll leave some less watery stew out for ya's."

Ryse gave a brief yes'm and gripped my arm tightly as we dashed out of the crazy tavern.

I would've thanked him, but he was still ignoring me. That meant he could talk to me, and it counted as something, but if tried to say something to him it was as if I weren't there at all.

"Pig slop's right there. I can trust you to find the pigs on your own... right?"

I furled my upper lip disgustedly. "What do they look like?" I had only eaten them before, not petted them.

He looked at me as if he would find it very pleasurable to have his hands around my neck, squeezing tight. "They're fat, hairy, and stink." And that was all he would tell me. He ventured off into his own little world, brushing sweet smelling horses and changing their hay, while I tramped off in the mud looking for a bunch of stinky animals.

"Pigs?" I called out, as if they'd jump up and yell, present!

There were a lot of stinky and hairy animals. In fact, all of them were stinky and hairy. But none of them were fat. Suddenly I heard a loud snorting noise, and I spun on heel, afraid of it being an angry cow. But all I saw was a bunch of big round pink things. They were digging their noses in the mud and making disgusting noises. "Be quiet!" I shouted. "I'm looking for the pigs." All three of the pink animals all looked at me, as if I were a numbskull. I glared back. Then I realized... they were all fat, and hairy and stunk. I was a numbskull.

Oh, why'd they have to be so filthy?

I opened the little gate so I could get in and pour them their food, which stunk almost as bad as they did. "What is it?" I wondered. And then I decided– I really didn't want to know.

I poured it in. it was all lumpy, like vomit; a pinkish yellow color. I was careful not to splatter it on me. I was rumpled enough from traveling; I didn't need to smell like rotten stuff.

"Okay, piggies– no wonder Jyne used to call us pig-heads. You make the perfect insult." Two of the pigs ran graciously to the trough and ate like pigs, but the other one didn't come. "Pig?" I turned around to look for it. Maybe it was sick. But... I didn't see it. But I did see one thing.

The opened gate.

"Ack!" I ran to shut it. But then I had to open it again, so I could get out. "Pig pig pig pig–" I was shrieking frantically. If I didn't find it I wouldn't get food, nor sleep, nor anything else that I needed so desperately. I saw the stables and dashed for it to tell Ryse to help me. "Ryse!" I swung around the corner. "I lost it–" I droned fussily, until I saw what Ryse had in his arms. It was the pig. And what he had on his face didn't look very happy. He was scowling fiercely, and I felt as if I were shrinking. I didn't say another word; I simply took the pig from him, and, heavens– it was heavy. I held my breath all the way back to the pen. I dropped him in, splattering the hem of my skirt with more mud, but it didn't really show.

I sat on a stump near to the stables to wait for Ryse to finish. I dreaded his presence. He was angry with me, and probably irritated, and I just didn't really like having him around. And everything was worse now. But I was a little happy, however, because I wasn't made to help him with the horses. I was very glad about that. But if I were, I probably would have made things worse. Like just now. But could I help it if I didn't know all about what servants do? About pigs, and foggy taverns, carrying canopies for miles and running through the woods? I was learning. And I had only been allowed half a year so far to learn. Oh, I'm just writing nonsense. I can't even make meaning of it.

After Ryse had finished I followed him (still not speaking) into the back door of the tavern. The unpleasant woman gave us our stew as promised and truthfully, I couldn't tell there was anything in it but water.

It was so awkward for me, eating in silence. I was used to filling it up. And I though perhaps I could squeeze a few words out of him. "What's your full name?"

"Dunno."

One, so far. Well... it should be two words, but unfortunately he is uneducated. "How do you not know?"

He shrugged.

Failure on my part. "Would you like to know mine?"

"Not particularly."

I gave up and we ate in silence.

The fat and unpleasant woman said we could sleep in the hay, just as Ryse had predicted. I made me a little pallet, nice and orderly. Ryse just fell in hay, and he was careful to make sure he was at least ten feet from me.

It was dark. I could still smell fish. "Sorry we can't be friends."

He laughed cynically. "No loss on my part; never had a friend to know what it's like."

I heard him turn over as not to face me. It wasn't as if he could see me, though. If he could, I would have slept anywhere else, just to keep my dignity. "I'm sorry for you."

"I can sense it." Sarcastic and scathing.

"What do you want me to say?" I propped myself on my elbow. I could feel how wide my eyes were in the darkness.

"I don't want you to say anything."

"Fine." I waited for him to say something else, but he never did. So I suppose he meant it.

In the morning, we set out to trade my tiger pelt. I didn't want to let go of it, but at the same time I was sort of glad. It reminded me of Dichard, and he reminded me of my old home and not-mother. So it was probably best if I didn't keep it.

Ryse would have agreed with me, if I would have wasted the words on him. It was no wonder he never had any friends. He was curt and didn't like to talk much. I tried to let him be, and simply talked with whoever else passed my way. But not many people passed my way. In fact, the only person I had talked to beside him in the past five days was the fur trader. I hadn't even said anything to the fat and unpleasant woman! I was growing socially dissolute.

The man whom we sold the pelt to was a barbaric soul, if I may be so blunt. His hair looked like chicken wire, and he hardly had any teeth that weren't black. His clothes looked as if they were once white– probably thirty years ago. And neither Ryse nor I stood to close. If we had, we would have wilted into a puddle from his horrid breath.

"I'll be giving you no more than thirty pounds for that filthy thing."

"I protest, sir! Do not call it filthy, or we'll take our business elsewhere." I turned my nose up at him.

Ryse jabbed me in the back and whispered in my ear, "There is no other place to take it, clever girl."

The fur trader roared with laughter– and I could've sworn I saw green fog emitting from his mouth. "Fine– can't take this one over. One hundred, and I'll leave it at that.

"Done," Ryse said, and they exchanged items.

As we headed off in the direction of the docks, I apologized. "I'm not the brightest girl in the world, you know."

"Hadn't noticed." We took a turn and strutted down a long wooden dock. At the end was a tall, burly man with a blue overcoat and bronze cufflinks. His hair and skin were dark from the ocean's sun, and he looked mighty friendly.

"What can you do for you two?" He smiled down at me.

I felt the urge to curtsy, but conquered it quickly. I liked the way he smiled.

"Passage for two to ParKesh." Ryse had his hand in his pocket, ready to pay up. I sensed was very anxious and excited.

"Aye. How much do you have?"

Ryse acted as if he were trying to act natural, shrugging his shoulders and saying casually, "A hundred pounds."

The man scratched the back of his neck and whistled lowly. "Ah, fifty pounds apiece," his eyes darted to me and then to the sky. "That's all you have?"

"Geroge, that's a steal for you, and you know it." Ryse stared him down.

I sat in the middle of it all like a bird who only knew one language.

"How do you know me?" Geroge said slowly.

Ryse smirked and pulled up his sleeve. There was a picture on it, it was– it was as if it were embedded into his skin. Something I had never seen before. The picture was of a yellow anchor, and it grew when Ryse tightened his muscle.

Geroge let out a hoot that almost knocked me into the water. "Little boy! Ain't little no more! Aah, Ryse!" They embraced rather heartily. I must say I felt not only uncomfortable, but a little left out.

"And who's this pretty girl you got?" Geroge must have been referring to me.

"Uh, she's not mine," he looked at me hard. "Well then again– I suppose in a way she is."

I glowered. He referred to me as if I were revolting. Or a little sister, which is even worse. What's worse yet is that I think of him as an older brother.

"Kin?" Geroge asked, as if reading my mind.

"Might as well be," I muttered.

Ryse and Geroge cleared their throat at the same time.

Geroge said, "Ah, I won't take it all from you, Ryse. Twenty-five apiece."

"Mighty gracious, friend," Ryse beamed.

And so, here I am, sitting on the edge of the dock with my feet dangling over the water. It's immaculate, so much water in one vast space. I am dreading the crossing something awful. We'll board the ship in an hour or two.

Oh, oh! I don't even know what to say. A million words fill my head and just end up as lalala. A jumbled of nothing. So why don't I just say that? Lalala!!!!!

I am made to sleep in a tiny little rabbit hole place in a hammock made of horse hair in a room with other men. It stinks and is stuffy and is hardly at all a place I should be. Oh, lalala, I hate Ryse for making me come. I hate him for being alive and pulling the cart and dumping Jyne over the side of a mountain. I wish he would have dumped me, too. Do you know how long this trip will take?

"Oh, please, no more than a week," I pleaded.

An uproar of laughter erupted.

"Unless you brought an oar and are prepared to paddle the whole way, we won't be hittin' land again after leaving port for at least three or four months."

As soon as Geroge said that I was already seasick. And I remain that way, and am not sure if I will ever, ever recover.

The only other woman on board is a lady named Meme who is probably in her late twenties; she is pale and shivers a lot and has a fright of bleached blonde hair piled on top of her head in a tangled mess. Her eyes are bigger than that of a deer and she never blinks. It's as if she is permanently mortified.

Is that how I will be after this trip? Should I have stayed and taken the consequences for my actions? Oh, if I did, I'd probably be dead. But would that be such a loss? Nobody here seems to think so. I can't think of anyway who would. But I never know; perhaps this trip will be good for me and I can find a place in ParKesh.

Oh, couldn't it have been any place but ParKesh?

It is time to sleep but it might as well be eternal sleep as far as I am concerned. Falling asleep on my hammock– I would be surprised if I woke up, anyway. All the wretched filth. It must be fatal disease germs. That is the only thing that could make my stomach turn so. The hay would be more pleasurable. I don't see why I can't slip over there for the night, besides the fact that I might be left behind and oh would that make a mess of things. Not that things aren't already a mess.

The captain sort-man just called to me to go below deck.

"We shove off first thing in the mornin'. You would be enormously in the way if you stayed put all night."

I sighed very loudly and audibly as to extract his sympathy.

All I got was, "Ryse boy said you weren't used to deprivation."

Deprivation? What did he call no food for three days?!?

I turned my nose up. "Ryse is a foolish soul."

"And the two of you are at each other's necks."

With all of that said, I decided maybe it was best that I went down to my... hammock.

There is a single candle guarding the night as I write. Ryse continuously glances at my book. It is bothersome. I suppose I shall give up until morning.

Forgive me for not writing for a few days but I feared that if I puked on my book it would reek and they would make me throw it overboard.

The morning of 'shoving off' I awoke with a start, as soon as we left the port. My stomach is psychic.

I ran onto deck and startled everyone– but I suppose a greenish ghostlike creature emerging from below is quite a startling sight. I was directed to the bow where I hung over the side for at least three aching hours.

I am not a seaman. Or, rather, seawoman.

Finally after three days of three hour vomiting episodes a midwife's husband stepped forward and offered a few herbal cures. And as far as I can tell they have helped enormously, for I am braving even the welfare of my book. But I did happen to ask the midwife's,

"Why the blazes didn't you come forth before?!?"

He shrugged and said, "Was afraid if you weren't throwing up your insides you might be somewhat of a bother. And I was right."

That definitely huffed me up a good bit so I decided to sit on the poop deck and write. No one has talked to me all day. I feel as desolate as a lily in February.

This is what I see: The captain smoking a long green pipe (inhaling as if it were a beautiful flower), three crewmen struggling with the sails, and one crewman in the crow's nest with a funny looking pair of things he is holding up to his eyes. Let me see if I can describe it accurately. There are two wooden tubes with black glass at the ends, and I can see the crewman's eyes when he blinks. It's rather frightening, in my professional opinion. And, oh, he is directing them to me. I think he can see my writing the book. I'll shut it in his face.

"Why were you spying on me?" I asked the crow's nest spy, who came down out of his nest.

"What else is there to look at?"

Of course he had a point. There was nothing around for miles and miles, or at least as far as I could see. Can I see miles?

The spy was a rather short fellow with extremely curly brown hair that fell out and about like funny noodles. He was very outgoing with a teasing personality and a silly, boyish smile.

"So you don't like people reading over 'yer shoulder, ay?" He grinned hugely.

"If you can call it over my shoulder. You're correct, sir."

He gave an abrupt laugh, as if I were startlingly funny. "Ay, and if you can call me sir."

I stared at him blank-facedly for a moment, wondering what he meant.

I rose and offered him my hand. He seemed to find this amusing too. "I am Sharlotte– I do suppose we are on a first name basis. You may call me Lottey, if you do prefer so."

He took my hand, thoroughly amusedly pleased. "And I am Ivanm, your highness." He grinned even bigger, if at all possible.

My smiling eyes went flat and I dropped his hand. "I don't like mockery."

Ivanm swung his hair back and laughed quietly. It was a queer laugh; his regular talking voice is so high and loud, and then he laughed– deep and low and very quiet. "I apologize," he said.

Then someone on the other side of the ship called, "Your highness!" to finish his sentence.

I scowled fiercely.

"I suppose I've started something, I have." He drops his H's. I'm not quite sure how to explain it on paper.

"Thank you," I said through my teeth.

He bowed lowly, his hand over his waist, which is where he bent from. It looked painful, almost. "I'm somewhat of a high-top 'n fancy person myself, really. 'Pologize again, ma'am, I'm sure we could get along if you knew what I was about."

I must have looked confused, for the captain said, "He doesn't know seriousness. Doesn't exist in his world."

And then I apprehended the situation. But, contrarily, he didn't apprehend mine. No one would even believe me if I told them. So I didn't attempt it. "How pleasant," I frowned. "I don't believe she likes the idea," said Ivanm, referring to me in the third person although I was standing right in front of him, and he was looking straight at me. He frowned back.

"I'm sorry," I wrapped my fingers around the side of my skirt, thinking of something intelligent to say. "I don't think I've known anything but seriousness." That made me sound like a genius.

"You'll most likely learn otherwise during this journey. Nothing else is sufficiently occupying." He had flipped his frown back around already. "I always dream I'm a wealthy earl on a five-hundred acre spot with a mansion. But what a lonely earl am I, with no Lady to escort to supper." When he frowned this time, it was pretend.

"I shall be happy to oblige," I said, though not sounding as eager as he'd probably had hoped. Just as he said: there as nothing else to do.

He offered his arm, but I receded shrinkingly.

"Is it that time already?" I asked with a woven brow.

He drew back his arm and said with a true frown, "Don't look too unhappy."

Because I did. "I'm sorry but I only just met you, and–"

He cut me off with his odd laugh. He laughed it for about twenty seconds. "No offense taken, hun'. And you're right, it isn't time yet. I was only testin' ya," he winked.

I nodded slowly with a forced smile.

He laughed again, mixed with clearing his throat. "I'd better be off to work before Geroge has my head," he made a suffocating noise.

Well, I did wish for human being company, and I suppose I got it. I should like to bite myself for jumping so quickly at the first flattery dropped at my feet.

I will never ask why hard tack is called hard tack or salt pork is called salt pork. Their names shine the truth. And just guess what I am forced to eat the whole time I am on this wretched, horrid, floating tree with bed sheet stuck on the end if long poles?

Hard tack and salt pork.

I thought at first that maybe it was rationed out between weeks, the hard and salty food this week and something a little bit yummier next week. But here it is next week nothing has changed.

Is there nothing else aboard this ship???

I suppose not. But what can I do? I can describe last night's dinner, firstly, I guess.

I was below deck tucking my book away and trying to do something to help my hair, but that was hopeless. I look like Meme.

Ivanm found me, rather abruptly, actually. He jumped down the wooden stairs, skipping most of the steps, and giving me quite a fright.

"Hidy, duchess," he said.

I dropped the hairs I had my fingers entangled in, slightly in shock. "Hi, uh," I said. I wasn't sure what to say.

"Dinner bell will ring in exactly," he took out his pocket watch, "Ah." He stuck his finger in the air, cueing the bell.

"Lovely," I droned, trying to sound delighted, but absolutely failing.

"Let us move, to get a warm meal." He stuck out his arm for me.

He must have been daydreaming again, about a warm meal. There was no such thing on this hunk of floating wood.

"Up," he said, as if directing us as we walked up the stairs.

It was an awkward situation. I was the same height as him, if not a little taller. He pulled me along jubilantly, and I almost felt as if I were being toted by a younger brother. But I doubted his intentions were little brother-like.

The dining hall, which is more like a hall than a room, was filling with rank crewmen and the few ill-looking passengers. Ivanm sat me by him, and I spotted Ryse across the room (hall). He didn't seem to notice me, or he was trying hard not to notice me. He was talking to some pictured-up crewman. You know, the picture like thing that Ryse has on his arm that he showed Geroge? The man had those all over his body. I'll make a note to ask what exactly those are.

Note: Ask Ryse what those funny picture things are.

Then our food was brought out– if in fact one can call it food. Then I unexpectedly lost my appetite when I saw it and smelled it as I held it to my mouth. And suddenly everyone was looking at me. Their eyes said, "Isn't simply delicious?" So I popped the piece of hard tack in my mouth and smiled. I wanted to excuse myself to the deck.

"Duchess, how did you come to be on such a depleted and defiled ship such as this one?" A man asked me, from across the table

I curled back my top lip, wondering if I were being mocked again. So I said flatly, "I was banished."

Someone along our long table– I shall describe the tables quickly: there are three of them, and each of them seat at least seventeen people, and they are always crowded. Everyone sits nearly on top of each other, and it smells very bad. Not a very appetizing place to eat.

Someone along our table slapped his hand on the wood really hard, and shook the water in everyone's tin mug. "That's what happened to Ivy, too, bet."

Ivanm took a drink and set his mug down gallantly. "Don't remember. Memory was wiped. Someone gave me a swig of something nasty, and everything was gone."

I sniffed lightly. "If your memory was wiped by the potion, how can you remember that it was the potion that wiped it?" I reasoned.

He shrugged. "I just know."

Everyone laughed howlingly, and it hurt my ears.

So, Ivanm's nickname was Ivy. A growing, attaching plant. "Um," I said, my brain not functioning fast enough. I couldn't remember what I was going to say. But it didn't matter, because no one heard me.

Watching these rambunctious sailors, one would think they had ale in their mugs.

I stood up gracefully. "I think I'll retire."

Ivy turned to me, chewing with his mouth open. "Retire from what?"

I scowled, he laughed, and then they all laughed. And I left.

I went down below to get my book to write about horrid hard tack and salt pork. Now that I'm finished, I think I shall put my book back so I can enjoy the fresh ocean air before all the sailors come back out and pollute it all again.

When I went back up onto the deck I found Ryse doing exactly what I planned to do, and I decided this was a good of time as any to pounce on him with my question.

As I walked, the breeze blew back my hair, and made it easier to breathe.

"Ryse," I said, approaching him.

He turned from his ocean view to glance at me for a second. "Yep," he said slowly, confidently, and for once he didn't sound annoyed.

"I have a question."

"Great."

"Don't worry; it's one you can answer." I sat down at his feet. He was sitting on the side of the ship, the rail that guarded clumsy people from the ocean.

Ryse was whittling a piece of wood, throwing the shavings into the water.

"What are you making?" I asked.

He looked at me funny. "That's your question?"

"No!" I exclaimed, but realizing it was my mistake.

"I'm not making anything, really. I'll be whittling this stick till it's gone."

I wrinkled my nose. "That doesn't sound sensible."

"Not to you, of course."

I watched him brush the shavings off of himself. "What is that picture thing you have on your arm?"

"I can only answer one question per day." He continued working.

"Ryse!" I screeched.

He chuckled.

"I saw a man with them all over his body– and it doesn't look very natural."

"It's not, Your Brilliance."

Great, a new title.

"What are they?"

"They're called tattoos."

"Tattoos?" I repeated. "Why do you have a tattoos on your arm?"

At this he really laughed. I don't know why. "Geroge gave it to me when I was young."

That was how Geroge knew who he was. "Did it hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Does that?" I pointed to Ryse's finger. He had cut himself with his little knife.

"Yes," he said crossly, putting it to his mouth. "Don't rejoice, I didn't hit a major blood vessel."

I crossed my eyes. He was impeaching and aggravated now. I knew his good mood with me wouldn't last.

"When do you think we'll see land again?"

Ryse grimaced. "Have you no appreciation for the ocean?"

"I'm sorry, but everything you think clashes with everything I think," I said haughtily.

Suddenly he smirked. "I think Ivy's a nut."

What was he accusing me of? I assumed he assumed something that was not assumable. I jumped up, nearly enraged. "Yes, well I think he's a smelly carcass! There, that's the opposite of a nut!"

Ryse shook his head, laughing. "He's hardly a smelly carcass. He's the best smelling fellow besides me on this ship."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "You smell good, do you?"

"Do you?" He grinned now. Grinned.

"Why does everyone have to make fun of me?" I bawled, throwing my hands up.

"Because it's so much fun, darling. No one else reacts the way you do."

I gasped. "I will never speak to you again."

I don't think he took me seriously.

And I am not sure how serious I was, but it seemed like the best thing to say at the moment.

And only my father is allowed to call me darling! And now that I do not even know who that is, I suppose no one is allowed to call me anything but my name.

I'm tired now. So tired. This day has been exhausting.

Geroge says we'll be having a storm tomorrow night. That frightens me. I asked him, "Will we survive?" and he thought that was funny. I talked to him for a long time yesterday, passing the dreadful hours.

"How come no one ever calls you captain, Geroge? Captain Geroge sounds fine."

Geroge was at the wheel, clasping its wooden knobs with caressing fingers. All of the crew and people who belonged to the ship seemed to worship it and the ocean, or at least love them both an awful lot.

"I don't like it. Makes me sound old." He spit to the side.

One always had to be careful of small puddles of gooey stuff while on the deck.

"How old are you?" I inquired.

He scowled good-naturedly. "You ask as if I'm older than your imagination. I'm forty-three, if you must know."

I smiled pleasantly. "No, not older than my imagination, just older than I expected."

He liked that. His scowl vanished. "Are you getting to like the sea better than you thought you would?"

"Well..." I really didn't want to disappoint my captain. I had his good side around my pinky, and it was rather pleasant. The only thing I could do was lie. "I think so... after so many weeks, one forgets about anything else."

"Aye," he agreed. "That's how I and my boys get. Not many women can appreciate that. You're special," he tugged on my ear playfully.

"I know..." I trailed off, looking around me. It was such a wet mess. How could they love it as they did?

I sat watching Geroge as he steered, and I found myself saying, "You look so valiant." He thanked me with gusto, his dark hair flowing in his ponytail behind him. He has dark whiskers, but I had never seen him with a beard or mustache. He has a dashing smile, and looks quite good for his age. And he is pleasant to be around, on top of all that.

"What is there to do on a ship for a female?" I asked him distraughtly.

Geroge looked out into the distance, and then at me. "Females usually talk to each other."

I then realized I wasn't the only woman on board. Oh, I knew it before, I just never realized it. He was referring to Meme, who was sitting in a corner, sewing something. I sighed, but I knew I was being extremely impolite by ignoring her. So I nodded slowly, stood up slowly, and began walking to her... slowly.

"How are you faring, miss...?" I watched as she looked up, and suddenly got an eager look on her face. She tucked her sewing under one arm and stood, taking my hand.

"Miss Kering, but you can call me Meme."

Her eyes only got bigger.

"Oh, how nice, Meme. I am Sharlotte Marish Rose Devingrole, but you may call me Lottey."

Meme stopped smiling, taken aback a bit think. I suppose I should've simply said Sharlotte Rose. Marish and Devingrole were both names referring to my... previous life.

"What are you making?" I tried to pick up a conversation.

"Oh," she said, smiling and unfolding the little pair of breeches that were under her arm. "They are for my son, who is waiting for me in ParKesh. I had to leave him last year. But now," she sighed happily, "I can finally have him back."

It turns out that Meme is very talkative, and attentive, and has a heart nearly as big as her eyes. Our hair just about matches now; mine is nearly as tangled. She doesn't seem traumatized while I'm talking to her, only when I'm not. She is sort of shaky and gets excited easily, but over all I really enjoy her company. I look forward to having some more feminine endeavors.

Would you believe that I walk in my sleep? Me?!? Well, at least they say I do. 'They' being Ryse, Ivy, and a few other sailors who have claimed to stayed up drinking rum. They tried to describe what I did, and it's embarrassing, and I could hardly remember it to write it down. Ryse has kindly– which I write bitterly– offered to write it down in my book for me. I did hesitate, but I think it will be okay. I shall watch him from a distance the whole time he has my book.

Hello dear Lottey, this is your very best friend in the world, Ryse. I would sign my whole name except for I don't know it. You know that.

Now for your story.

The boys and I were out on deck that smothering night, drinking and telling tales about our boring pasts, and how we hope our future to be. I won't bother describe that because you wouldn't bother to read it. It was about the time that Ivy said he'd never had any better– well, then you came out of the stairwell and scared us half out of our wits. Maybe it was your hair that looked the most frightening, but whatever it was that did the trick, we all jumped and didn't dare to go near you, or whatever we thought you were.

"Aowwoooo!" You said, running fast towards us.

As you approached, we realized what you were: A sleepwalking Lottey with her eyes closed and determination set.

Guess what you did?

You ran and dove over the side of the ship.

And me, I caught you just in time; by the ankle, in fact. Your skirts went up and over your head, and that was hilarious. We stopped shying and started laughing. Ivy helped me to yank you back over the side and put you back into your hammock. We decided that waking you up wasn't the best idea; you might claw our eyes out and accuse us of something we didn't–

Sorry, dropped the book off my knee. Didn't mean to make that nasty mark across the page.

But anyway, we all think that that was your true self last night. You are really mad inside and are just waiting to get your chance to jump overboard. Nice chatting with you, this was probably the nicest conversation we'll ever have; because you didn't talk back.

Have fun reading, darling, and tell me what you think of my storytelling.

Oh!!!! Don't worry about me, I punished him for that. No one calls me darling, and no one looks up my skirt; not even my own father.

"I don't believe yooooooou!" I said, running at him, wanting to rip his neck off.

He sat there with his chums, all smiley and everything, waiting for me. "You don't have to believe me, luv."

And that did it. "OH," I said disgustedly. Rather, I spit the word out. "Enough with all these names you call me!! You make me sick and now I fear for my safety aboard this horrid ship! I won't be able to sleep at night, now. I don't know how I ever have slept, since the day filthy girl came to my house and took my place–" I tried to continue flinging bad names at him, but he kept smiling, and I broke down into sobs. I sunk to my knees and covered my face. It was part melodrama, but mostly not.

Ryse bent down and petted my head, but I recoiled and screamed, "Don't touch me!!!" Yes, I know, but it was the most intelligent thing to say that I could think of at the moment.

So he stopped, and if I were him I'd be offended, but he didn't seem to be. His eyes locked away from me, annoyed once more, and feeling like my baby-sitter again. And I– I am a whining child who misses her mother, but her mother doesn't miss her.

Oh, if only everyone knew the truth. But do I even know the truth? I don't know what I know.

I'm going to go to Geroge for sympathy.

Oh, by the way, while I was watching Ryse write in my book, he dropped it and pretended to flip through the pages, looking for his spot. But I think he was reading it. I wonder what he was looking for?

The days won't go by fast enough. It seems that it was years ago when I first saw this ship. I want to scream, "It's consuming me!!" But everyone would look at me funny.

It's been a month since I've written. I misplaced the book somewhere, but I found it this morning.

Geroge says that we have made such good time that we could hit land in a week or two. We've gotten to be quite good friends. I think he's quite fond of me.

Ivy says I haven't sleepwalked again, and Ryse has ignored me an awful lot these past weeks.

There really isn't much I can write; most every day is the same. Wake up with a queasy feeling, sit on the deck for an hour trying to wake up, talk with Meme (she's giving me sewing lessons) for a while, and dawdle my way to dinner. Which is never different. I had thought I had lost weight when I was at the Perr Mansion– now, oh my. I am near skin and bones, I do believe. Though I am not the one to judge my own weight. The only one that could tell me how much weight I have lost since I came to the Perr Mansion would be Ryse, and talking to him right now would be very brave. But have nothing to do, and nothing to write about; perhaps something exciting will happen when I ask him a question.

"Ryse, we need to talk."

"Do we?"

"We do." I sat down next to him. I'm not sure exactly what he was doing.

"About what." He asked me the question, but he forgot he did then next second.

"About a few things."

"What?" He looked at me suddenly, as if I had just appeared out of thin air.

I asked, "Are you alright?" I wanted to knock on his head and see how hollow it was, but he'd probably twist my arm off.

He smiled halfway, and it looked kind of funny."Ah," I figure out. "You're terribly excited about getting to ParKesh finally." I crossed my arms. This would be a tough conversation.

"Terribly..." he said. "That's one of your favorite words. Honored to be using it."

Oh, the adrenaline that surged through my body– for a split second I had the strength to pick him up over my head and thrown him a mile. "What do you mean?" I said slowly, my arms unfolding, and feeling as if I were growing taller by the second.

He looked at me, all smug and proud and conceited– my teeth started gnashing as my ears rang.

"Why couldn't I find my book for nearly a month?" My voice was rather loud. I think the whole ship was listening.

"I've looked over your shoulder a few times, remember..." He grinned solemnly, as if pleading innocent. He looked innocent. But I was smarter than that.

"You're lucky I don't rip everyone one of your hairs off one by one!!!!!" I can't put enough exclamation marks.

"You'd have to start with my back." He looked very happy.

"Ew," I said, and for a second I forgot why I was angry. His back was hairy?

"You're disgusting!"

"What are you accusing me of?" His happiness seemed to be fading.

"You're a thief," I was whispering now. Playing up my emotions a bit. I was actually more angry than hurt, but I was also female; being hurt stirs the sympathy. "I should have stayed and been whipped to death."

"It would've hurt," he had a green pipe, like the one I always see Geroge with. He put it in his mouth and lighted it.

I gasped. "You don't take anything I say seriously!" I smacked the pipe form his mouth. It bounced across the wooden deck.

"I think someone needs to walk the plank," I heard Geroge coming up behind me.

"Yes! Him!" I screamed. That would have been the most pleasant sight I'd see for days: poking Ryse with a sword as he walked with his hands tied behind his back, pushing him off into the water. I'd holler, "So long!" gleefully, and everyone would cheer.

"No, you, little girl. You need to calm down." Geroge put his hands on my shoulders, stilling my quivering and sweltering body.

"But he–" I yelped, but Geroge cut me off in mid-sentence. I think that is extremely rude.

"Yes, I know about the whole thing."

"You do?!?" Ryse and I said at exactly the same time. Wow, something we had in common? We both glared at each other.

"Ryse wanted to know your past, and why you act the way you do. Can you blame him?" Geroge stood incredibly straight in the whipping wind.

I looked at Ryse, and he was staring straight at me. He looked hopeless, exposed, and something else– not sure what– I couldn't say... embarrassed. Ryse was never embarrassed. But as he stared at me, I began to wonder.

"Now, would you ever in a million years let him lay hand on the book to read it?" Geroge asked, but I ignored him.

I took flight and dove below deck, trying to comfort myself in my hammock. This was so– strange, so unexpected, I still don't know what to think, and...

How I want something fresh to eat.

Ivy spotted land this morning. And, my, did he make sure that everyone knew.

"Land!" Is what he called out, but it sounded more like, "LAAAAAAAANNNNDDDDD!!!!!!"

I shot up and ran onto deck. I found that most everyone else had done the same thing. Ryse was there, across the way, looking pleased. When I look at him I have to try hard to forget that he knows almost everything about my whole life. And I know almost nothing of his.

I talked to him later, for we had to discuss what I was to do when we docked. It would still be a day before we got into port, but I still needed to know. I am a ball of frantic, panicky worry.

"I told you I'd take you this far," he told me. "And I have. What else do you want?"

I wasn't sure what to ask for. But I didn't know what to do with myself once we got there. I had never completely taken care of myself before. So I just didn't say anything.

He put a hand on my shoulder. "I'd love to say it's been absolute bliss traveling with you," he didn't finish his sentence.

So I did. "But it hasn't." I put on a pout.

"Oh, girl, don't look glum." He sighed, and then left me.

Disheartened, I ran to Geroge. "He hates me and he left me and said that I have to figure everything out by myself and I don't know what to do Geroge you have to–"

I stopped sputtering when he started chuckling.

"Slow down. I don't even know who you're talking about."

I sighed very loudly, and lengthily. "Ryse." Who else would I be talking about? Some people need to think before they speak.

"He doesn't hate you, luv." He looked sympathizing, his eyebrows like two frowns.

"You wouldn't know that. And he does. He said he's had a terribly horrible time with me and he's done everything he said he would. What else could come of saying all of that?" I was still pouting, and didn't plan on stopping presently.

"I'll take care of you; see that you find a place to work." And just like that, he dropped the matter, as if it didn't matter.

But I could hear something I my head: But, Lottey, you hated him first. What does it really matter?

We have hit land. The sky is peevish and gray looking. That is about the way I feel. Maybe my mood affects the weather?

Today is over and I am at my new 'situation'. It is a boardinghouse on a muddy street where a lot of foreigners come and go.

I don't really understand. The wonderfulness of ParKesh is reflected in every little tree leaf and butterfly, but the place I am at is so dreary and desolate you would never guess it were part of the same place. It is called, 'ParKeshan Branch'. So very original, I know.

I will write of what I saw when I first arrived in ParKesh.

When we docked and everyone departed the ship, we had to go through this line of strange and smelly people where a person called a doctor puts hollow sticks in your ears and looks through them to make sure you don't have any termites. I, of course, being the naturally healthy person I was, didn't have any, and the doctor stamped something in red ink across my forehead. I think they do this to people who are in ParKesh for the first time to make sure no illnesses are spread around the city.

And then I saw the city– it was grand, tall snow white buildings that were shiny and looked a little bit like icicles were sprung up all over the place. People were being transported by donkeys with wings, which they call Peagasses I think. They are like stubborn butterflies on which you ride.

Geroge took me to the palace where I was made a citizen of ParKesh– so now I am a ParKeshan?– so I could be employed. Then he took me to ParKeshan Branch and dropped me off. We said goodbye. I was tearful, he looked confronted and uncomfortable. I don't think he is used to strong emotions.

The woman who runs this place is named Priscillia. She is four feet tall but absolutely beautiful. She has long, dark hair that reaches past her waist. Her lips are so red it looks as if she had just drunk a jug of cherry juice. Her skin is perfectly olive, which I have never seen before, but although it's different it is very becoming on her. It isn't the sun tanned color that one gets from working out in the dirt all day. It's different.

She is very nice to me; she doesn't have anyone else working in the boardinghouse with her except for the cook, who is a fat woman having a hard time getting around. Her name is Cook.

"Cook? No, I mean her given name."

"Given? Well, that name was given to her by her first employer," Priscillia looked a little confused.

All of these people here are ignorant. But I suppose I can forgive them, and educate them where they need it.

"It's mostly men who board here; they work at the docks, catching fish and repairing boats, and sometimes sailors stay here too."

I wonder if I told anyone who I really was– or used to be– if they'd believe me or laugh in my face?

"You will stay in the room next to mine. It's hidden away from where our boarders stay, don't worry."

So it's me, Priscillia, and Cook. I suppose they have a stable boy? Or is that my job too?

Chapter Four

First day of work. My Lord, I need to write this day down. It's incredibly packed.

This morning I woke up three hours before the sun even came up, and Priscillia told me I could call her Lia. I did notice that that was what Cook called her. So, Lia and Lottey we have become.

"I need you to set out about forty-five place settings. When they all come down to breakfast you can pour their slop." Her eyes twinkled. She really rushes about, her hair swinging back and forth.

Oh! I know what she reminds me of. A gypsy.

I set out the forty-five cracked plates and bent ten mugs. Then I heard a thunder– it made me shudder, and I watched as a lot of men came rumbling down the creaky wooden stairs.

"Breakfast! Ends twenty minutes from now!" Lia's voice is strong and sturdy, and she has no fear of bossing these men around. I think they sort of like it. All of them seem to be flirtatious with her.

"Mornin', Miss Priss." I suppose that is what they call her.

Cook waddled to me and handed me a bucket of what she called 'grub'. I must have grimaced when I saw it, because she reassured me that what I would be eating comes from a completely different branch of wildlife.

"Here you go," I said, struggling with the five feet long ladle.

"Thank you, ma'am."

I went along the line, each of them seeming respectable as they thanked me.

"I don't believe I've seen you here before. You must be Miss Priss's new elf," one man said. He looked over thirty and was missing just about as many teeth.

"I," I stalled, not sure what to say. I wasn't an elf. "I'm Lottey."

The man startled me by offering his hand for me to shake. I shook it, but as if it was a dead fish. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Varn. If you're fond of me, you can call me Varney." He grinned, and I could see down his throat.

"Okay, Varn," I said, quickly moving along.

That was how the morning went. Twenty minutes of very loud chaps arguing over a disgusting breakfast. Most of them were obnoxious and repulsive, but some weren't so bad to look at. When they all jetted off to work, they left enough mess to keep us occupied for ten years.

"And you deal with this every morning?" I exclaimed.

"Yup, and you'll learn it soon. It's not so bad at all when you're used to it."

I just think she enjoys all the male attention.

"Does cook never come out of the kitchen?" I asked.

"No," Lia explained solemnly. "She's afraid that if the men saw who fixed the food every morning, they wouldn't eat it."

I asked no further questions on the matter.

I was set to work mopping, while Lia put wet sponges on her bare feet and skated across the table tops. I watched her, wondering if I'd ever get to do that.

"There's maggots in the meat again, Lia!" I heard Cook screech from the kitchen with her dusty voice. "What should I do this time?"

"Oh," she said nonchalantly, gliding across the wood. If that were me I'd have probably broken my neck by now. "Same thing as I told you last time. Once it's cooked none of those savages will ever be able to tell the difference between shriveled maggots and dried onions." She smiled gleefully, as if she really enjoyed being devious.

I must have blanched, because she laughed.

"Come, come, Lottey, the floor won't mop itself. We've only got four hours before mid-meal comes around," Lia smiled. Actually, her smile was simply continuous. It was a happy-I'm-so-content– it was an I-love-being-me smile.

I let my arms move mechanically.

After we had cleaned up the atrocious mess we began gathering bed clothes for the wash, which we would do after lunch. And, oh, I choked down puke when I saw the condition of those bed sheets– I wasn't sure if they looked so bad because they were terribly filthy, or just terribly aged. They were hole-y and brown and spotty, and I would never in a million years touch them to do anything rather than wash them.

Lunch, which I didn't eat, consisted of a meatloaf containing little white specks, which I didn't ask about because I already knew, with very thin gravy that must be one part gravy and five parts water. It is absolutely no wonder that they never take more than twenty minutes for meals. It would be torture otherwise. And just imagine the mess that would accumulate! I would die a thousand deaths.

I set the tables for the second time that day approximately thirty seconds before a wave of sweaty, stinky, dirty famished men washed in. I would have been trampled if Lia had not yanked me by the arm and carried be through the air to safety. To my experience she has expert strength.

They were twice as loud and rambunctious than at breakfast.

"Does that mean they'll be three times worse at supper time?" I wailed to Cook while I was in the kitchen getting more gravy for the barbarians.

More of them realized during lunch time that they had never seen me before and were fervently waiting to introduce themselves to me. Am that popular everywhere I go?

After they fled the boardinghouse to get back to lunch we had to clean up again. And just as I had suspected, the mess was twice as worse. I mopped for twice as long. And I felt twice as despairing.

Lia taught me her way of washing bed clothes. I asked her where the lye soap was, and she said she didn't use soap. That nearly outraged me.

"Do your customers not care about cleanliness?" I exclaimed.

She gave me a look. Then I remembered just who we were talking about.

"Scalding water, a big cauldron and a long stick does the trick for me."

I stood stirring the boiling bed clothes for about an hour. When we wrung the water out I was surprised there was anything left of them, after the way they had been scorched. But I had absolutely no doubt there was anything unclean left anywhere within their seams.

And then the horror– supper time came. For some reason there seemed to be twice as many men as before– or maybe they were just twice as hungry. They were aggressive, even. Knocking me flat on my back, trying to seize the last piece of ten-day old bread.

I wanted to wail for Geroge or even Ryse to rescue me from the mess; for the past three months I had been able to do that. Being on my own is so, so, so, so, so much incredibly harder than not. It's as if I am kitten who wasn't ready to be without its mother. And I'm not! But who is my mother?

After dinner all of the men stuck around for at least another three hours, drinking and playing cards and being loud and noisy. Some played banjos and fiddles and fifes and all sort of odd little musical instruments– unfortunately none of them sounded good together.

By the time the night was done and they all thundered off to their rooms I had a headache the size of Jyne's swollen nose. I wanted to hack through my neck to save me the agony. But I had to help clean everything before I was allowed to go to bed.

Even if this day doesn't seem to be packed, it was. The day was the equivalent of hell in a boardinghouse. And it creaks!

Don't take my complaints the wrong way; I am terribly grateful for my position. It's better than being a scullery maid. No one hates me or is out to get me in the middle of the night with a whip. It probably is even a little less tiring; I had just been lazy for three months straight and had forgotten about my late reality check. But I will be all right; survival will come with the peak of my hope. I just know this will turn out to be a great situation in my life.

Are you convinced?

Days here are all strangely similar. It's been two days since I had last written and the only thing that is different is the size of my arm muscles. At first I thought something was wrong, that maybe something or some kind of insect or diseasous animal had bitten me and my arm was swelling and sore. I think I panicked.

"Look, oh Lia! Please tell me I won't lose my arm!" I bit my lip franticly, chewing on it as if it were a piece of rubber.

She took my arm, looking oh-so professional. Then her worried expression went blank. "Good Lord, Lottey, that's the kind of nip that comes from working hard. It's called muscle." She looked at me as if I were the dumbest person in the world.

I wanted to yank her hair and tie it into a million knots. It was breakfast time and all of the men had overheard, and were now drowning in gales of pitiless laughter.

Of course I had the urge to flee and cover myself with blankets and pillows and hide from the mercilessness, but I had to stay and help.

By dinner time everyone had seemed to have forgotten about my stupidness.

What we eat in the kitchen after everyone is gone is quite tasty, actually; I found it surprising that Lia scrapes for extra money to purchase the purest filet mignon that Cook cooks to perfection. It helps with pangs of wishing I were important again. But I think I'm adjusting quite well, don't you?

Today differed a little. I would love to say it was refreshing, but that would be ironic.

"Lottey," Lia pulled me aside after lunchtime was over. "I need you to go to the docks and purchase the rotten fish mangle from the sailors."

My eyes must have looked blank on the outside and ten feet down, because she explained as if I were two.

"Just tell them what I said. Rotten fish mangle. They'll know." She patted some coins into my palm. "Don't get lost," now she was mocking me.

I sneered, which was halfway sincere, and exited the boardinghouse rather joyously. It was my first time on the streets since I had come. A week is a little long, yes?

The sky didn't look near as angry as when I had first seen it. The clouds were far fluffier than the pillow I had been given, and the sky looked watery. It was bright and pretty.

I made my way along the cobbled roads, careful not to turn my ankle. I had done that before. Only then I had servants to rescue me, for I was only on the path behind the mansion. I don't even think it was originally cobble; it was simply ancient.

The ocean seemed to always be in sight. It was so big. I could see it from all the windows, even the window of my little room, which only consists of a flat mattress on the floor and a flat pillow and grayish-white sheets. Its home, I suppose. Oh, how dreadful that was to write. This is home?

When I finally came upon the docks I walked slowly. I was terrified of walking on the thin wooden planks over the water. They weren't terribly high, but there were no guards keeping me from falling in and drowning. So, very carefully, I walked one foot in front of the other. I watched my feet intently, assuring myself I was safe and wouldn't fall. All I had to do was breathe in the sea air, get the end where the sailors were unloading their ships from fishing, and get the rotten fish mangle or what-say from them. I was safe. It was easy.

Then a flash of light hair and the smell of salt water collided with me and I plummeted– gasping for breath, trying to get as many last breaths as possible. I was knocked off the dock and into the water.

All of my fears popped out of the story book and began strangling me at once. I screamed and yelped and splashed and wriggled– everything I could think of to keep myself from drowning. It was the deepest water I had ever been in. The second deepest was the bath basin-tub.

But suddenly I realized I was floating. Waving my arms and legs and circle was propelling me and keeping me from sinking. It was then I screamed, "Someone help me out NOW!!!" and I watched a browned and strong looking hand emerge from the dock and grasp my own. I was pulled, rather effortlessly, out of the water by a person that I would have liked to push off the other side.

Yes, it was Ryse.

"I know you don't like me, but that doesn't mean you have to kill me!" I exclaimed in his face.

He looked startled and amused at the same time. "Why ever not?" he asked tauntingly.

I wanted to break down into sobs and beat on his chest. "Because I'd be dead."

"What are you doing here?" His question wasn't demanding; it was curious. Amusedly curious. This frustrated me.

I threw my hair back with a high-huff. "I am out purchasing some food for my boardinghouse."

"Your boardinghouse?" He stepped back and laughed from his chest.

I pursed my lips and stood still for a grand total of five seconds. "You know, it's odd seeing you again. I had forgotten you existed." I pushed through him, wary of the loose planks.

"Where's the boardinghouse?" I heard him say.

Surprised, I turned around slowly. "What?"

He repeated himself. "Where's the boardinghouse."

I was quite taken aback. I spoke with breathlessness to my voice. "It's here, in ParKeshan Branch. Twenty-two Gonia Street, I think." How should I know exactly where it was? All I did was work there.

He stared at me for a long second, and then nodded. Then he left, and didn't even bid me farewell or anything.

I stood there on the dock: soaking wet, shivering through, scared of falling again, and wondering why he didn't hate me.

I acquired the rotten fish mangle from a rotten tooth sailor and brought it back to Lia. It took me about an hour.

"Oh, that's great. It's past time to be cooking for supper." She took the brown-paper packages and set it on the counter for Cook.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get the mangle. But don't worry, I've already been punished." I frowned with a wrinkled nose.

"What do you mean?" she wrinkled her nose back.

"I smell like it."

This tickled her. She was about to leave the room, but she caught herself. "Oh, I need you to make another bed up in the fourth room upstairs. We have a new boarder."

"Oh?" I said, dreading the thought of being upstairs. It never cease to smell like the men and what they ate.

"Yes. Name is Ryse something. There's more sheets in the closet over there," she pointed.

Then she left and let what she had just said sink in a bit.

Yesterday was odd. It is odd to see him at the tables I serve. It is odd to wash the bed clothes he sleeps on. It is odd to clean up after him.

The funny thing, he doesn't seem to even recognize me.

I gave him his breakfast pudge– that's what Cook calls it– yesterday morning. It was steamy and hot, and there was even molasses to put in it. But Ryse didn't look enthused about the day.

After all, I had thought that he enjoyed being by the sea so much more than anything else he had been forced to do during his life. But he looked so terribly glum. "Seems like we're always running from each other," I said. "Your being here is so ironic." I meant to be funny and cheer him up, but I shouldn't have been that incredibly stupid. Nothing I can say could possibly cheer him up.

Anyhow, I think I came across the wrong way. He completely ignored me.

While we were cleaning up the atrocious lunch mess, Lia asked me a personal question. "Do you know our new boarder? Personally, I mean?"

I mopped drowsily. "Well, I did run away with him to escape certain death and sail with him for three months to get here." My, that sounded quite adventurous.

"Really?" She sounded interested. This was her kind of story. "What kind of certain death?"

"Oh," I said, casually. "The usual certain death. The kind where someone wants to kill you." I wanted to keep my adventurous persona, but Lia just gave me the-dumbest-person-in-the-world look again.

I would love to just write on for pages and pages as I used to, but there is really nothing to record. Of course, I could write that I woke up in the morning with ten pirates with rings through their noses and ears looming over my head, and that they kidnapped me and made me princess of their island, but that isn't true and writing it would make me even more desolate for wild truths.

Tonight is a loud ruckus. Almost every single one of the men are dancing and smashing tables and throwing breakable things– actually, it's not just the men. Miss Priss challenged them to a drinking duel. The nerve she has! How can she call herself a lady?

Oh, yes, that's right.

She doesn't.

Anyhow, I let myself outside to escape and breathe some genuine smoke-free air. The nights in Branch are nice and cool, with a thin mist that looms for several hours into the night. The moonlight reflects off of it as if it were a pool of water. For a moment I was totally free, my head aloft, being lifted off into the air by dreams... my fingers feeling light as moths on a summer night. I could feel the wetness of the grass between my leathery toes as I slid around. There isn't much grass in Branch, but what little bit of it there is put me in paradise for a split second.

Then a voice disturbed me.

"Is the ocean to your liking, duchess?"

I spun around, frightened to death for a moment that it was Ivy behind me. I relieved a momentary sigh of relief when I found Ryse in his place. He grinned, as if he had tried to scare me. I tried to grimace, but the moment was so pleasant that my face just wouldn't move appropriately.

"It's wet and doesn't taste good at all," I confirmed.

"But you float." He thought that was funny.

"Are you following me around ParKesh, Ryse?" I asked, good-naturedly, though.

"Someone who knows your background must keep an eye on you at all times, I suppose," he tried to look solemn, his hands all clasped behind his back and everything.

I sighed bemusedly. "You'd know my background," I mumbled. That reminded me that he knew almost absolutely everything about me, and I felt uncomfortable.

He walked a few paces, sort of awkwardly, pretending to be watching the sky and the stars or something. "What are you planning on doing, Lottey, with your life?" he asked, his eyes still on the stars.

I wondered if he always kept his eyes on the stars.

"I wish you wouldn't have asked me that. I have no idea." The words I muttered sounded rather depressing. "You know," I thought, having an astoundingly smart revelation, "if we have absolutely nothing in common, shouldn't that meant that we'd get along great?" I had to say that; he looked so nice standing in the moonlight, his hair and eyes reflecting as one. Not that I am sweet for him– just socially deprived.

"Have you ever really thought about that?" he suggested.

"Yes," I affirmed. "Just now. Why?"

"What's your last name?" he asked. He looked like his devious self again.

"Devingrole," I said without thinking through.

He shook his head with a smirk.

I felt as if I had just been mashed by a large animal's foot.

"That's not your real last name, it's your adopted name. You don't know your real name, do you?"

When I shook my head, he let out a short but blaring laugh.

I didn't think it was funny. I hadn't realized that horrible fact before, and I didn't appreciate him pointing it out.

"I'm going to go get some sleep. Got a full day ahead." He sighed, not meeting my eyes until I met his.

"Goodnight," I said softly.

"Uh, night." he turned to go back into the boardinghouse, but he stopped and turned to me. His eyes were on the grass. "You know, Lottey, if you ever need anything– I mean, anything really important, you always know where I am." And he left.

His words left me with a stir, but I think I kind of appreciated them. Especially after he pointed out that I don't have a last name.

Does that mean I'm nobody?

I don't think so. Ryse is quite a person. He doesn't have one, either. Why do names matter so much? Cook didn't have one, and she still was a big person– but that is more literal than I'm trying to spotlight. Oh well. For what can I do? I could never make up my own last name.

Something most wonderful, most spectacular, and absolutely and horribly fabulous has happened to me. My, oh my, oh my, oh my. I don't know what to write. Perhaps I should write just what happened.

I was getting more fish mangle for Lia because we had just about run out and all of the men were complaining about watery stew made with leftovers we found on the floor under their tables. So I was sent on my weekly errand a little early. There was a man at the docks: he had on a long black coat on that drug the ground, I could see his muscles rippling under his clothes. His hair was dark and fresh, although it was browner than George's. He was tall and dark, and had a dashing smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. I almost fell over the side of the dock again when I saw him, and he didn't even bump me.

I tried not to side glance at his beauty as I was bartering with a hairy and tattoo ridden sailor. When I was about to pay him, the dashing person spoke. To me.

"Oh, what a lousy price. If you want good fish for a less, you should trade with my boys." He folded his arms and exposed the smile I knew he was hiding.

I almost dropped the coins from my open palm. "Where are your boys?" I said mechanically. I knew in that moment that I would buy whatever he wanted me to.

"Over there," he said, pointing with a magnificent and slightly stocky finger.

"Okay," I said lightly, as my arms and legs moved towards his site. He heard him following behind me, and it stole the breath from my chest. He was behind me. I walked gracefully, head up high, as if I were carrying something rather important on it.

"What poise," he said, "for an errand girl."

I hiccupped deep inside and stopped walking immediately. "Thank you," I said, gaining control of myself. "I wasn't always this low."

"I see that," he said thoughtfully. "Tough times fall on everybody."

"Yes," I said wistfully. "When one's family dies unexpectedly, there isn't much they can do."

"Dreadfully sorry," he used one of my favorite words. "My deepest condolences I send your way."

"Must appreciated. Oh– are these your boys?"

"Yes, Madame." He spoke with a gentleness no one could deny. He walked past me to what he called 'his boys'. They were unloading fish by the cartful.

"Oh," I said worriedly. "I don't have the money to purchase such fine fish as these. I'm on a limited budget," I bit my lip and wrapped my finger around my hair.

After a moment of watching me he said, "There is always a special arrangement to be made for a person in need." He continued smiling, and it made my knees buckle.

I looked across the way and saw Ryse a ways off. He saw me, though. His arms looked tense– in fact, his whole body looked tense. What was that, jealousy? Could he not compete? I sniggered inside.

"How much do you have to spend on fish?" The dashing character asked, snapping me back to where I was.

"Oh," I opened my hand to show him how much I had.

He whistled lowly. I must not have had much.

"Suppose we can work with that. How much do you usually purchase? And don't take advantage of me," he winked.

Of course, I didn't know how much I usually got. The sailors I always purchased from always gave me the order Lia had first placed so long ago– I didn't know how much that was. "I, I usually get four brown packages," I offered, trying desperately to sound as if I actually knew how much I usually got. But... I didn't.

"I, yes, okay," I'm afraid I confused him.

He had the fish wrapped for me. While the 'boys' were wrapping it, he chatted with me, so casually. As if he weren't a hundred feet higher on the status pole. Perhaps that didn't matter to him.

"What's your name, if I may?" He asked slickly, and with a nice smile.

Oh, no. Oh no. I had absolutely no clue what to say. Of course– I knew my first name, I'd never forget that. I wasn't that lightheaded. But I didn't have a last name to give!!! "Sharlotte Rose." So I didn't give one. I used my second name instead.

"Rose," he repeated, "the most beautiful flower," with a smile.

"Ah, but even the most beautiful flower has thorns," I fear I flirted, with a returned smile, too.

"I favor sharp girls." He was so witty. Not to mention nice to look at. "If I may be so bold to say so, you look stressed."

"Do I?" I said, worriedly. I didn't know stress showed.

"You must work awfully hard." He used another one of my favorite words.

"Um," I wondered. "Yes. I must, I suppose." I did work hard. There was no other reason for stress.

Oh– not looking in the mirror for months and months and months– I could feel how lined my face had to be. Not to mention sunned and possibly... freckled.

No, I wouldn't think of it.

"Would your employer ever give you any time off?" He asked compassionately.

I shrugged, hugging my shoulders. "What would I do with time off? I've never heard of it."

"Well, if I happened to invite you to dinner one night, would that be a good enough excuse?"

For an instant time stopped. There he was– his mouth opened from speaking, and he kept on looking better by the second. He had invited me to dinner. Or, he had suggested it. He was being kind to me. He had found favor in me. After all, I was sharp.

Just pages back I was calling Ryse he– but I liked calling him, he much better. I didn't even know his name. And he invited me to dinner.

Okay, time for time to speed back up... unfortunately.

"I... I'm sure she might..."

"She?" he inquired suddenly. "Where are you employed?"

"At her boardinghouse." I gazed at his eyes. They were... purple. Not even violet; purple. Odd.

"Ah, the boardinghouse. Many of my boys stay there."

Now that he mentioned it, I did recognize some of those who were wrapping my fish in brown paper.

"Perhaps... if I, personally, went and talked to her, she would allow you to join me one night?" He looked down on me with grace.

Oh, how badly I wanted to go. Real food, in a real mansion– if in fact he did live in a mansion, which I couldn't imagine him not. With real servants and everything real that I really do miss. And he wasn't too bad for company, if I may say that without giggling.

"I believe so, I really do," I said, trying not to sound anxious, but finding it terribly hard to do.

"Alright." He loaded me up with my brown packages. "Here you are."

I opened my hand to give him the money, but he shook his head. My, how thoughtful and generous. I could just imagine what gifts I would leave his house with.

"Thank, ever so much, more than I know how to even say," I glowed. I felt radiant. I think it was him that made me feel that way.

He nodded, bending a tad at the waste, with an enthralling smile.

I walked home on a cloud full of little fairies dancing about my head.

I waltzed into the kitchen and gave the fish packages to Lia. She wrinkled her nose. "Why don't they stink?" She asked.

I couldn't stop smiling to answer.

I watched her open the packages, and her face lighted up like a candle with a never-ending wick. "I should have told you not to steal from the sailors here. They can track you down a million miles underground, even if you bathe first."

I stopped smiling– miraculously– and gave her a blank stare.

"Um."

"Um." We were obviously on the same train of thought.

"You didn't steal this? I know I didn't give you too much money. And this– this was not bought. It wasn't."

She had the truth in her teeth; I didn't buy it. But neither did I steal it. I opened my mouth to explain– but realized that she would immediately be jealous. Me, getting male attention? Was she left out? But I suppose I was either filled up to the brim with pride, or I knew there was no way to get around it. "I met a man and I think he favored me. He gave me the meat."

"Lottey," she sighed, leaning on the counter. "It's okay if you've stolen something. I completely understand– I'm from that walk of life. It's okay to admit it. We'll just take it back, and–"

We both heard a knock at the door, the kitchen door. It jolted us both. We turned, and I saw him, standing in the doorway.

"H–hi," I breathed.

"Oh," Lia said, her jaw seeming to drop.

We all stood there for the longest second ever. He looked so nice and wonderful I liked him even more.

"Well, Lottey," she nudged me forcefully, "introduce me to your friend."

"Yes, Lia, this is my friend." I smiled, but my smile cracked, and I began to quiver inside my stomach.

Lia glared at me rather hotly. She was thinking of my dreadful impertinence– but I didn't know his name. If I hadn't bit my tongue I would have introduced him as him.

"Hi." He reached forth to shake Lia's hand. I envied her. "You are Lottey's employer? I need to speak to you about a matter." But I stopped envying when he mentioned that.

"Oh?" she looked lost in a dream. Somebody needed to wake her up.

"Yes, Lia, about time off and me joining him for dinner. He's the one who gave me the fish." I smiled at... him.

"Mm," she folded her arms. I was the perfect person to do the job of waking her up. It felt quite nice, too, to be able to compete with her and win this way.

"Yes. If it's money for the lost labor, I can pay you, in fish or what-not. I am sure that would enjoy her company greatly." He looked so gentlemanly, and sounded the same way.

I like that about him.

I like everything about him.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure that can be arranged," she stared up at him, looking as if she'd never seen a man before.

She had just never seen this man.

"Great. Tomorrow night would be splendid, if you can spare her. I'll send some fish and things back with her tomorrow." He smiled broadly.

I had made him happy.

"Until then, Sharlotte," he bowed. For me. My, what a long time since I had seen that!

I curtsied pensively.

He was about to leave, but I caught his sleeve. His sleeve. "Wait– what's your name? I told you mine, but you never told me yours," I stood, waiting. I really wanted to know what I could call him.

He grinned dashingly. "Visel."

Yes, all of this really happened. No, I cannot believe it did. Oh my, oh my, oh my, oh I can't write it enough times.

"Lottey," Lia petted my arm, smiling strangely. "Whatever you're doing to him, keep it up. I'll double your pay if you can keep this quality fish rolling in." She continued smiling, for at least a minute, and then she told me I could have a little break.

So I wrote it down; I just had to relive it again.

Chapter Five

Visel. Visel. Visel. I like his name. Visel. Visel.

And I think someone is jealous of Visel. Last night, Ryse and I had stepped outside so we could breathe for a few minutes while all the drinking and smoking was going on. Actually, I had stepped out first, he kind of followed. He's been doing that quite frequently, come to think of it.

"I don't think you really like it here," I told him to break the silence. It shattered into a million pieces.

"No, you're right," he figured.

"Then why are you here?" I said, not demandingly though. Never demandingly.

He didn't meet my eyes. "There's nowhere else to stay here in Branch."

That was true. But I had it in my head that there was a reason. "Ah. So where were you before?"

"I was staying with some of my fellow workers in the streets."

"That would get cold," I absentminded.

I felt him nod. It was a little dark, but a flickering street candle-post thing made our faces glow a bit.

"Uh– Lottey," he was wanting to say something. I could tell. "You know that man I saw you with at the dock today–"

"Visel?" I said quickly, happily. "Oh, yes, he invited me to dinner and gave us free fish. He is just so generous and wonderful, and–"

"Lottey," Ryse looked suddenly and violently worried.

On my behalf? Why would he do a thing such as that?

Oh, I knew he was jealous. His face lined with the stress of losing me to another– I could see it, feel it, and it made me glad. I had never courted before, I had never really toyed with boy's feelings yet, but I had it in my head how to do it correctly. "You don't have to worry about me, Ryse, I'm a big girl," I smiled.–

His face was a little contorted. He looked confused, and still vexed. Or worried. Or are they the same thing? "It's not what you think. He's not what you think. Do you even know who he is?" Now he looked disgusted.

"Visel." I stared at him with wide eyes directly in his eyes. I wanted to let him know that I was grateful for–

"Is that his name now? He's a–"

I put my hands to his lips. "I'm sorry, Ryse, you know how grateful I am for you..." I wanted to kiss him to thank him; I had never kissed anyone and I wanted to know how. I leaned forward and put my lips on his, but as soon as I did he put his hands on my face and pushed me back. He put his hands on my shoulders, as if to hold me back.

My eyes flew wide and I didn't know what to think.

He had a wild look about him now. He looked confounded, annoyed, and as if he were about to embark on his ignoring streak.

I wanted to calm him, but I was afraid to touch him. I was afraid he'd bite me or something.

So I said, "I need to go back inside and work." I held my skirt daintily and went back into the kitchen.

And I must say, that was a strange happening. But today is today, not last night, and tonight I'm going to Visel's mansion to sup and be merry. He is the best thing that had ever happened to me; I am given breaks, Lia and Cook pet me and Lia even let me skate across the tables. I will have to thank him a million times over. I know he will be so glad he decided to favor me, for I am a very good person to favor.

If Ryse is jealous, why doesn't he just come out and say so? I know that we've pretty much dreaded each other's existence since we met, but sometimes things changed. I know that I stopped hating him when I realized that he had nice features about him, and, well... that he's awfully nice to look at. If he noticed the same things about me I'd love to know. Perhaps he'll steal my book again and read it so he'll know that he doesn't have to be shy. But he also has to know this– I can't be with him, because I could never be in love such a lowly person. He's nice sometimes, and thoughtful sometimes, but, hmm. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say. So I'll just stop. I must get ready for dinner soon– it takes me a long time, after all. I wonder if peppering the hair is in fashion here?

"The escort is here, Lottey," I heard Lia holler at me.

My stomach was a mass of knots and tangles butterflies that were still in their cocoons. I was nervous and excited– after all, I'd never been courting, especially not with such a dashing and older than me man. If, in fact, this was to be considered courting, and not just a friendly gesture.

I hurried out to the street and found two horses– one with the escort on it, and one with no one else on it.

I immediately gasped and got dizzy. This was to be my death.

"I can't ride a horse, sir, I don't know how. I really don't know how." I wanted to say, and I don't ever want too!!!

"That's no problem, miss, we'll leave this horse here and you can ride with me." He seemed nice enough; middle aged, scruffy little beard. He was a stocky fellow, but looked strong enough.

But that still meant I had to ride a horse. He wouldn't let me die, would he? He wouldn't make the horrid beast go fast, would he? I began praying so hard that I didn't even hear him when he said, "Here, give me your hand and I'll pull you up."

But I realized, with his hand waiting for mine in midair, what he meant. I was careful of my dress, which wasn't the most beautiful thing in the world; a little old. But it was still better than any of my work clothes. I had scrubbed and shined and powdered my face to perfection. I knew just how scrumptious I looked at the moment.

And I hoped I would look just the same when we got there.

The whole ride I kept my eyes closed, until I realized we were out of Branch. There were no street candles around or any dogs barking, I only heard crickets.

So I opened my eyes. After all, nothing had happened to me yet.

I saw a big, dark, looming building in the distance. "Is that–" I said.

"Yes, milady."

I missed being called milady. The sound of the word filled my up with my old self to my ears. It stopped at my ears because I had forgotten to scrub them while I was washing my face. The old me was never ever dirty.

I gazed at the mansion. It looked more like a castle. Was Visel royalty? Oh, my dream, being a princess with a million servants to do all of the dirty work. It meant even more to me now that I knew the meaning of dirty work.

The sky was so high up, but as it got darker and darker it seemed to be falling on us. I wanted to touch it. But the blackness looked creepy, as if it would burn my finger and chew the bone. So I stayed absolutely still.

When we came upon the castle is saw it's moat and it's draw bridge and I was growing franticly anxious– in both a good way and bad.

"Is he the king of Branch or ParKesh or something?" I asked breathlessly.

"No, milady. The castle has been passed down through the family."

"Ah," I sighed, almost relieved. If he were a king, and I angered him, or was too stupid or too dirty– I didn't want to die! So I was glad he was simply a rich and debonair man.

But, he did have guards at the door. He was a very rich and debonair man.

I was led to the foyer where I was left. It was a dark and mysterious place, and I didn't like being alone. I wanted Visel to hurry and greet me.

"Ah, Miss Rose," he sounded so ecstatic when he finally did.

"Please, it's Sharlotte," I batted while he kissed my hand. I wanted to giggle for an hour or two but I held it in controllably. "You have a magnificent castle," I offered sweetly.

He bowed. Oh, he bowed!!

"Won't you come with me?" He offered me his arm.

I took it, entering a reverie.

His dining hall was so magnificent I nearly gasped and fell to the floor. The ceiling was so high up I couldn't even see it. The chairs looked as if they were all modeled after thrones from thirty different countries. There were two places set: the head of the table, and to the right. Visel and I.

I think it looked nice.

Sitting with him at his marvelous table I felt as if that looked nice too, the two of us together.

The silver wasn't silver at all– it was gold, so bright and glorious, and were so heavy I was afraid I would end up dropping them. But, after all, I hadn't forgotten my Devingrole manners, whether they were mine to remember or not.

The first course was brought out, and I tried my hardest to hide how badly my mouth was watering.

"You look eager," he said, smiling. He always had some dashing facial expression about him.

"Oh, I do," my happiness faded in an instant. "I didn't mean to."

"Oh, I like eagerness. I favor eager and sharp girls," he winked. "So..." he took a bite of juicy lamb. "You work at the boardinghouse? Hardly a suitable place for a woman such as yourself."

Oh, was it? I didn't know... being in town was so much different than being simply where Mansions were close to each other and everything was green. I didn't know what to say. Do I ever know what to say? "What can I do? There isn't much of an option when I'm the position I am in right now." I tried to act pitiful. I believe it worked.

"Oh, yes, I suppose. It's dreadful, poverty; I should like to help everyone I can."

So, was dinner just a friendly gesture? Was it charity?!?

"Would you like me to help you?"

"If you think it wise."

He chuckled and pointed at me with his fork. "You're witty; I like that."

So, now I have three describing words beyond my name?

"You're the first person that has ever told me so." Oh, the food was so good that I hardly realized what I was saying. But, of course, on the other hand, the conversation was so juicy and pleasurable that I hardly tasted what I was eating. "I do appreciate your hospitality," I noted, sounding rather grown and professional.

"Ah, hospitality," the word made him smirk. "You are the hospitable one."

I could feel just how confused I looked.

"Your beauty and charm is such a relief in my life," he explained. "Every day I work and sell fish and make money, but I have never really spent time with a lovely woman."

He called me woman. Had he done that before? I cannot remember. I just know that I like being called woman instead of girl. I was, after all. "Is your flattery as deceptive as it sounds?" I smiled.

"No," he laughed. "It is sincere."

"Then I like it," I said, taking another bite. My, am I conniving? It must come naturally.

"I hope so."

We ate in silence for a few moments. But even the silence– I could soak it in and feel its wonder. It was the most excellent and unsurpassed silence I had ever been submerged in.

I couldn't help but notice the arrayed collection of antique knives and swords he had hanging everywhere. They were really very old, I saw, and remember thinking how they must have been passed through the family for a long time. I also saw the gilded mirrors, which made me leap a mountain over inside, and through them how dark it was. I had never really seen it so dark. But oh, the gold, everywhere! Everything I could see looked valuable. And that brought a question to my mind. "Is the fishing business really so profitable?" I asked.

"I," he started. I waited for him to finish, but he didn't.

I nodded hugely and found another topic. "Have you no family to share this gigantic castle with?" I am very afraid that it sounded much differently than I had anticipated. I hadn't meant to sound childish. Or as if I were trying to deceive him into asking me to marry him.

Although, wouldn't it be nice?

"My family," he said, as if they were another topic altogether. "Oh, I haven't seen them in a while. I had no siblings, and my mother died so long ago. My father was a ruthless creature with quite a temper," he smirked, as if it were very amusing. "He left me here with his business when I was seventeen. Been all alone since."

I was afraid to ask him how old he was now. I didn't want to spoil the enchantment.

"My," I said attentively.

"Yes," he said. "We have that in common."

"All alone?" I asked. But he was right. I didn't know any of my family; he didn't knew where most of his was. That was nice to think about.

The second course and desert went by as if it were a leaf in the breeze, just as gentle, too. I don't even remember what they were.

After dinner he took me out onto his veranda. Everything I could see for miles and miles, a very long ways, was black. Even the trees and bushes looked brittle and burnt.

I asked him why.

"I'm not sure. I suppose it's just the ParKeshan country land's way to be," he said.

I liked his reasoning. And it made sense, too. I couldn't think of any other reason.

I looked at Visel when I realized he was looking at me. More like, gazing. It made me uneasy. For a moment I wanted to be back in my Devingrole mansion with my mother downstairs explaining that I was too young for this sort of thing.

But I didn't believe that!

I was older than I seemed. I felt it, and I looked it, and it was so.

"Such a moonlight complexion," he grazed his finger along my cheek.

It sent a shiver down my back. I think it was because I was nervous. I had never been the center of attention anytime out of my not-family.

I yawned as big as a tiger, and could do nothing to conceal it.

"Oh, you're tired!" He exclaimed warmly with a smile.

"It's awfully late," I explained.

"That it is."

I stood on the marble floor of the beautiful balcony waiting for him to say he would send for the escort to take me home.

But to my alarm, he never did.

He just said, "There's no way you could make your way home in this darkness."

"Not by myself," I said quickly. Whatever he was concocting was very confusing. Maybe he would take me himself?

"Perhaps you should stay overnight," his voice was deep and happy.

But his words made me cringe. "I..." that was not suitable at all. Me? Unchaperoned in an umarried man's house all night? No. That was not good.

"You really don't think I could make it on my own?" I asked him, trying to hint at my not liking the idea one bit.

"Are you really that brave?" He said, and it seemed taunting, especially when he smirked so deviously.

But how dare he think that I am a coward! I am not a courageous warrior girl who runs the woods at night barebacked on her favorite horse with a bow and arrow in her hand, most definitely not, but now that I had been introduced to the real world and dirty work I was sure I was capable of more than dress designing and whining about my hair color. And I was very, extremely frightened at the prospect of being alone with him all night. I would not sleep, especially in this castle he had– it was as if it were designed to scare away passersby. It would certainly scare me a couple hundred feet out of the way if I were on a journey and came across this place.

"Of course I am that brave," I protested bravely.

He raised an eyebrow in conquest.

I felt taken. In fact, far, far away–

"I understand if you're so set on leaving me so soon, but if you would stay longer I would love to show you around," he offered with a refined smile. His voice was low and mockingly contemptuous.

I didn't know his temperament. I didn't want to rile him, or make him angry either. I was frightened enough as it was without him turning red and strangling me. Would he do that? So I took an extremely deep breath and hoped it would last me the night.

"No, that would be wonderful, really; I was just getting a little anxious." I looked up at him with hopeful eyes. Would he read me correctly?

"Well, don't," he answered good-naturedly.

I took his arm again and we began our tour.

A rush of cold air hit my face as we reentered the castle from the balcony. I didn't want to feel it. It made me so chilled that I'm afraid I held his arm closer– but it made him smile. My voice box dropped to my stomach and made it fluttery and sick.

He took me to armory where he showed me even more sharp things than I had seen in the dining hall. And everywhere we went the ceilings simply got higher and higher. I began feeling smaller, too, and the smaller I got the bigger Visel became. He really seemed to enjoy showing his humble home off to me.

"I suppose you don't get many visitors?" I asked gently.

He sighed deeply, seeming to enjoy being overdramatic. "No, I don't. Yes... so I apologize if I seem forward in wanting to keep you here; I mean, it's all good intentions I have. But it's not often a guest comes all the way out to my home, and when one does, I don't want to let her slip away," his expression was warm.

His warmness traveled through his arm and comforted me somewhat. I did feel better after he said that, I still was on edge. Just the loneliness and emptiness of the place– even the servants, which I don't remember seeing more than two, didn't even seem to be there.

"Do you... like my house?" He asked me as we passed through his inside garden.

I bit my lip and asked myself the same question. "It's different," I accentuated. "It's very exotic and creatively different." I didn't know what else to say without either hurting his feelings or making him mad, both of them I have yet to do.

"Mm," he said loudly as he examined my words. Then he smiled. "You don't like it."

I giggled at his accusation. "I didn't say that!" I exclaimed.

"Ah, but you felt it," he pointed out.

In one moment I had realized I had let my guard down– and for some odd reason it was so easy to do that around him. Visel. Even his name sounds so murky and mysterious.

"Shall I clap my hands and order it to be less frightening and more cheery?" Visel suggested. As if he had read my mind.

"Do you ever stop looking happy?" I asked.

He considered. He concluded in a wondering face and a shrug.

Because: even when he talked about how terribly his life was and lonely his home was he never once stopped smiling. I can't help but write it a million times: he said, smiling. Smirking dashingly and mysteriously. Grinning mischievously. Chuckling with a debonair look. Was it some secret way of make a person feel more relaxed? I would think that something so unnatural would make one feel tense– but it didn't.

We continued strolling, peeking through various rooms such as his library and his ballroom, which was so eerie that I could almost see ghosts dancing as if they hadn't stopped in centuries. Then I heard a clock that rang louder than anything had heard before: the sound went into my ears and bounced off my skull. I stopped abruptly. There were eleven bongs.

"Is something the matter?" Visel asked, as if he didn't know.

"It's even later." He knew I need to leave. He knew I wanted to leave. And yes, of course I felt sorry for him not having much company, but he would have any ever again if I didn't make it home. People across the land would stand aghast in their steps and hail me a martyr. That is, if anyone remembered I was here.

"Oh, dear," he said, with a true and genuine frown. He dropped my arm.

I felt as if I had just shed twenty pounds from my body followed by a blow to the head. "Is that a problem?" my voice was mousy and barely audible.

"You can't leave." He said it so simply. Visel made it seem as if it were no big deal at all; I couldn't leave. Nothing worthy of note.

I wanted to do a million flips all in a row and end up back at the boardinghouse. It seemed like such a comforting place right now, and that was quite an improvement. But my situation wasn't. I felt as if I were about to faint where I stood and be buried alive.

As if I weren't a factor in the house anymore Visel left me and sat down at his desk; we just happened to be in his office. He put some dashing little spectacles on, and began looking through papers and maps and such.

"Am I not here?" I asked.

"You're very much here," he looked up at me from out of his glasses and smirked.

"That won't change?" I asked, as if confirming the situation.

He continued smirking as he began to throw all of his papers violently on the floor, wiping them from his dark wooden desk with his fist. Ravaging, he kicked the entire furniture piece an it flew quite a ways.

Would he do that to me?

As I said: I personally haven't made him angry. He still wasn't angry as he demolished the room. He looked so happy, as if it were the most enjoyable thing in the world to blow up hundreds of years of work and study.

Then he turned to me.

"Visel." I shook so hard I felt frozen.

He began walking toward me with speed, his hair a little mussed but still looking great, veins bulging on his neck right below his constant smirk. He tore off his spectacles and dashed them to wall; I listened as they shattered. I closed my eyes. My bones were too weak at the moment to witness a horror.

But the real horror was when he tackled me with his hands– he grabbed my head with force and was yanking my hair. I kicked and scratched back but I was too lousy a fighter and lacked too much courage (not to mention wits) to do any damage.

I screamed; it hurt. But he wasn't angry. He was laughing.

When he stopped, I stood against the wall with my eyes shut tight, breathing hard. My dress was torn– he was a monster. I was bruised like a month old fruit. When I opened my eyes, he looked as if he had just finished painting a masterpiece. I screeched out in horror and fear.

"You can't leave." He began laughing again. He was tickled, tickled pink, and I felt green. "You came to visit me; don't leave me before you've done what you came to do." His smirk was now a full blown smile. "You can't leave."

If I couldn't leave, I could sure as hell run for my life. At the moment it was all I could think to do to preserve my life. So I did.

The tour made me more familiar with the halls; I tore through them about as crazily as he did as he followed me. Hot tears swung off my face and I gnashed my teeth. I had boasted of bravery; was this my payment? I can't still comprehend his actions, or his reasons, or even mine. All I knew was that I was so scared that my throat closed and my eyeballs began sucking back into my head. My ankles felt as brittle as glass, and they'd break if I continued running; but if I didn't, I would crack. I would end up as loony as him and probably join in the madness.

I stepped on my skirt and took a forty-foot tumble down a staircase of stone into the dirt. It tasted horribly bad in my mouth but I swallowed it and wondered if I'd later puke it. I flung my head up and my lose hair slung behind me– I could hear him running. He'd find me soon and pull the rest of my hair out. And he probably would have, except the stables were right there in front of me.

This night must have been based around facing fears. I ran into those stables and grabbed a horse without even realizing what the beast was– and I squeezed his legs tighter than I imagined possible. He ran with all his strength and mine combined.

Blazing through the dark grass and moonlight with a throbbing heart and head, I could hear him laughing. It was a hideous noise.

When I got to the boardinghouse and ditched the horse as quickly as possible, I realized my head was bleeding, and I could feel a trickling down my back. I stumbled out of the stables, just a little woozy. Actually, the more I walked the dizzier I got.

"I'm horribly, terribly terrified and I hate him!" I whispered hoarsely as loudly as I could. I'm not even sure what I meant for it to mean, but I meant it.

I heard footsteps behind me as the darkness hit me in the head and I got even dizzier. I choked out a sob and fell backwards; strong arms caught me before I hit the ground.

"I told you," he breathed apprehensively.

Only he was he like he usually is. Now he is Ryse.

"Who is he?" I cried croakily.

He sighed now and wouldn't tell me. But I don't think he was ignoring me; I think he was protecting me. I wasn't even sure if wanted to know; it just seemed like the thing to ask, so I had asked it.

"Am I going to die?" I remember whispering. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was smiling. I was kind of glad I couldn't see another smile. I didn't want to see another one until I was sick of frowns.

And that was the last thing I remember saying.

You know– when I think of it, and of what Frederam said about writing my life more story-like, the more I realized how good I am at doing it. I didn't even hint that my trip to Visel's castle was a horrid pit of muckiness when I began this entry.

How I could write it all so calmly, I'll never know. I needed to get it down on paper so I could stop thinking about it. Visel is a man that acts as if he is toppling off a snowy peak. And I hate cold weather.

Ryse still hasn't told me who he really is. But Lia told me something.

In the morning when I awoke, I quickly washed the crusty blood from my hair and from under my nails. I was shaking almost as hard as I had the night before, and was sure I had been doing it all night. I had a horrible nightmare.

I went downstairs, and surprisingly Lia didn't scold me for being four hours late to report. Breakfast was over and she was gliding across the tables with her hands behind he back, looking all happy and contented. I grimaced and held my stomach.

"You have a wonderful knew friend, Lottey. You've done so much for me that I will never be able to thank you," she sighed blissfully, looking as lost as she did when she first met Visel.

I collapsed on a rickety bench still coated with this morning's special. "You can thank me, but it's the last of his charity you're going to get." I was fearful for my life now; there was no way I would ever stand in his presence with somebody in front of me.

"Oh, what do you mean?" Lia asked, still cheerful.

"He's an evil bat. I'm never seeing him again." I stated shakily, but as firmly as I could utter.

"Hmmm." She looked at me from the corner of her eye, hand clasped behind her back, leaping to the next table. "I think you will."

"Why?" My eyes shot up and I clutched my chest. I would not, if I had anything to say in the matter.

"Did you see what he brought us? And it was because of you. He likes you. And you're just going to drop him like that, and let us down?" She jumped down and came closer to me. "Would you do that?"

Of course I would. Which was important: better tasting food, or my life? "I am not going back," I affirmed.

She got a haughty look and put her hands on her hips. "Really."

I got a blow to the back of the head. I fell off the bench and hit the ground hard. I could feel my wounds reopened, and the blood that trickled down past my ears. My ability to breathe nearly stopped, and I looked up and saw Cook over me. Oh, what a big, big, woman– I didn't want her against me. She would be just as deadly as Visel– maybe? I was scared and trembled through. I could feel the cold sweat on my skin as I struggled to stay conscious to what was going on around me. It was unfathomably wicked.

"You will go tomorrow night. He sent a messenger who told me when you are to be ready. And you will go." Lia was now looking down on me. She looked strangely happy. She gave a slight snigger. "Nothing good has ever happened to me before. I must take advantage."

"I won't go," I whispered.

"Oh, you will," I heard Cook's rough voice. "What good are you when you stop bringing in goodies? I'll kill you." She sounded awfully matter of fact.

But I didn't understand: I hadn't brought in anything special before. Why was it so important now? I had forgotten how to think at the moment.

"You may rest, Lottey, so you look a little less black and blue when the time comes to visit your sweetheart." She cackled loudly, and then I was carried to my room.

So I set to writing this. Oh, why can't I consult paper for advice? I'm so frightened I don't even remember how to be afraid. I am sure I will perish within the next ten days.

And another thing I don't understand is why Visel would still want me, after I literally ran from him, and he was so violent towards me. I don't know what he wanted, why he attacked me in the wolf-like manner that he did. It confuses me to the point that is turns my stomach sour.

I will sit in my room and sob with self-pity until I die. Perhaps I'll go down in history bravely?

Chapter Six

I washed the pots in lukewarm water without soap. My hands didn't ache; I was numb. But I wanted to work. I wanted to do this. Being alone in the kitchen right now was far better than anywhere else I could be, besides a trillion miles away.

My heart skipped around in a circle when someone entered the kitchen through the creaky, swinging door.

"It's been a while since you've had to do that, isn't it?" Ryse asked.

In a way I was glad it was him. "I guess I miss it," I said cynically.

I never knew his reasons for edging himself into what I'm doing nearly ever night. But he did, and at the moment he let himself up on the counter and watched me work.

"Want some help?"

I shook my head.

"Lottey," he sounded distraught. He let out a breath when I didn't answer, and he continued. "Lia said you're going back tomorrow night."

"Yes." I answered quietly. It was too painful to hear my own response.

"Then tomorrow night you could be dead," now he sounded firm and vociferous. And maybe concerned.

"And what could be different here." I couldn't even bear to make it a question. My voice quivered and was so quiet; if I were louder, I'd burst out into tears.

"What do you mean?" Now he sounded concerned.

I bit my lip and choked a little inside. I spoke as if someone had their hands around my throat. "Lia and Cook threatened me a little, and, well, I have to go."

"A little?" He knew now what was afoot. I could tell by the look on his sunned face. He had darkened quite a bit since we'd left Jyne's mansion; he used to be close to the same color as I. So did that mean that I had darkened? Was I not snowy and velvety skinned anymore? I wouldn't know.

"Who's more dangerous?" He asked, confronting my fears.

Oh, the hope I felt in his face. I want to start bawling and fall into his arms. Then I'd cry myself sleep and never wake up.

"What have I to live for?" I tried to screech. "I don't have any money, or title, or any family. I have no family, Ryse. What does anyone care if I'm not here anymore? So, Lia will have to hire help again. It's not that hard." Tears stuck to my eyelashes and made it hard to see.

"Lotts," he hadn't called me that but once before. It was kind of nice to hear it. "You can't just give up because you have no reason to keep trying."

"It's pointless," I sobbed. I could make out his eyebrows weaving around in intense thought. I wished I could think that hard. I couldn't think at all.

"Why?" He surprised me by whispering hoarsely. Then he cleared his throat and looked me in the eye, no longer sitting on the counter. "Can I tell you something, Lottey? What I want to say may change things, if you let them, and... it might not. I didn't want to tell you before, I was afraid..." His eyes looked extremely green, greener than the ocean. I wanted to jump in them and drown myself.

"Tell me." Badly I wanted to hear what he had to say. I thought I knew what it was. And as I gazed at him, I wanted to hug him and sob on his shoulder as he told me. "Tell me," I repeated.

He wet his lips and looked a tad anxious. "Lottey, I, I..."

"Yes?" I said breathlessly.

His eyes got huge and he said it before he lost his nerve. "I'm your brother."

I tried to move but I slipped on the damp floor and dipped myself into the water basin I was washing in. I heard whispers all inside my head. This was not was I expecting to hear. I was so shocked that everything I saw was bright and blinding. "What?"

No. No he wasn't. I thought I... no wonder he acted so strangely when I had tried to kiss him. My face got hot and my stomach flipped. How did I know this was true? How did he know? I almost swallowed my tongue... I was dizzy and this smack was hard to take on top of my dying soon stress. Ryse helped me from falling. It felt funny when he touched me.

I tried to add it up: neither of us had a last name. We both had the same hair and eyes, down to perfection. And I had thought earlier about the sameness in our skin– but a lot of people had to look like this. It was the look of a normal good-looking servant.

"Uh?" I was choked.

He looked choked too. Confused as I. He had his hands on my shoulders to keep me from toppling over, and I saw a word flash across his face.

Big brother.

He had been following me to protect me. And when I had been so stubborn and annoying and ungrateful, he had been disappointed about how his long-lost sister turned out be, and he ignored me. Oh, I was sick. "How do you know?" I wiped my eyes.

"Everyone told me. Before you came, Lady Jyssel took me aside and explained to me who you were and why they were taking you in. I tried to get to know you, and stuff, but you didn't really want to have anything to do with me."

A guilty feeling shot through my ribs. I hadn't wanted to do anything with him. "Then why didn't you just tell me then?" I asked despairingly.

He kind of smiled, a little sudden smile. "You wouldn't have believed me."

"So why do I now?" I didn't even know the answer to that. But he was right, I wouldn't have believed him. I would have laughed in his face and pushed him out of my way. "You're... you're a pretty good brother," I whispered, even my whisper-voice cracking.

But he was. He had made sure I was completely taken care of.

I won't bring myself to write what I thought he was going to say. I still can't believe what he really did say.

If I were in his place I wouldn't not have ever been so patient with someone like me.

"And that's why you can't die. Not yet." His eyes sparkled passionately.

I fell into his arms and gave the first hug I had ever given to a real person from my real family.

But it all didn't feel real– but, when I looked in his face, I sort of saw some of me there. We didn't act anything alike, but we hadn't been raised anything alike, either. Would I be as great as him if I'd been brought up a servant? I don't know if I have it in me.

When the shock was finally a little less, and I could stand straight without plunging head first into my washing water, I asked him, "If I can't die right now, what am I going to do?"

I think he laughed. My vision still spun a bit.

"We can do just about anything we want right now, Lia's drunk as the rest of them." He scratched his back in thought. "I don't know how she gets up every morning like she does."

"Yeah, but Cook isn't. Cook doesn't get intoxicated. She doesn't even drink." Cook always sat in the corner and made sure no one was fast with Lia.

"Ay. But we have to get away."

I knew that much.

Wait. I did?

"What do you mean? How are we going to get away? Where are we going to go?" I got frantic rather suddenly. And out then I shouted, "You're my brother!"

"Yes, I know." He was still tolerant with me and my unintelligent ness.

But I had to shout it. It just hit me. Ow, and it was weird! "I have a brother and– how old are you?"

"Eighteen. But Lottey, focus."

"I don't see it." I felt blank. He was two and half years older than me.

"What?"

"What I'm supposed to focus on. Tell me." I felt like a mouse being pulled from the trap. But oh, it was just because the cheese looked so good.

"Think of your arms being severed from your body." He grinned when my hand flew up and clutched my neck.

"And that's supposed to help me focus?" I breathed.

"Just think about that happening if you don't focus."

I should have seen it before. He really acts like and older brother. I had thought it was flirting before, but now I saw it was brotherly teasing. And it bothered me as it would a little sister. I wanted to stick my tongue out at him.

"Okay, you make sure Cook doesn't see me through the window and I'll run out the back and–"

"Lottey, there are no windows."

"Right." He was going to have to be the one that came up with the plan. I was too boggled with shock and craziness and subtle fear at the moment to think of anything he wouldn't laugh at.

"Do you remember Ivanm, from the passage over?" He asked me.

Do I. "Mm." Of course I did. My memory wasn't that bad.

"He's here in the boardinghouse."

I wrinkled my nose. "How come I haven't seen him?" I asked.

"Would you have wanted to?" He smirked. "He doesn't have the money to be an actual boarder."

Ah. That sounded like him. "So is he hiding under your bed?"

"That would be difficult, Lotts."

Oh yes; the beds didn't have frames. They laid flat on the ground. "I would have put him under my bed." And smash him to bits.

"Well, I can't leave him here. He'll have to come with us," he confirmed.

I made a choking noise. "We'll be caught before we get off this street. He'll sneeze really loud, or say, 'hey look a butterfly' or something."

"And if he does, we'll run on and leave him in the middle of the street with his butterfly. But right now I need you to go get him. He's in my room; just tell him who it is and he'll come out without question. I need to get some stuff together. Meet me out in front of the boardinghouse."

"You're my brother, you can't tell me what to do," I said, as left the kitchen to do as he said.

It was so loud when I walked through the main room that I thought my head would explode. And it stunk. I heard Lia screaming, "One more! One more!" But she sounded kind of woozy.

I hopped up the stairs without even cook noticing me. I just hoped silently that it would be that easy to get out, and Ivy with me. That would muddle things, I knew.

I knew exactly which room was Ryse's. I cleaned the rooms once a week, and I knew what dirty clothes belonged to him. Plus I had clothed his bed the day he had come. It was the last room to the right. I walked through the wooden door that had a dozen little peek holes that had most definitely been made accidentally. And there was no telling how.

I shut the door behind me tightly. "Ivanm?" I looked around the room, but I didn't see him stir. "Ivy, it's me, Lottey. I've been threatened to be killed be two people and Ryse is my brother and now we have to run away or I'll die, and you have to come with us."

He still didn't reveal himself.

Impatiently, I began walking around the room, uncovered every little thing he could possibly be hidden under. Was he really clever enough to hide so well? "Ivy!" I demanded, planting foot firmly into the bouncy wooden floorboards.

Then I heard... a snore.

I threw my hands up manically and tore through the blankets on Ryse's bed wildly. And I found him. He was curled up in a ball, sleeping soundly.

That irked me. I slapped him in the face to wake him up.

He opened his eyes and looked around, not sure where he was for a moment. But then he saw me, and he grinned. "I knew you liked me."

I wanted to slap him again. "Come on!" I grabbed his arm and jerked him up.

"What for?" He looked awfully confused.

Oh, yes. He was asleep when I explained it to him. "Ryse is my brother."

"Yes?" He already knew that. Wow, I felt left out.

"And three people are out to kill me."

He chuckled happily and deeply. "I didn't know you had it in ya."

I hadn't a clue what he was talking about. "And now we have to run away or I will be dead tomorrow night."

"And this involves me?"

I smiled hugely and pasted. "You must come with us." His turtle-ness was making me nervous and anxious. "Come on!" I urged.

"Alright. But I'm thirsty."

I popped him one on the head. He's my height; it wasn't hard. After that he came with me.

I shushed him as we started down the stairs. I held on to him at the wrist just for safe keeping. I didn't trust him not to do anything stupid with my life on the line. I'm not that naïve.

Everyone was still as loud as a swarm of bees. We tiptoed, and Ivy was slow. I could feel him tensing up. I thought we were going to make it easily, but of course that would never happen.

A stair creaked loudly. It scared me to death and I slipped and fell the rest of the way down, dragging poor Ivy with me.

The swarm stopped buzzing. All eyes were on us.

"Who's that?" Lia screeched, making with gestures, her wrist all floppy.

"Um." I wanted to say, 'Who is who? I don't know what you're talking about'. The only thing I could think of on the spot was, "He's a nonpayer. I'm taking him out back to wallop him good and send him on his way."

Lia and Cook stared at me.

"You?" Lia burst out in a laughter that brought her tears.

"Well," Cook gruffed, "even considering who we're talking about, the boy looks weaker than her."

"Boy?" Ivy exclaimed. He tried to squirm free from my grasp but couldn't.

"See? She's got him under control." Cook thought it was funny, nonetheless.

"Yeah, but you are the one who beats the nonpayer," Lia got up in Cook's face, pointing at her, and then kissed her on the nose.

Everyone cringed.

"You would do that to me, and make me angry? And tomorrow I'll go and tell dear old Visel how evil you are to me." I glared roughly. But it was forged; my insides quivered like an earthquake.

"Oh, pffft," Lia remembered. "Have at him."

And the noise resumed.

"Wow," Ivy said. Only I heard him.

We actually made it outside, and met Ryse in front of the house on the street. He had three satchels, and he handed us each one.

"I'm impressed," Ryse told me.

"I knew you would be," I glowed.

"Shouldn't we have horses?" Ivy cried, as we started to walk out into the night.

"Agh," I cried back, and clapped my hand over his mouth. "Ryse I told you!!!"

Ivy mumbled something.

I let my hand off his mouth and enthused, "Say it quietly."

"Stop hurting me." It was almost a whine.

I wanted to giggle maliciously. But I held back and continued following Ryse at a quickening pace.

"At the end of this road we'll hit a thick patch of wood that is only about a hundred feet long. After that there will be a long, hilly, dark stretch of land that will last us a few days. But after we get through that, nobody should be able to find us," Ryse explained.

But I gulped. "If we get through that." What he had just explained sounded exactly like the land where Visel's castle sat. The shadows loomed in and haunted my thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

I explained.

Ivy got frantic. "Who is your Visel man, anyway? Is he mean?"

I started sobbing lightly and pitifully.

"Stop it, Lottey." Ryse sounded harsh.

I stopped abruptly, surprised at him, and crossed my arms as we moved forward quickly.

"Oo, sibling fight!"

We both glared at Ivy.

Yes. Siblings. I wondered what it was like for him, to have never known any family– and then he met me. He was probably a bit disappointed. Probably had wished for a brother instead, or maybe a mother.

Wait.

If we were siblings then our mother would be the same. Except I had never known my real mother. "Ryse did you know your mother?" I said frantically, abruptly.

He shook his head. I didn't press any further.

When Ryse had said the woods we'd hit were thick– it wasn't exaggerating. They were so thick, the trees so close together, that it was like– I'm not sure. An obstacle course a boy and his chums would make up for one another. We squeezed through, finding big enough slots to fit. It was all such a tight fit that I hardly ever touched the ground.

"I'm so glad this won't last long," I wheezed.

"Well," Ryse wheezed back, "it won't take long as long as we're going the right way. And it's hard to tell when there isn't any light to follow."

I wanted to relax all my muscles and die, or fall asleep, or cry. "I knew I never liked ParKesh." I knew it, I did. I always knew it. I just never knew how deadly it was. "You know, I have people in three places that want to kill me," I whined shrilly.

"Make it four," said an annoyed brother.

And Ivy agreed, making my sore muscles feel tangibly spent.

Number one on my list of fatal enemies was Jyne. Then there was Visel, who was like an appetizing poison. And lastly there was Lia and Cook, who really only counted as one.

I hooked my legs out straight in front of me on a loopy branch. I climbed up a little higher, and lost my grip. I rolled off of trees I had been relying on and hit the ground.

"The ground!" I fell on my face and laughed madly. "And I'm not even dead yet."

Soon the rest arrived.

I looked up, when I dared to, and saw what I would like to call the badlands. I don't think they have a name, so I am presenting the deathly looking place with something to be called. And I have quaint reasoning: it's a land, and it is bad. There is nothing else to call it.

And, to everyone's complete surprise, the entire reason the land was bad was sitting right in front of us.

"Is that–" Ryse said.

"I'm going to die," I cried.

"Can we go back?" Ivy proposed.

I turned to him. "And leave me to die? Don't you care about me?" I snapped.

He looked a little sheepish.

"So how do we get around a castle like that?" Ryse asked himself.

Yes, right there was Visel's castle. I don't know how it got there. This didn't seem to be the same place it was when I was here last, but of course that memory was a little shaved.

"Well, let's go." Ryse sighed and pushed on.

"What?" Ivy and I said. But I knew we had to, even though I dreaded it more than anything. I ran to Ryse and caught his hand. He didn't look at me, but he smiled diminutively.

We stayed kind of close to the castle, because the further we were away, the easier we were to spot. Ryse genius-ly told us exactly where to walk, and it seemed to be the perfect plan.

For ten minutes– oh, the castle is so big. And to think that I had toured the entire place? We brushed our way through the scant grass and dust as quietly as we could. Not even Ivy said a word.

But then– I heard that hideous laugh.

It wasn't as loud as it was the night before, and I wasn't even sure if it was directed towards us. But we all froze, our lungs seeming to collapse.

Ivy made a squeaking sound. I kicked him. Or was that why he squeaked?

We didn't move for what seemed an hour, though it was probably only a minute or two. Time stretched like a stocking being pulled between two people. When all was quiet, and we thought we were safe, we started moving again.

And all of the sudden– he jumped. He jumped from the top of his castle, I saw him. He fell and fell, and he landed at our feet. On his feet.

Needless to say we all froze again. Because: Visel was standing right there in front of us.

Then, uncontrollably, I screamed at the top of my lungs, making my hair stand out on end. I think it was a spasm.

"I thought you knew where the entrance was, Sharlotte," Visel scoured my face with his eyes, almost sourly.

"Are you not happy?" I heard myself say.

He grinned. "Come with me." He turned and started climbing the wall to his castle.

"Why?" I asked. "How?"

"Stop asking questions, Lottey." Ryse looked fiery.

"Lottey?" Visel raised an eyebrow, hanging onto the wall with one hand casually. "Is this an affectionate nickname?"

"Um." What was I going to say to that? I went and put my arm through Ryse's. It made me feel safer when I had no answer.

"They love each other a lot." Ivy said, cowering behind us. He sounded wry.

I could have whacked him for that. Now he made it seem as if Ryse and I were engaged or something.

"If I recall, I invited you only, dear, and I'd send you an escort. You're a bit early." He took out his pocket watch.

How was he hanging on to the wall?

"I?" What would he do to us if he found out we weren't exactly here to see him?

"We aren't here to see you!" Ivy spat, trying to sound brave.

I turned around and smashed his toe. "You're a– a– a big mouthed little person!" I screeched breathlessly.

"Not here to see me?"

Oh, no. Visel sounded amused.

"As you said, milord, it isn't yet time for her to be here. In fact, it's hardly the same day. We were running an errand for the mistress at the boardinghouse," Ryse said, so cleverly. He shook me off of him.

Ivy stepped forward and put his hand around my waist. I quickly smashed his toe again.

As he hopped skipped and bounced around holding his foot, we waited for Visel to say something. But he didn't. I started getting itchy and sweaty, and the more anxious I got (with death on my mind) the more amused Visel got.

And of course, Ryse's expression was blank as stone.

How I hate the word amused!!!

Finally, after I began and ended hyperventilating, Visel said, "Won't you stay for a bite to eat?"

Ivy swallowed so loudly that I could hear him. "Is he going to eat us, Lotts?" He whispered in my ear.

I jabbed him with my elbow. "Only Ryse is allowed to call me that."

He– I think, may be mistaken– he whimpered. "I told you, stop hurting me."

"I'm telling you, stop exasperating me," I whispered back sharply.

"Won't you?" Visel was now waiting on us to respond.

"No," Ivy said.

"Yes," Ryse said. His was always the final word. And it shocked us. I wanted to scream, what do you mean yes??? Couldn't the three of us beat him off? I had gotten away the first time.

"What are you doing," I screamed in a very quiet whisper at Ryse.

"I'm hungry," he said simply. And by looking at his face, I was given absolutely no clue about what he was planning.

Did he want us all to die?!?

"Very well." Even more amusement. Visel jumped off the wall. "I suppose we should go the other way."

"It's more natural," Ivy said, shaking as if he had just had knives thrown all around his head.

So we followed him. Of our own free will. Well, except for Ivy– I'm not sure how exactly we were able to get him to come along. He kept muttering about how he should have stayed at the boardinghouse and have Cook finish him off; she was, after all, completely human.

"And Visel's not?" I asked, but as I considered my question, I wasn't really even sure if I wanted it answered.

The drawbridge let itself down for us magically and we continued following dreadful Visel into his horrid house. Castle.

"Wow," Ivy whistled, suddenly forgetting about his death wish and observing the obscure wealth around him.

Yes, everything was still gold. But also, it was still dark. Gloominess fluttered about like a wailing ghost and I wanted to run and hide.

Visel stopped, and a butler came into the room. "He will take your coats," Visel said, not really looking at us. When he did look at us, he realized we didn't have any coats, so he cleared his throat and said, "Press on."

So we pressed. I suppose it would have been a lot less frightening if I hadn't been in the place the night before, with a bad experience. It was really terrible when we passed through the office.

I gasped.

No one looked at me.

It was odd; everything was completely nice and neat, exactly how it had been before Visel had gone crazy. Every paper was tidily in order; no chairs were turned over. But, to my horror and dismay, there was a blood spot on the far wall where I had been standing when he had mauled my head. I remembered: smashing myself against the wall, completely terrified, after my head was bleeding. I wanted to turn to Ivy and point it out to him and tell him that it's my blood, but then we'd never get him to go a step further. He'd probably spin and run for the hills until his stubby legs gave out.

"Will you be staying past dinner?" Visel asked, breaking the shallow silence.

I dreaded what I'd hear Ryse say.

"That's for the host to decide."

Wow, Visel must be a contagious disease. Ryse seemed happy all of the sudden.

Agh, happy! The word takes me under par. Even my finger nails cringe now. I would be content to live with a world full of angry people, now, if I could run away and never see Visel again.

Now, he was too beautiful to like.

"I'm not hungry," Ivy offered.

I would have hurt him again if he had been closer. But he was walking in front of me, closer to Visel; closer than I dared. He probably didn't even realize where he was standing. I could see his head floating in a fizz of horror three feet above his neck.

When we finally arrived in the dining room, Ivy was the first (who else?) to discover the ceilings. He got a little excited about the echoing, but after he was seated and once more remembered where he was, he once more acted dismembered from the inside out.

The first course came out; it was de javu. The exact food from last night– well, not exact I suppose and pray, but it was the same. I ate mechanically before Visel even put his napkin on his lap. Ivy stared straight in front of him with a knife in one hand and a fork in the other as if he could see right through the far wall.

Ryse looked to be enjoying himself.

Was that possible?!?

"Everything is so good I can't help but eat till my teeny stomach can't handle anymore," I gritted. My eyes were half closed each time I brought the heavy golden fork to my mouth. "Is this poisoned?" I asked, directing to Visel.

"Would you like it to be?" He smirked evilly. Was it evil? Or was his dashing smirk or grin or smile always meant to be evil, but I was always in such a trance I didn't realize it?

I wanted to try something. "Visel, you're ugly."

His eyes dared up from his plate. "What did I do to you?" An ironical question.

"No, I don't mean your actions." I reconsidered. "Um– not that I love the way you dealt with my head last night, that was exactly what I mean."

"What exactly do you mean." He didn't even bother to make it a question; his voice was edgy and his nostrils flaring.

I gasped, nearly ecstatic. "Are you not happy?" I asked for the second time tonight.

"Can you not see the joy and glee rippling over the side of my blissful heart?" Something about him was changing rapidly. It got me excited and nervous and terrified for my life all in one minute second.

"Do you really want her to answer that?" Ivy butt in with food hang over his teeth and onto his chin.

I would've like to butt something into him. Did he not know how to keep his drippy mouth closed?

"No, but I can see the soup rippling over the side of your bowl." The chicken flavored liquid in his gilded porcelain bowl was bubbling– almost as if it were boiling, but faster and it was pouring out in streams as if it had no end. I looked up at Visel's face. He was staring straight at me. There was something about his hotness– the red swarming in his eyes and the way his fingers tightened and closed over his fork. I jumped up from my chair and ran.

There was an archway that led to the veranda where he had taken me last night, and I ran for that. I don't how my legs moved so fast. I prepared myself to see smoke rising from my heels.

I screeched, tripped on myself and tumbled out the archway, dodging the fork he had thrown at me. He had that much muscle? Of course he did. He nearly ripped my head of previously. I heard the fork hit wall and expected it to come out the other side.

Why did I run? It had been a good thing. I lay on the marble ground the sky above that looked no higher than the dining hall ceilings. I could taste blood in my mouth and felt it dripping onto the pureness of the stone floor. I knew I needed to get up. And go where? I was trapped. And what of Ryse and Ivy? I pried my eyes opened and saw them sitting at the table, a bit of shock on their faces, and no Visel in sight.

Ryse stared at me. I wanted to reach out for him. He was always the one to rescue me from anything.

A yank from the head, and I belted out a scream with a voice I forgot I had. I was swung in a blur that was so painful I wanted to laugh madly. I reached out with my arms, clawing eccentrically and biting my tongue. I felt as if I were a mass of the smelliest dung possible that was being flung over a fence. When I finally stopped spinning I burst into tears. I couldn't open my eyes. I could feel his hand– Visel's hand, entangled in my hair, and heard his hideous laugh. When I pried my eyes open for the second time in the last minute, I was dangling a million feet in the air. The ground seemed like a land across the sea that would take months to reach. I stopped wriggling, and tried to turn my eyes to see Visel the horrible. I caught him in the corner of my eye.

He was still laughing away.

Didn't continuous laughter make him ill in his stomach area? Madly, I mimicked him with all the strength I had, exaggerating his idiocy. It shot a surge of grievable pain up every strand of hair. I screamed at him, my muscles tensing like a fish in a net.

"No need to get excited," he smiled, stopping his mockingly gruesome laughing.

"What is it with you and being happy?" Every word I said was a scream. There wasn't enough calmness to be speak calmly. It would be even more of a waste than him dropping me over the side of this horrid veranda.

I could feel blood dripping from scalp down to my shoulders, traveling over my eyes and mouth and the back of my neck to get there.

"Ryse!!!" I screeched, although it sounded more pitiful than I would've liked.

"What is it with you and making me unhappy?" Visel resumed his horrible smirk once more.

"Well I'm unhappy but I don't grab you by your hair and swing you over the side of a castle!!!"

"And why is that?" Oh no, amused. He was amused now. "Because," he explained to me, answering his own question, "you can't."

I twisted a little to see if I could spy Ryse. My eyes fluttered backwards when I didn't.

"Am I no threat to your existence?" My voice was leaving me. I couldn't scream.

"My existence? I'm the threat to existence."

Oh, his horrid, awful, beautiful face was looking at me so intensely and I wanted to kick it in the mouth. I wanted to smash it inward so he'd never be so beautiful again. I wanted to kick it– I swung my legs backward, gaining moment in a rapid second, completely forgetting that he could drop me at any second. With all the force I could wield at the moment: force built up my walloping and beating servants from anger and impatience, from years of impertinence and always getting my own way, I kicked him in the face and knocked him back ten feet. In the slowness of a haze I saw him fly back, his nose very warped– just like Jyne's, and a big slash across his cheek. Just from my boot? But the downfall from this triumph was... I was the downfall. I was falling down.

Nothing saved me. I fell. But of course, I didn't die. How else could everything be written down? A bit of luck struck me when I struck a tree and it broke my fall. I was caught by Ivy, except it was more like I landed on Ivy.

Both of us have a sprained wrist.

Ryse yanked me up by my paining wrist, for he didn't know it at the time, even after I yelped at him like a protective gander. We ran, and as we did that, I realized I was leaving a trail behind me.

A trail of hair.

Aren't I getting good at this 'telling my life as if it were a story thing'? I suppose something good did come from having a not-brother.

Chapter Seven

How intelligent we all are. Yes, we're having a blast, skipping through fields under the cloudy blue skies and cheerful little birds that make noises that don't sound like bats.

Well, while we sleep.

No, actually, our scenery goes a bit the opposite of the direction I was going with that. Simply reverse everything I previously said and that is what we're tromping through. Every once in a while we'll come across some mud that sinks when you step on it; I found that out first. We always eventually get across. But we're messy!

"Isn't these anyway to get around it?" Ivy asked.

"Okay: Lottey, you take a foot, I take a foot, and we can try and throw him across," said Ryse. Ivy's eyes got big with a glare. "But, of course, Ivy, if it doesn't work we won't be able to save you."

Nothing else was said about getting around the mud.

We trudged. For hours. The air was dismal and hot and the sun was merciless.

"My," Ryse looked at me. "I think you're getting freckles."

Oh, the agony. I was getting freckles and my hair was falling out. With every step I continuously prayed that I wouldn't go bald. If I did, I'd let myself sink in the mud purposely.

"Um," Ivy said, sounding a lot like myself.

I looked up and saw what he had 'ummed' about. We all stopped to glare at our roadblock.

In front of us was a trillion boulders, all higher than our heads. They didn't look like normal enormous rocks, they weren't all lumpy and deformed. They were perfectly round, as if each of them used to be an eyeball, but they grew a lot and turned to stone.

Ryse took my hand and dragged me to the lowest and nearest boulder. He took me by the waist and swung me on top of it, and I screeched alarmed-ly. But he didn't let me fall.

"How far do they go?" He asked.

My stomach rotated slowly. "Shall I answer that?"

"They never stop, do they?" Ivy bleated.

No. They never did. It was a completely straight shot until the sun blocked it out, for the sun was setting unhurriedly. It was as if we had been shrunk and set in a gravel pathway.

"I suppose we'll have to rest before continuing here, right Ryse?" I looked to him for confirmation.

He shrugged and began helping me down. Ivy tried to help, but I said, "If you don't let go of my hand I'll probably fall on you again."

I saw his hand flinch. Needlessly said he didn't bother helping me. We both kept our sprained wrists in our slings made from part of my skirt.

"We'll sleep right here by the start of the boulders. Then we can get started across them first thing in the morning," Ryse decided.

"Very nice." Ivy plopped the ground immediately and curled into a ball.

I waited for him to start snoring.

"Wish I could get so comfortable on this ground," said Ryse. The ground was so dry and dehydrated that it was cracking in places. It made me thirsty every time I looked at it.

I sat down and scratched my head. It was a sad mistake when my hand came back with numerous fallen hairs. I leaned my head back against a boulder, trying hard not to fathom how horrendously odd my life was at the moment.

But something had to remind me.

I heard a slithering noise and opened my eyes to see Ryse enclosed by really long grass. I watched with an open mouth as grass sprouted from the very dry ground and enclosed him as if the grass had a million mouths and they were all hungry.

"Ryse?"

He made a muffled noise. Well, he was still alive.

Was I even awake?

"Aggha!" I jumped up with such a screech. The weird grass was grabbing at my hind quarters.

It all seemed so strange, and I barely realized that Ryse was smothering to death.

"Lottey! It's got your ankle!" Ivy lunged at my foot. Using even his sprained wrist, he tore it out of the ground. The place where the grass had been left a red stinging mark.

Oh, Ryse.

I woke myself up by violently pinching my arm. I shrieked and lunged at the grass filament around my dear brother's neck. "Die, you wicked plant!" I wrenched at it while Ivy was at the roots of the grass, jerking them from the ground they bred from.

"Aiyahh!!! What is this Ivy?" I cried.

Ryse was finally able to move his arms and started tearing through. With his help we were freeing him much faster, even though I shuddered a mile every time he cried out in painful anguish.

Before we had freed him of every strand of grass, he wrenched himself free and grabbed me arm, slung me over the rocks and did the same to Ivy before following.

When Ryse leaped over the first boulders he landed on me, and I lost wind for a second. But when I recovered and looked at his face, I began to cry.

He was a bloody, scratched up, boily mess, and I felt so horribly low that I only had a few marks from the crazily malicious weeds that so strangely and suddenly popped up from the very dry and unfertile ground. But despite the way he looked and I know he was in terrible pain, he bravely jumped up and took my hand.

We sped on our way, grass weeds trying to catch our fast going heels through the boulders.

We ran, and ran, and it wasn't long before we all realized that we weren't getting anywhere. At all.

"Ryse!" I cried, and then tripped, sending myself sprawling through the air. I thought I was going to die when I hit the rocks with my face, but surprisingly Ivy caught me. I meant to say thank you, but all at once the boulders started bouncing up and down, jostling us all around, and keeping us from running very quickly at all. But we struggled, hard as we possibly could, tears streaming steamily down my face.

Then everything stood still... and vanished.

We all landed in a soft green meadow.

Does this not all sound very extremely strange? But everything has an explanation.

And Visel is ours.

"You've all made it," he said.

Dizzily, all of us looked up to find the demon man Visel hovering above us and smiling. I thought Ryse was going to attack at any second, but he just stayed propped up on his elbows. I whimpered.

"Oh, come Lottey, love, don't fear me," Visel offered me his hand. I shuddered at first and second glance.

"I don't really want to touch you," I said, very quietly.

He drew back his hand protectively and hid it under his sleeve. "I feel rejected." And he frowned.

But I frowned even bigger.

"Do I have to make you take my hand?" Visel asked me. I feared that he'd get angry if I repeated what I had previously stated, and go all out and kill me, so I just didn't say anything.

Instead, Ryse stood up, wearily but readily, as if guarding me from the danger. "Fear my power, Visel." I could feel Ryse smirking. "Don't touch her."

"Oh," said Visel, "I was beginning to wonder if I'd be able to keep my legs from quaking. Looks like I was wrong." He made a beautiful pout.

Ivy inched over to me. "We're all going to die," he whispered.

"No," I muttered back under my breath, "my brother will save us."

The wind blew so slowly it couldn't be felt, and suddenly Visel's eye was upon me.

"You're brother?" He raised an eyebrow.

I gasped and bit my tongue and swallowed air all at the same time. "Him." I pointed to Ryse and stood up. I heard Ivy scramble to stand up behind me.

Visel started laughing. So amused. "You're smarter than I thought. Playing naïve is very thoughtful of you," he smiled and bowed gallantly for me.

"Naïve?" I asked quietly. I watched Ryse's shoulders, moving up and down in breath. But as soon as I spoke, he stopped moving all together.

"You really believe he's your brother?" Visel asked, so amusedly that he almost seemed bemused.

My blood began to rush to my head and boil. Visel hardly even looked so gorgeous anymore; trying to trick me out of the greatest joy in my life. My own brother. As if he'd know, anyway? "Of course, you slimy hair piece. I know he's my brother and I love him." I took a step forward, beside Ryse, and took his hand. He was stiff and his eyes were on the ground. I knew he was in horrid pain from the grass.

"Ah, do you love him? And would you still love him if he were not your brother?" Visel looked so extremely happy that I spit at his face. Unfortunately, I am a girl, and thus spit like one. My saliva landed at his feet. This only extended his joy.

Then I realized what the horrid beast had just said. He asked if I would still love Ryse if he were not my brother. That was certainly an impertinent question. And it wasn't any of his business!

Getting slightly frantic, I looked at Ryse for guidance. But he was still fixed on the ground. "That's awkward," I answered.

"Of course it is. And you won't answer." Oh, Visel couldn't look any happier. "Well, he's not."

"Not what?" My eyes started lolling.

"Not your brother, my dear. He's not your brother."

"Oh," Ivy sounded huffy. "Shove off, you bully man."

I was so dizzy my stomach started turning. "And just how would you know this, Visel?" I tried to narrow my eyes at him, but I knew I looked as if I were squinting.

He looked very satisfied. "Ask him."

My buggy eyes glazed over as I looked at... my brother. I knew he was my brother. I could tell it. We even looked alike, our hair and eyes. He was hurt at the moment, strained and bleeding from saving me so many times. So he was looking down, although I tried to meet his eyes. I opened my mouth to order him to reassure this overgrown, hairy locust with his baring teeth that was trying to press a lie on me that he was wrong. But just as I did that, we were no longer in the meadow.

I landed on a dusty bed in the middle of a stone and cold room. I coughed heavily, dramatically, and jumped off of the bed as if it were trying to eat me, though it wasn't. For a moment, when my feet hit the grounded, I stood awfully dumbstruck. I didn't know where I was.

I screamed out at the top of my lungs, "You were the one who wanted to come to ParKesh!!!"

I looked about me, and as each second crept by deafeningly I began to realize just where I was.

Suddenly Ivy came crashing through the door, even though it never opened. He came tumbling right through it. When he recovered after a moment or two, he looked at me. His mouth was opened like a fish and his eyes were twice their normal size. "Good afternoon, duchess," he said quietly.

I stared at him, but I was looking through him, at the wall. The walls of Visel's castle.

"Do you know where we are?" I asked Ivy breathlessly. I was afraid to breathe. I was afraid it would kill me.

"No."

A sob lodged itself in my throat. "We're in Visel the Horrid's castle and I'm so scared and frustrated that I could just pull all of my hair out..." my voice wouldn't stop cracking.

"That wouldn't take long." Ivy looked as if he were blind. His eyes met nothing. Was he afraid as I?

But, of course, he was correct in his statement. My hair floated in the air along with the dust, and I felt very anomalous, which means abnormal and strange. I didn't even dare to touch my scalp, because that's what I would feel; skin, not hair. That alone made me mad enough to put my hands around Visel's neck and wrench his pathetic head off. But on the other hand, he was also aggressive and would probably win. Then I would be missing things that wouldn't eventually grow back.

I lunged at Ivy. His blank stare was making fungus grow out of my ears. "Wake up, Ivanm!!!" He looked at me, and I looked back. "Where is Ryse? Is he even alive? Are we even alive?!?" He was starting to frighten me. "What is the matter?" I tried to speak slowly and carefully.

"Ryse said." He continued being blank.

"He said what?" Ivy was past frightening me; now he was scaring me.

He shifted where he sat. "I don't know."

The room was spinning at immaculate accuracy and speed. I grasped Ivy's hand and asked him my question again. I suppose I regarded my question after a long second of hard thinking.

"All Visel wants is to stay happy. When he's made angry, he does all he can to wreak havoc or revenge or whatever on the person who angers him. Make sense?" For once he sounded more intelligent than me.

I nodded slowly, the words adding up bit by bit.

"Do you know why?" Ivy was anxious. He didn't wait for me to respond. "Because it destroys him."

Then suddenly, on perfect timing, Visel swung the door open, squeaking the hinges. He stopped Ivy from saying the rest of what he was saying, if in fact there was any more. I gasped in terrible horror when I saw that Visel had Ryse– by the hair.

Ryse has truly beautiful hair, and I blanched as I watched his scalp being stretched so mercilessly.

"Ohuh," I breathed, though I hardly know what it means. "Ryse." That was a terrified whisper. Terrified for me, and for him also. And maybe even a little bit for Ivy.

Visel laughed loudly for a moment, then shoved Ryse at me, throwing him a little ways by the hair. I watched him come at me, and suddenly and abruptly his... lips were on mine.

I heard Ivy saying the word duchess, but it was lost in my head as my brother kissed me. On the mouth.

Duchess. The word repeated itself inside me. Then... a flash back: duchess. Play along.

Go with it.

We were going to try to destroy Visel.

I kept my eyes closed, squealed as Ryse's hand went around my waist. He pulled back and looked at Visel, still holding me tightly.

"She still loves me," he said mockingly.

What– I did? I wanted to grunt but my breath had been stolen in the kiss that didn't at all seem as awkward as it should seem.

"You haven't even asked her." Visel still looked amused, but with a leap of hope I assumed what I saw through his eyes was a glint of failing confidence. Was jealousy our only hope?

"He doesn't have to ask me." I acted valiant, and it felt very nice.

"Size him up to me, dear. I'm afraid your near death experience has rattled you somewhat." He glared with what seemed an amused smirk.

Our goal was to eliminate amusement.

"Maybe that was what made me realize what an ugly monster you are." I wasn't being very original with my name calling; one would think after all my experience I could think of something better. As my knees quaked and I turned to jelly in Ryse's grasp, I tried desperately to think of something inventive and forceful.

Visel made a tisk-tisk noise. "My dear girl, try harder not to insult your prince."

I concealed a nervous gulp. "Prince of what, ugliness?" My creativity was at its minimal.

"What she means, you foaming she-wolf, is that she doesn't like you!" Ivy's wasn't much better.

"Stay away from our words," Visel spat back at him. "Or you'll find the meaning of them."

I jumped. Ryse started laughing. He laughed, and put his hand to his stomach, and laughed harder. It only alarmed me, but it seemed to be grating on Visel.

"What do you find for your personal amusement, may I inquire?" Visel raised an eyebrow. I love it when he does that.

"Your own." He stopped laughing, and simply smiling.

"Why are you so happy?" He spattered. My heart began pounding rather rapidly.

"Because you're not." Ryse loosened his grip on me. I felt as if I were a cooked noodle, and if he let go of me, I'd flop to the floor.

With Ryse's amusement, Visel found absolutely none. He bit at the air with his massive jawbone and sprung his boxy fingers forward.

For a moment, I didn't realize what happened. When I did, it took all of me to not fall as I had earlier predicted. Visel had zapped Ryse across the room, and he lay on a heap of smashed and dusty bed remains. I breathed so hard for a moment that I thought I had used the last bit of air left in the room.

"What, did you think I would melt?!" Visel screamed. His voice was so loud it shook each and every stone in the castle's structure.

I saw Ivy's skin turn a light green. Like a chameleon, mine did too. Visel huffed like a bull, and started strutting through us to Ryse. Hurriedly I jumped in his way with a scream.

"You admit that this is the way to rid ourselves of you!"

He stopped, startled I do believe, and drew his gaze to me. "There is no way to 'rid' yourselves of me. That would be a worldwide tragedy." He pushed me down with great force, and I took Ivy down with me.

I watched with silent terror helplessly as he seized Ryse by the collar and took him many feet in the air. What hair I had left stood on end as I watched Visel open his mouth as roundly as a perfect cabbage, and I assumed he was going to eat him.

So I jumped up with unexpected tears and screamed at the top of my lungs, trying to match Visel's volume, "You probably ate your own mother!!" My hands were balled into fists so tightly that it nearly took the feeling from them. Visel's eyes dropped to me, and all focus seemed to fall on my words. "And your father! Your whole family, and every single forsaken visitor you've brought to your shambled castle!!!" I surprised myself so much that I fell backwards, but Ivy supported me. I watched as Visel approached me– me– with a fire big enough to roast a pheasant in his eyes. I swallowed deeply. "You eat me and that's it. You'll never stop. And no one will ever love you, ever."

He stopped. My heart skipped a beat when he stopped.

"You don't think anyone has ever loved me?" He asked hoarsely. His eyes looked wet.

I saw Ryse behind him, a heap on the floor, shaking his head.

No? What did he mean, no?

"Love is the strongest power in the universe, is it not? You don't think I want that?" He was talking, seeming sad now, pointing to himself accusingly.

Ryse shook his head harder. No? No, he had never been loved?

"What are you accusing me of?" Visel whispered, nearly a sob.

Then I got it.

No: don't feel sorry for him.

I gained my balanced and stepped close to Visel. Close enough to smell his dastardly handsome scent. "No, I don't," I said, and I slapped him in the face.

He turned black. His eyes were orange. I thought I was going to take me in his powerful claws and mangle my body. I shuddered, unable to breath. He seemed to be radiating heat now. I glanced around, looking for somewhere to run, but everything was dark. My feet were glued to the floor. Then... he cried.

Visel began bawling, a cry with the same power and effect as his hideous laugh. He seemed to shake the entire earth, but I didn't fall. Then Visel's body– it burst into flames. I shrieked, feeling as if I too was being burnt to a crisp. I watched, petrified, as he crumbled into ashes.

Then I fell to the ground, a dry, dusty ground, as if the castle had just evaporated beneath my feet. I fell on the ground, and on Ryse.

The sky spun, but I tried to hold my head still. Ivy peeked over me, and I jolted.

"Duchess," he said. "You saved the world."

I sat up very quickly and looked around. "Where is Visel and the castle?" I was franticly frightened. I knew that at any minute he could jump on me, grab me by my scalp and burn me for dinner.

But I didn't see him.

"For once, I'm the first to figure it out. You–" Ivy opened his mouth triumphantly to explain, but Ryse but him off.

"You finished him off, Lotts." Ryse was conscious.

For a slight moment I was a little afraid he was dead.

"He's..." my mind fluttered. It couldn't be. I was too terrified to have done anything great.

"Yes ma'am, he's gone." He smiled. He had the strength for a smile.

"And you're..." I pointed at him. He looked half dead; the same as I felt.

"No, I'm not your brother."

For a moment I thought I had blacked out. That wasn't at all what I had meant. But he was, he wasn't... oh my, the shock and disbelief that hit me like a dozen bricks to my nearly bald head... "What do you mean?" I shrieked. "You actually–"

"You said you'd still love me." He looked more confident than hopeful. I felt taken advantage of.

And besides, I had just been going along with the... plan to destroy Visel. Jealousy was involved. I played it. And now, my mouth was suspended two feet down with genuine surprise and I had no clue what to think. "But you–"

"How else could I have gotten you to elope with me for a second time?" He smirked. He had the strength to smirk.

Nay, the nerve.

"But even Ivy–"

"I know, I lied to him too. Do you think I would have trusted him with such a secret?"

I gasped for breath. I wouldn't have either. "And you still expect me to–"

"Yes," he answered for me.

He still expected me to love the one who lied to me numerous times, selfishly, so he could steal me away from the world and make me his own. "And how do we know that we're not brother and sister?" I asked. For the first time in a matter of minutes I got to finish my sentence.

"Think about it."

So I did. And I thought... I came to the conclusion... I kissed him again just to make sure. It didn't seem forward. And, truthfully, I had known it all along. I was a little slow sometimes, so the things I really knew, I didn't even know I knew them. But nonetheless, everything turned out brilliantly. Oddly, but brilliantly.

I loved him although he was not my brother.

And I was amazed that he still wanted me– really, that he ever wanted me. I will definitely try to pry it out of him in the future, for it boggles me silly.

Ivy said, "You make quite a couple, one of you balding and nearly burnt black, and the other slashed to ribbons and bruised like a month old fruit." Do you think that deserves a walloping?

I write slowly, for what I shall write next is hard to put down.

Sadly enough, my book which was under my dress tucked away in my undergarments, was burned a tad when Visel burst into uncontrollable flames. Well, might I say, the last several paged were burnt off. It is miserably tragic, and I should have known something that was originally a gift to a servant wouldn't last long. Not that I haven't learned my lesson; no, it's just that people never give us gifts of any value.

But I must end my story, which turned out to be a little a bit more interesting than I first considered, rather abruptly, although our adventure is nowhere near over. Our adventure which has started so strangely and suddenly, will end for this book the same way. Here is the conclusion: we are in the middle of nowhere, the three of us now, and none of us are in considerably well health. But, everything before that has at first seemed very terribly and not escapable, had turned out quite nicely. Maybe it's some strange luck in this leather binding. I shall keep it forever, I think.

There are two words, I believe, that one puts at the end of a notable story. Do I dare say them? Was my story in this book fascinating enough to end it properly? Oh, who cares.

The End.

Part III

Chapter Eight

Look Through My Eyes

You'll see what is past

And what is to come;

It will hold you aghast

Just kidding.

You see, my life isn't over yet. At least not the exciting part. I say this with little enthusiasm, believe it or not. And guess what? Ryse's mother gave me this book.

I know your mouth must be open aghast. So I shall explain as best as can be expected.

We were wandering through the desert, our tongues swollen to the size of our fists from lack of water, trying desperately to spot something. Something that inhabited people, people who had water, or something of the like. I can't be sure, but it felt as if we were dying of thirst.

What a wonderful place to die, right? I had just found my one and true love, and defeated the most venomous enemy I had come across yet. Except for I'm not really the kind of person who anticipates death, or an honorable death; don't read me wrongly, I love Ryse and all, but this isn't going to turn into a sob story on my account.

Well anyway, I collapsed, falling onto Ivy. He attempted to catch me, I think, but he fell and I crushed him. For a second I thought I was Sharlotte Marish Rose Devingrole and began screaming out orders for water and transportation.

"I think she's gone mad!" I heard Ivy.

"Which one of us hasn't?!" I heard Ryse.

Ivy pushed me off of him, and dust began swirling, all about my nose and through the few strands of hair I had left. Was I still that heavy?

But it wasn't me.

I opened my eyes and curled into a ball as I watched a horrifically startling scene. A lady dressed in a hideous green, her hair and all, was twirling through the air, and it seemed to be on purpose. She landed at our feet, and laughed a few seconds, then bowed.

"Oh, darling!" She put her arms out, and grabbed Ryse in a suffocating embrace.

"Do you know her?" I asked, still on the ground. But then I saw Ryse's face, his eyeballs popping out from the hug, looking mortified. I answered my own silly question.

When the strange lady was done hugging Ryse, she turned to Ivy. "Oh, this must be her! How lovely, Ryse! A little on the hefty side, but any spell can correct that!"

I scrambled out of the dust. "What in the world is she talking about?!?" I screeched.

Ivy was the comedic relief. I thought for a moment that he would cry, but he uttered some words that squeaked. "Madam, I am not 'a her', I beg your pardon, although it should be you doing so."

I think that's what he said.

"Oh sorry, chap," it seemed not a thing to her.

Then... me. She turned to me. What dreadful eyes, what dreadful ears, and oh my, what a dreadful lady. If she can in fact be called that.

"Oh," she said quickly, politely. Then she turned to Ryse. "Why, you could've picked someone who wasn't balding."

This lady is awfully lucky that our energy was drained to the last. If we had been our usual selves, we would have all pounced at once, knocking her tiny brains through her green ears.

"Come with me, you two," she held out her hands and closed her eyes.

"What are you expecting?" I watched her little open hands. "Forgive me, but I'm all out of surprises."

The more offended she looked, the more satisfied I was.

"Why, don't you know who I am?" She sounded... astounded, I believe. Even if it was a little forced.

"No," Ivy and I chimed.

"Oh, Ryse darling, you know who I am." Her voice was sensual, and it made me both nervous and defensive. I flew to his side.

"Enlighten me, for I think I have forgotten." He entwined his hand in mine.

"Why," her favorite word, I do believe, "I'm your mother!"

I know I should write that last word a million times bigger, and wider, and greener, because that was how it felt. But I don't want to waste paper. And anything she says is a waste.

"You're fat and ugly and green and have being stupid down to a T!" I said, awfully quick but slurred, not knowing what I was saying or why. "Yes, you're green. And Ryse is not. How can that be explained, then?"

The green witch mother cackled seemingly ferociously, forcing me to cringe out of disgust. Then she asked, "What is Ryse's last name?"

"He doesn't have one," I answered for him, out of anxiousness.

Green mother gave me an evil eye, one that said I am smarter than you think!!!

"But neither do I!" I blurted loudly, attempting to show that my side of the case had far more logic. But, maybe some things just aren't logical.

"If he were your son, he'd at least have a hint of green to him somewhere. I haven't left his side in days, and I personally haven't noticed a green thing about him." I turned up my nose happily.

Then she raised a single green brow. "How is it then, dear girl, that you are the only Devingrole with green eyes and yellow locks?"

I snorted, tried to, but I was a little startled, and it came out contortedly. "I'll have you know that your source of information lacks, and that I am not in fact a Devingrole anymore, and never was. You should take some time and study your psychic history books."

Ryse grabbed my arm. He might have meant for me to stop. But how could a person such as me be cued and know it?

I kept running my dainty but dry little mouth. "You aren't very good with your little mind tricks and need to be a little more observant. I would have suggested before you came to take a fine powder and mist over your greenish areas before you announce that you have a brilliantly blonde haired son with a nicely worked complexion? I don't believe it. You should have thought. And before you went and told me that I still belonged to the family that disowned and told me I was never un-disowned was utterly–"

That wicked green monster of a feigning mother cut me off. "–Is that what they did?" And as if that weren't bad enough, she started laughing at me, as if not a word of what I said was of truth. And that did not settle very well with me, might I add without haste.

"Yes," I snarled, "that is what they did to me. Do you find it amusing?" I strained to speak slowly.

She... nodded. "I do." Still laughing, though not in hysterics.

"I don't," I gritted harshly. "Miss green monster lady, I am not enjoying our conversation in the least. I would like to graciously offer to stop and ask you to kindly allow us to continue on our way." I tried to bite my tongue, but curiosity was strangling me. And I'm not even a cat. "Why, by the way, may I ask, do you in fact find it so amusing?"

"What else did they tell you?" She asked, skipping around my very direct question.

"Not your business, I'm afraid."

"Oh, but it could be." She looked tantalized.

I let out my hot air in a short sigh.

"Have you ever even met your parents, Lottey?"

Shook my head slowly.

"Perhaps later. At this precise moment we need to be getting home so Ryse may be prepared for the crowning ceremony."

At these words, all of our chins dropped and hit the dust. I was, in fact, about to yell for smelling salts.

I looked up at Ryse.

"Hold on tight to one another, now!" Mother Green screeched happily.

Ryse put a firm grip around my waist and squeezed me close. Ivy lunged and us, most likely a tad on the frightened side, and clutched us tightly as dusting began swirling around us.

Amazingly, in a few moments we were in front of a classic castle. There was a moat with a drawbridge, guards stopping travelers and peddlers at the gates. For a second I thought I was aghast, but then I realized that I was utterly thrilled. The sky was blue and the grass and trees and bushes were green and full of blossoms; everything was absolutely picturesque. I closed my eyes and hiccupped with joy.

"Why didn't you tell me you lived in a castle, Ryse!" I exclaimed, almost in a shout.

He looked down at me, sort of funny like, his hand still around my waist.

"Oh," I rumbled gleefully. Perhaps because he never knew? And at that moment, I wasn't even sure if he knew it now. He didn't seem to be believing any of it.

The green witch – I only call her a witch because her hair is green – came up from behind us and frightened the moisture from our skin. What a shame, too, seeing how dehydrated we all were.

"Now come children, in we must go to meet Ryse's father. He'll be thrilled to see that we're on time." She squeezed in between my lover and I and began marching in the lead. I treaded behind Ryse and witch-mother, and Ivy treaded behind me. Every once and a while he would step on my heels, and I would scream at him.

The gate was lowered especially for us, and as we crossed I insisted on Ryse escorting me personally. I felt awfully regal. Ivy said I was flamboyant. I said 'thank you' in the moment, but later on I began reasoning with myself: the only way Ivy would ever insult me was if I didn't know he was doing it. I think he may have succeeded.

"Make way for Queen Mersades!" Golden horns and trumpets and things that looked like animal horns were blown with tremendous air power to present green witch mother, who in reality is called Mersades, pronounced Mersu-dees. To me it sounds like a relative of the hemlock plant. Twice as poisonous.

The castle had thrice the foyer space than Visel's forbidden, no-more castle, and it was nice pastel colors, tiled with happy white and blue shiny stones. It was a breath of purified air to walk into, and I felt Ryse's tight muscles un-tense themselves when we had fully entered. It's a funny thing; the happier he is, the happier I am.

"Stay here!" The vivacious green queen told us as she ran away and up a set of golden stairs.

I felt as if I were being safeguarded or confined with all of the men in bright pink – yes, pink – uniforms and shields.

I tired of staying in the same exact spot for too long and decided to make conversation. "Dear guard, may I ask why you are wearing pink? Presumably it would be because you prefer the color, but seeing that it is a uniform, I must implore upon you to tell me the reason."

The guard whom I was directing my speech to shifted in place, touched his collar lightly, then looked at me. "We.." he, I noticed, was caught very off-guard. Oh, I've just made a joke on accident. He is a guard. "We are, uh, a... happy kingdom."

"A happy kingdom," another one said.

"Ha, ha, ha," another said, quite cynically.

"I see, so happy," I alleged. What a nice reaction I received, no?

Just then Mersades green came flowing down the golden stair as if she were a pail of goo being poured out.

"My Queen," all bowed and put their hand over their head as if shielding themselves, out of reverence or something, besides us three of course. I believe we were excused on the behalf of our newness.

"My dear boy, your father will see you now!" She exclaimed, causing all with ears pain.

I followed Ryse up the stairs as he followed his green mother named Mersades. Ivy walked close beside me, shivering, even though it was nice and warm at the moment.

"Lottey," Ivy whispered at me, "Can I hold your hand? I'm a little frightened, I think."

I wasn't sure if I was to believe him, turn around and slap him, or what. So I just said, "Oh, Ivy, grow up!"

And he tagged along behind the rest of the trek to the... throne room. I suppose that is what is was. I'd never seen a throne room personally, but I had read about them, and it was, after all, a room with a long red carpet and a big golden throne at the end of it. I can't imagine that it would be called anything other than a throne room, so that is what I shall refer to it as.

We entered the throne room behind Mersades who introduced the King's son to him and completely ignored the fact that the king's son's lover and loyal companion were standing right behind him.

At this point, Ryse being a prince hadn't really registered. I didn't know how it could be, and I didn't know how it couldn't be, seeing that they had tracked him and his life. But why, I ask you, did they just now bring him in and tell him? Why did they not raise him in the palace as they should have if he were really the prince? A million quadrillion questions were there in my mouth, but I forced myself to chew and swallow for Ryse's sake.

There the king sat in front of us. His hair was a graying blonde color, wavy at his shoulders, with nice eyes and a nice gaze. He looked very tired, but also happy, and that made my hopes soar a little I'm afraid. Happiness is a great thing, and I actually appreciate it now, I suppose, compared to what I used to think of it. And I do prefer happiness to smirking and laughing uncontrollably. I think I have the force and will now to smack a smirking person's face hard enough to erase their memory. Too bad I didn't have that ability when confronted by the evil smirker, no?

"Ryse," the king said, in not so much a bellow, but a word. Not what I expected from a royal king. Although, looking at this king, he seemed different from what I thought a king would be. Lucky for everyone, I suppose. My ideas aren't always doves in the sky and milk and honey.

Ryse looked up at the king – his father? – with the strangest look in his eyes I have ever seen. He got down on one knee and sort of... bowed his head.

How did he know what to do in front of royalty?

"Please rise before me," the king said. So far, he had not called him 'my son' or anything intimate such as that, so perhaps there was still a chance there was no blood relation. But – what was I thinking? Didn't I want Ryse to be a prince? Then I could marry him and be a princess, just how I had always planned so long ago. But something about it, I don't know, made me not want it to be. I almost wanted to be back out in the desert alone with him where we had suffered and found so much–

But what was I thinking?

Being royal was better than any mushy moment. Wasn't it? Or was that little lady Devingrole peeking out of her hole in the ground?

Ryse stood in the king's presence and looked at him with a really strange look. My eyes dodged back and forth, and horror got caught in my throat when I realized there was resemblance.

"Are you my son?" The king asked Ryse.

And how would he know?

"My Lord, that is for you to answer," Ryse said. So perfectly. Even if he wasn't the real heir or son or what, they were sure to want him anyway. His intellectuals were far past anyone I knew. Besides me... on some occasions, of course.

I anxiously awaited the king's answer.

He stood, the king did, and began walking. Yes, he walked. And towards us, too. I think Ivy was ready to keel over. I tried not to think about my hair, or rather the lack of it, and fluttered closely to Ryse.

"My son," the king's hand went to Ryse's shoulder.

The words stretched fifty miles long in a deep and horrendous noise that shook the inside of me to the point of collapsing. I fell onto Ryse's arm, and in all the confusion that I felt, I said, "Ryse, you're a prince!"

My prince, I heard a growl inside of me somewhere.

"Indeed, a prince," the king turned to me. "Who might you be?" He asked me, not in a sense of 'oh son introduce me to girl you plan on marrying' or anything but sort of along the lines of 'is she the one who so graciously carried your bags and fixed your food for you while you were in the middle of the desert' thing. I snorted and held Ryse's arm tighter.

"This is Sharlotte Rose...Father," he said, and his last word sounded so incredibly correct. Not forged or forced or awkward but correct. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that.

For, I mean, I... could all of this really be happening?

Green witch lady came running forth and stepped between Ryse and I. I glared at her and felt my body recoil with repulse.

"Dear Ryse, we brought you here so you could be married!!" She hugged onto his arm, almost as I had. I took a step back and bumped Ivy.

Ryse looked at me, glanced at me really, and then looked at his father. "Father, I..."

The naturalness of Ryse with his father was upsetting my stomach.

"Oh, dear boy," his green mother cut in, "we'll be having a three night masquerade for you! And during one of those nights you can choose a suitable bride! Then, of course you probably already know the rest, in two or three years your father will resign and you will be king!"

Ryse looked speechless, yet he was trying to talk. "But if I'm to be married, I already have–"

"We'll have to have you fitted, of course, not only for the balls but for everyday attired, too, seeing that–"

"Mother!" Ryse looked inflamed.

She laughed, after she was over being startled. "Oh, boy, I'm not your mother, I'm your stepmother!"

Yes, I know, that explains a lot.

It was Ryse's turn to look startled. "Okay." He blinked a few times, staring at his stepmother's blaring smile. "But I must tell you that I already have someone that I would marry if I had to be betrothed so very soon."

What a romantic way to propose to me, right?

"Who is it, my son? I would not want to force an arranged or forced marriage on you, by any means."

At least the king is a smart man. I can't say the same for his wife, who must be his second wife, and quite arranged I do believe.

Ryse looked at me, and I looked at him, then we looked at them. The king started a smile but the witch queen laughed. Quite hysterically.

"Oh, poppycock my boy! You aren't serious. Can't be. Why, we couldn't even get a royal hairdresser to address those things she has hanging from her head."

I know it sounds as if I'm bald, and I do feel that way, but I'm not. I look like an old woman with thinning hair and it's continuously falling out.

Green witch queen took her step-son by the arm and started dragging him away. I was completely flabbergasted, finding breathing complicated at the moment. Ivy looked like a bull ready to charge (a runt bull) and his nostrils were flaring.

"You may be of royal flesh, but so his he now, isn't he? Can't you let him speak? There's such a thing called love, you know!" Ivy called. Surprised? So was I. Sort of impressed, might I add.

The witch queen stopped in mid high-pitch giggle and spun on her heel. "What is your name, impertinent one?"

Ivy looked excited about being called impertinent. "Ivanm, or Ivy, your majesty," he lavished.

"Ivy?" She raised her eyebrows mischievously. "So it is." She snapped her fingers, and there was a poof of green smoke, and a cackle on her part.

And there was Ivy. An Ivy.

She had turned him into a plant.

I scooped the plant in its nicely painted pot into my arms, burning with rage and the need to know why Ryse wasn't doing anything. He was killing me there, his stepmother's arm around him, talking to him and leading him away from me, while he watched me over his shoulder until he was out of sight.

My lip quivered, out of anger or sadness I wasn't sure. I was so aghast that I didn't know what to do. I couldn't really remember how to work my legs, to run after him, or to use my voice to scream to him. So I just stood there, my newly found courage disappearing down the drain.

"First she thought I was a girl, and now she thinks I'm a plant," the Ivy whimpered.

Quite startled, I nearly dropped him. "Plants don't talk."

"This one does."

"I'm glad, actually," I said inattentively. My mind was somewhere beyond time and space, floating in between, mercilessly forgetting me and what I needed to do. That was why I didn't know what do.

And, I didn't notice at the moment, but the king was still standing there in front of his throne.

"She can be a bit pushy at times."

I looked up at him, wondering why he hadn't said anything to his idiot of a queen, and why he hadn't reared Ryse where he was supposed to be, if witch queen had known where he had been all along. "What is your name, your royal-ness?" No one had told me. And it was the only thing I could think of to say. I thought maybe if were on the kings good side I could win Ryse and the kingdom. I mean Ryse and his love. Or do I mean his position of power? Do I even know what I mean?

The king cleared his throat. "I am Theeeb. But you'll have to call me King Theeeb, of course."

I would really rather be calling him father-in-law Theeeb. By the way: Theeeb is pronounced Theb, but he just stretched it out so long that I had to write it correctly. That is of course if I put enough E's in it.

"You need to find a new queen." I bit my tongue right after I said it, and I know it wasn't my place to say it; but sometimes that old me shines through, blaringly actually, and she does stuff she shouldn't. It just happens now that she was talking to someone who had the authority to legally have her head chopped off in public.

"It's a love-hate relationship," he suddenly smiled, and his eyes twinkled very strangely. Not oddly strangely but familiarly strangely.

My heart leapt, and I cringed. In spite of all that, though, somehow I accidentally giggled. That unsettled the emptiness of my shrunken abdomen.

"Not meaning to pry, may I ask what happened to your hair?" He asked, seemingly in a better mood than I.

"You may," I said subtly.

He smirked for a moment – yes, smirk, but I did control myself – and then asked, "What happened to it?"

He seemed so much younger than he looked. It made me happier in one way, because I saw Ryse in him and it was wonderful that his sense of humor stayed that long. And if his did, so would Ryse's, I presumed. "I," not really knowing how to answer his question, a lump formed in my throat. Was I going to tell him that a master con-artist with the most beautiful face in the world lured me into his trap in his empty castle and then tore my dress and dangled me over his balcony by my hair? "I think my age is getting to me."

Oh, my hand is very on fire. I'm putting this dumb quill down and going to sleep.

I asked Ivy what he thought would happen if I told him to grow up, now. He said not to try it.

King Theeeb is very nice to me. It has been two days since we've arrived here, and two days since I last saw Ryse. I must tell you: if you ever have the desire to go mad, turn your only companion into a plant. He sings to me and waves his vines around even when I tell him that I need some quiet to think. He says I can't step on his toe or wallop him on the head anymore so he isn't scared of me.

Did he used to be scared of me?

I threatened to start picking his leaves off one by one.

Mersades put me up in this room, up here in this tower. As if I were Rapunzel, waiting for Prince Ryse. It isn't the loveliest place in castle, regrettably, but at least she didn't throw me out, which I nearly expected. The way she looks at me with her awful green eyes with this I hate you so leave my house before I turn you into an ugly frog with a pink ribbon look. And I'm sure she'd love to.

She told me to stay here until I was called to do otherwise. My food is brought to me and I must say that I feel much more like a prisoner than a guest in this castle. But, at least, the colors here are the extreme opposite of Visel's castle. Why do I keep referring to him? Can I not forget his horrors? Perhaps it's the fact that I killed him that stays with me. I did kill him. I think. I mean, if I burst into flames like he had I know I would be dead, or wishing I were.

Anyway. He's not the topic of his story anymore.

I hear that the masked ball preparations are being made at this very moment. I'm sure Ryse is being fitted for dashing princely costumes that bring out his lovely eyes and candle-melting smile. And I'm in here with Ivanm the plant wondering if I'll live past my sixteenth year. That is, into my sixteenth year. I'm not that old yet. But it won't be long.

I was summoned to the throne room, believe it or not. Theeeb wanted to see me. He was waiting for me in his high golden throne, hair all pulled back nicely. It's a shame Mersades has made me a captive, for Theeeb would have made a great father-in-law. What am I saying? He will make a great father-in-law!

He called me forward, and I stopped and bent down to one knee at the edge of the red carpet with golden fringes. He looked quite pleased. His crown is a bit much for his head, and this is the first time I have ever seen him wear it. Not that I've seen him more than once in my lifetime.

"Lottey," he stood, throwing me back by knowing my nickname. "I've been talking to Ryse about you. He said that come from a good family, noble blood."

That was how he knew. But why had Ryse told him that?

"Yes," he continued, "he said you are stunning when you have a full head of hair. But he doesn't really mind it when you look as if you just climbed out of a hole in the ground, because he knows no other young men will be jealous." He laughed.

I didn't.

"I can see, just from our two encounters together that you seem to be a little power hungry."

I know, there is absolutely no way he could know that by now. Unless I was plain and apparent. Well, one must be true to their heart.

He continued once more, "You said I need a new queen. I believe that I do. So you just stay patient, and wait up in that tower of yours. Something may happen. You never know."

He winked, with a hint of a nearly hidden smile. He waited for my reaction, which I struggled to conceal. He had already read me as if I were an open book, or I had screamed in his ear what I had hoped for all my life. Before I had met Ryse. I didn't know what King Theeeb meant, so I bowed my head with a smile before tromping lightly back up to my tower.

I am very befogged at the moment. But sometimes the only way to understand something is to leave it alone.

Mersades gave me this book over four days ago. I haven't seen her since.

I've been trapped up here with no human contact, which is true because Ivy really doesn't count. The ability to speak does not make one human.

I have decided to seek her out, the little lazy, green nauseating, sordid of a female being. Whatever she is. I'm going to find her and ask her something. What am I going to ask her? I don't know. Something. I know I'll think of something when I see her puckered face.

I found her.

My, how pleasant this nice fresh page is. Why ruin it with the creature from the green and gooey depths of hell? Yes, I've decided that hell must be a very green place.

I left my tower. I climbed down the dozens of stairs there for me to suffer over. I didn't know where to even begin to look. I am not sure if the servants were told that I wasn't supposed to be out of my room, but no one told me to get back in there, although they all looked at me as if I had fourteen eyes. But who's to say I didn't? I am in the house of a witch, after all.

I trekked into a room at the far end of this wing in the palace, following the scent of greenness. She was sitting with some little goblin things at her side. It was as if she were telling them a story, and they were listening as if she were there mother. As a matter of fact, they do bear resemblance if I'm so horrid as to say.

"Mersades!" I screeched. It was an impulse thing. I had always wanted to scream at her.

She looked at me abruptly, me, standing there sort of crunched like, my tightened fist contorting my arms. She wanted to know why I yelled at her, but I didn't know.

"Why am I stuck in a horrid tower." When I said it, it didn't even sound like a question. It sounded a little friendly. A friendly complaint.

She tinkled a laugh. It was worse than sickening.

"Will you tell your children to stop staring at me," I spat in repulse.

"Children," she patted them. "Don't stare. It isn't polite." She looked at me. "But neither is yelling, I suppose."

I stared at her for a few moments. Her, and her... children. "And neither is turning people into plants!" I screeched, as if it were a game of toss.

They are really her children?

"I'm so sorry, dear girl. I didn't realize that regular old human beings were so touchy, and, um, so easily bored." She mocked me. Deviously she mocked me.

"I just enjoy social interaction." My nostrils flared so largely that I could look down and see them.

"Okay, fine. I'll set you up some interaction."

What she did is humiliating in a way, but at the same time it doesn't bother me at all. She sent me on my way with the flick of her wrist – convenient, no? – to have a little one on one time with her husband. Now I don't know why, but it does seem a little odd that she would send a young beauty to entertain the one she's married to, but then again I'm sure I'm no inferior threat to her while I have no hair.

I stood tautly at the king's doorway. I didn't want to knock, because I didn't want to be there, even though King Theeeb is the only one beside my missing in action Ryse who understands me–...or at least isn't cruel and vicious to me. (Once again, the plant does not count. Poor Ivy.) So I stood there. And waited.

"Miss Lottey, King Theeeeeeeb is expecting you."

The door servant used even more e's than I would have ever foresaw. What a way to get on the king's good side; flourish and overelaborate his name. Why didn't I think of that?

The door servant led me to where Theeeb was sitting, on an elongated settee, with his feet propped up on one that wasn't elongated. He was eating grapes.

What a classic scene.

"Lottey, please do come in."

So, he was still calling me Lottey. If he were trying to get on my good side he might try flourishes.

I stepped further into the room, and elaborate room at that. As I was looking around, I chanced upon Theeeb's feet. They were wrapped and bandaged, and I supposed that was why he was so propped up.

"Yes," he laughed, as soon as I noticed. "I wouldn't normally be lounging about like this."

Something admirable in a king.

"I'm afraid though," he continued, "that it isn't as humorous a scene as it seems. I've taken a fall on my horse and broken both of my ankles just as war has been declared on our kingdom."

It took me a second to breath it all in. War was declared and no one told me. How could I miss something like that? And with King Theeeb being injured at the same time, it's a wonder I wasn't thrown out the door to fight off the enemies. That's how loved I feel. But, no– it took me flying down from my tower and ranting at greeny and her plant children to even find out! Incredible. I couldn't find words to speak.

Theeeb could, however. "Yes... and because of all this rather abrupt nonsense, I fear I have to give up the throne sooner than I had hoped."

I stood bleakly, not sure what to think still. "So... Ryse doesn't have to marry, then?" I hoped. This was all so fanatical.

"No, he does... the masked ball has been pushed to tonight."

I screamed inside my head. Without waiting for an invitation I sat down on the quaint little couch behind me. "How am I supposed to find a dress so soon?" I asked, testing him.

"You wish to go?" An eyebrow was raised.

As if he didn't know. "Um, yes," I said assumingly. "Seeing as I haven't even seen Ryse since I was blown off, yes, I do," I finished. Quite prominently, too.

Just then, as if she had been eavesdropping all along, Mersades popped out of thin air right between the king and I. Theeeb didn't look surprised, but I was rather startled.

"Can you give me a moment or three alone with my husband?" She asked, stingingly persuasively.

I gathered my skirt and turned around, but not without a dirty glance at the witch queen first. I managed to toss Theeeb a hurt and confused one. After turning the corner and I was out of sight, I stopped walking. There were no servants around and I wasn't about to give up a chance to wreak revenge upon Mersades now that I had the chance. If she had the privilege of eavesdropping, so did I.

"She knows him too well, you giddy old fool! If you were more cautious maybe we'd be able to get through this without it blowing up in our faces." Mersades' voice was cold and low. But it was a sweeter sound than one would expect.

"Oh, my dear, vile queen... if you were cautious, maybe you wouldn't have to blame every mishap on me." Theeeb was constantly cheery. It made me happy to hear him speak, and it reminded me of Ryse. Not that Ryse was always cheery, but I suppose it was the same balance as the king. His father. "And Mersades, who would believe that he was simply a clone anyway? It sounds rather preposterous in itself." He chuckled.

But I didn't. Not quite understanding, I tried to stretch my ear. They were talking of very weird things, that were stupid and unbelievable– and that was exactly what Theeeb had pointed out. No one would believe that he was a clone.

What and who were they talking about?

"But this girl is strange," Mersades hissed. "She'd tell Ryse as soon as she found out, if she ever did. She has a knack for getting in and out of trouble in odd ways."

Ahhhh––– Ryse was a clone?

I must emphasize that there are absolutely no words to explain how and what I felt, or to console my sudden grief. So what am I supposed to write?

My eyes rolled back in my head as my eyelids flutter helplessly over them.

Ryse was a clone of Theeeb. The king was not his father. Ryse was his father.

What were they planning on doing with that? I continued listening.

"If Ryse married her, you would have to study Ryse even more closely. She'll know if it's not him. There's no telling how... intimate they are."

I blushed and panicked in the same moment. I hated Mersades so that my blood boiled with every word she said– and I still didn't quite understand what they were talking about. Clones and marriage and people being the same people as other people.

"Well maybe we could explain the transformation to her– it will be the same person after all... she might understand." Theeeb liked me. He wanted Ryse to marry me– he wanted to marry me.

This is all so confusing. I do believe I understand though.

Ryse is a clone of Theeeb who plans on re-inhabiting Ryse's body so that he can reign again. Wait... has he come up with a foolproof plan to rule his kingdom forever? So he'll clone himself to the end of time??

I do believe he could, in fact. I don't support it, of course. But I believe in him greatly and that his plan could've succeeded. And I am glad it happened, too, because if it hadn't than the only Ryse that existed would be three times my age. So yes, his plan could have worked. That is... if I hadn't found out about it.

My deviating little self.

But how am I supposed to stop them? I am, of course. I'm going to try until my heart drops to my stomach. Only Visel could stop me. Or not being able to find Ryse, whom I don't the whereabouts at the moment. That could present very problematic.

Chapter Nine

To the masked ball I am wearing a perfect little blue gown. It's fitted and tapered, and drapes down over my shoulders. I must say that I feel like a princess already. Mersades even gave me back my hair! Well, I suppose it's mine... she used a spell for it. But I don't really care, either way; I look like a breath of spring now. To look in the mirror is a lovely sight.

I saw Ryse from my balcony while he was riding yesterday, but I don't think he saw me. In fact I know he didn't see me, because I waved and he didn't wave back. Oh... what a divine being he is. It's no wonder Theeeb wants to be young again. Trade bodies with him.

I have my whole plan laid out. I won't be able to talk to Ryse at all until the masked ball, so when I dance with him– which I know I will, won't I?– I'll tell him everything. He's got to know that something is not right by now. It won't be that hard to get him to believe me, I don't think. And then we can elope together. Perhaps we should dispose of Mersades first, though, because she has the talent of tracking Ryse.

Oh, I'm splitting open with the want to tell him all of this! I think I may die if tonight doesn't come soon enough. Yes, tonight is the masked ball! I'm melting inside out!

The only way I can write what happened without exploding is by story form. Thank you, brother Frederam.

I stood in front of the mirror, looking beautiful. I can't deny it I'm afraid, but I'm anything but vain. I'll have you know that for the record.

My hair was as golden as it's ever been, piled in curls and everything beautiful all around my face. The blue was most accenting, setting of my beauty, my beautiful green eyes, and my beautiful little face. I have very beautiful features you know, very noticeable.

To make a long story short, I looked just right for seeing Ryse. I was led downstairs as I held the train of my dashingly long skirt out to the side. I stood at the foot of the terribly long staircase that led down into the ballroom. It was a very classic scene I think.

I tried to spot Ryse as my escort left me to fend for myself down the stairs. And finally I saw him, as I gracefully emerged downward. I tried to wave, but he didn't notice me. I don't really understand that, as I was very noticeable.

As the night moved on, I spoke to some very important people in the kingdom, dance with a lot of them, and acquired some much needed over flourished attention. Theeeb was very gracious to me as well. But we know why, don't we?

"May I?" Lowly bowed, a dark, curly haired man offered me a dance, and I accepted. Ryse was dancing at the moment also, and I thought that perhaps he would see me as I spun in a whirl of color around him. And then he'd yell 'Stop!' and take me into his arms for our first dance as betrothed, seeing that I am the love of his life.

As I danced with the man who didn't take his eyes off mine (it was rather uncomfortable, penetrating might I add) I edged close to Ryse as best I could. He was dancing with a flaming redhead, who wasn't pretty in the least. Not next to me, anyhow.

"Ryse!" I finally screeched as I twirled past him. I saw him look up and around, as if he recognized the voice. But as his eyes grazed mine, there was not a mite of recognition.

...I hiccoughed.

Why couldn't he see me??

I knew I couldn't be invisible because other people could see me, and I'm sure Ryse would notice if people were dancing with themselves when they were actually dancing with me, if I were only invisible to him. Was it the hair, maybe? He hadn't seen me with it.

And that's when I realized... he hadn't seen me with it. Not even when I waved at him from the balcony. It was stupid Mersades and whatever she did to me when she gave me hair. Oh, the little devious demon... what a conniving, witless thing...

The next time I was whizzed past Ryse I yelled, since he could hear my voice, "You're not real!" Because he had to know. But after I thought about what I said... it didn't make much sense. "I'm LOTTEY!" I screeched at him. His head snapped around to look at me. He saw me, but he didn't really see me. I shoved the man dancing with me off of me. "Ryse your stupid stepmother made me think that you were ignoring me but the truth is you didn't even know it was me but now that you know, or at least I think you know there is something I have got to tell you before you're–"

I wasn't able to finish talking because my voice stopped working. I tried to utter a sound, but it didn't work. So I cursed Mersades as loudly as I could, and then started crying.

Ryse rushed to me and held me and it felt so right, so forlorn. He was never going to be able to hold me after tonight. Well, not him exactly. So I kept bawling without a sound. He looked at me with those beautiful eyes of his, with such sorrow, but I was much more sad. Because I couldn't tell him. He would never even know.

Feeling very weak, and not enjoying all of the millions of eyes on me, I stood and ran. I ran up the stairs, everything through my eyes streaked with awfully pitiful tears. I ran out into the hall, where I nearly tripped over Ivy. I didn't know how he got there; he was still in his pot. But I was really too mixed up inside to even care.

"What's the matter, Lotts?"

I shook inside with rage and fury for him calling me that. But I couldn't scream at him. It was worthless.

I had already told the potted plant about Mersades' and Theeeb's plan. So he knew that much, and the rest was guessing. I watched his leaves sort of droop, and noticed there was another plant beside him. "This is Rose," he said eagerly. "Or–was, until Mersades got a hold of her."

Wow, I thought enthusiastically, what a pair. I opened my mouth to talk purposely as I tried to get through to them what was the matter with me. One of my problems at least.

"Oh, dear," Rose said empathetically. "Has Mersades gotten a hold of you, too?"

Yes, I nodded. That was my first problem. But not my most important. I wouldn't mind going through not talking–which is a big deal for me–as long as the rest of my life could be with Ryse.

"Oh, I know how to get your voice back!" The prettier plant said.

Impatience ran through my bones as she thought a while before telling me.

"Mmm...You have to eat the first blue leaf of the season from the Bigiloo tree." The rose looked as satisfied as a rose can.

I let my mouth drop open.

"Don't worry, it doesn't have to be fresh."

I was about to shrug in despair when a wave of green lightning flashed over me and the two plants, knocking my weary self to the floor. I heard an awful and evil cackling noise, which sounded so dreadfully happy. I knew it was Mersades, just from the green mess. I shuddered to think of what could happen next.

"Now you've done it!" She screeched at me, but I couldn't even see her. "Where is he?" Her voice was loud an annoyed. A slight smile broke out on my part.

Ryse had listened to me, and he didn't even know what I told him.

"He's hiding in my pocket," I said, and for the first few moments I thought I had simply thought it; but no, I had said it. Sarcasm always had a way of getting through.

"If I can't get it out of you, It isn't as if I won't be able to find him, you know." She put her black boot on my stomach.

"Don't you think if I knew where he was I would be with him?" I smarted at her.

She snarled. I heard her eyes roll back in her head. "You think you're so brave." And just like that, she was gone. I was left alone on the floor with the two plants, my voice, and the stillness of the fear of anticipation.

I flinched when I heard, "Lottey!" But it wasn't Ryse. It was Theeeb. Or does that actually make it Ryse? "Lottey, don't worry, he's safe. I've got him hidden."

"Theeeb!?" I shrieked. "As if I'll trust you?"

He just smiled, and asked, "How did you find out?"

I assumed he meant how to I manage to eavesdrop without Mersades knowing. "I can listen in on conversations without being caught."

He chuckled, a happy subtly little laugh, and didn't look at all threatening.

"I've gotten in trouble for trusting the wrong people before."

"Do you really think I want to rule forever?" He looked deeply into my eyes, telling me to think hard. "Can you imagine Ryse wanting to rule forever?"

As soon as he said that I knew the answer. I could never imagine Ryse doing something deviously evil and conspiring. It isn't his nature at all. It simply wouldn't interest him.

"I've already been young once. At first, you know, it was sort of appealing–when people go through stages where they aren't as confident in themselves as they should be. But Mersades has really taken it to a higher level, and I'm no longer interested. Of course, I daren't tell her that." He laughed again. "She might kill me and inhabit the boy's body so she could rule."

"How do you know that's not what she's planning?" Who could be stupid enough to marry a witch?

He shrugged honestly. "I don't. The problem is that there is only one way to stop her, to make her human, virtually powerless. I could never go after it, because she'd know, she tracks my every hunt. But if you could go–of course, you'd really have to hurry, if you want to save your boy. You only have a matter of days before she'll start the transformation."

"So what do I do?" I said without a second thought. If he were lying, things would be absolutely no worse; and I had my voice back. I was going to have to take a leap–which isn't uncommon for me, as you know. It was the only thing left to do.

So he handed me a map and the two flower pots and shoved me out the door. He did, however, give me a mode of transportation. It's one of those winged donkeys that I saw back in ParKesh. This one talks, however, in a series of low whispers.

So that is where I am right now, in the air. I managed to write all of this while balancing the book on my lap and not falling off and plummeting hundreds of feet to the ground.

The map Theeeb gave me has directions on one side, and the actual map part is on the other. It's a map of the Deserted Forest. The directions say not to be deceived by the name. So I'll expect the worst?

Oh, by the way, Ivy and Rose turned into rabbits. They are sitting in little pouches on the side of the Peagass. As soon as I saw the transformation, I screamed, "Oh no! Bunnies in love! There's going to be more than two before I can blink!" But I think they're going to be good little bunnies for right now. These are important moments. They mean life and death for several people – including me. And if something happens to Ryse, I just might end up killing Ivy and Rose. If it ends up their fault.

Oh, by the way – the bunnies are pink and blue.

I am sitting in the desert again. But I'm not stuck here, as I was last time. And so the sand and nothingness doesn't bother me.

The Peagass began whispering in the middle of the night, and I woke with such a start that I thought I would kill it! But I slept well anyway. I don't know how, really; just in the middle of a crisis, that's all. I suppose the stress puts me into a deeper sleep?

We're almost to the Deserted Forest. Every time I think of it, I get anxious, and wish we could hurry and get there to get it over with. But nothing ever goes my way. Ever ever ever ever.

I really wish Ivy could turn back into a human being. It's startling to say, I know. But I do. Then maybe I wouldn't so much succumb to the vast loneliness I feel.

Well, I must report that the forest is in front of me. The entrance. Without the map, however, I would never know that on my own. It just looks like a foggy place in the desert, about equivalent to the size of a middle-class doorway. A hazy little patch, sort of like the air of that above a fire. The directions say to walk through that, and I'll be there, in the Deserted Forest.

I do wish I knew what to expect once I hit the other side. But all the map-directions say, after the part that tells me to go through the fog-door, is that I am looking for the part of the forest where there is water, and in the middle of the water is a stand, and on the middle of the stand there is a glove. It is the Variworm glove, which when I pronounce, sounds like "Very warm". And, actually, is exactly what it is. It is the warmest glove in the world. I must touch Mersades with it, because her witch's soul is too cold to be mortal, and therefore warm it, making her mortal. It sounds very complicated. But I must do it, and I had probably better hurry. The map doesn't say that; but I do.

Wish me luck.

I stood before the door. Everything through it – it was as if I were looking through imperfect glass. I wasn't sure if it would be okay for me to simply put my hand through and withdraw it, or if it would get stuck. So I concluded that the best thing to do would be to caper through it rather quickly. Ivy and Rose stood behind me, their little noses wrinkled as if they hadn't a clue. Which may have been the case.

The map was securely tucked into the waist of my dress. Which, by the way, if you didn't remember, is still that beautiful and fancy darling blue thing I wore to the ball. I can't say that I look quite the same, though.

And: I didn't think of this at the time, by the Peagass wasn't by my side. Thus, no ride on the other side. Ah, but I can use the exercise, no?

No.

I held my breath and leapt through. It was a startling transformation; I felt rather distorted for a few moments, until I came through on the other side. What I saw before me... it was a forest. And it seemed, as though, it was nothing more. There were trees, and dirt, and vines, and leaves, all nice and brown and green as they should be, and there was even patches of flowers in some places. It looked anything but deserted, but that was, of course, what I was to expect. It's not all the time that I get exactly what I expect.

I stood for a few long moments, because although I had made it, I had to take a well observation of my surroundings. Why? I don't know. My head hurt and I felt like it.

Ivy and Rose were soon by my side, and they startled me heavily. They weren't bunnies anymore. I'm not sure if it is better or worse; they are donkeys.

I assure you... I said not a word. I'm not the one to make fun, anyhow.

I took the map from my skirt and unfurled it. "Well, it says to walk. A long ways. In a straight line." I sounded so reassuring, to myself leastways. I couldn't help by adding, "The first one to give me any trouble becomes my ride." And we began walking.

The path was narrow and kudzu overflowed the sides. It looked well worn, which made me wonder what had worn it. So far I hadn't seen any sign of life besides plan life, and that can hardly wear a path through a forest.

Ivy and Rose followed behind me. Donkeys have quite short legs, or at least the specimen they had turned into had. I listened to them for a second, and realized they sounded different. I started to think that maybe they had transformed again, but the sound was more than four legs. And they sounded... porcelain.

I stopped for a second, rather abruptly, and the two ran into the back of my legs. They were still fuzzy. But that meant...

I held my breath. "Who – or what – is behind us–" I took my courage and spun.

There were six porcelain gnomes just sitting there in the dirt, as if someone had placed them there. I looked around for the culprit.

But there was nobody there.

I began walking again, but this time the two donkey's treading in front of me, glancing back nervously. But every time I time I turned around, there was no one there, but the gnomes. Always at my heels.

My breath began to get fluttery, after all, I am somewhat of a nervous person when porcelain gnomes are following me. Were they following me? Was there anybody moving them up? I heard clangs, and clinks, and finally I spun around for the last time.

"Who is following me?!?" I hollered, my voice cracking. I looked around, and when no one even so much as snickered, I got down at eye level with the gnomes. "Who are you?" I whispered.

The one in front, he... shifted his eyes... and blinked.

I screamed and stumbled back in the dirt.

Before the rest of them could blink at me, I jumped up and ran. The poor donkeys tried to keep up. But I couldn't think about them, not then, because this was strange, stranger than Ivy being turned into a plant. Stranger than Ryse being a clone. Stranger than me not being a Devingrole.

"Wait!" The gnomes called out, in a simultaneous squelched voice.

I stopped. I stood very still, my arms clenching my skirt. I didn't look behind me, I just waited. What if I need to talk to these freaky porcelain gnomes that blinked? What is they would help me save Ryse? I had to stop. There was nothing else for me to do. Even if I was feeling... as if my insides were being sucked out through a straw.

"We were waiting," said one impatiently as they tottered up behind me.

"Yes, we were waiting!" Another agreed.

I swallowed deeply. "For what?" My voice was rather small. Which is sort of an ironic phrase for the instance.

"For you to ask us for directions!" The impatient one sounded as if I should know exactly what he was talking about. And of course I hadn't a clue.

"Um... can you give me directions?" I asked.

"Of course, that's what we're here for! We're the Garden Gnomes!"

"What Garden?" I spewed.

"Why, the Garden of Batba, of course!" Again with the 'I should know this already' tone.

"Why would I want to go there?" I was no longer as scared as I was, no more trembling in my sparkling gown; but I was terribly annoyed at being held up and confused all at once when importance was on the line.

But I wouldn't say, on the other hand, that I was at ease.

"Because that's the only place where you can find the glove to kill Mersades, of course!"

My chest tightened. I was sick of the words of course and beginning to get frightened again at their extensive knowledge. "How do you know what I'm here for?" I said slowly and confidentially.

"Garden Gnomes know everything," it or he rolled his eyes and took a hold of the edge of my skirt. "Stop asking stupid questions. It's starting to annoy."

I let my body frame slump and eyes relax almost to a closing point. How droll, I wanted to scream. Droll and absurd.

"Follow us," it said, and in an instant they were all clinging to my skirt and dragging me off the path. I yelped with sudden fright but they completely disregarded it. I nearly tripped over the lot of them numerous times, but they never showed signs of ceasing their grip and allowing me to continue at my own pace. So after too many seconds of this, I let myself go limp and fell flat on my face. It hurt somewhat, but they stopped.

"That scares me." I exclaimed affirmatively. They all looked at me as if they were solid porcelain. But who's to say they weren't?

Not taking my eyes from them, I held my tattered skirt daintily and brushed passed them brusquely. Wild creatures had absolutely no manners.

"Lottey!"

I dropped my skirt from my hand and screamed tremulously out of annoyance. I was tired gnomes talking to me! But when I turned around, there was no gnome. "Oh, it's only you Ivanm."

Ivanm?

He was a person again!

"Oh, Ivy! You..." I studied him for a second, "You're not a donkey anymore." Although I might beg to differ in some instances. I continued walking. "Where's Rose," I threw rather carelessly over my shoulder. "Oh, and what is she."

"I don't know," Ivy said, and his voice sputtered confusion. "I mean, she's right here, but I don't know what she is. She's... some sort of gloves or something."

I stopped dead in my tracks. Gloves? Was it THAT easy? Rose was the Variworm gloves?

"Give her to me," I wrenched the gloves (or, girl) from his hands.

"Um..."

"Well this didn't take very long. Now all we have to go is get back to the Peagass. Where is that map?" I yanked it from my skirt.

"Lottey..."

"Ah, here we are, near... the garden of gnomes. How appropriate."

"Lottey?"

"All we have to do is cross that little bridge over there and jump into that black spot in the water and..."

"Lotts!"

"Will you shut up!!" I exclaimed, throwing him the map. "And don't call me that you plant brain."

"I don't think you should put those on."

I halted my mind and turned to give Ivy a look. "Why not?" I said inquisitively.

He returned by looking at me as if I were the crazy one. "Hmmm... let's see... maybe because Mersades is the one who has been morphing our appearances, obviously she can do it from afar, and she's most likely the one who changed Rose into the gloves. So you, being the feeble minded gentlewoman you are, would think that you could put them on a save you're true love."

I stared at Ivy. Aghast. Who knew he could work his little mind like that? "Yes, and I suppose she morphed you back into your tragically original form so you could warn me?"

Ivy looked worriedly speechless.

"That's what I thought." I turned from him and slipped the gloves on.

The biggest mistake of my life.

I watched slowly as the sky turned red and all disappeared, except me and the gloves. The ground split in one huge crack and swallowed me up with black vines that were squeezing the air out of me. I squeaked and gasped, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up on seven small beds lined up to make one long enough for me.

"What happened to me?"

It turned out I had been hallucinating.

Ivy handed me a mug and sat down next to me. He shrugged slightly after a moment. "You were thrashing on the ground as if you weren't getting any breath to your lungs, so I did the only thing I could think of."

I took a sip of the hot... whatever it was. "What's that?" I asked meekly.

"Jerked the gloves from you." He paused a moment. "It was scary."

"What I saw was much scarier, I'll wager my life."

Ivy patted me on the back. "Why don't we lay off on the life wagering for a while?" And he walked away.

We were in the gnome's house. Well, hole in the ground. They were fairly hospitable. Ivy told me later that they had almost hadn't let me in their place because I looked so rough, they thought maybe I was too close to being dead. And they didn't want their sheets to get dirty. But that was fine, I didn't care for them a whole lot either. The gnomes and I had gotten off to a bad start.

Then suddenly, "Hah!" I thought out loud. Loudly. Ivy peeked his head around the corner. "Do you know what," I announced. "First I was Rapunzel, and now I'm Snow White!" Yes, I had studied literature some in my days as a lady. I wasn't entirely stupid.

Ivy and I ate a hearty meal and thanked the gnomes. Well, I didn't thank the gnomes personally, but I was thankful. We left their home that really was too small and began walking again in the forest that really was alive. And get this, when we left and had been walking for about a quarter hour, I said, "Ivy, where's the map?"

And he said, "Um, I don't know."

So now, as one might imagine, we are trekking rather helplessly through a jungle of a forest. I'm doing as well as can be expected of remembering where we were going last, but I daresay it would be going better if stupid old plant-head hadn't lost the map.

We're camping right now. Ivy is holding Rose close to his heart, making sure no one else puts her on.

We walked today. I know that must shock you. We walked and walked and got basically no where.

I have decided to not speak to Ivy, because he lost the map. If we can't get back to the castle in time it will be entirely on his head, and I will loathe him forever more.

But I must say, this isn't the worst place to be lost in. It's a queer sort of jungle, but better than the desert. And at least I have hair this time around.

So, we were walking some more today, and we stumbled upon this bridge. We thought maybe it was the bridge we had been looking for, but seriously doubt that now.

It was a short bridge, quite dainty, faded oak built into a roundabout fashion bridge that led over a simple brook. The water couldn't have been more then ankle, maybe knee deep; it was cold and clear, and crisp... I went to cross, and the moment I set foot on the bridge I heard:

"Who cares to cross my bridge without asking?"

I screamed and leapt backwards onto Ivy saying, "It's a troll!"

The voice was deep and gruff, and he sounded as if he meant business. I wanted rather badly to peer under the bridge to see what exactly it was, if it were a troll, or perhaps just a wicked little garden gnome. But I was rather stiff with surprise.

The a ripple in the water under the little oaken bridge began to grow, and immerged this strange little man... he had a full length peppery beard the grew at a tapered point, a dirty green hat that held a single feather, and his back slouched over as does and old person being punished for bad posture. I looked into his eyes, seeing something familiar... he simply stood there for a moment, and I wasn't sure if he was going to eat us, yell at us some more, or invite us to cross. He just stood.

Something swirled around in my head... the old man's glare, his poignant stare and vicious air...

Then I knew. "Visel!?" My scream was far from heroic. I began to tremble where I stood, no longer stiff. Now I felt goopy enough to melt into the ground. "I thought I had defeated you!" I exclaimed protestant. My hands began to sweat and itch, trembling almost as bad as they had the second night I went to his castle.

"What do you think I'm doing here?" He gave an annoyed, sarcastic chuckle, sniffled arrogantly and held out his hand as if to present our whereabouts.

"Well..." I wanted to turn tail and run, never see him again, but knowing he was in the same forest, trapped as I was, it didn't seem to be the wisest thing in the world to do.

"When you defeated me, as it were, you banished my soul here. And here I am. I am being punished for arrogance and vanity, therefore I have no powers and no looks. Thanks a lot."

His voice was strangely the same as I remembered it. But it was the oddest thing ever to hear him say what he did. "So, if you have no powers, I have nothing to fear from you?" I said warily.

He chuckled unpleasantly, "My dear, I said nothing of the sort." And with that he lunged from the water straight at my throat with his teeth bared; before I could even recognize what was happening I was on the ground flailing and screaming. But somehow– some way– Ivy was also on top, on the very top, saving me. I saw in a rush of meshing color that he took rose and put it on his hand, and then pushed him off.

I laid there in the dirt, and we both watched as he wriggled and screamed in terror, scratching his own skin, pulling his own hair. It was frightening. As if demons had inhabited his body and he could do nothing to fight it.

"Perhaps we should take it off now, and see if he could be of some use...?" I stood, but Ivy grabbed my wrist, never once taking his eyes off of the wriggling fiend of an old man.

When at last he stopped moving, Ivy knelt down and slipped it off quietly. "I'm sorry," I heard him whisper, but I realized that he was speaking to the glove, not the dead body.

I really don't understand it fully, how I killed Visel once and then Ivy did it again. I was a bit jealous of him stealing the glory, but at least I wasn't dead.

No sooner had this happened the earth began to shake, tremble, and move beneath us. It was so violent in fact we couldn't stay standing. I don't know what brought it about; if the forest was angry we killed Visel again, or thankful, because we both fell into what we thought to be a terrible hole.

Until of course we reached the bottom and fell into a gentle pond. My eyes were closed for the initial shock, but I hurried to open them once I realized I was underwater. For, if you remember my history, I am NOT a swimmer, terrified of water, although I did learn that I wouldn't die. Bubbles swirled around my head, and I struggled to decipher the direction of up. Eventually I floated to the top, and I slung my hair backwards and gasped as if breathing for the first time.

"Ivy!?" I hollered, because obviously I was speaking to him now. I wanted to know where we were. I propelled myself with my legs and arms, which were moving almost mechanically, impelled with the vision of staying afloat. The sky above me was night, but seemed to close to be the real sky, and yet too far. I looked around for land, and saw giant rocks strewn about, a third of the way from a sandy shore. I began swimming for one.

On the sandy shore there was stone platforms, and I couldn't quite tell what was on those, although I saw that they were moving so they were most definitely alive. Actually, I thought I heard a baby cry.

"Ivy!" I yelled again, and saw him thrusting his wet body onto the slippery boulder in the water. I swam until I thought I would drown and then he helped me up. I shivered, knees to my chest, wet hair plastered to my head.

"Don't ask me where we are, because I haven't a clue. I don't know any more than you do. But I have to say I don't recall the map every mentioning anyplace underground," his eyes dodged nervously.

"Nor I." I began to get an uneasy feeling. "Perhaps we should make it to shore?"

He nodded in approval, so we did. The beach wasn't as far off as it seemed. My toes clutched the sand, as if to tell it they would never leave again. I walked behind Ivy, who was beginning to show extraordinary courage.

I then realized I had heard a baby crying. Several, in fact. Maybe even more than several. There were at least a dozen women or more, strewn about busily, making fusses and laughing and giving love pats. There were, I then saw, at least twenty babies. I stood in awe at the sight.

"Um, excuse me?" Ivy tried to get someone's attention. We had lost the fear of being eaten or tortured, they didn't seem like the type. "Pardon me, but could you please be so kind as to tell us where we are?"

He caught the attention of a plump looking, friendly woman with a baby on her hip. Actually– that's not really a good description, because all of them looked somewhat like that. She turned to us, but looked past Ivy at me as if he had never spoken at all.

"Oh! You must be Lottey."

I dipped a curtsey, feeling important enough. "Yes."

"Alright. Been expecting you."

Surprised, I cocked my head to the side, wondering if I'd heard her correctly. She began walking off in another direction, and I don't know if I was to follow her, but I did.

"Can I ask you where we are– what exactly this is?" Of course I meant the babies.

"Oh," she chuckled happily, "these are future prince charmings. We give them special treatment here before they are born so they turn out correctly." She stopped and turned to me. "Isn't he lovely? His name will be Egor someday." She sighed happily.

He was indeed lovely. Eye's like Ryse's and light blond hair.

"Yes, splendid. But... why was I expected?" This was all extremely strange to me.

The happy lady bent down and opened a little box that was built in to the stone platform and pulled something out.

"Here you are!"

And she handed me...

A...

Can you believe it?

A glove!

And with that, we were it the middle of the desert. There standing in front of me was my wonderful Peagass.

She made it through the desert

She made it through the woods

She made it through the water

'Cause she knew she could!

When all is said and done, having a difficult time staying alive and happy isn't all so bad when you can brag about it later in life when it's all behind. I'm not saying that I'm there yet, but it's all documented. So when I'm queen I'll have everyone in the kingdom know what exactly I've been through.

I suppose that sounds a bit... ahead of myself? Perhaps I should focus on defeating Mersades before I begin planning my life with Ryse? Ivy and I are flying right now, flying back to doom's door. I pray we make it. I have confidence. But perhaps it's fallacy. I just know that when I see the horrible green lady again I'll lock up–my joints will freeze, she'll take back my voice and my hair–but then I'll touch her with the gloves. And everyone will be saved.

I hope.

Chapter Ten

Ivy and I landed swiftly an hours walk from the castle. How we were to get in the castle walls? We didn't know yet. This part of the plan didn't have directions. I really wanted to find Theeeb, reassure myself by hearing his directions again, so I didn't do anything wrong. But of course we hadn't the time to find him. We had passed extra time being lost, and who knew? The transformation could have already been complete by now!

It goes without saying I shiver at the thought.

Rose was still the evil glove. I held the real glove in my pocket, safely, my one and only hope left to have a happy life. This glove was my fate, my destiny, my life and Ryse's all rolled into one. It was dreadful to think about, tasted like metal in my mouth, but it was true.

An idea then struck me.

We were nearly to the castle gates, which were no doubt guarded by Mersades' minions, lurking about, ready to strike; so I grabbed Ivy's wrist.

"Bloody hell, do I have an idea!" I snapped. He stopped. I wrenched him closer to me, smiling deviously, preparing to whisper, "Rose can be the decoy." I hissed the last word, knowing he wouldn't like it.

"Mersades isn't stupid," Ivy retorted, clutching the female glove closer to his breast, jerking free of me.

"No, and neither am I! We have to, Ivy!" And with that I snatched it from him, biting my lip ferociously, feeling maybe as if I were being driven mad? I held it above him tauntingly.

"Be careful, don't hurt her!" he whined, making an attempt to grab it back. However, it was to no avail.

"Agreed?" I pursed my lips, raising one eyebrow high, awaiting his response. He was sure to give in; he was that sort of person. The sort you can walk all over if needed.

After a long, anything but droll moment of silence, "Whatever you say... your highness." He sounded fairly exasperated. But I was confident.

"Lousy queen you'll turn out..." he muttered something under his breath. I pretended to act terribly offended, then directed ourselves back on course.

The moon above us was full and haunting. My ears awaited the sound of wolves following us. I was so sure in my head something terribly stupid and dreadful would happen to stop me–and how was I to know something already hadn't? Doubt and fear loomed allied in one cloud. How I wished I were a great wind, as to blow it into the next dimension. But as we neared the gate, I realized how much I had changed in the past few years. It was incredible to think about. Something such as this would have terrified me when I was a Devingrole–there was no way I would have gotten so far. But, now, here I was; ready to defeat that second person who dared to ruin my life. If I was successful my future was promising... a princess... a queen? A royal, as I had always thought. I had, hadn't I? As if I knew.

If I was destined to be royal, then I had better not screw up.

With an invincible head full of newfound determination Ivy and I slapped our Peagasses on the rump, and they skittered off in a braying frenzy, sending the guards on a chase of confusion. As they were busy after them, trying to figure out where they came from, we slipped in the gate.

I snickered to myself. That was definitely too easy.

What was in front of us was imminent. The castle stood tall in the darkness, a backdrop of stars combed through a cloudless sky. It was intimidating to say the very least.

Where to go? My stomach began folding up in nervousness, things losing their promise of forever as we trekked further. I was virtually clueless. I didn't know where she was, how to stay hidden...

"Ivy, I'm going to put the glove on." I took a deep breath.

I felt his eyes crease at the corners, his mouth an indecisive glower. "Lottey, do you think...?"

I nodded, biting my lip. It was becoming numb. "That's what it's for."

And with that I slipped it on.

My eyes were as compressed as empty grapes, my lower lip nearly bleeding. I waited. Ivy waited. There was no sound except for crickets singing in the night.

I opened my eyes, relieved that nothing happened similar to the Rose glove episode. "How do we know if it works?" Suddenly my heart flew to my throat, as if it were buoyant and someone had poured a bucket of water in through my mouth.

"Where did Theeeb say it was to be found?"

My body turned into duck sauce and I found it difficult to stand. I swallowed hard before answering. "In the... middle of a lake on a stand?" Something like that?

Ivy didn't say a word, make a sound. After a moment of deafening silence he finally let me know he was still alive by clearing his throat. He set his hand gently on my arm. "Come on, let's keep going."

I followed beside him as if I were a walking dead. Might I be dead soon? I couldn't make myself look down at the glove on my hand. It covered my fingers as would acid. This was terribly terrifying, as one might imagine; one second everything is going to turn out perfectly; the next is full of the feeling of stupidity all rolled into a panic. I was lead along blindly. Of course I couldn't turn back, of course I had to chance the glove being the wrong one...

"If it isn't the correct one, we can just put the Rose one on her!" I exclaimed in a sudden whisper. But I could tell even through the dark that it wasn't a good idea, and didn't settle well with Ivy.

"It's her magic. You think she'd be susceptible to it?" He just shook his head.

So... I swallowed my fears and tears. It was possible this could be the last night of my life. It made me dizzy. However, it could be the beginning of the rest of my life. No way to tell.

Except for to try.

"You hear that?" Ivy grabbed my wrist. "Don't move," he breathed.

I stood stock-still. And I heard it; the sound of drums. Eerie and sinister sounds, chanting maybe, all coming from behind a thick grove of trees and an old, degenerating wall. I also noticed smoke from a fire. "The ritual?" I asked Ivy, loudly as I dared.

I watched as he nodded his head uncertainly.

It took all we had inside ourselves to move closer. It was the most terrorizing, most appalling thing I'd ever heard–and it didn't help that I knew what was happening. That my love was probably strapped to a stone table awaiting the life to be sucked from him. From this point on, I knew I would always resent witches, even the good ones.

"What's our plan of action?" I grabbed Ivy's hand; it was trembling the same as my own. We both supposed if we failed to defeat her, she'd rip our heads off.

"I don't know. Maybe... maybe just rush at her, from behind, surprise her, something." His words were as quiet as a single hair being plucked from one's head. They hurt like it, too.

I just sort of stood there in a daze–a terrified daze–trying to help myself to understand I had to do something. It was all up to me, on my shoulders; I couldn't Ivy to try and touch her, it wasn't his love. Anyway, I already had the glove on. I just had to trust it, I suppose?

Peering through the trees, I could now see her. I was terribly surprised she hadn't sensed us, or whatever it is that she does when she knows we're near. Probably too wrapped up in her evil mantra. In a circle there were guards, some that I recognized, although they were not wearing tops or armor. About thirty of them spread around a fire in a protective circle. Mersades was standing actually in the fire, not a singe, hands raised high with an oaken staff in one hand. I looked for Ryse. My eyes longed to see him, to make sure he was alright; I stretched in every way, looking for him. But then I realized–standing right there–he was in front of me. Blindfolded, arms bound mercilessly, shirtless, as if he were some kind of criminal. And across from him was his 'father'. Or shall we be kind and say, older-other-half?

Obviously it hadn't taken place quite yet. For if it had then Ryse would not be blind folded. In fact, Ryse wouldn't be Ryse at all!

"Should I come up from behind her, or run screaming like a madwoman?" I whispered to Ivy, never taking my eyes from the spectacle in front of me.

"No." His head shook slightly. "Then she'd have the time to zap you or something." He put his hand on my back, nudging my slowly, "sneak up from behind."

As a person would walk to a guillotine, I snuck my way around the procession, or whatever she'd have me call it. They beginning to get louder in their chants, loud enough to where there wasn't much of a chance I'd be heard. I just needed to keep out of view.

So around I trekked, my head lighter than a soufflé, and I couldn't even tell if my feet were on the ground. I wanted to scream out to Ryse, tell him not to let them take him, that I was on my way to his rescue! It would be alright! But of course, Mersades would hear me and have my head chopped off. Or maybe she'd take my body and inhabit it? I cringed. Thoughts such as these were certainly not helping.

I was now behind her, about ten steps from a guard who had his back turned to me; amazement enthralled me that I was yet to be heard or seen. There was such a possibility of coming out of this alive that I nearly snickered.

Now for my move of courage. I stepped closer. I had the plan to, on the count of three or something, lunge forward with all my might and leap for Mersades. After all, all I had to do was touch her. Theeeb was sure to take care of the rest.

Time slowed for me. I took a deep breath, my chest rising with pride and air. I drew back, and let go.

And the guard in front of me turned around.

I bounced back in shock, startled nearly past the point of breath, my stomach turning into a deep pit of nausea. Fortunately I hadn't lost all sense; I quickly shoved my hand with the glove behind my back. The guard grabbed my other wrist. I stood there, in genuine fright, not quite sure that this could be happening, not when I was so close! But I was almost too shocked, afraid and sort of rebuked, to hardly think.

Mersades let out her cackle. "Little girl, I had wondered where you went! You wanted to surprise me, tonight? Ahh," she cooed, as if she pitied me. "Bring her here." Her voice become cold in an instant.

Her words resounded, and as I was being drug across the grass as would a sleepwalker, I realized... she didn't know I had the glove. Obviously, or she would have had it taken. I was being taken towards her. As we drew nearer, every second an hour, precious Ryse to my right and my life and death in front of me, my focus began to grow tunneled. Sheer panic that someone would notice the glove and know what it could do kept me on my toes.

It was hardly like me; but when we were within a few steps distance, I wrenched from the guard and lunged forward.

"Don't beg for mercy..." Mersades began.

But then I reach out and touched her.

"I won't, but you should."

A screech to top all screeches ever known to mankind–or any kind–was emitted through her green mouth when she looked down at my hand, her smile slowly fading, her eyes become identical to the fire she was standing in. I was blown back unrepentantly, but what force is still don't know; but her screech turned into a howl and the flames began engulfing her. The fire was roaring now, feeding on her decomposing green flesh, and I saw how terribly old she was. She pointed a rigid and bumpy finger at me with a look of revulsion, and it was a bit frightening, and I might have run for my life if she hadn't been in the middle of leaping flames.

Then she finally dropped down dead.

Was it a trick? Was the terribly green queen actually dead? The world seemed to swallow me, and I could do nothing but lie there on the grass with a heaving chest, sagging mouth, and racing heart.

"Ryse!" I heard myself scream suddenly. I let my body collapse numbly into the ground. I shut my eyes. What was to happen now? There was no sound. Just the crackling fire. Perhaps her spirit would come back. I froze in terror; or maybe all of her guards that were surround me would leap at me at any second and rip my flesh apart. Were nemeses always so easily defeated?

But no sooner had I thought this, a once shocked crowd let out shouts of... glee?

I propped myself up on my elbow, the slightest move I dared, to see everyone jumping up and down for joy at the death of their queen. It was a magnificent sight–but as if I cared about them? I hadn't done this for them! My eyes shot to Ryse.

He was standing there same as before. Was there something wrong?

My heart leapt in terror. In an instant Ivy was at my side helping me up. We didn't exchange so much as a glance as we rushed to him.

"What's wrong with him?" I screamed at Theeeb without bothering to look at him, who was standing somewhat beside us, a mess of surprise. He didn't answer.

I gently untied his blindfold. His eyes looked empty and ghastly. A sob choked me. Ivy unbound his hands and feet.

"Ryse?" I whispered to his face, running my fingers along his skin. "I killed your stepmother for you, aren't you proud?" I wanted to shriek, why isn't he moving?! But I was afraid it would only make me feel worse. To admit out loud something was so terribly wrong.

A massive waterfall of tears erupted. They streamed angrily as I clung to my lifeless Ryse... I clenched my fist around his collar, pulling him closer. It was difficult to even make him budge. It was so stupid–that I had gone so far as to risk my own life, and then take others for his sake, and he wasn't even alive for me! Terror shook my body. Fear seized it. And I crumpled in a helpless ball to the ground.

I laid there shivering, uncontrollably, at his feet. I waited for someone to come, someone to put their hand on my shoulder and explain to me what was wrong. Why didn't anybody help?

Finally I threw my head up, tossing my hair backward, a stone cold stare for Theeeb. He just stood there, as if he had no idea what was going on. He stared back, emptily, blinking.

"Lotts?"

My body jolted in terror, my heart plunging into darkness. "What did you say?" I brought myself to say, standing up slowly.

I studied him for a minute, and then another, and then the whole world seemed to cease life. It spun. It was making me sick.

This couldn't be happening. But what was happening?

Theeeb looked down at his feet, followed them up his legs, past his waist and chest, and then brought his eyes back to me. He looked disgusted. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He took a few quick steps towards me, hands ready to grab my shoulders. "Where have you been? What is happening?" His words were slow and cool. Unlike Theeeb.

More like Ryse.

With a scream I threw myself to the ground. Beating it with my fist, I cursed Mersades with all my might. I was so scared I hadn't a thought running through my mind–not to say it wasn't uncommon. Feelings were a constant rush.

And then, suddenly and gently, there were two hands on my shoulders. I could have sworn it was Ryse, I expected to look up and see his beautiful shining face. And when I looked up, even though I loathed my movements, I saw him shining–through a different set of eyes.

Something had obviously gone very wrong.

"You're an–an–old man!" I wailed, falling into his arms.

He held me, but it seemed almost constrained, as if he didn't understand. I can't say that I did either. But I knew more than he did.

"You were a clone of Theeeb, Ryse," I threw at him, my head buried in his tunic. "Mersades was going to have his spirit enter your body and make it look as if Theeeb had died and you took over. But that wouldn't be quite true since it'd be him in you and not you at all, just your outer form, your body... I tried to stop it, I thought I had! Oh, Ryse! Do you remember anything? And if you're in Theeeb's body, where is he?"

I wanted him to explain everything to me as he always had before. It wasn't fair. We were supposed to win. Us! Not the villain! In all actuality, nobody had won really... but it still wasn't fair.

Ryse didn't say anything. He sat there on his knees, my face, moist with tears against his shoulder. I could feel him staring into space. Meeting his eyes slowly, cautiously, I leaned back. Wiped my nose on my sleeve.

"How are we supposed to reverse this horrid... thing?" I asked helplessly.

But I knew he didn't know. No more than I did. Ivy didn't know. The guards didn't know. The situation was the most positively pitiful scene ever thrown upon a living human.

So, the moon shone. And that was about the only good thing that night.

Until Ivy screamed.

The both of us shot up, looking around for him. He was screaming like a little girl. He was jumping around on his toes, and I couldn't tell what in the world his problem was. And how it could be worse than mine.

But then I saw it; it was Rose, the glove. It was flopping around on the ground like a fish out of water. Ivy fell back on the grass, breathing heavily, as if he were scarred for life. The glove was in his pocket when it started moving, that's all. After Visel, something coming to life in his pocket scared him that badly?

We all stared at the glove, I could hear the guards coming up behind us out of curiosity. Since Mersades was defeated, perhaps she would turn back into her real form. I was sorely interested, but even that couldn't distract from the aged arm I was clinging to.

"What's wrong with her?" Ivy cried. He really loved that glove, didn't he? Bent down on his knees, he crawled a little closer, as if trying to calm her or something. Suddenly she stopped bouncing.

The ground started rumbling.

Ivy jumped up, away from the glove, which was now shining like an orb of lightning. We all backed up. My heart began to beat in my ears when it began to grow.

"Rose?" Ivy cried desperately.

But there was no need to be desperate.

In an instant she was standing before us, the rumbling ceased, and moon shone like the sun on a cloudless day. I felt a sort of resentment mixed with awe when I saw how beautiful she was. Ivy, dumbstruck, fell to his knees, as if she were royalty of gods.

Ryse and I watched in amazement as she smiled down at him. I thought she was going to say something to him, or to somebody, maybe me for defeating Mersades? But instead she began walking towards Ryse and me.

Her hair was a dark auburn that I'd never seen before. It flowed behind her in tresses that shined less only than water. Her skin was a shimmering white, her eyes two tiny blue specks that were mesmerizing, and a gown that made anything I had ever worn before times ten look like that of a kitchen wench. And she was walking towards us.

I wasn't trembling, but I had fear. It wasn't a startling sort of fear, because she looked to gentle to do anything rotten. But I did become numb when she reached her hand out towards Ryse's–or, Theeeb's–mouth, seemed to grab a web of air from his face and pull it towards her. I gasped... it was his spirit. Theeeb's arm I was holding went limp, and I dropped it instantly.

The spirit glided through the air as if it were born there. It made a strange, although comforting sound that was a bit hard on the ears, but I was entranced with fear. But it quickly changed to hope when I saw what she was doing.

Ryse's beautiful spirit floated with effortless grace into his real mouth. The one that I kiss. He seemed to suck it in, as if taking a breath for the first time. His eyes flickered to life.

I instantaneously fell the ground with insanely happy laughter mixed with choking sobs. Then his real hands, the ones that save me, were around me... for the first time in forever...

He raised me to my feet, never once leaving my eyes until I fell onto his shoulder. He put his arms around me and slung me around.

"What a strange day," I said, as if in a trance.

Then we looked over our shoulders to see Rose lifting the head of a very confused, very mesmerized, very petrified Ivy. We both watched in amazement as she drew him up; her lips parted in words of thanks, and then they were on his. It was somewhat of a funny sight, actually.

Well, at least we lived happily ever after this time. For now, at least.

###
