In Which Ellona Finds It Isn't Analogous

December 8, 1179

"...so I suppose I'll have to help out with that, unfortunately." Lettie fiddled with the loose cloth of her sleeve. That dusty blue suited her, but other than her dress, she wasn't looking too well. Her hair had been pinned expertly, but the elaborate ties and curls didn't serve to make her any prettier so much as the made her seem older; she was a few years younger than Ellona herself was, but with her hair up and the bags under her eyes and that tired half-smile she'd been wearing most of the evening, she might have passed for closer to Mistress Tumekrin's or Lady Leonora's. Maybe things would improve for Lettie once the baby arrived... but going by the barely-noticeable bulge and the fact that she was due in not-far-off February, that seemed a little much to hope for. Why Searle had brought her along given all that, Ellona couldn't guess.

But as selfish as a thought it was, she supposed she was glad that Lettie was here. Neilor had only been invited by the grace of some olive branch from Isidro, and Ellona only because Riona was Raia's sister--and if she'd known that Raia herself wasn't going to be there, she probably wouldn't have gone. But she liked Lettie well enough, and Lettie seemed more or less tolerant of her, and neither of them cared much for large gatherings. When she'd fled to the quiet oasis of the not-yet-ready dining hall, it had been nice to have a companion.

"I don't envy you. Weddings are enough of an ordeal when it's not an immediate family member."

Lettie nodded--agreeing, but unenthused. But while it was difficult enough to find fellow wedding grouches, it seemed unfair to expect passion out of a party guest who ought to have been back home instead, eating soup in bed.

"You know, maybe you should lie down."

"Maybe." A lock of red hair drooped in front of her eyes. She blew it aside with a well-aimed breath, only to have it flop stubbornly back. How frustrating life must have been when even her hair conspired against her. "Do you think Riona would mind if I used her room? I don't want to mess up any of the guest rooms."

"You're not staying the night?" She shook her head and Ellona gaped. What had Searle been thinking, dragging his sick, pregnant wife to and from a party in the same night? He hadn't, rang Raia's voice in her head, exasperated. "Well, I won't hear of it, and I doubt Riona will either. I'll go see if I can have a room prepared for you."

"No, it's all right." Brows furrowed, Lettie gave an unconvincing grimace. She must have saved the better fake grins for her husband. "It's not very far, and we were planning on leaving after dinner..."

"Really, I insist." Ellona pushed back her chair and rose to her feet, a quick smile Lettie's way. She wasn't the type to waste smiles, but she got the sense that Lettie could use one. "I'm sure they have a few rooms to spare. And if not, you can have my brother's room; I know he's not seven months pregnant."

The other woman sniffed out a half-hearted chuckle. "No, I'd guess not. Thank you."

"No problem. Just stay here and take it easy, all right?" Another nod. Ellona returned it, then strode toward the doors and pushed her way into the corridor.

Oddly enough given that there was a party taking place, she didn't see any servants, even though the pantries and kitchens were near here if this castle was at all analogous to Neilor's. It must have been close enough to supper that the ingredients would have been gathered, but not quite so close that anyone had been sent out with place settings. Just as well; the kitchen staff might not have been much use anyway. She'd have to find a chamber maid.

She ventured past the stairs and a large cabinet, then stopped to study a nearby door. Not that doors varied much in Dovian architecture... but in Neilor's castle as well as her old one, there was a door in a similar spot that led to a stairway to the maids' quarters. Surely at least one or two would be resting up there having prepared several chambers already? And surely they wouldn't mind quickly readying one more for the sake of their mistress's tired, pregnant sister-in-law?

It seemed like a reasonable guess. Shrugging, Ellona made her way to the door and grasped the handle.

Well. This wasn't a stairway. And it wasn't unoccupied. And the occupants weren't maids at all. "Uh... sorry?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Searle Guesses the Remedy

December 8, 1179

Raia was not in attendance as the baby had a slight fever, and of course Viridis was still in Carvallon, but the rest of Searle's siblings were all accounted for. The children, of course, were off playing elsewhere, poor Roddie among their exasperated babysitters; the adults were already dancing the night away, though the evening sun still sparkled in the stain-glass windows and dinner had yet to be served. Vera and Lonriad had already danced so long and so hard that they had retired to the benches with their respective partners, but Jadin and Riona were still going strong, now dancing a closer and slower dance, guided by innate rhythm and the path of their spouses' eyes.

Searle had never danced like that. Not with that kind of focus, at least.

He glanced over at his wife, seated to the side by the heart-wrenchingly adorable Vera and Lucien. She looked tired and ill, and again he regretted begging her to accompany him. Lettie was seven months if Arydath hadn't lost her uncanny touch, but the bump was so small and so low Searle couldn't even be sure that everyone here was aware of her condition. The slouch and the deceptive gown she'd chosen didn't help. Poor girl. Still missing Prior, still suffering in silence as his broken heart kept silently beating for another, and probably still stressed from the whole plan too. How she'd managed to let him back in bed long enough to get pregnant again, he couldn't guess, but she was a much more patient woman than he ever could have hoped for.

He wished he could dance with her like that. He really did.

Sparron hadn't shown up, not that Searle had expected he would. Didn't mean it hurt any less. Attending functions where Sparron was present was torture--all the looking without looking, all the wondering if anyone was looking back, wanting nothing more than just a minute with him and knowing that was never going to happen--but it was nothing compared to the hard fact that Sparron had gone out of his way to avoid him. It had been like that before, but at least he'd known Sparron's patterns, known that he'd come around eventually, that there would come a day they'd be together again.

It wasn't like that this time. If Sparron hadn't come, then he was still angry with him. He still hated him.

And that made the sight of all his smiling, laughing, happily-in-love siblings all the more unbearable.

Perhaps he wasn't trying hard enough with his wife. Maybe Sparron's rejection was some cosmic force telling him to give up and get over the man, some means of clearing the path to marital bliss with Lettie. But what if Sparron came back to him? No matter how long it took, no matter how over Sparron he thought he was, he doubted he could ever resist. And he didn't want to harm the small, dying hope he still harbored.

"Not quite the dancer your brothers are?"

It was Casimiro. Searle wasn't sure how he'd missed him; the soft green tunic was a bold departure from his usual drab brown. "Not really in a dancing mood."

"I know what you mean. Of course, it doesn't help that my date is my sister." Catalina glowered from her chair by the dancers. Casimiro returned the glare with a good-natured smirk. "Do you think 'Nardo might let me borrow Hilla? He dances like his toenails are lead, but she almost makes that unnoticeable."

Searle glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Bernardo loose his lips on Hilla's shoulder. He'd kissed Sparron there a few times, but Sparron had always shrugged him aside. "He doesn't look like he wants to share."

"Guess not--but can you blame him, really?" Fond smile swelling, Casimiro sighed as he took in the sight of his brother and sister-in-law. "All those empty flings with tavern girls and knight's daughters alike, then he finally meets the one woman who can keep him satisfied all by her lonesome. You don't let something like that get away."

"No," Searle agreed. He hadn't guessed that one word could make him feel like such a hypocrite. "I had someone once."

"I did too. At least, I thought I did." It was the first hint of sadness Searle had seen on that face since he'd known Casimiro, but he didn't press. They weren't lovers. He'd feared Casimiro had wanted that of him, but a good long conversation like he'd never had with Sparron proved otherwise. They were friends who scratched each other's backs because it worked for them, but nothing more.

They weren't close enough for Searle to delve into Casimiro's private sorrows, nor for Casimiro to feel obliged to tell on his own accord. "All in the past, though. My more pressing concern right now is dinner and how long until it's served."

Was that a joke? Searle forced out a chuckle. "Are you that hungry?"

"No, but I am that bored."

"And food is your remedy for that particular ailment?"

"One of them, yes. But I have a few others."

Searle thought he could guess what one of them might be. He wasn't sure how he felt about the idea--sneaking off from a party with someone who wasn't Sparron--but maybe it would prove a fitting distraction. It couldn't have been worse than just standing here, drowning in all the happy. "Pray tell?"

As he thought he might, Casimiro winked. "Walk with me?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Jadin Maintains His Streak

November 17, 1179

"Huh. I never really thought about it." Of course he hadn't. Lorn was only a year older than Jadin was, but the death of his father had left him a duke at the age when boys ought to have spent their afternoons pelting each other with mud rather than reviewing accounts and tending to any urgent social crises. Lorn had never had time to learn the pastimes of young men, and bizarre hypothetical scenarios were no exception. But while they had time to kill, why not introduce him to the game? "Why? Who would you choose?"

"Izzy."

Lorn frowned. "That was a suspiciously quick answer."

"It's not the first time I've been asked that." Jadin flashed a quick smirk, but Lorn didn't return it. He supposed he was after the reasoning. "He's small, so he wouldn't be too intimidating, but he's strong, so he'd still be good protection. And he's got that big ugly scar, so it's not like he'd have any other prospects. That and he's not going to find anyone who looks more like Riona than I do." His brother-in-law snorted. Good to know that he at least got the point of these silly conversations: fun. "So, out with it. Who would you pick?"

"I don't know... Searle, maybe?"

Eh? "My brother?"

"No. Your cousin." Not that that narrowed it down. "You know--cranky, sadistic, small animals die every time he smiles?"

That did. "Interesting choice. Why?"

Lorn lifted a shoulder in blase unsureness. "I don't know. First name that came to mind, I guess."

"Fair enough. Now, suppose that all--" The door swung open and in shuffled the last person Jadin would have wanted to overhear that chat. Good thing it was over. "Hello, Sparron."

"Hello yourself." Jadin turned away from Lorn just long enough to stick out his tongue at his old friend; Sparron returned it with an arguably less immature gesture that Jadin was relieved to see Lorn had missed. "Lorn."

"Hello, Sparron." Lorn turned his head as Sparron shut the door, an early hint of a question lurking on his lips. "Hey, question. If you had to f--?"

"Ah, never mind that!" Jadin chirped up just in time. He smiled at Sparron perhaps a bit more widely than was necessary, though one eye remained on Lorn. It was a relief to see he hadn't caught anything suspicious. "Now that we're all here, we should probably find something more important to talk about. Any suggestions?"

Jadin and Sparron met with Lorn every few months or so in their fathers' steads, the idea being that they could weigh in on a few decisions under reasonable guidance without said guidance being from the men they would one day succeed. It made sense--they wouldn't be lords while their fathers were around, after all, so they couldn't rely too heavily on their present judgments--but sometimes they were pressed for problems large enough to merit concern yet small enough that neither Jadin's father nor Sparron's were needed.

Jadin's father had suggested Deian's supposed return and probation, but he already knew how that would turn out. Lorn, no doubt nursing some long-lived desire to bring the creature who'd killed his father to justice, would say they couldn't believe Tavrin when he said that Deian couldn't cause any trouble and would want to hunt him down as soon as they thought of a halfway plausible way to approach him. Sparron, resource-minded and undeniably itching to get home to his long-suffering father and his precious little son, would point out that they didn't know how long Deian had been back and there had been no incidents since their previous known encounter with him, and that--while it wouldn't be unwise to warn the people not to wander the forests alone--it would be a waste to send any knights on a wild goose chase until there was actual cause for alarm.

Jadin didn't know who he'd agree with. Probably Sparron in the end, but he'd see Lorn's points too clearly to make much a tie-breaker. The two of them would clash and he'd get frustrated and throw them both out, and that would be the end of it. It would be just as pointless as putting the moves on Camaline.

So instead, Jadin just jumped at the first thing that came to mind. "Guess whose turn it is to host the Advent party?"

...that was the first thing that came to mind? Good Lord. It wasn't even December yet.

Sparron didn't look to be any more impressed with the thought. "Your family's Advent party? Really?"

"Well... not much else going on around here, is there?" His friend glowered and it occurred to him that he may have deserved. There was always something going on with Sparron and it was rarely any good. "Anyway. It's Riona's turn. So... you'll both be there, right?"

Another stupid question. Sparron twitched and Jadin had to kick himself. Any party hosted by Searle's sister was bound to be attended by Searle himself. "No."

Lorn sniffed. "A little soon to respond, don't you think?"

"Hardly. I'm a busy man."

"As are we all. But it wouldn't kill you to give yourself a break every once in a while. You'll burn out." Jadin had to nod in agreement. It was the sort of thing that most men who'd lacked sufficient boyhoods tended to miss, as Sparron clearly had. Lorn, however, had somehow managed to learn that in spite of everything. "Besides, when was the last time you called on someone other than Jeda? Your absences don't go unnoticed, you know. At least think it over and let Isidro and Riona know closer to the date."

Sparron nudged at the ground as if sheer pride was the only thing that held him in place, but Jadin knew better. Sparron had no pride. "Fine. But don't expect me to change my mind."

And with that, he gave in to his restless feet and left without so much as a 'farewell' to either of them. An awkward sort of tension was all that remained. Jadin decided to break it, if only for the sake of some appearance of normalcy. Or maybe just to maintain his streak of moronic inquiries. "So... are you going to the party?"

"I don't know. Ask me when there's a concrete time and when it's actually December." Lorn glanced back at the closed door Sparron had left and sighed. "Is it just me, or are these meetings growing more and more pointless?"

Well. At least he wasn't the only one asking stupid questions. "It's not just you."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Mona Lets the Scales Tip

October 9, 1179

"Welcome back." Anna greeted Mona with a quick hug and a pat on the shoulder. It was a little too familiar, but she supposed they were sort of friends by this point, having been living each other's lives for the better part of a year now. Besides, Anna was, for all intents and purposes, the princess. If she thought a hug was appropriate, then who was Mona to argue? "How was the trip?"

"Disappointingly dull, thank you very much." And that was without getting into the storms or the seasickness. She'd be feeling the waves beneath her feet for months. "At least Zareth let me go to shore with him when we docked and he had to check the ship."

"And at least you did retrieve it?"

"Oh, yes."

Anna's brow bent to a peak. "And?"

"Also disappointing. No treasure, no jewels... nothing. It's not even a great ship." And that to the point where she'd pitied those who'd had to man it for the return trip! "Devidra just wants to give it to my father."

"That's not surprising. What better way to get rid of the few lousy war ships Carvallon has than to donate them to some landlocked king's frivolous navy? Er, no offense to your father," Anna added hastily.

"None taken. It is frivolous." Mona tugged at a loose lock of hair. She supposed she ought to be insulted, seeing as she'd been the price of that navy, but by this point, she guessed she was over it. That wasn't her life any more. "And if all the lousy ships aren't accounted for, then Devidra has no choice but to give my father a good one." Good thing he'll never have much use of it, really.

"Mmm. Well, let's just hope Naroni doesn't agree to back any other nation at sea any time soon. It'll be years before they have the required forces anyway."

"I know. We don't even have a proper land-based army yet." Her sister Lily would no doubt be shipped away in exchange for supplemental soldiers. Not many people tended to move to Naroni on their own volition. "My father's a delusional fool. I love him, but he's a delusional fool. He thinks he and his kingdom are so much more than they actually are, and no one bothers to tell him off because they know he won't listen. At least Ietrin has a better grasp of reality--too good of one, perhaps."

"Whereas you're perfectly balanced between the two extremes?"

There was a hint of sarcasm there. It wasn't quite unmerited. "Of course not! But really, good luck finding someone who is."

"Point taken." Anna brushed a bit of fluff off of her sleeve, then brought her hands to a clasp. Mona didn't know her maid-turned-lady quite as well as she guessed to she ought to, but she'd noticed that that gesture tended to precede news. "And speaking of delusion and reality, there's something you should probably know."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Anna Is Refilled

October 7, 1179

"Worked your way through all books in the library, have you?" Adrius folded up the letter he'd been reading and tucked it away with the others before beaming up at her. Anna smiled back, but not without a certain level of discomfort. She hoped she wasn't intruding. This visit would be difficult enough. "You're welcome to any in here as well."

She took a quick glance at the shelf-lined wall for the sake of being polite, but she didn't want to risk disappointing herself. Adrius had a generous heart, but Anna didn't doubt that after this conversation, any bookshelf privileges would be not-unjustly provoked. "Actually, I was kind of hoping that we could talk. You're not busy, are you?"

"No, just pretending to be. Would you believe that my mother decided against yet another wedding tunic?"

Anna forced herself to chuckle. No doubt Devidra would be making drastic, time-consuming changes until the very minute Anna walked down the aisle. Well... if she walked down the aisle, she had to correct her own thought. She got the feeling that wouldn't be happening, though the exasperated amusement in his eyes made it difficult to accept. "I think she's having second thoughts about my gown too."

"One would think we're old enough to choose our own clothes." He stepped around from behind the desk and embraced her, a kiss to the cheek at the hug's pinnacle. It was an inadvisable folly, but nonetheless Anna took what might have been her last chance to run a finger through his soft hair, straightened only under its own weight. He must have had lovely curls as a boy. "Oh well. At least she doesn't have horrible taste."

"No, of course not." Had this been yesterday, she would have made some comparison to Queen Laralita of the garish floors and the over-the-top decor. Today... no. She would not taunt him by mentioning her 'royal mother'. "I do love the gown, but if she does replace it, I'm sure the new one can only be an improvement."

"Yes, well..." He muttered something about 'any gown', 'improved' and 'by good fortune of being worn by you'. Anna felt a blush creep onto her cheek. Adrius did give pretty compliments, even if he never quite managed to get them out. "But that's probably not what you want to talk about?"

She shook her head, but his sunset eyes remained fixed on hers as they moved. This was why she had to do this. Here was a sweet, sensitive young man who'd never done wrong by anyone a day in his life, and here she was, stringing him along, making him believe she was someone she wasn't, that his betrothed was someone she wasn't. He cared about her--who he thought she was--enough that finding out at all would be painful, but finding out by chance would be agony. She--who she really was--cared too much about him to keep deceiving him.

If nothing else, he deserved to know before it was too late and they were already married, never mind what happened to her. She wasn't too worried about that anyway. She was coming forward unprovoked; she'd probably be held here until Mona returned, then quietly dismissed while Devidra swept the ordeal under the rug. "You'll want to sit down for this."

She'd spent the late hours of the night before rehearsing to her bedroom mirror, each rendition of her confession more awkward and clinical than the last. She needn't have bothered. Looking at him made it almost easy, rolling her heart down her sleeve, her feelings translating to words as if born of language. She told him everything--her name, who her parents were, how she'd become Mona's maid, Mona's feelings about the betrothal. She told him how Mona had been handed to Zareth in the bleak outskirts with only her apathetic brother to see her off while the rest of her family slumbered in their feather beds. She told him how she'd woken on the morning of their arrival to see Mona wearing her dress and loudly fussing over 'her highness', how if Zareth had gotten a good look at them the first night, he'd chosen not to comment.

She told him more than that. She told him how she enjoyed being with him, how much she appreciated all they had in common. She told him how she'd never felt for a man the way she felt for him and how it broke her heart to hurt him, but that it was for the best. What she stressed most of all was that she was sorry, that she shouldn't have gone along with Mona's scheme no matter how she rationalized her friend's actions, that he deserved a hell of a lot better than either of them.

"...and at this point, I just want you to have the kind of life you deserve." She let herself meet his eyes again. His expression had changed little throughout her speech, barring some slight relaxation when she'd gone into her feelings for him. He hadn't once interrupted. She almost wished he would, just to break the tension. Just to bring her back to reality. "I don't want you to live a lie."

The last word brought a twitch to her lashes, but she lacked the tears to cry. So many private emotions had flooded out of her in such a short space of time that she now felt numb, hollow. The contents of her soul floated uncontained in the silence and she herself was a void. But perhaps that was for the best. If she could have felt anything, it would have been hurt.

"Anna?"

Adrius stood, face unchanged, posture marked with a confidence she'd never seen in him. Something plucked at her heartstrings as he reached toward her and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. "Umm... I sort of feel like a fool for not telling you sooner, but... I already knew who you were."

It may have been the only thing he could have said that could destroy the nothingness. Her soul had been refilled with alarm, a sharp panic and a strangled horror, and some weight of realized dread. And maybe a fraction of a speck of hope. "How?"

"Mona's letters." He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. She felt no trace of the floor beneath her feet. "She always seemed a bit... I don't know. Like the Mona you described, I guess--flighty, restless, all that. Then I met you, and you were nothing like I expected, and I couldn't believe that you and the girl I'd corresponded with were the same person. Then I caught a glimpse of your handwriting while you were taking notes on Plato one day, and all the pieces just sort of fell into place."

The handwriting. For all she was relieved that the plan hadn't been needed, it was good to know that at least one of Mona's assumptions had been founded. "Ah. Well... it's good to know that Mona will have someone clever to keep her grounded."

"Mona?"

It was the first wounded look he'd given her. Why, though? She'd tried not to paint Mona in too unfavorable a light... "She's nice enough when you get to know her. And she's really fun. You'll like her, I promise."

"I'm certain I would." His hand was back in her hair again, combing through the locks, not flinching if a strand broke away. He had a way of smiling that rarely went without a smile in turn. "But she's not you."

Anna's heart thudded away so strongly she feared it might burst. She'd never been a clumsy sort, but she would have fallen back if not for his arms, she could have sworn it. "You mean...?"

"Like I've never meant anything in my life." He kissed her. She could still taste the honey from breakfast on his lips. "I love you. I don't care if you're really a princess or not. I want to be with you."

She could have died a very happy woman had she died just then. But-- "Your mother--"

"Let me worry about my mother." It would be easier said than done. She would worry about Devidra until they'd shoveled the last clump of dirt over her grave. But to think that Adrius was willing to stand up to his mother of her--something she doubted he'd ever done in his life--that was enough to merit at least a nod. "Who knows? She might have already figured it out. She likes you more than Mona anyway, and she might want to make King Roderick look like an idiot. Or she might just see how I feel about you, and... well..."

It was hard to imagine a world in which Devidra of Carvallon was a romantic. For now, though--for Adrius's sake--Anna would give her the benefit of the doubt.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Lonriad Sees Something

October 5, 1179

"Wait, when did this happen?" Lonriad scuffed his boot across the floor and stared downward as Ashe tried and failed to get comfortable on the couch. "Two months ago and you're only telling me now?"

His friend bowed his head, his own knee a sudden point of utmost interest. If ever Lonriad found himself in the position of having to demonstrate tell-tale signs of shame and guilt, he'd have to make sure Ashe was otherwise unoccupied. "I figured you'd think it was stupid."

Well, it wasn't as if there could be any arguing there. "Yes, well... you were writing a letter to Rona. Rona came in. She gave you the slightest hint that she could see it--not that she wanted to read it, mind you, but that she could see it--and you destroy it. If the letter was for Rona in the first place, then why didn't you let her read it?"

Ashe shifted again, squirming with the same anxiety Baby Adonis never failed to demonstrate at bath time. In this case, though, Lonriad doubted that a raspberry to the tummy would be a productive response. "Because it, uh... it wasn't from me."

"Oh." An acceptable explanation in this case, no doubt. Of course, all that resolution had served was to replace one stupid scenario with another. For all he'd never seen the ruined letter and all its lies, it was a clear vision in his mind. Dear Rona: Sorry for not writing earlier. Things were hectic for a while, but they've settled now. I miss you, though. Hope everything is well. All the best. --Aspen. All right, it would have been more elaborate, more personal. But he only needed the gist of it. "Why would you do that?"

"To make her happy?" Ashe let himself look up just long enough for Lonriad to meet his eye. There was always that wavering fear in Ashe's eyes, that barely-contained paranoia that had never lurked in Aspen's. Or had it? Aspen had her secrets too. "She misses her friend and it's my fault she's gone. I just want Rona to know that Aspen didn't forget about her."

Lonriad tried not to groan as he took a step back and dropped to the floor. Meanwhile, Ashe abandoned the hope of settling and slid down the front of the couch. Good. These things were always better said between two parties on the same level. "There's a better way to let her know that. It's called 'telling the truth'."

"You think I haven't thought about that? That I don't lie awake every night watching her sleep and trying to find any way to say it that doesn't make either of us look insane?" He took to fidgeting with his wedding band, for all Lonriad couldn't understand why. It looked to fit perfectly. "I can't tell her, Lonriad. I can't tell her that I only exist because her best friend doesn't. I can't do that to her."

"Of course you can't, because that's a lie." And sometimes, Lonriad just had to wonder if Ashe even knew the difference anymore. "You are her best friend. Sure, you're taller and hairier and I won't even mention the more obvious changes, but you're still the same person deep down. Aren't you?"

The silence was such that had a spider chosen that moment to scurry across the wall, he would have heard it. "Ashe..."

"I don't know." Ashe spun the band up toward his knuckle, a trail of red skin left in its wake. "I was just a kid. I never had a chance to know who I was. I just knew I loved her."

I just knew I loved her. It was a plain phrase, but it was as good as a ballad. It was the saddest and most honest and most heart-wrenchingly pure thing Lonriad had ever heard. "Tell her that."

"No." He pushed the ring back into place and sighed. The fear was still present, but there was a different energy to it--passive, defeated. All his layers of facade had been stripped away and this was his core. Naked, amorphous, not even solid. Pure agony. "I can't lose her. It's a stupid thought because she's not even mine, but I can't lose her. Don't you see it, Lonriad?" Lonriad shook his head. He didn't know what he saw. "She's my only reason for existing. I don't know who the hell I am and the only thing I can define myself by is her. If I lose Rona--if I drive her away--I have nothing. I am nothing."

Lonriad shook his head. He kept studying Ashe and looking past the lies and adaptations, and when that was all gone, there wasn't nothing. He might not have been sure what it was, but he knew it was something--something, biding its time, curled up deep inside just waiting to be realized. "You're not nothing."

"Then what am I?"

If there was an answer to that question, it took a much wiser man than Lonriad to see it. He doubted even his father would know. But he had to say something. It was the only way to keep the hope alive. "You're someone who loves someone else more in a second than most people love in a lifetime, and you have to let her know that. You have to tell her everything you just told me, and you have to believe that she won't push you away."

"And why wouldn't she?"

"Because you wished for her to be happy, and the universe brought you two together. I know it sounds stupid, but that's what happened. It happened because you're meant to be together."

NEXT CHAPTER: