Well, felt a bit depressed after NO REVIEWS for the 4th chapter of Trapped. And no one yell at me from gaining my motivation from reviews, I'll admit it, I'm a total review whore. Deal with it.

That being said, if you catch any errors in names, places, etc., try to pay attention to the plot and I'll correct them as soon as I can. And as always, press the little button and review. God knows I need it.

Kel walked into her rooms, after a long afternoon practicing with the refugees of New Hope. After

a long 'talk' with the king, actually consisting of her pleading and the queen eventually interceding

on her behalf, New Hope had been permanently established as a small town, providing much

needed stability for its already displaced inhabitants. Today had been her first day back from

Corus, and already it was evident how much work there was to be done. Apparently, in exchange

for her not exchanging command with some apathetic conservative, Kel was responsible for the

erection of the courthouse, the school, and permanent individual housing for all of New Hope's

inhabitants who planned to settle, thus far, all of them.

Kel sighed. Her day's activities, with her morning of paperwork followed by exercise, left her both

physically and mentally exhausted. Kel just wanted to crawl into bed, but, after glancing, or rather

sighing longingly, at her covers, she virtuously opted to take a cold bath to ease her tight muscles.

Its not as if I want a break, Kel mused as she pulled her practice shirt over her head. I love helping

people, especially the refugees. The soon to be not refugees, Kel corrected herself with a satisfied

smile. But please gods, I have a bad feeling about this. Help this go smoothly. For all our sakes.

Kel knelt down to her waiting washbasin. Suddenly, a shadow of black leapt in front of her eyes.

Kel reached for her belt knife, only realizing too late she had left it in the heap of her clothes. 10

feet away, and far closer to the man than to her. Kel froze. The man, if he had any sort of weapon,

could kill her as she stood. But just as suddenly as the man had come, he was gone, hurling himself

out of her opened window with an agility and grace she thought she . . . but, just as soon as the

thought had come, it like the man, was gone, leaving her more disturbed and confused than before.

Belatedly, she yelled for help, only realizing afterward her lack of . . . any clothing whatsoever. Kel

darted over to the bed, next to which lay her blessed modesty. But the bed . . . Kel froze. Pinned

to the bed with what looked to be her best dagger was a complete map of New Hope, one she

had only given to the people she trusted, had to trust the most. Even more disturbing than this,

there was writing on the map. 'Dismantle New Hope. Or I'll kill it, and you.'

As Kel stared in disbelief, her door flew open, nearly a full squad of soldiers rushing in in full battle

regalia. Only to be greeted by the screams of their very angry, very naked commander.

King Jonathon drummed his fingers on the conference room table. Sir Wyldon, never one for

sounding unnecessary alarms, had come to him with a very disturbing report. Not only had

someone broken into Keladry of Mindelan's personal quarters and left a threatening message, he

or she appeared to be a member of Keladry's most trusted staff members. An investigation was

clearly needed.

"Keladry simply cannot investigate this herself, Your Majesty." Wyldon's firm voice broke in. "If

she is going to continue to command at New Hope, her staff has to know, or at least think, that

she trusts them absolutely. Questioning by her would only undermine her authority. She doesn't

need that."

Jonathon stared at Wyldon, a idea suddenly occurring to him.

"What we need," he declared, stooping the drumming and sitting up straighter, "is a knight

investigator. One whos presence won't openly be questioned, one we can pretend to send to help

Keladry with New Hope. She is only a second-year knight after all."

"But Sire," Wyldon protested, "We hardly have any knights to spare! Most are at the border, or

at fortresses elsewhere."

Jonathon smiled. "I have one in mind . . ."

Sir Zahir of the Bazhir Tribes, peered gloomily through the fog surrounding New Hope.

Sometimes his history with the king really had its downsides.