Her Serene Highness Princess Cecilia of Frell, second in line for the throne of Kyrria and widely regarded as the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, was bored. She had spent the entire morning in a particularly dull history lesson in which her tutor had described in great detail every treaty between the Kyrrian monarchs and the gnomes in the last three hundred years, and she had three hours to entertain herself before an equally dull etiquette lesson began.

Generally entertaining herself consisted in practicing on her lute, teasing her brother, or tormenting would-be suitors. She'd just practiced that morning, and her brother was meeting with self-important Ayorthaian toadies all day, so the noon bell found her sauntering down to the soldiers' barracks in a pure white dress slightly more low-cut than her usual style.

It was a complete coincidence that she happened to run into Prince Emende of Ayortha on her way, or so she would try to convince herself later. Granted, she had seen him walking this way a few times before, on his way back from his morning ride, but it wasn't as if she'd been keeping track of his comings and goings. Besides, she'd had one of those conversations with her brother where his face went all serious and he tried to explain to her what she ought to be doing, and apparently in this case what she ought to be doing was explaining to Prince Emende exactly why he shouldn't be in love with her.

So it wasn't an entirely happy coincidence that she met him outside on a sunny day, far from any prying eyes or ears, while she was dressed provocatively and in the mood to flirt. His face positively lit up when he saw her, though she fancied that his eyes lingered just a moment too long on her figure. She flashed him a smile, and though he had been heading back toward the castle, he fell into step beside her as she continued on to the barracks. "Good day, Princess."

She smiled at him again. "It is, isn't it? Positively lovely. I always wish these summer days could last forever, don't you?"

"Yes."

And there, Cecilia thought with a flash of irritation, was the whole trouble with Emende. He was polite, he smiled easily, he obviously worshipped the ground she walked on, but he simply didn't live up to his side of the conversation. "Yes. So, where have you been this fine morning?"

"I have been visiting my horse. I go riding most mornings." She had known that, simply because she made it a point to know everyone's comings and goings from the castle, but it was sweet how his voice went soft when he spoke of his horse.

They walked along in silence for a few moments, and to her surprise Emende was the one to restart the conversation. "Where are you headed, Princess?"

"Oh, Your Highness, you may call me Cecilia. We're both royal, there doesn't need to be all this mucking about with titles."

He graced her with a shy smile. "In that case, it is only fair that you call me Emende."

"I agree. So, Emende, to answer your question, I was just going down to visit a few of my friends at the palace guards' barracks. Without thinking about it too much, she had adjusted her path to take the long way around. She didn't much want to arrive with another man in tow. If she had thought of it, she might have lied and said she was simply out for a walk.

"May I accompany you there?"

There was no polite way to say no, and when she thought about it, she didn't really want to. Emende was new and interesting, and decent company once he got talking. If they were going to have a tete-a-tete, though, there was something she really needed to do. "Of course," she said, offering him her arm. Then, as if in passing, "So, my brother tells me I've been naughty."

His face darkened slightly at the mention of her brother, and she wondered briefly what exactly had passed between them. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, well, at the ball we got along so well, I really should have mentioned… you know I'm not in love with you, right?" He stopped short and stared at her, but she retained her light tone. "I don't have any intention of falling in love with you either, I'm afraid. Or anyone, really. So you shouldn't take it personally."

After a long moment in which he just stood there staring, they started moving again. "I suppose I appreciate your honesty."

Her duty discharged, she flashed him a dazzling smile. "I hoped you might." And the moment of awkwardness passed as they walked on. She never made it to the barracks that day.

. . .

After that first day, by some unspoken agreement, they met every noon just outside the castle walls. Thinking of the disapproving looks she would get from Char when he found out, she made an effort to tone down her style of dress.

It was a novel experience, trying to be less alluring for a man. Ever since she turned thirteen and men's eyes started dropping to her chest when they spoke to her, she had used her sexuality to cut like a knife. No man was safe and no man was any different from the rest.

But whether it was because of Char's warning her off or because she was singularly unattracted to him, Emende didn't really seem like a man. He was just Emende. She tried to express this thought to him, on their fourth walk in as many days. "I don't mean it as an insult to your manhood or anything, I just… I don't feel like I have to try to be anything around you. It's nice."

"I understand what you mean. I feel it too. We have a word for it in Ayorthaian, ishani. It means 'that which comes without thought.' Usually it refers to a singer performing his own composition, letting the notes come from what he is feeling. And sometimes, if he is lucky, his listeners will understand in the same way, and join in to harmonize."

She sighed happily. She had discovered that when it came to music, Emende could abandon his usual brevity and wax almost poetic. "It sounds lovely. I wish I could sing. I could never stand still long enough to really listen, I guess. I hear a tune I like and I'm off and dancing."

"Perhaps," he said seriously, "I could sing and you could dance."

"Perfect!"

She laughed, but she was uncomfortably aware of his eyes on her in a way that was very male.

"Well, we'd better get back before my dear tutor sends the entire palace guard out after us. Or worse, my brother." She tried to turn, but found that he had a hold on her wrist.

"Cecilia," he said, looking her steadily in the eyes. "Do you not think that the feeling you describe, of ishani with me, might in time become love?"

She twisted from his grasp. "Emende, we've been over this."

He looked at her unhappily. "I know, you do not plan to fall in love with me. But love is not something you can plan. I should know."

"Look, when you say things like that, it makes your 'ishy' thing go away, okay? Can you just… try not to be in love with me? It's a bit inconvenient."

"Inconvenient," he repeated. "I had not thought of it that way. You are beautiful, and full of life, and I enjoy being with you. I believe I am falling in love with you. And this is inconvenient?"

"Yes!" she cried. "I've had declarations of undying love. I've had men falling all over themselves for me. I don't need that from you. I like being with you, too. Can't we just leave it at that?"

He was silent for a long moment. "Perhaps not."

She drew back, stung. "Fine."

He rested his hand briefly on her shoulder. "Goodbye, Cecilia." And he strode away without looking back.

Cecilia was left standing there, wondering what just happened.

. . .

She had hoped he might cool down that night, but the next day she waited nearly an hour in their usual meeting place, and he didn't appear. She wondered if he'd missed his ride just to avoid her. "Fine," she muttered to herself, "That's just fine." She marched fiercely down to the barracks, but when she got there she found she wasn't ready to stop moving. Instead she pulled off her shoes and ran, relishing the wind in her curls and the grass between her toes and the rush of blood in her ears, until she finally sank down on a stone just outside the Royal Forest, breathing hard. She didn't realize how far she'd run until she started the walk back. She was nearly a quarter of an hour late for her etiquette lesson, but her tutor took one look at her and decided not to comment on her tardiness or her unkempt appearance.

He was avoiding her at mealtimes, too. That night at dinner, he caught her eyes briefly, shook his head, and left the dining hall with his plate. The next few days she did go down to the barracks, and flirted so outrageously that even some of the officers were left shaking their heads.

It didn't help. The brief taste of having someone to talk to as an equal had gotten under her skin, and she missed it now. And she didn't want to miss it. So she prowled the palace corridors restlessly, snapping at the servants and wishing she'd never met the idiot prince. Or no, that wasn't it. She wished he were a girl, or married, or something, anything to discourage him from thinking he had a claim on her, because he didn't.

On the fourth day of this, thinking she might jump out of her skin, she stalked up to her rooms after supper and started plucking feverishly at the strings of her lute, wishing there were a way to make the instrument sound angry and harsh. She had to settle for a fast, devilishly tricky tune that left her no room for thought.

When her fingers finally stilled, she smiled and trotted out into the corridor.

. . .

Emende came to the door of his rooms after only one knock. "Cecilia. What…?"

She held up her lute. "I'll play for you, if you'll stop all this love talk."

He peered bemusedly at her determined expression. "Come in."

She paced forward toward the couch, then suddenly spun, her eyes flashing. "You're as bad as all the rest of them, you know that? Worse, even. I was very clear. I'm not, usually, I let them think they love me because it's kind of fun, but I told you, straight out, that I didn't want you. And you stuck around. And now it turns out you only stuck around because you still wanted something from me, and you just figured I'd change my mind. Which I didn't. I told you I wouldn't. God, I am so sick of people wanting something from me. I thought you were different. I thought it was safe to actually kind of like you. So I'm giving you one more chance to not be a total idiot."

He studied her calmly, taking a seat to one side of the couch, leaving the side nearest to her open. "I am sorry I disappointed you. I would love to hear you play."

She glared at him suspiciously, but sat in the open seat and played. It wasn't the song she had been practicing in her rooms, nor even anything she'd played lately. It was a song she'd loved when she was twelve years old, about mermaids racing each other through the waves. In the notes she could hear the rise and swell of the tides, and the mermaids' laughter as they dived deeper into the sea's welcoming embrace.

When she reached the last verse, Emende began softly to sing along.

"And they splashed out of sight

As the men on the shore

Felt the pull at their hearts,

Knew the call of the sea."

His voice was a perfect, clear tenor, with just the right note of wistfulness in it for the conclusion. She struck the final note and gazed up at him.

He applauded gently. "You play wonderfully."

She blushed. "Thank you. And you have a lovely voice."

"I am sorry if I have been… distant. I just…"

She put her finger to his lips. "I know." She saw it in his eyes still, that softness when he looked at her. She knew what he wanted, and suddenly, she wanted to give it to him, wanted to want him as he wanted her. Wanted to feel.

Her hand was still at his mouth, and without thinking too much about it, she let her hand slide away and pressed her lips to his.

Men had wanted this from her before, of course. She was an expert in the small, seemingly casual touches that aroused their interest without breaching propriety, but it had never gone any farther. She knew what was due to the unknown, faceless man who would be her husband. But now…his arms closed around her waist as his lips moved against hers, and she lost herself in sensation. Her fingers tangled in his tight, wiry curls as she pulled herself closer to him, not wanting even the slightest separation in this moment.

From somewhere in the world outside the two of them, she heard her name, and suddenly it all came rushing back. She couldn't have this, not unless she was willing to love him. She pulled away from his eager lips, pushed him away, tried to reclaim the distance, knowing it was too late. She could see the pain and confusion in Emende's eyes.

Sighing to herself, she turned toward her call to reality, and found Char standing arrested against the doorframe.