A/N: This is my first Graces fanfic, by request. I gave in, and so here it is...

A Meeting:

The king of Windor had never dreaded any royal duty so much. In fact, he had switched his schedule around, convincing Cheria that dealing with the recent crime committed in Lhant was more important than…well, a matter he found both alarming and tedious.

Richard sat on the throne, its wide, oak back towering over his head. His brown eyes focused on the other end of the chamber as if daring it to open. What if he failed Windor again? He had made bad choices in the past; he had chosen the wrong ally in Lambda, but Asbel—the lord of Lhant—had corrected his mistake. If Richard made the wrong selection now, even Asbel couldn't help him. He didn't know how Asbel could help, though he had joked before that a female Asbel would be perfect. His best friend had blushed and protested.

Richard sighed, the breeze of breath ruffling the blond bangs across his forehead. He couldn't think of that now; he had to deal with a different problem first. When the doors banged open, Richard adjusted the white cravat at his throat and sat a bit straighter. Sometimes, even if one did not feel like a king, one could play the part.

He played it now, feeling the graceful arc of his body, the steady warmth of the throne's vermillion cushion, and the authority of a flourishing kingdom under his command. He felt it all disappear to curiosity as a man with auburn hair and a shockingly white suit strode across the red carpet to kneel in front of the king.

"Asbel? It's wonderful to see you again, but where is the person responsible for ruining the wind mills of Lhant?"

Asbel lifted his head, blue eyes wide and troubled. "She refuses to step into the throne room."

Richard felt an immediate smile lift his mouth. The man in front of him was kind, too kind some might say, but Richard treasured the rare trait. "It would not be chivalrous to force a lady to do anything, hmm? I will speak with her where she is now."

"But Richard, you're the king." Asbel stood at his friend's gesture and then halfheartedly scowled over his shoulder. "She should go where the king tells her."

Richard sprang from the throne, cape flaring out behind him. The unusual occurrence of a female felon had piqued his interest. "Perhaps it's best not to anger someone who can break something so great as the windmills of Lhant."

Suddenly blanched, Asbel followed his king out of the chamber and into a long hallway. There, Richard found an obstinate face of olive complexion. It belonged to a young woman with black hair tipped with red and hazel eyes, which dropped to the king of Windor's feet at his approach.

"Nice boots…but I imagine it must be difficult to get around without bending your knees." She spoke the words like a barb, but her body had turned away like a cornered animal preparing to flee.

Richard didn't even spare a downward glance at his thigh-high boots. "They are custom-made and very flexible. I assure you I can bend my knees perfectly well. That aside, I wish to speak with you about the windmills."

"I won't tell you a thing."

"That means there is something to tell?" Richard raised an eyebrow.

The woman clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes almost pained as they met the king of Windor's. She wore the clothes of a commoner: a white blouse, red vest, and a brown, pleated skirt. How bold then to both look at him so directly and omit his title.

"Your name?"

"Jasmin."

"Well, Jasmin, I will give you three days to think about what you want to tell me. Wrecking windmills in Lhant is like burning down the castle in Barona. It's a very serious matter." Richard nodded at Asbel. "Please, escort her to my steward. He will find her a room to stay in until the trial."

The king of Windor could sense a story lurking in the young lady, but she was trembling now with the word "trial" in the air. Even with Asbel's questioning eyes on him, Richard was certain that within three days, he could coax out the details of what had truly happened. In addition, he could delay Cheria's insistence that he find a bride to make his queen a few more days.

"Is that wise?" Jasmin crossed her arms. "Why not convict me and be done with it?"

"She was there every single time when a windmill fell apart," Asbel murmured, "Didn't even try to run when we caught her. I let her go two times…and then the third time, I decided something had to be done."

Richard smiled at the woman before him, intrigued when she turned pink. "Every citizen deserves a fair chance to have his story heard. I am sure there is a reasonable explanation."

"You won't be getting that explanation from me." Jasmin turned her back, and Asbel escorted her away, throwing a dry glance back at the stubborn king of Windor.

Still, Richard was always up for a challenge.