Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
A/N: The moral of this story is, Tawnykit listens to too much Sting.
...Actually, that's not a moral. But it is true. Kudos to you if you can pick out which two songs had the most influence on this story.
That said, this is not a songfic. There will be no lyrics disturbing the flow of my stories, thankyouverymuch.
Let me state right now that this is not meant in any way to be some kind of political statement, and my personal beliefs about certain issues may or may not be expressed in the views of the characters. I simply wrote what I thought their reactions to these situations would realistically be, trying to stay as true to character as possible.
Also, Touya is one of my favorite characters. I'm sorry if he comes off looking badly in this fic; it wasn't intentional, I swear! Don't be angry with him; he's under a lot of pressure!
Please forgive me for the princess cliché; it reflects a line one of the songs, and I was just going with flow. (But then, CLAMP themselves obviously thinks Sakura makes a good princess, so why can't I? Borrowed a few things from TRC, actually, though Syaoran is completely different.)
"Hoe" is something Sakura says in the manga whenever she's confused, scared, or startled; I don't know if that made it into the anime.
Right, I'm done talking now. Enjoy the story!
"It's going to rain soon."
Princess Kinomoto Sakura of the Kingdom of Clow turned to study the boy beside her. He was staring moodily at the clear sky above their heads. The stars shone brightly against the dark of the night, their constellations not obscured by clouds.
She couldn't help it; she giggled. "That's a silly thing to say in a desert," she told him, running her hands through the cold, moonlit sand.
Fierce amber eyes flicked in her direction before gazing back at the heavens. He shrugged. "Still. It's going to rain." He glanced at her once more. "I can always tell."
Sakura frowned, her brow furrowed. "It's the wrong time of year," she protested. "The rains are always predictable. They come every year in time to renew the river so that it can supply enough water for the irrigation systems to make it through to harvest. Then no rain until the next year."
He seemed faintly amused, raising a mocking eyebrow at her. "You make it sound like the will of the weather takes into account our petty needs for food when deciding when it's going to rain."
She huffed. "That's not what I meant!" She stuck her tongue out at him when he chuckled, then insisted, "It's just that the rains haven't come out of season in years. Not since my father's father was a little boy."
"High time it happened again, then," he said, and returned to his stargazing as if that settled the matter.
Sakura knew better then to argue with him when he had closed a subject. He would just ignore her until she chose to talk about something else, or, worse, decide that it was time to head home. It had happened before.
Instead, the princess rolled onto her stomach and studied the strange boy who had become one of her closest friends.
Li Syaoran was a complete enigma to her. The first time they'd met, he'd robbed her silly. Strangely enough, after recovering from the initial shock of waking with his hand over her mouth and his knife at her throat, Sakura hadn't been afraid of him. Displeased, perhaps – he'd taken one of her favorite necklaces, among other things – but not afraid. Despite herself, she'd been captivated from the start by this dark stranger with his cold amber eyes.
She didn't know why he'd come back. She wasn't even sure if he knew it himself. Sure enough, however, several nights later – after the guards her brother had insisted on stationing outside her room had finally been removed – he'd returned, climbing up to her balcony and stepping into her room with the grace of a jungle cat and all the arrogance to match.
She'd been shocked, then angry. Had threatened to call the guards if he didn't leave at once. He'd smiled with infuriating calm. "You could call the guards," he had agreed. "But we both know you're not going to."
And, of course, he'd been right. If there was one thing she'd learned about Li Syaoran, it was that he was always right.
That had been almost three moons ago, and since then she'd come to love his visits. She never knew when he would come; he was as fleeting as the wind itself, and at times she found herself wondering if he was real or just a mirage that her tortured mind had dreamed up in the desert heat.
But always he would return, whisking her away (in spite of, or perhaps because of, any protests she made) to places she'd never before dreamed of going. Theirs was like a fairytale, like one of the stories that her mother used to tell her as they huddled together in the cold desert nights. Despite herself, she loved the thrill of their adventures, the part of her that hated her life in the palace finally getting some satisfaction.
She shivered now, though from excitement instead of chill, and rolled onto her back so that she could look up at the sky.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, her voice hushed with the almost reverent feeling that she felt whenever she stargazed. The stars seemed like jewels hung in the impossibly dark tapestry that was the sky, and the sight never failed to take her breath away.
"Yes. They are." Syaoran's voice had the same hushed tones, a low rumble deep in his chest.
Sakura blushed, glad for the veil that hid her face from him. She loved the sound of his voice! She focused on his curious words in order to calm herself. "'They'?"
"Yeah..." Syaoran shifted uncomfortably. "My people . . . well . . ." He sat up and hugged his knees, his eyes distant. "Um, where I come from, we believe that . . . that when a person dies, their spirit looks down on us, so that they can watch over the ones they left behind."
The princess was fascinated. He'd never spoken about his culture before, though she'd known he wasn't a local. Come to think of it, she knew almost nothing about his past.
"And so the stars are spirits?" she asked.
He nodded, hastily adding, "According to legend." Once more, he turned his gaze upward. "I don't know if it's true or not, but . . ." he leaned back on his elbows, his voice soft, and finished, "it's a nice story."
"Yeah," Sakura agreed. She looked thoughtfully at the sky, smiling to herself. "I wonder if my mom and dad are looking down on us right now, then." She nodded, grinning happily at her friend. "I bet they are!"
Syaoran nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah . . . Mine, too."
"Oh . . ." Sakura's eyes widened. She knew nothing of his family; what if she'd accidentally hurt him with her careless words? "Syaoran, I . . ."
"Come on, Princess," he interrupted, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. "You should be getting back." He offered his hand to her.
She took it reluctantly, her green eyes searching his face anxiously.
"You need to get some sleep tonight," he added as he drew her to him. "You've got a big day tomorrow, after all."
"Hoe?" Sakura blinked, her concern for him momentarily forgotten. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing." He looked away from her, dropping her hand as if it were hot. "Let's go."
The princess started after him, her eyes clouded with confusion and other, stranger emotions she couldn't identify. Then she blinked again and raced to catch up with him before his shadow faded away into the night.
From their place high above the two friends' heads, the stars smiled down on them.
"Sakura! Sa-ku-raaa! It's time to wake up, Sakura!"
Sakura moaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over her head and burrowing deeper into her warm bed. It could not be time to get up yet. She just wouldn't allow it.
Not even a princess could keep the sun from rising, however, and Daidouji Tomoyo was a force as unstoppable as the heavens themselves. With a firm yank, the dark-haired girl pulled her princess' blankets off the bed, revealing the nightgown-clad, shivering body that was Sakura.
The Princess of Clow sat up and glared at her lady-in-waiting. Tomoyo had been with her for as long as she could remember, first as a friend and then, when Sakura was deemed old enough to require one, as her personal aide and assistant. She was a distant relation on her mother's side, and, more importantly, she was Sakura's best friend. The princess couldn't imagine life without her.
Now, however, Her Royal Highness was, to say the least, disgruntled with her long time friend. With her arms folded over her chest and her lips set in a pout, she was the picture of royal displeasure.
Tomoyo just smiled. "It take it Li came by last night?"
Sakura blushed a deep red and hid her face in her hands, her sulkiness forgotten. Tomoyo's powers of observation were renowned at the court of Clow. There were times when the princess wondered if she was perhaps psychic, but Tomoyo always laughed whenever she mentioned this. "I just use my eyes, Princess," she would say, and then return to fitting her friend for a new dress.
Tomoyo was also the only one whom Sakura had told about Syaoran. He was her deepest, most precious secret, and she knew she wouldn't be able to bear it if her brother forbid her from seeing him.
All her secrets, however, were safe with Tomoyo, and so the princess divulged every detail of each night she spent with her mysterious friend. It wasn't like Tomoyo wouldn't somehow find out what happened anyway, after all.
"And what adventures did the dashing knight have in store for his princess this time?" asked the lady-in-waiting now, a familiar knowing smile on her face.
"Syaoran is hardly a knight, Tomoyo," Sakura corrected ruefully, finally peeking out from behind her hands.
"It only matters what he is to you, Sakura." Tomoyo sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the princess' leg.
Sakura scrunched her nose at her friend's enigmatic comment. "What do you mean?"
Tomoyo just smiled again, then rose. "Nothing, Highness. Nothing."
"Hoe?" Green eyes blinked in puzzlement. What did that mean? Then she yelped. "Tomoyo, I told you to call me by my name in private!"
The lady-in-waiting giggled and curtsied. "As Your Highness wishes."
Sakura yelped again and chased after her friend, both girls laughing madly in delight.
His Most Royal Majesty Touya, King of Clow, Duke of Tomoeda, Count of Seijyo (et cetera, et cetera) honestly couldn't decide if he was annoyed or just amused with his only sister. Shaking his head in exasperation, he folded his arms over his chest and drawled, "Falling asleep at the table again, monster?"
Sakura looked up guiltily from where she sat hunched over her porridge and hastily corrected her poor posture. Any other morning, she would have squawked at the nickname and kicked her brother under the table. Today she just gave him a bright smile and a hasty, "Sorry!" before she returned to gazing at her cooling breakfast.
Touya frowned, obviously suspicious. Something was going on, that much he could tell. He'd lived with Sakura too long – all her life and most of his own, in fact – to fall for one of her innocent smiles so easily, especially not when her face was so pale, with dark circles under eyes that kept drifting closed.
Nevertheless, if his sister had something on her mind, it was clear that she wasn't going to tell him. She was, however, a horrible liar. Touya felt certain that, whatever was wrong, he'd be able to find out what it was without too much trouble. His scowl eased.
They continued their meal in silence. Finally, the king set down his spoon and gestured for a servant to clear his place. He glanced at Sakura again as he rose. She was sitting with her head propped up in one hand, poking her breakfast halfheartedly with her spoon; the bowl was only half-empty.
Touya narrowed his eyes. His sister had never been a morning person, but this exhaustion went far beyond her usual pre-noon lassitude. More importantly, this wasn't the first time she had been unusually tired in the morning, and on the other occasions that state had lasted the entire day. The king felt his suspicions deepen even as new worries for the day formed.
"I do hope you'll at least pretend to be awake for our guests today," he said, his voice causing her to jump and sit up straight again.
Sakura blinked at him. "Guests? What guests?"
The king glared down at her from his rather impressive height, resisting the urge to massage his temples in exasperation. "Sakura," he said. "Please tell me that you have not forgotten that we're to be receiving several important foreign dignitaries today."
She gasped. "Oh! Oh, no, I did forget!"
Touya rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"
His sister stuck her tongue out at him, making him grin and ruffle her hair. "Go on, hurry and finish your breakfast," he ordered. "They'll be here soon."
She nodded. "Right." Gulping down the rest of her breakfast, she scrambled to her feet, adding a hasty, "I'd better go and get ready, then," over her shoulder as she left.
Touya watched her go, then frowned as she paused by the window and looked out at the horizon.
"I guess this must be what . . ." she trailed off, not finishing the thought, but Touya pounced upon it. "What's that?" he asked sharply. "What did you say?"
"What?" She turned to look at him and gave him a cheerful smile. "Oh, it's nothing. Just, um, a dream I had." Then she curtsied – brother or not, he was still the king – and scurried out of the room.
The tall, dark-haired king stared after her, armed folded over his chest. His narrowed eyes shifted to gaze out the large window, wondering if he would see what she had seen, but her thoughts remained a mystery to him,
"Dream, huh?" he asked to the air.
Only silence answered him.
She was beautiful.
It was the only thought running through Li Syaoran's head as he watched his princess dance in the setting sun. Absolutely beautiful, like a delicate desert flower after a rainstorm, surrounded by golden sands and highlighted by the blood red sun. Her very presence intoxicated him, and his heart ached that she could be so close to him – just there, on the other side of the courtyard! – and yet so very far away.
The young thief, garbed in the uniform of the palace guard, stood hidden in the shadows, his eyes fixed on the dancing princess. The man whose uniform he wore lay unconscious in a little-used broom closet; he would not remember Syaoran when he woke.
How easy it was, the thief mused as he studied the other men in the courtyard from the corner of his eyes, to gain access to their innermost sanctums! They weren't aware of him, none of them, not the proud king and his loyal high priest nor the visiting royalty in all their splendor. They were practically begging Syaoran to cause trouble.
Pathetic.
It was the reason why, all those nights ago, he had crept with cat-footed grace into the princess' bedchambers, an insubstantial shadow that the guards could not have caught even if they'd been aware of his presence. Let the Lord and Master of the Desert know the fear his subjects felt when a thief came to call!
But the Princess Sakura had not been at all what he expected.
He'd seen her before, once, shortly after he'd first come to this kingdom. She and her lady-in-waiting had been exploring the market, accompanied, as ever, by an escort of armed guards who eyed the populace with all the trust of a litter of baby mice in a den of rattlesnakes.
He hadn't thought much of her, then. Even under all the veils her culture demanded its women wear, she was obviously beautiful, but Syaoran had never cared much for gawking at the scenery. She had seemed delicate – fragile, even – and as softhearted and sentimental as any nobly-bred female. She wouldn't have lasted a day alone in the desert.
That had been his first impression. First impressions, however, can be deceiving, and the Princess Sakura had proved herself to possess a stronger character than a casual glance could reveal to even the most observant of watchers.
She hadn't been afraid of him.
Surprised, yes. Indignant, certainly.
But not afraid.
It was a rare occurrence for the young thief, something that hadn't happened since before his family had been murdered. Perhaps that was what kept drawing him back, that nostalgic, bittersweet feeling that he felt whenever she looked at him and saw Li Syaoran. Not the thief, no, nor the warrior, nor even the commoner, but he, himself, a person as real as anyone the princess held dear.
Li Syaoran.
It was a precious feeling, and Syaoran soon found himself giving in all too easily, coming back far too often. She was like a drug to him, and he was definitely addicted.
The dance was ending, now. Nothing lasted forever, after all, and Syaoran knew, as he watched the foreign kings applaud the princess, their eyes hungry as they gazed at her, that soon he would have to move on. He had lingered in this tiny kingdom for far too long already.
His gaze shifted upward. The dying sun cast red shadows on the faint wisps of cloud that were beginning to form in the sky. Rain was coming, and it was time for him to move on.
The assembled royalty were filtering out of the courtyard, taking the princess – and thus, his only reason for remaining here – with them. They would feast tonight, and drink, telling stories until their eyelids closed of their own accord. The princess would not dine with them. She would eat with the servants tonight, before turning in to her chambers early.
Syaoran slipped away into the shadows. He would be waiting for her when she arrived.
Sakura yawned. Stretched. Yawned again. She really shouldn't let Syaoran keep her out so late. She was so tired . . .
Yawn.
The princess sighed (yawn) and poked at her dinner (yawn). It was a rather simple affair; all of the kitchen staff had been focused on preparing for the banquet tonight, without much effort to spare for the kingdom's only princess.
Yawn.
She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake herself. Ordinarily, the princess would feel disappointed – annoyed, even – that she couldn't attend the banquet. The food! The people! The singing, the dancing, the stories they would tell! She would watch, sometimes, hidden behind shadows and veil, wishing she could join them.
But tonight . . .
Yawn.
Tonight, all Her Royal Highness wanted was a good night's sleep.
A soft chuckle came from beside her. Sakura turned her head to meet Tomoyo's amused gaze with her own sleepy one. "Mmm?" she asked inarticulately.
"Long day, eh, Sakura?"
"Mmph."
Tomoyo chuckled again. "Are you done with your dinner? Because if you are, you really ought to go to bed. I'm sure tomorrow will be just as busy as today was."
Sakura knew she was probably right. Their guests would remain until at least the end of the week, and, like her brother, it would be Sakura's duty as part of the royal family to entertain them. She didn't think she could stand another day like this one had been.
Yawning again, the princess smiled at her friend and nodded. "You're right. Goodnight, Tomoyo."
"Goodnight, Princess."
Her feet shuffling across the carpeted floors, the young woman made her way down the dark corridors until she reached her bedroom. With another yawn, she shut the door softly behind her before stretching luxuriously. She rubbed her eyes and gazed longingly at her bed, wondering if she should even bother to change into a nightgown. Tomoyo mourned each and every wrinkle in her dresses like they were wounds on a dear friend, however, and so, limbs heavy with exhaustion, the princes began to undress.
"Hello, Princess."
Sakura whirled around with a little shriek, then placed her hands over her heart to calm herself. "Syaoran! You startled me!"
The thief seemed to melt into being before her, though in reality she knew he'd only been remarkably well-hidden in the darkest corner of her room. It was a bit unsettling, really, but she'd managed to get used to it in the weeks since she'd met him.
He shrugged in response to her comment. "Sorry."
She stuck her tongue out at him, then fastened her veil more firmly across her face. "No you're not."
He shrugged again, giving her a half smile.
Sakura folded her arms over her chest. "Well, I hope you weren't planning on us going somewhere tonight! Do you have any idea how tired I've been all day?"
Here he smirked. "Funny. You didn't seem at all tired when you were dancing earlier."
Sakura blushed, though she wasn't sure why. "Oh, you saw that? But how . . .?"
"I have my ways, Princess."
That was all she'd learned from him on the subject, she knew. She tried a different angle. "That reminds me . . . you knew they were coming, didn't you? You said today would be busy."
"I did," he agreed, leaning back against the wall and mimicking her folded arms.
"How?" she demanded. "Most of the palace staff didn't even know until early this morning; how did you . . .?"
Again, the ghost of a smiled flitted across his features. "I have my ways."
She sighed in exasperation. "I can't figure you out!" she complained.
"Good." Syaoran raised an eyebrow elegantly and strode over to her window, leaning one shoulder against the frame and gazing up at the stars. "A little mystery in everyone's life is good for the soul." He sighed.
"Is something wrong?" The princess frowned in concern. Something seemed off about him tonight, and she didn't know what it could be. That bothered her.
"Nothing." He shrugged, adding, "It's going to rain soon."
"Okay . . ." She wasn't sure she believed him, but if he didn't feel like talking about it, she didn't want to pry. She sat on the edge of her bed uncertainly. He certainly didn't seem inclined to take her somewhere; why had he come?
"Princess." He voice snapped her out of her musings, and she looked up at him curiously. Was he going to tell her what was bothering him, after all?
The thief still wasn't looking at her, his eyes remaining fixated on the heavens. When he spoke again, there was a strange, awkward quality to his voice, one she did not recognize.
"Princess, do you know why most of those men were here today?"
Sakura blinked. "Um, politics, I guess. Touya – my brother – he doesn't really tell me about things like that. I don't need to know, and anyway," she added, wrinkling her nose, "it's very boring."
"Politics," he muttered scornfully. "Yes, I know the type." He'd drawn one of his many knives, the silver blade flashing silver in the moonlight as his restless fingers toyed with it, twirling it around with the ease of a master.
"Hoe?"
"Never mind. That's not what they're here for, anyway. At least, not the way you think."
Hoe? He'd definitely lost her, but she still felt her stomach clench nervously. "Syaoran, do you know something . . .?" Why wouldn't he look at her?
As if he'd heard her thoughts, his eyes, fierce and almost predatory, amber in color, and as proud as any noble she knew – shifted to bear their full intensity at her. She returned the gaze, unmoving, not from any will or lack thereof but from the simple inability to move. The twirling blade was suddenly very still, the whole room locked in silent tableau.
"They want to marry you, Princess."
His words shattered the silence and pierced through her frozen mind. She gasped. "What . . . What makes you say that?"
He sheathed the knife, looking out the window again, suddenly very distant. "The way they look at you," he explained. "It's easy enough to see what they're thinking."
"I don't . . . um. I'm not sure I . . ."
Syaoran's eyes flicked once in her direction, bringing him back from whichever far off land to which his mind had strayed. "Gods, Princess, you really don't know, do you? You really don't know what men think about when they look at you."
Confusion. "No?" she tried.
The young man sighed, shaking his bangs out of his eyes with an impatient toss of his head. "I don't like the way they were looking at you. The . . . The look in their eyes . . ." His voice was very soft now, and he finished in a mutter that she couldn't hear.
This conversation had taken a very uncomfortable turn, but her friend was obviously upset about something, and she wanted to soothe him. Rising to her feet, the princess approached the scruffy-haired boy by her window, reaching out to put a hand on his arm.
"I need to marry someday," she explained cautiously. "I didn't expect it anytime soon, but I am a little old to not be engaged still. Most girls my age are married already. It's just, my brother's so protective, and . . ."
"That's not the point!" The force of his words surprised her, and she took a step back, withdrawing her hand from his arm in bewilderment.
His expression softened at this. He took the hand in his own, playing with her fingers absently. He'd touched her like this before, of course, tugging her by the arm to lead her through tricky city streets and even carrying her over the occasional wall, despite her protests that she was perfectly capable of helping herself. She wasn't sure why the action made her suddenly nervous now.
"That's not the point," he repeated, much more gently. He ran a finger up her palm, brushing her wrist before meeting her gaze squarely with his own.
"Then what is the point?" she asked, her voice a whisper.
With a sigh, the thief drew back from the princess, releasing her hand to place both of his nonchalantly behind his head. It was difficult to tell in the moonlight, but she thought he might be blushing.
"They wouldn't treat you right," he said gruffly, and looked away.
Sakura almost smiled with relief. Was that what this was all about? "Syaoran, my brother would never let me marry someone who would hurt me. My family isn't like that; that's why I never had an arranged marriage when I was younger, because there wouldn't be any way to tell what kind of person he would grow up to be." Now she did smile. "So you don't need to be worried, okay?"
"Oh, I don't doubt that."
She blinked. "But then what . . .?"
"I don't doubt," he interrupted, "that your brother," and there was distaste in his voice, "would make sure that your husband," and here there was scorn, "would never hurt you. But that doesn't mean," he added with a raised eyebrow, "that he would treat you right."
Seeing that she still didn't understand, he sighed and rubbed his eyes with his hands before crossing them over his chest, looking out the window again. "It's this whole country," he continued softly. "Your entire culture. Your men treat their women as if they were . . ." he trailed off, searching for the right word. Finding it, he scowled and finished, "Possessions. Like you're a horse, or a camel, or a slave, instead of your own person. I had four sisters, growing up," he added in a dry voice, holding up the proper number of fingers, "and I can tell you that not one of them believed that they belonged to anyone but themselves. They knew their duties, and they did them, but they did them free.
"And my mother," he added firmly, "was one of the strongest, bravest people I have ever known."
"Syaoran, I–"
But he wasn't through. Turning, he put his back to the window and glared at her. Startled, she squeaked, but fell silent when he started speaking again.
"But you. You and the others like you, you just let it happen. You let them treat you like that. It's pathetic!"
"And what are we supposed to do, Syaoran?" she asked, suddenly angry. "There are laws about these kinds of things. Even if you're right – and I'm not saying you are – what do you expect us to do about it?"
"You could start by ditching that stupid veil," he bit back. "You hide behind it like you have something to be ashamed of. Why? Just because you happen to have been born a girl?"
Sakura gasped at his impudence. "I am not hiding, Li Syaoran! I am not afraid!"
"Then prove it!" he shot back, his voice an open challenge. He stepped closer to her, and she hadn't the presence of mind to back away, glaring him for all she was worth.
"Prove it," he repeated, this time softly, and again he stepped towards her. "Prove it, Princess. Take off the veil."
She gasped again, raising her hands to clutch the silk protectively. She was startled, and a little nervous, to realize suddenly how very close he had come; their bodies were almost touching now, and she could feel the heat emanating from him. But she did not, could not, back away.
"I can't," she protested weakly, her voice trembling. "I . . . It's not . . . decent, or . . . respectable, for . . ." She gulped.
The thief raised an eyebrow. "'Respectable'?" he repeated mockingly. "So I'm 'respectable' now, am I?"
"That's not what I . . ." She licked her lips nervously. "There . . . The laws, Syaoran . . ."
He didn't bother to point out the ridiculousness of telling a thief to obey any law, taking another step toward her so that their bodies were pressed firmly together.
Her breathing came fast now as heat surged through her, and she was begging her feet to move backwards, but they were stuck fast to the floor, and he was so, so close, and his hands were . . .
"Don't, please," she whispered, trying to knock his searching fingers away from her face.
He caught her wrists in one hand, his eyes burning a whole right through her, and replied with a firm, "No."
And before she could stop him, he tugged the veil free from her face and hair, letting it drift slowly down to the floor.
They stared at each other, her wide, horrified green eyes meeting his defiant brown ones. Then – and she could see he was definitely blushing now, poor lighting or no, and she was sure her own face must be the same color – he stretched forward a cautious hand to brush her cheek with one rough fingertip. He traced an absent-minded pattern there, then tucked a strand of long hair behind her ear.
"Sakura," he said, his breath warming her face, "you have nothing to be ashamed of."
The princess' eyes, if at all possible, grew wider still. Never before had he ever called her by name; always had it been "Princess."
She liked the way her name sounded on his lips.
"Syaoran, I . . ."
"Hush," he whispered softly. He was so close now, so close, and his body was warm and comforting against hers, and now his hands were on her waist, and she wasn't sure if he was leaning down or if she was stretching up to meet him, and . . .
The door to the room slammed forcefully open, and the two sprung apart like startled jackrabbits. His Royal Majesty Touya, Lord and Master of the Desert, stood silhouetted in the doorway, his face a thundercloud.
"Unhand my sister!" he boomed, drawing his sword.
Sakura gasped, but Syaoran was already moving away, a dark blur that disappeared out the window and over the balcony railing before the king had taken two steps into the room.
Brother and sister raced to the railing, each leaning over to search for the thief in the gloom, one with fury, the other in worried fear.
"Guards!" Touya bellowed. "Guards, stop that man!"
"No, Touya, don't," Sakura pleaded, grasping his arm in her shaking hands. "Please don't hurt him!"
Touya pulled away from her roughly. "Sister, you're in enough trouble," he said angrily. "Don't make it worse for yourself." He glared at her briefly and added, "Put your veil back on."
The princess met his gaze defiantly, then bowed her head and searched for the scrap of silk on the floor. It felt so deceptively light in her hands, soft and weightless, but for some reason it made her heart feel heavy.
She listened to the frustrated yells of the guards outside on the grounds, heard the sounds of pursuit, and knew they were too late. They could never catch him.
He was free.
. . . hide behind . . . to be ashamed . . . possession . . .
With a shudder, she slipped the veil back into place, hiding her face from the world.
And, far above her, the first cloud reached out a dark tendril to cover the light of the stars.
"What were you thinking?"
King Touya's eyes seemed to blaze as he glared down from his impressive height, and his voice shook with his rage. Sakura couldn't remember ever seeing him so angry.
Green eyes glared right back at him from above her veil. With her arms folded across her chest and her lips set in a rebellious pout, the princess was no less formidable than the king. She did not answer her brother's angry query, but waited.
Touya took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. "Sakura," he said. "Who was that man?"
"A friend," she answered petulantly.
"A friend," he repeated. "Funny, it looked like he wanted to be a lot more than a friend."
She looked away, blushing, and muttered, "Nothing wrong with that."
Touya stared. "Sakura, where is this coming from?" he asked. "I mean, last I checked, you were still in love with Yukito." He gestured at the high priest, his most trusted advisor, their only audience.
Sakura glanced at the bespectacled man, saw the pity in his eyes, and looked away, fighting back tears. She focused on her brother again to distract herself.
"Where'd this guy come from?" he was asking again.
She shrugged obstinately.
"You don't know?" Touya raised an eyebrow. "Do you know anything about him?"
"Yes." It was true, after all. For all Li Syaoran's secrecy, she had managed to learn some things about him. She knew he was a thief, and a good one; she knew he came from a place far away from the barren desert, and that he didn't like the hot days, though he'd mentioned once that he preferred them to the bitter cold of northern winters; she knew he was kind, and smart, and strong. She knew he was an orphan, just like her, and that he had – or had had – four sister. She wondered if he'd ever told that to anyone else. Doubted it.
"Like what?" Touya was saying now. "What's his name, then?"
She glared. "I'm not telling you, you'll just use it to find him!" Sakura would never do anything to put Syaoran in danger!
"Right." Touya snorted and spread his hands. "Sakura, you know the rules. If you weren't my sister, I'd . . ." He stopped, not liking that train of thought. "This . . . brat . . . was in your room, he was touching you, your veil was . . . How could you let that happen?"
That did it. It was the grain of sand that broke the proverbial camel's back, the final drop of rain that cracked the dike and started the flood. Syaoran's words came back to haunt her, echoing in her head, and she shouted, trying not to choke on her sobs, "Because he's the only one in my life that doesn't treat me like I'm some kind of prized possession!" She hid her face in her hands and let the tears flow.
The king stared at her, openmouthed. Then, "That's not true, Sakura! You're my sister; I love you–"
"It is true!" she interrupted. "It is!" Glaring for all she was worth, her eyes fiery behind the tears, the princess demanded, "Just tell me one thing, brother, one thing! Why have all of our guests come here?"
He looked away. "It's politics," he muttered. "You wouldn't understand."
The princess stomped her foot. "Then make me understand!"
King Touya looked at her, long and hard, with tired eyes. Then he sighed. "Times are tough these days, Sakura," he said gently. "It's getting harder and harder to defend our borders against our enemies. Many people," he explained with a grimace, "thought I was much too young to take the throne. Our neighbors have been eyeing the border for years now. We've managed to control the problem so far, but our resources are stretched thin. A war would be devastating. We need allies, and a marriage alliance–"
"But I don't want to marry any of them!" Her tears had slowed during his explanation; now they flowed freely again. "I don't want to marry some old man I've never met, just for politics! I don't want to be, to be traded for peace, like a horse or a slave!"
"Sakura!" Touya gasped, then growled, rubbing his temples. "I knew you wouldn't understand," he muttered, then asked, "So you want innocent people to die just because you don't want to do your duty?"
She bit her lip. "That's not fair."
He snapped, "It's not supposed to be fair, Sakura! That's why it's a duty, because it's something you have to do even if you don't want to. As the royal family of Clow, it's our duty to protect the people, and we need to do whatever we have to to do it."
Sakura closed her eyes in pain, covered her face with her hands, felt more tears flow. After a moment, she looked at him and said in a tiny voice, "But I'm a person, too."
She watched him, saw that he had no answer to that, then turned and fled.
Touya watched her go. Then he scowled, calling after her, "I won't allow you to see him again!"
Her voice echoed. "I didn't ask for your permission!" A door slammed somewhere, and he heard her pounding footsteps recede into the distance.
The young king sighed, then turned around and limped to the nearest chair, suddenly very tired.
"Your Majesty, have I ever told you that you have a sister complex?"
Touya jumped; he'd forgotten that the high priest was in the room. "Yuki," he greeted as the tall man approached. He sighed again. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Tsukishiro Yukito chuckled. "Just what it sounds like, Your Majesty."
Touya glared. "Drop the formality, Yuki, I'm not in the mood."
His friend smiled awkwardly. "If you insist." He took the seat the king offered him, reaching over to a bowl of fruit that stood on the table between them. He selected a handful of figs and popped one into his mouth, turning kind brown eyes to the dark-haired king.
Touya sighed and rubbed his temples again. He could feel a headache creeping up on him. "I'm just trying to do what's best."
"I know."
He glared as if he'd been challenged. "Best for her, too, not just for the kingdom," he insisted.
"I know."
The king rose and began pacing like a caged tiger, his exhaustion gone as suddenly as it had come. "She doesn't understand," he snapped. "She can't understand! She's . . . too young, and . . . And just who is this guy, anyway?" He whirled on the high priest, searching his face as if he expected him to have all the answers.
But Yukito's face remained a blank, amiable mask as he absently ate another fig and waited for the king's temper to fade.
Touya resumed his pacing. "Who does he think he is? He just shows up, out of nowhere, waltzes right into her room, and she just let him . . . Argh!"
"Her Highness is a very trusting person."
The king scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." Yukito popped another fig into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and added, "I'm sure Her Highness would have understood the need if she'd been told beforehand."
The high priest was treated to the Official Royal Glare. Yukito just smiled benevolently and selected another fig.
Touya sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Yeah," he admitted, and turned his gaze out the window. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."
"You've been taking care of her for her whole life." His friend's eyes were full of understanding as he added, "It must be difficult for you to see her growing up."
The king collapsed into his chair again. "I love her."
"I know, Touya. I know."
"Princess, you seem . . . distressed."
Startled, Sakura whirled around, one hand flying to her heart while the other brushed protective fingers against the silk veil. She stared at the man who had come up behind her, stuttering. "M-my lord! I'm sorry, you startled me," she said, averting her eyes and dropping a curtsy, as was expected of her.
He smiled back at her, his voice smooth. "No, princess, the fault is mine. Are you well?"
"Y-yes, thank you. And yourself?" Curious, she peaked up at him from under her silk covering; the emblem on his tunic placed him as a prince of . . . somewhere. She almost deadpanned at her lack of political expertise. No wonder Touya didn't trust her with such information!
"I am well, thank you," he said. Then he smiled, and any amusement she had felt with herself fled her like a vulture flees a carcass when a pride of lions stalks past. It was not a comforting smile, and something about the way he looked at her scared her.
"Gods, Princess, you really don't know, do you? You really don't know what men think about when they look at you."
Sakura shook her head to clear the fog from her mind. The Prince of Wherever was speaking again.
"It must have been greatly distressing for you. Were you frightened?" She must have looked puzzled, because he clarified, "Such a man would never be allowed to enter the chambers of one of my women. Indeed, my guards would have had him arrested and put to death if he ever came near my palace. With all due respect to your honorable brother, of course," he added hastily. "I know he's doing the best he possibly can under the circumstances."
"Oh," she said weakly. "N-no, I-I . . . that is, it wasn't so frightening, I'm . . ."
"Oh?" He raised an elegant eyebrow. "You must be very brave, Highness."
". . . Not so much," she whispered, hugging herself and studying the floor.
"Well," he said with apparent cheerfulness. "Rest assured, Princess, my own guards have joined the search for the intruder, and it won't be long before he is captured and brought to justice." She felt a stab of terrible fear for her dearest friend as the prince smiled widely, offering her his arm in apparent friendliness. "Ah, but it's late! Will you require an escort back to your chambers?"
"She has one, Your Highness."
He whirled around, and Sakura felt a great swell of relief as Daidouji Tomoyo stepped around the corner.
"I assure you, my lord, I shall ensure that Her Highness makes it back to her rooms safely." She gave a demure bow and positioned herself between her friend and this stranger.
The prince forced a smile and nodded. "Very well. I'll leave her in your care. Goodnight, Princess." He bowed to her and she hastily returned it, hoping her relief wasn't so obvious as to be rude.
When he was gone, Sakura turned and gave her friend a hearty embrace. "Tomoyo, thank you so much! I don't think I've ever been more happy to see you!"
The dark-haired girl smiled and took her by the hand, leading her down the hall toward her sleeping quarters. "I was getting worried, so I came looking for you. Was His Majesty very mad?"
"Touya?" Sakura wrinkled her nose. "A bit, but that's not important." Remembering the strange prince's menacing words, she clutched at Tomoyo's arm in a near panic. "Have you heard anything?"
"About Li? No, I haven't."
Sakura sighed in relief. If Tomoyo hadn't heard of a capture, then one hadn't occurred. "That's good. I was worried; I don't think I could bear it if anything happened to him because of me."
Her friend gave her a secretive smile. "I think you don't give him enough credit, Princess."
"Hoe? What do you mean? And don't call me 'princess,' Tomoyo, my name is Sakura!"
Tomoyo giggled. They had reached Sakura's rooms, and Sakura frowned at the two guards who were now posted outside her door. Just like Touya, to overreact like this!
"Sakura . . ."
The princess turned to her and was amazed to see tears in her friend's eyes. "Tomoyo, what's wrong?" she asked softly, putting her hands on the girl's arms.
"Nothing. I'm okay." Hastily, Tomoyo wiped her eyes, then pulled her princess into a tight embrace. "Goodbye, Sakura."
And with that she turned and hurried away.
"Goodnight," Sakura called after her, feeling rather miserable. What was wrong with Tomoyo? Had something happened, after all? She glanced at the two guards standing expressionlessly outside her door and sighed. "Goodnight," she said to them, and went inside.
The princess sighed as the door shut behind her, walking slowly over to the window. She knew she should go to sleep, but for some reason the idea held no appeal for her. The exhaustion she had felt just a few hours before had fled, leaving her feeling restless. Turning her gaze upward, Sakura saw that the bright moon of earlier was gone, replaced by dark storm clouds. Even as she stood there, a soft rumble reached her ears. She gasped. Syaoran's promised storm had arrived.
"He was right," she whispered as a gust of wind reached through the window to ruffle her hair and tug playfully at her clothing and veil.
"Of course I was," he said, closing the door softly behind him.
Sakura shrieked and whirled around, her heart leaping with joy to see him safe and sound.
The thief raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the door and folding his arms over his chest. "I told you, Princess. I'm never wrong about a storm."
Sakura's brief joy at seeing her friend was quickly drowned by a great wave of terror. "Syaoran!" she hissed. "What are you doing here? If the guards find you, you'll be . . . The guards!" She stared at him, remembering the men Touya had posted outside her door. "How did you . . .? Oh, Syaoran, you didn't hurt them, did you?"
"And cause you distress? Never."
"Syaoran . . ."
"Seriously, Princess." He gave her a small smile. "Your . . . friend. Tomoyo, right? She lured them away for me."
Was that why she'd been acting so oddly? Sakura set that thought aside for now. She returned his smile, putting her hands on her hips. "I thought you were calling me 'Sakura' now?"
Syaoran studied her for a moment. "I guess that depends on you, doesn't it?"
Her brow crinkled. "Hoe?"
He crossed the room to lean against the window, his face lit by the sudden burst of lightning that streaked across the dark sky. "Nothing."
Sakura frowned, hesitantly laying her hand on his arm in concern. "You really should go, you know. You should stay away until all of this dies down. If the guards find you . . . I couldn't bear if something happened to you, Syaoran."
Her friend looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Don't worry. They won't get the chance. Not after tonight."
Her fingers tightened on his arm. "What do you mean?"
Then those fierce eyes met hers head on, and she stared transfixed by his gaze as he told her, "I'm leaving."
Utter shock turned into a flood of freezing water that welled up inside her and seeped slowly through her veins. "L-leaving? What . . . why?"
He was back to not looking at her, eyes earnestly studying the shadows dancing on the ornate tapestry that hung on the far wall. "I've stayed here too long as it is. What happened tonight just confirms it, and the rain will make it me hard to track. It's time."
"But I . . ." The water was welling up at the back of her throat now; pretty soon she would be weeping. "But I don't want you to go."
Syaoran didn't answer her for the longest of moments, still and silent and ignoring her as he collected his thoughts. When he finally moved, it was to slowly take her hands in his, turning to face her and meeting her green eyes with quiet fire in his own. His voice, barely above a whisper, held no quaver when he spoke.
"Then come with me."
Sakura gasped, eyes wide as twin full moons as his words replaced the coming tears with an emotion she could not identify. "L-leave? With you? But . . ."
The man didn't respond, taking a step toward her to bring their bodies close together for the second time that night. This time, however, Sakura didn't find it at all uncomfortable.
Her mind was still trying to grasp hold of the option he had presented. "But I . . . My home . . . Everything I know is . . . My brother, my friends . . . How could I leave Clow?"
He bent down slightly, placing his face just inches from hers. "You'll be leaving anyway," he pointed out with raised eyebrows. "When you . . ." he bent lower still, ". . . marry."
He had her there. She shivered lightly as he ran his hands up her arms, slipping one about her shoulders to pull her closer while the other brushed her cheek with the gentleness of a falling feather.
"Come with me, Sakura," he whispered. His breath was warm on her face, making the silk veil flutter slightly, and he smelled of strange, wonderful places, exotic lands and the high adventure that her caged heart had longed for all these years.
The princess finally found her voice again, enabling her to whisper her reply into his ear.
"Yes."
His smile, small and soft and just as she remembered it, lit up the room like the lightning in the darkened sky. Slowly, deliberately, he moved to unfasten the silk veil that kept them apart, and she made no move to stop him as it fell to the floor.
Sakura closed her eyes as he leaned down and nuzzled her gently, lips soft against her cheek before trailing down to claim her lips. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her pale fingers burying themselves in his dark hair as he pulled her closer still, a moment that lasted a thousand perfect eternities.
Then he pulled back slightly, his voice as breathless as she felt when he murmured, "I love you."
She traced the line of his jaw with the fingers of one hand, not at all surprised to discover that she felt the same way, though she'd never used those words before. "I love you, too."
He kissed her again, long and sweet, then took her hand and lead her to the window as he had so many times before. This time, however, there would be no slipping back before morning's light caressed the palace walls. Sakura found she wasn't as sad about that as might have been.
Syaoran let her pause before climbing over the windowsill, saying goodbye to her childhood home. Then he took her in his arms and they slipped away into the storm.
High above them, behind the clouds that hid them from sight, the stars smiled.
The room lay still and dark in their absence. Then a gust of wind swirled through the open window and caught the silk veil that lay abandoned on the floor. It toyed with the light cloth like a cat with her prey, carrying it out the window to be lost in the desert as the first drops of rain began to fall.