A/N: Again - thank you so much for the reviews and comments, and for those who started following the story. I hope you enjoy the next chapter.
Part 3
The Princess was true to her word, and in the slack of the afternoons that followed, after the various games and jousts of the morning and the large lunch that left those involved in the celebration sluggish and sleepy, he found her sitting outside the door to her secret tunnel, staring idly down at the movement in the streets far below.
They would walk to the stream and sit on the rock, their conversations for the most part inconsequential, but he found himself looking forward to the noon bell and the chance to escape up the mountain. The change in her demeanor was marked when she sat by his side. Her face was smooth and her hair simpler than any girl in the village. She was a far cry from the stone faced beauty on the balcony each night, whose mystery and remoteness served to generate wild speculation below.
Edward found himself hard pressed to stop himself from harming one man who, while deep in his cups, began to recount the ways he'd thaw the icy Princess if he could get her down from her perch. Most merely found her aloofness offensive. There was some speculation that she was being punished for some transgression, while others insisted that she resembled her dead mother too much, and the very sight of her caused the King great pain. Edward was simply glad that she remained above the mob, secure and safe.
A few days before the final feast that would mark the end of the winter festival, he arrived at the top of the hill to find only a closed door buried beneath the leaves and no Princess. A lump of disappointment knotted in his stomach, hard and tight, and Edward sat in the dirt, watching the merchants hurrying towards the market below with items for purchase in the afternoon sales. As the day began to slip away, and the knot grew tighter, the realization of just how important his afternoon visits with her had become settled over him, with the tandem understanding that in only two days time he would follow Sir Carlisle and his new bride from the city, perhaps never to return. And never to see her again.
He stood abruptly, silently cursing himself for his foolishness in such thoughts and emotions. To even allow himself to feel tender towards her, to even daydream of any more than the kindness she had shown him in these brief stolen moments was lunacy of the highest order.
But such knowledge did not make his heart beat any less quickly that night as he watched her on the balcony above, her face more frozen than ever until she caught sight of him, standing below in the shadows. For one brief moment he saw her eyes lighten and the corners of her mouth lift slightly, before one of her ladies pulled her away.
ooooo
On the final day of the Winter Feast, when the largest and most elaborate of the banquets was to take place, and the marriage of Sir Carlisle and Lady Esme was to be performed by the King, the knights ceased their tournaments, and Edward found himself in the center of a crowd, his grip on his sword tight despite the sweat rolling down his back.
Several of the lords had suggested a mini-tournament of squires, and though he'd been loath to participate, he'd acquiesced lest his refusal reflect poorly on his lord and all he had done for him. He'd known that the training of both his father and Carlisle has given him the mastery he needed to handle himself in battle, but he was surprised by the ease with which he'd dispatched the competitors placed against him. When the final fight was complete, he heard the cheers of the crowd, and felt the clap of Sir Carlisle's hand on his shoulder, raising his arm in victory as the bells tolled the noon hour.
And all he could think of was that this was the last day he might see the Princess.
Accepting the congratulations and dodging the more amorous adulations of some of the ladies in the crowd, he begged Carlisle's leave until the evening's banquet. Barely taking the time to shed his armor, he hurried through the city streets and out the gate.
Surely she would be there today.
He stopped to catch his breath at the top of the hill, unable to hide his smile as he saw her sitting outside the door in the hillside.
She stood before he could reach her, cupping her ear. "You may wish to make a bit more noise running up the hill, Edward. I think there may be a few sleeping bears that did not hear you."
Even her gentle teasing could not dampen his mood. "I was afraid I would miss you. Today is-"
"Today is your last day here," she finished for him, her own voice faltering. "I am sorry that I was absent the last few days. Sometimes I am unable to get away."
"It's fine, Bella," he said, following her as she led them onto the now familiar path. Her name on his lips still seemed foreign, yet sacred. "I'm glad that you were here today. I wanted, that is, I had hoped to be able to see you again before we left."
She climbed the rock, staring down at him with her honey brown eyes. "You see me every night, Edward."
He felt a flush rise to his face as he lifted himself onto the rough surface beside her. Words he knew he should not say tumbled from his lips. "I do see you. But that beautiful bird in its gilded cage isn't the one that found me in the woods."
Forcing himself to meet her eyes, prepared for a reprimand or worse for such remarks, he found instead that her eyes had welled with tears.
Without thinking, he touched her cheek, catching the drop of liquid that began to spill. "No, Bella, please don't cry. I didn't mean-"
She caught his hand and pressed it against her face, and he felt how smooth and perfect her skin was beneath the coarse and calloused flesh of his hand.
"No, you are exactly right. I am just that, a creature imprisoned. And I so long to be free." Her hands carried his to her lap, and she held him, her soft, small fingers tracing his palm. "You won the squire's tournament today."
Surprised and distracted by her touch, he could only nod.
"It was nothing," he finally said.
She shook her head. "Don't undersell your strengths, Edward. You are a magnificent swordsman, and I am certain that my father will wish to recruit you into the King's Guard, that is, if Sir Carlisle will let you go."
The thought flooded through him then, that even if he found the Capitol distasteful in every way, such a position would allow him to remain, to be close to her.
"You must turn him down though, Edward, when he asks."
He stilled the movement of her hand, his chest tight at the obvious implication that she did not have the same wish for him to remain.
"May I ask why, Princess?"
He'd avoided her title since the first day as requested, but he felt the need to increase the distance from her as he withdrew his fingers and sat back. She was undeterred however, leaning forward as she tucked her legs beneath her to match closer to his height.
"Because, Edward, you are the sort of thing that the Court finds amusing, that it likes to play with and use up until there is nothing left of it. And you are far too good for that to happen to." She moved closer. "So while I will miss you, I far prefer to think of you sitting in your meadow, listening to the whisper of the long grass, then rotting away here with all of the carcasses of the Court."
He turned his head and found her face so close to his that his nose almost touched hers. He'd never kissed a woman before, but the sight of her soft pink lips so close to his sent a stab of fierce want through him to know what they would feel like. Time seemed to freeze as they sat with eyes locked, breathing in tandem. Slowly, carefully, he leaned forward and felt the brush of her warm flesh against his.
It was gentle, the barest of touches, until he tilted his head and pressed again, enchanted by the swell of the plush of her lips and the shocks that seemed to run along his body. Their mouths continued a soft communion that he didn't want to end. At last she pulled back, her lips darker and beautifully swollen from their kisses, but her eyes were troubled. He couldn't help but cup her face again.
"Edward?" she asked, his name a question. "Would you do something for me?"
"Anything," he replied with certainty.
"If I asked you, if you knew that it was the only thing that could save me, would you . . ." She trailed off, then seemed to gather herself. "Would you kill me?"
Her request was the farthest from anything he could imagine, and he instantly shook his head. "Bella, no."
She seemed to have regained her nerve, however, and he found his face held firmly between her hands. "Edward, do you love me?"
He caught his breath, but no sooner had she asked the question that he knew with utter certainty the answer. "I do."
"Then you must do as I ask. Please, Edward, if you do love me, then promise me that you will kill me. You'll know when the time is right."
He recoiled, pulling away from her. "Bella, why would you ask that of me?"
Her eyes were solemn as she spoke. "Because it is only the one who truly loves me who can free me from my cage."
ooooo
The Princess had been correct. Shortly after Edward had returned to the Castle, he had received a summons from the King as the tournament winner to attend the feast and dancing that night, and to join the Guard. Attired in his finest livery for Sir Carlisle's wedding ceremony, he had followed Carlisle towards the Great Hall, emptier than he had ever seen it. The wedding of a lesser nobleman seemed to hold little entertainment value for those seeking sleep or other amusements before the night's festivities. But she was there, sitting in the center of her balcony and smiling down at the Lady Esme, who moved swiftly to Carlisle and clasped his hands.
Edward couldn't help but be grateful for his position to the side of the King's throne, where he could view the Princess unobserved. Her smile was constant, but he could see that her eyes were sad as she watched her favorite lady in waiting speak the words that would bind her to Sir Carlisle and take her away from the Castle again.
The King wasted little time at the conclusion of the ceremony in demanding Edward's answer to his invitation. He found his throat dry and himself at loss for words to refuse the King. Carlisle's diplomacy saved him as he made an eloquent case for how needed Edward's assistance in the village was, now that Carlisle would desire time to devote to his new bride. The King, amused, had finally acquiesced and told Carlisle he could keep Edward for the time.
The knot in Edward's stomach drew tight at the discussion about his person that flew back and forth and around him as though he were not there, merely an object to be traded at the whim of those with power. At a crucial moment, when it appeared that Carlisle's persuasion would be unsuccessful, he'd mustered his courage and almost opened his mouth to add his protest that he did not ever wish to be a part of the Guard.
And then he caught sight of her, leaning at the edge of her balcony and staring at him. She gave a small shake of her head, and he bit his tongue, knowing that she was correct. He was not nearly so silver-tongued or skilled with words as his lord and his refusal might well have ended with something worse than service in the Guard.
The beginnings of the feast marked the end of their audience with the King, and the night seemed endless to Edward as more food than would feed the village for an entire year was laid out and barrels of wine were freely consumed, making the crowd louder and more boisterous than on any night previous. Finally, just at the stroke of midnight, masks were produced for the dancing to begin.
A young woman in a dark hood and mask that shielded her identity, but not her breasts, pressed herself to him and gave him a mask, simple and black, that she attempted to slip over his head. He took the mask, but extricated himself from her grip and whispered suggestions, slipping it over his face as he edged his way towards the door of the Great Hall.
His livery that he'd worn for the wedding ceremony made his identity obvious. With a quick glance about, he removed his coat, leaving him only in his simple white shirt and dark breeches and blending in with the hundreds that crowded the Hall, voices loud above the frantic thrum of the music. The heat and press of bodies overly perfumed made it hard for him to draw breath, but he pushed forward to his destination to view her on the balcony above. But the spot where Bella always sat with her ladies was deserted, and disappointment washed over him.
Had she descended to the floor below to join with the others as just another anonymous dancer? Had she retreated within the Castle, far away from the madness in the Great Hall below? The memory of her kiss on his lips, and the intensity of his eyes when she'd ask him to do the unthinkable haunted him, and he wished he could see her again, just once more before they departed.
Edward threaded his way through the crush, finding an opening and slipping behind a tapestry to a small doorway he'd noticed the servants using as they delivered the feast. A long narrow hallway ran the length of the hall, and he moved swiftly down it, dodging a pair intertwined against the wall. Spying a wooden door near the end of the hall, he opened it and sucked in a deep breath of cool air as he emerged into the garden that stood at the rear of the outer courtyard.
He'd passed through the elegant, manicured garden once, not long after they first arrived, but the transformation of the setting for the final feast was breathtaking. Edward found himself mesmerized by the complexity and the artistry of the decorations. Beautiful sculptures of mythical creatures had been carved from large blocks of ice, and lit candles were set about to create a path that led one through the sculptures to the final creation - an enormous dragon set before a large mirror, so that an individual could view themselves in the monster's frozen clutches. It had been the topic of much discussion throughout the night, but it appeared that the dancing had outweighed the lure of the chilled exhibit and he found himself alone among the displays.
Edward walked closer to the first of the sculptures, one he recognized as a mermaid. Her head was thrown back, eyes shut in ecstasy so real that Edward almost turned away from the rawness on display in the alluring form.
"She is beautiful enough to lure men to their death, isn't she?"
The voice was familiar, but when he turned, he almost didn't recognize her. Gone were both the reserved Ice Princess who sat on high and the uncomplicated girl who climbed on rocks in trousers. Her hair was caught up in a series of intricate swirls that climbed higher and higher, with twinkles of what he knew must be jewels flashing in blues and greens against her dark strands. Those colors were repeated in her dress, rich, bold hues shimmering in the candlelight as her skirt swirled about her feet when she moved closer. Her face was covered with a half mask that left only her mouth exposed, a pattern of rippling scales in the same iridescent shades completing her disguise. She was fire now, no longer ice, and he was certain that she could enter the Great Hall and mingle with impunity on this night.
"Not as lovely as you are," he spoke without thought.
Her lips curved into a smile. "I have no wish to lure anyone to their death, Edward. But a dance perhaps?"
There was a yearning in her voice that was unexpected, and despite his confusion about everything from their kiss to her odd request to the ever present knowledge that dawn was growing nearer and his time was almost gone, he found himself stepping closer and extending his arm.
Dancing had been one of the lessons that he'd been tutored in, though he'd always thought it useless until Carlisle told him to think of the counts as steps in a fight. The Princess in his arms caused all thoughts of such steps to flee his head, as he lost himself in the weight of her hand in his, and the press of his hand at her waist. They were moving in time to the faint music which drifted from the Great Hall, slow revolutions and steps that led them deeper among the sculptures, menacingly beautiful as they glistened in the candlelight. Past the talons of the griffin and the wings of the pegasus, he found himself lost in her honey brown eyes, and blaming the wine running through his body, he dared to halt them and lean forward, his lips seeking hers again.
While the kiss of the afternoon had been a revelation, an slow awakening of longing and desire, the touch of her soft skin in the moonlight engulfed him in flames. She pressed forward, her fingers threading into his hair and pulling him closer despite her voluminous skirts. The shawl which had been tucked around her shoulders slipped away as he curled his hand around her neck, her skin growing warmer as their lips grew bolder. He hesitated for only a second before he dared to tease the plumpness of her lower lip with his tongue, swallowing the moan that could have been from either of them as she opened to him.
He could have held her in his arms all night, of that he was certain, tasting the sweetness of her mouth, reveling in the heat of her body and the softness of her curves pressed to him that he could barely resist the urge to touch. At last he pulled back, his breath harsh and ragged as he looked down at her face and wished he could remove the mask that shielded her face.
"I'm glad you found me," he said.
Her lips curved into a smile. "As am I. One kiss was not enough." Her hand crept up and touched his jaw. "Know that I will be thinking of you, when I sit by my stream. And you must think of me, when you visit your meadow. Will you do that?"
"I will." He turned his head, placing a kiss in the center of her palm. "I wish that you could come with me and visit it."
Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and when she opened them, he could see the trace of a tear. "Perhaps some day. You must take care of yourself, Edward. Journey carefully."
"Do you have to go?" he asked, sensing that she was pulling away, the smile beginning to fade.
She glanced at the sky, which had lightened infinitesimally. "Dawn will come far sooner than we know, and I must be back before the dancing ends and my ladies return."
He drew her close for one last kiss, feeling moisture in his own eyes as she took a step away, a flame of color in a sea of clear crystal.
"Remember what you must do for me if the time should come, Edward."
She turned and ran from the garden. As she passed the final statute, Edward gasped at the reflection of his dragon in the mirror. A trick of the light, he told himself, some combination of the ice dragon, the flickering candles, and the colors of Bella's gown, no doubt.
He walked forward and touched the mirror's surface, staring at the icy reflection looming behind him. He'd face any of these creatures, he realized, if it could only make her his.
