"Theresa!" Nalir called after her, "Theresa, wait!"

Bloody black bricks but she could run!

And he chased.

Abandoning decorum.

Ignoring the confused looks of the party-goers as he pushed between them.

They'd had but a moment to dance. One perfect moment. He should have been grateful for that much. Was it too much to ask of the Gods for one evening without trouble? After all they'd been through today, yesterday and the day before? Apparently so.

Because the anxious premonition was back.

Something was wrong.

Something about Theresa.

He felt it like a keen pressure between his eyes. It couldn't be ignored. It compelled him after her. So he chased. Off the dance floor. Away from the party. Out into the gardens. And into the laurel maze. Right to it's center. He lost her right around the corner from the court yard. The cough cinched down on his lungs, making him gasped for air, sending him to one knee as he choked and gasped. But he fought through the burn, staggering out into the center of the maze.

She was pacing back in forth in front of the fountain. A flash of gold among a sea of green. Barefoot. One of her shoes was in the shrubs along the wall. Sitting like an ivory dove perched on a branch. The other one was not to be seen. Probably kicked over the low wall. And his heart started up like an anxious bird beating its wings against a cage. Because she was crying. Wringing her gloves. She'd torn them off. Twisting the pair to knots between her hands.

"Theresa?"

Coming to an abrupt stop, she sobbed angrily, pointing a finger right at him, sending him stock still. And he couldn't help but notice the emerald ring on her ring finger. The premonition thrilled again. Filling him with dread as the wheels began turning inside his head.

"I can't decide!" She sobbed, tossing her gloves on the ground as she sank to her knees, making her skirts billow and sigh, "I can't… I can't!"

"Theresa!" His world narrowed to only her.

And he was gathering her up off the ground, sitting her on the edge of the fountain, stripping off his jacket and putting it around her shoulders. Because she was shaking. It was warmer in the solarium than the snowy outside, but there wasn't much of the dress up top to stave off the chill. Unfortunately she wouldn't let him hold her. Pushing him away as she cried harder. And as words failed her, she threw out her hand and pointed at the emerald. Gasping and trembling, she hissed between chattering teeth.

"H-he ask-ked m-me to m-mmm-marry him!"

Nalir found himself on his knees. He'd been standing a moment prior. And now he was on the ground as though he'd forgotten his legs. Or maybe the ground had ceased to exist beneath his feet. He couldn't tell.

"C-congratulations." He whispered.

And he wanted to die.

Wished they'd left him buried in the oblivion beneath the snow.

Because he couldn't stand the pain that opened up inside him.

It was going to kill him.

"I didn't say yes!" She grabbed a handful of his shirt, shaking him until he finally saw her face. And she was absolutely pissed. "He never really asked me either! He just got down on one knee and gave me the ring. I told him I needed time to think... But… But he made me keep it! I had to put it on! Where else am I supposed to put it!?"

She slapped at her skirts in utter frustration. And Nalir stared for another moment. Uncomprehending. Until the hope shattered him. It hurt far worse than the pain of a moment prior. Worse than anything he'd ever felt. And he collapsed into her lap, burying his face in her sun-colored skirts.

Nalir finally understood what she'd been saying earlier.

He understood what she meant when she said she couldn't decide.

She didn't say yes. But she didn't say no, either.

Stalemate.

Nalir wanted to jump to his feet and shout out all of his brother's short-comings. Anything to sway her! Anything to keep her. But these were evil thoughts. Because he couldn't say anything at all. Not a single word. But something shifted. Something he'd almost missed. Something that made his insides still. Emptying him entirely as he straightened, still kneeling in front of her.

And the knowing hit him like a blow.

Kicking open a door inside his head as it came blundering inside.

Stomping about with its muddy boots.

And he knew.

His hands went to her stomach as he emptied of anything but the knowing.

"You're pregnant."

Theresa seized his arms so tightly her nails bit through his shirt. Her face had gone completely pale, wide green eyes utterly terrified. She was his mirror. Everything there reflected what he felt. And he couldn't help it. Couldn't stop the wheels from turning. Couldn't stop himself from thinking about what was best for her. He heard himself speaking aloud horrible things. But they had to be said.

"There's still time for it to be his."

She slapped him.

Hard.

Right across his cheek.

And he saw stars. In a way he deserved it. At least she didn't punch him again. It'd taken a great deal of illusory magic to hide his black eye. She reared back her hand to hit him again, but he yanked her against him, holding her tightly as she struggled and fought. Pushing and sobbing. But he held on to her. Dying all over again. Tears stung his eyes, falling against her neck. And she must have felt them. Because abruptly she stilled. And he continued in a whispered rush, desperately trying to hold her attention now that she was listening. Because the wheels were still turning. Grinding him into a bloody pulp.

"Think, Theresa! Just think for a moment! I can't offer you apple orchards! I can't offer you honey bees, or a quiet life of nothing but sunflower fields. Those are things I'll never be able to give. You know what's in store for us. You see it every day. I'll have to work ever moment I'm awake. I'll be called away for weeks and months on end. We'll hardly see each other. I will never be able to put you first. And that's if we can make it through this madness!"

"Markl's a good man. The only man I could ever trust you to. Because I love you!" Nalir choked on the strength of it, trembling as it filled him utterly, "And even though it kills me, I will let you go if it means sparing you, sparing our child, from that madness."

And he was done.

Those were all the words he had left.

Mutely he let go. Sitting back on his heels. Waiting. Waited for her to hit him again. Waiting for her to get up and leave. Waiting for something. Anything. Because he had nothing left to guide him. He was lost.

But he didn't expect her to grab him by the shirt.

Didn't expect her to yank him back to her.

Didn't expect her to kiss him.

Then again she was always surprising him.

"You stupid, stupid, idiot!" She gasped as they finally came up for air, clinging to one another. "You're right, you bastard… I do know what's in store. I know probably better than you do! So why do you think for one moment that I'd let you face it alone!?"

Nalir stared.

The look on her face was decisive even if her words were unclear.

But he couldn't believe just yet.

"But I'm an ass!" He sputtered, trying to call up all the reasons he could think of why she shouldn't pick him. "I'm rude! I'm stuck-up! I'm self-important, stubborn, and… and I think I'm always right! I'm horrible with kids! No one likes me! I'm not much of a Magi. I can't even fly! My mother's insane! And… And I don't like the color green! Green, Theresa!"

She crossed her arms, not at all moved by his laundry list of faults. "And who else is going to argue with you? Tell you you're wrong? And make you listen to sense?" She smoothed her fingers over his brow, trying to soothe away the deep lines he could feel furrowing his brow. "We're going to get through this. Together. And I'm not going to leave you. Ever. Got that?"

And he was staring again. "But… But I don't deserve you…"

She snorted, "I'll be the judge of that."

"H-hey!?"

They jolted apart as the Wallmaker's son appeared in one of the entrances to the center of the hedge maze. Markl's amber eyes darkened with confusion as they darted between them.

"S-somebody wanna tell me what's going on?"

Nalir went utterly still with panic. But Theresa was not so hindered. She handed back Nalir's jacket, standing, smoothing the front of her skirt. Then she twisted the ring off her finger. Holding it out as she came forward.

"I… I'm sorry..." She took his hand, pressing the ring back into his palm. "I can't marry you."

Still frozen, Nalir watched Markl stare at the ring in a daze. "Why?"

Theresa was twisting her skirt now and the iron calm she'd exhibited a moment prior was beginning to fail. "B-because I don't love you the way you think you love me."

Nalir's insides sank.

That was way too complicated a thought for Markl to handle right now. His apprentice brother just stared uncomprehending as Theresa began chewing a curl, waiting for an understanding that would never come.

"Markl…" Nalir climbed to his feet. And the truth just came pouring out. It just couldn't be kept anymore. He motioned to Theresa helplessly. "Markl, I love her."

His apprentice brother started as though he'd been slapped. Casting his dumbfounded gaze between the two of them as he finally seemed to understand.

"You… and… and Theresa?" He backed up a step, shaking himself as if waking. "H-how long… Has this been going on!?"

"Since the crash." Theresa had her face in her hands, bending as if a weight was pressing down on her shoulders, "Before we got found."

Earnestly, Nalir tried to explain, "At first we weren't going to say anything because we thought it was only chance. It wasn't. It was more."

Unfortunately Mark wasn't listening. Nalir could already see the mulishness closing off his apprentice brother. Markl threw up a hand, stopping any other words he might have offered. And he crumbled, trembling with anger that lined and twisted his face.

"You… You've been telling me what to do. Telling me what to say. Spying on me! Listening in! Now… Now I understand why!"

"No!" Theresa cut in, "We didn't figure this out until now!"

Markl was glaring at her now. "You should've told me!"

"You never gave me the chance!" She shot back hotly, "You just assumed! Assumed everything was alright! Assumed this was what I wanted. You never talk to me, Markl! You couldn't even ask me to marry you properly. All you did was give me a ring!"

"Do you think this is easy for me!? I… I did the best I could!" He barked harshly, clenching his fists, "But I guess that wasn't good enough for you, now was it!?"

Theresa sputtered. "This has nothing to do with who's better!"

"Obviously it does!" He threw out his hand, holding up the ring by way of explanation.

She went red to match her hair. "Don't make this about you! You always do that!"

"I do not!"

"You do so! You're being so… so childish!"

Nalir despaired as he watched the two of them hurl words back and forth.

Hurting each other more and more.

He'd done this so many times with his mother.

Once the words started they never seemed to stop.

Carving deeper the chasm that opened between them.

Until no bridge could ever reach across.

"Am I… Am I!?" Markl choked, going hoarse with pain that seemed to overwhelm him utterly, "Well excuse me for being heartbroken by the fact that my best friend, the… the only girl I've ever loved… doesn't love me! Better yet, she's going with my brother behind my back!"

Theresa went absolutely rigid as each of his last words seemed to strike her right in the chest. Pale and trembling, tears dropped down her cheeks, she clutched at her heart as her head bowed.

"I do love you, Markl… Just not the way you love me."

He stared for a moment.

Uncomprehending.

Then he howled.

Letting loose an enraged cry of agony, shaking his fists.

"I don't understand you! You don't make ANY sense all! How can you love me and NOT love me!?"

Theresa shrank from him as he went pitching around the courtyard.

"I think we all need to calm down." Nalir held up his hands, calmly stepping between them. Because people were going to hear if the shouting continued.

"You stay out of this!" Mark snarled, whirling on him, "This is all your fault! You betrayed me!"

An eerie wind crackled through the courtyard. Like static clinging to the dry air beneath a storm that had yet to break. He went absolutely pale with wrath. Nalir'd never seen Markl so angry. Never in his whole life. And the Mardan could feel his friend's magic gathering, called by his emotions, by the anger threatening his self-control. Unconsciously Nalir took a step in front of Theresa. Just in case.

"You are not my brother!" The Wallmaker's son spat on the ground as he stabbed a finger at Nalir's chest. A shock leapt between them, like the pull of a lodestone. Sending a chill shudder rattling through his bones, "May you never know the happiness that you've stolen from me!"

With that he turned on his heel and strode away.

The storm of his magic broke.

And not without leaving its mark.

But still, he took an unconscious step after his apprentice brother, until Theresa grabbed Nalir's elbow.

"N-no… Let him go. Anything we say now will just make things worse."

Frozen again, Nalir stared at the spot where Markl had disappeared.

Torn in two by the need to find his brother and beg forgiveness and the duty he had to remain at the party. Because in short time he would have to stand before three kings, his two masters, a sea of strangers, rivals, enemies or allies, and accept a burden that killed many of those who had carried it over the ages.

At the moment, inaction wasn't a luxury he could afford.

Something had been set in motion by this.

He could feel the distant cogs and wheels turning away.

But they withheld from him the reason for their furious work.

Like chess pieces moving on a board he could not see.

And Nalir couldn't tell what was worse.

Knowing. Or not knowing at all.

"Are you alright?" Nalir turned his attention to Theresa.

"Dunno… That… did not go the way I'd hoped." She was still holding onto his arm, leaning on him heavily, looking where he had been staring a moment prior.

"It never does." He steadied her, producing a handkerchief from one of his sleeves. Her face a mess, make up smeared all over her tear streaked cheeks. But it didn't matter to him. She was beautiful. She would always be beautiful.

"Eh?" Theresa jumped, coming back to wherever she'd gone as he pressed the kerchief into her hand. Wordlessly she took it, turning away, dipping it into the fountain before scrubbing the powder and color from her cheeks and eyes until he could see her freckles again.

"I… I have to go back to the party," It was the last thing he wanted to do. But he forced himself to shrug back into his jacket, unbraiding his hair to smooth it down, "What will you do?"

"Here. Let me," She spun him around "I'm staying for your ceremony."

"You don't have to." He offered, trying not to fidget as she neatly re-braided his hair

"No, this is important. I want to stay. I want to be here for you."

A spark lit up in his heart at her words, giving him strength. Finishing with his hair she smoothed the shoulders off his jacket and her hands lingered. Theresa was leaning against him again. Her forehead pressed between his shoulder blades.

"If they don't find out sooner, I'll tell Martha and Barimus tonight."

"I should be with you." Nalir's insides went cold as the prospect, but it was only right that he stand beside her.

"No," He had to work hard to curb the instant urge to argue with her. But there's been enough arguing for today, "Let me talk to them first."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah…" She smoothed his jacket again even though it did not need smoothing, "After seeing how Markl reacted, I wanna ease Barimus into this slowly. I don't want you anywhere near him 'til he's had a chance to get used to this."

He spun.

Catching her up in his arms.

Hugging her so tightly he heard her breath catch in her throat.

"Know that I want you." Nalir whispered, "I want you both."

Theresa melted, her hands knotted in the small of his back.

"I know."

He forced a smooth smile, drawing back, "You go back to the party. I will stay here a moment to collect my thoughts."

"O-okay," She was frowning at him, "You're okay, right?"

No.

He was far from alright.

But he wasn't about to tell her that.

"I just need a quiet moment to think."

She hesitated again, "It's going to be okay, Nalir."

"I know…" He smiled more convincingly this time, taking her hand to kiss it, "I have you. That's all I need."

With many a backward look, she finally left the courtyard.

And he took her spot on the lip of the fountain, sinking his head into his hands, fighting the crushing grief that surged through his insides.

Markl… Oh, poor, dear, Markl… Stars be with him.

Markl was not a simple man. A depth of feeling Nalir'd only caught in glimpses lurked beneath his candid demeanor. Nalir had known the truth would be painful, but he had not been prepared for how much it would hurt his brother. He had not been prepared for how much Markl loved Theresa. Nor did he realize how unprepared Markl had been to learn the feeling was not mutual. It wasn't the kind of thing for which one could prepare. The guilt and sorrow Nalir was feeling now could not compare to the anguish he'd seen in his brother's eyes.

Because Markl was right.

He'd been betrayed.

It was all Nalir's fault.

An anguished growl slipped between Nalir's teeth as he found himself further and further tangled in a mess of lies, subterfuge, and betrayal. Some Royal Sorcerer he was turning out to be. Already he'd proved himself unworthy of the honor and he'd not yet even been named heir! But panic pressed down on him like ice and snow as he conjured all the possible reactions his master could have for their news.

Would Barimus rescind his status as heir?

Worse yet, would he cast him out?

Exile him back to Marda?

The thought of loosing Theresa made him lightheaded with sorrow. Nalir had no idea what Barimus and Martha would say but he could say with absolute certainty that his mother would not approve. And Yewin would have a field day with that. Yet another thorn the Magi could twist in his side, another wedge to drive between Nalir and Merra. And what of Theresa? What of their child? At once heart turned to a stone in his chest. Had he been standing it would have dragged him to his knees. Because Yewin would use them exactly as he used Merra: pawns to be play as he saw fit in his sadistic game of control. Yewin would hurt them in any way possible if it meant securing his obedience. Rage boiled in Nalir's chest, turning his insides molten with hate, sending magic crackling and seething in his veins.

He didn't care if it meant damning himself.

Didn't care it meant being banished, never seeing Theresa again.

He would gladly kill that fat bastard to save the ones he loved.

"Don't be sad."

Nalir started back as someone spoke, someone touched him.

A violent electric shock went jolting through the length of his body at the contact. It felt like nothing he'd ever experienced save the swallowing sensation of falling. And it was like he'd been thrown out into the sky all over again, tossed into a world of all encompassing bright. And he almost fell backward into the fountain. Because the Lady of the Wall before him, her hand still outstretched. Hunkered down on her bare feet like a child, hugging her knees as she turned her head to the side to peer at him with uncanny lapis eyes. Her long hair pooled all around her body like a river of luminous silver. He hadn't heard her come into the courtyard. For all he knew she just appeared.

Dierdrie smiled sadly. So very, very sadly.

And once again the knowing knocked down the door inside his head.

Terror sent his heart hammering its way out of his chest.

Because she knew. She knew everything.

"Don't be sad," Dierdrie repeated in a sweet voice overlaid by a choir of star children singing. "There's nothing you could've done differently. It's not your fault. But don't worry. They'll be okay."

A sinking feeling struck him in the heart. And he knew that she wasn't talking about what had just happened in the courtyard. Unfortunately she didn't explain. Didn't tell him what she did mean.

"M-my Lady…" He fell off the lip of the fountain, scrambling into an awkward one-kneed bow, eyes fixed firmly on the springy moss between the flagstones. Because looking at her hurt. She was so bright. "I'm afraid I d-don't understand."

After a moment of silence he stole an anxious glance.

Sitting down hard as his back hit the fountain wall.

Because Dierdrie was gone.

Nalir stared at the place where she once stood. Because the moss between the pavers was growing before his very eyes. Flowering. Flourishing. Uncurling tiny green spindles of leafy green. And the black slate had transformed to translucent white.

As he stared at the spot Ryden came blundering into the courtyard, lead by the hand by one of the Star Children. The pale daemon pointed right at Nalir, smiling as the red shirt skidded to a stop. He flinched back as the child turned back into a star, whisking up into the air and heading back to the party.

"What the hell are you doing out here, man!?" Ryden exclaimed as he stood over him frowning, "Do you know how long I've been looking for you!?"

All he could do was blurt out the truth.

Nalir was done with lies and half truths for the time being.

"I… I told Markl."

It took the Wizard Guard a moment to process that.

"Shit."

"Quite."

"Well," Ryden cross his arms with a sigh, "You're not a crater in the ground. That's something."

"He cursed me, Ryden." It was hard not to shy from that fact. Nalir wasn't quite sure what it meant. But he could feel the mark upon him like a weight around his neck.

"W-what!" His friend paled. "H-how bad?"

"I don't know…"

"He'll take it back." Ryden assured him, "Markl's not the kind of guy to hold a grudge."

"I don't know about that… I don't know about anything anymore…" Nalir began at a loss, dropping his face back into his hands. "I don't know if I can do this… Any of this…"

The Red grabbed him by the arm, hauling him to his feet, borrowing Peoter's favorite phrase, "You an' me been in barrels of shite, little brother. Each time we got thru. This is just another barrel. Buck up an' get sloggin'."

"Ryden," Nalir grimaced, "A poet you are not."

"You're the one's s'pposed to be pretty with the words, Nally." He grinned rakishly, thumping Nalir on the back.

"Why're you being so nice to me? I thought you were mad at me?" Nalir steadied himself on his friend's arm, because his knees weren't quite working.

"I am mad at you. At all of you daft fools. At least I was. Until I saw the look on Theresa's face when she came in with Markl. He was beaming like the sun. But she wasn't. Looked like she was dragging a lead weight or something." Ryden scratched his nose uncomfortably, "Really none of my business, but how long's she been unhappy?"

"A while."

"Hmph… Never noticed it till now."

"She is not the type to burden others with her trouble."

"Don't know anybody else like that, now do I?" Ryden retorted acerbically.

"Shut up, Ryden." Nalir smoothed his robes unconsciously, feeling a bit of heat creeping into his cheeks, "Although I'm glad we're back on speaking terms. I'm not quite sure I could do this without you."

"Quit the mushy stuff. It's not your style. I heard from a little bird what's on the menu for tonight's festivities. One day, and by the Wall I hope no time soon, you'll be Royal Sorcerer. Probably about the same time I'll be captain of the Red Guard. That means from now on your britches are mine to look after. You an' me are stuck together. Now let's get your skinny butt back to the party. Lord Barimus can only stall for so long."

Wordlessly, he followed as Ryden pulled him towards the exit.

And Nalir's heart sank as they went.

***

The applause was deafening.

So were the red and gold fireworks that surprised everyone.

No doubt a last minute donation from Howl himself.

The Wallmaker did love fireworks.

In the chaos of celebration, Theresa's watched the stage. Nalir stood between Barimus and King Ferdinand. The two of them were pounding him on the back. As if the heavy ruby hanging around his neck wasn't abuse enough. It was ridiculously huge. Or perhaps Nalir was just that small. The Ingarian Arms were etched on its face. It was the mark of the Royal Sorcerer, or in this case, his heir.

And it was hard to feel glad about this.

Much like it was hard to be glad about being pregnant. At least not yet.

Neither were choices they'd made willingly, but choices for which they would have to take responsibility none-the less.

Theresa was no stranger to babies. She'd already helped raise a fleet of orphans in the Green Wing. But she couldn't imagine being nurse-maid to a King, three countries, and a squabbling batch of Magi.

Speaking of Magi…

Her eyes scanned the crowds. Finding a shock of green. Yewin was entrenched in a group of Mardan Magi. And the healer's attention was fixed with unnerving singularity on Nalir. But something wasn't right about his expression, something that chilled Theresa's insides. It was a far cry from the look on Barimus's face. There were no congratulations in Yewin's stare. It was as if the Green was seeing himself standing on the stage. Triumph etched his fat features.

Turning away with a shudder, Theresa's gaze went back to the crowds, easily picking out Merra. Tucked away into a dark corner far from the dance floor. She wasn't looking at the stage. Wasn't looking at Nalir. You'd think she was at a funeral rather than a party. Melting among the party-goers, Theresa kept one eye on Yewin as she made her way to Merra's table. Making the prim woman sit up in surprise as without explanation she unceremoniously pulled back a chair and ducked under the table, hiding under the table cloth.

"Is he watching you?" She murmured from under the red linen.

"Yes." Merra didn't hesitate a second. Smarts were something else Nalir must have gotten from his mother. "Although it may not seem like it."

"Did he see me?"

"No. I'm quite sure of it." She talked just like Nalir. Formal and stiff as the black lace at her neck.

"I need some of you blood to find an antidote."

She was quiet for a moment. Then replied with weary finality. "There is no antidote. Else I would not be here."

Theresa swallowed an aggravated sigh, "Merra, I'm a Green. If there's a way, I'll find it. Do you have something sharp to stick yourself on?"

After a moment the water witch passed one of the napkins under the table. It was folded. Camouflaging the blot of bright red that soaked into the linen fibers. Theresa hiked up her skirts and stuffed it into her closet pocket. Once again thanking whoever decided to put pockets in bloomers.

"I want it clear that I had nothing to do with the incident." There was nothing apologetic in Merra's tone, but Theresa had the feeling it was an apology none-the-less.

Incident. That was Ingarian official-ese for crash.

The word alone made Theresa's blood boil.

"I know." She grated between her teeth, "Otherwise I wouldn't be helping you. Tell me when it's clear."

"Not yet." She added casually and then continued. "At least now you have proof. But do not count on my word if you plan on taking him to trial. I'll be dead before I could testify."

"No you won't." Theresa countered grimly, "Not if I can help it."

She snorted pessimistically, making it clear without words that she had no confidence at all in the possibility of a cure. It took a great deal of Theresa's self control not to reach over and pinch the ungrateful Magi, especially after her next statement.

"I saw you dancing with my son. I do not approve."

"Oh, yeah?" Theresa simmered from under the table, "Well I saw you dancing with Nalir, too. And I don't approve of you either."

"Do not think for one minute I enjoy this!" Merra had gone perfectly still, her once cool voice fraying with bleak despair. "He made me come here tonight. Forced me to make Nalir dance. It is how he keeps us at odds. By making us hurt each other. And every day I drink another sip of my death knowing that as I weaken Nalir will bow to that fat bastard's mercy for my sake. You're just a silly little country girl. I have already done all I can think of! So what make you think you can do any better?"

Merra was trembling now, despair eroding her frosty exterior.

Theresa cringed from the woman's misery.

Flinched from the horrors she was enduring.

"You must excuse my lack of enthusiasm on this most splendid of evenings! Because this is entirely my fault." Merra hissed so low Theresa barely heard her. And her heart squeezed painfully because she sounded just like Nalir. "I would gladly die to save him from this. Spare him from that snake's manipulations. I've tried… But he won't let me!"

There was a long pause.

Because there was nothing Theresa could say to that.

All too quickly Merra resumed her frosty superiority.

"You are clear. Leave."

Theresa clambered out from under the table, skirting the back wall as she fled the ballroom. Once she was in the hallways beyond the party-goers. She ran.

Ran up the stairs to Martha's office.

Ran through the portal back to their house.

Ran down the stairs to the work room, hoisting her skirts so she could tear the napkin from her pocket and press a tell strip directly to the still damp cloth. Dilution never worked. The words were too watery to read. Pinning the strip beneath the magnifying, she scribbled the components as they resolved, only then realizing that someone had moved things in her absence. The reference tome was back on the shelf. And the other TellSlips were gone. After a frozen moment of panic, Theresa yanked open all the drawers, looking on the floor and beneath the tables. Until someone spoke.

"I have them." Martha called softly from the top of the stairs.

Theresa started up from the stool.

It fell over with a tinny clang.

The Herbalist came down into the workshop looking like she'd come straight from the Ball. There was fake snow on her shoulders. But as she came around the work desk, Theresa's foster mother surprised her with a fierce hug.

"Y-you looked at them?!" Theresa couldn't help but be a little angry.

"You left twelve. I was curious." Martha drew back, completely unabashed and utterly glowing with excitement.

Relief flooded part of Theresa, because Martha hadn't seen Theodrick's slip. But the rest of her was buzzing with terror.

"How far are you?" The Herbalist squeezed her hands and Theresa couldn't help but go pink in the cheeks.

"I… uh… I just missed my period."

Theresa was stunned.

Martha was taking this far too well.

But then again, she did have a thing about babies.

Children were something she'd never be able to have and something she'd always wanted. She went all pink in the cheeks every time she went into the nursery. But she never smiled. Only Theresa knew why. The Herbalist had been injured in an attempt on her life a long time ago. At the time she was pregnant. The resulting miscarriage stole from her the ability to ever conceive again. And Theresa shied from that terrible bit of history.

"Aren't… Aren't you mad?"

"Why would I be?" She was gushing by Martha standards, vibrating with happiness "I don't mind you didn't wait to get married. Markl will be a wonderful father."

Theresa took back her hands.

Turning away as the floor seemed to tip.

Dissolving into a shower of gray sparklers.

Martha caught her arms, leading her to a seat.

Taking her pulse. Putting a cold hand to her forehead.

All the while frowning with worry.

"Martha…" Theresa whispered. "Markl's not the father."

The Herbalist fell perfectly still.

And Theresa kept her eyes firmly fixed on her shoeless feet.

The stockings were ruined.

Her big toe poked out of a hole in the silk the size of an Ingarian Royal.

"N-not Markl?"

Her mistress sounded dazed. Just like her nephew. The parallel robbed Theresa of the courage to speak. But she didn't need to. Martha worked it out herself. And her face drained of all color, green eyes burning with rage as she towered up, filling the whole room. Striding about with hands pressed to her temples as if her head were about to burst. Standing, Theresa tried to counter Martha's flinty silence, tried to explain.

"Nalir loves me!"

Unfortunately, her mistress had a stubborn streak, just like Markl. And she was far from ready to listen. Martha whirled, looking like she'd just come from a particularly difficult Tri-Council meeting.

"Then why isn't there a ring on your finger!?"

"You… You said you didn't care about that!"

"If it was Markl's!"

"Y-you were singing Nalir's praises last night!"

"This changes everything!" Martha snapped back furiously.

"No it doesn't!" Theresa shot back just as hotly, "How can you be so hypocritical!"

Her mistress sputtered, so mad she could hardly speak, her skirts kicking up a wind as she swept around the room shaking her fists.

"Because he's Mardan!"

Theresa was stunned. Bigotry was not something she expected from the Herbalist. But in a way it explained why she hated Yewin so much. Her mistress' in explicable dislike for the Green Magi never made sense.

"So!?" She snarled back,"So am I!"

"No. You're nothing like them." Martha was back to pacing, pulling now at her graying hair. But as suddenly as the rage had taken her, she stilled. Anger dissolved. And something dawned on her like the contents of a cold bucket of water. She slapped a hand over her mouth, green eyes aghast.

"Oh, Gods… Why didn't I see this? Yewin's wheedling to get you on the airship… Nalir saved you from the crash... And now this! It's too much of a coincidence!"

Theresa shrank from Martha's logic. Because to someone who didn't know the things she knew, it made sense. Worse than that, it sounded feasible.

"Tell me you're not implying Nalir had anything to do with the crash!"

Martha's green eyes went obdurate, turning to stone, "He asks too many questions and carries too much guilt for a survivor."

"You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"You're the one who has no idea what you're talking about! Once I stood exactly where you're standing! And I refuse to see you used to further their scheming!"

It was Theresa's turn to go livid and choke on her words, "Nalir would never use me! He would never betray Barimus!

"Shut up and listen you silly girl!" Martha snarled. Shocking Theresa into silence as her tone turned chillingly superior.

"Wouldn't he? For the past six years all he and that conniving family of his have been working to this moment. I thought perhaps he was different, but I see I was wrong. Don't you understand!? He has everything to offer the Council that they could require of the Royal Sorcerer. The fact that you're with child, his child, seals the bargain! It wouldn't take much to sway them now. Too many of the Magi are displeased with the balance of power in the Tri-Council. Too many would be more than pleased to see Barimus go. "

Picking up the closet thing she could find, Theresa hurled it at the stone wall. It shattered between them. Revealing whatever it had been was made of glass. But she couldn't see anything. Tears of outrage blinded her entirely.

"Do you really think I could love someone capable of that!?" Theresa screamed at the top of her lungs. "Don't you trust me at all!?"

Silence stretched between them. And when Martha spoke she had gone quiet with patronizing sweetness.

"Oh, child… How your pride blinds you. You despise Nalir! Sweetling, you chased him with a garden hoe! You may think this is love, but it's not. Lust is deceiving thing. You're too young to understand what a grave mistake you're making! Too young to understand what's really happening. But we can fix this, sweetling. There's still time."

Not for the first time she shrank from her mistress.

From the woman she had grown to think of as her mother.

What she was suggesting was unthinkable.

And the person standing before her became a stranger.

Her home became an alien place.

Suddenly she felt utterly unwelcome.

A strange spoke from her lips as well.

Cold with hate. Distant with fury.

"After everything we've been through… If you won't trust me… I you won't believe what I'm telling you now… Then why the hell should listen to you?"

With trembling hands she unclasped the emeralds around her neck, pulling the heavy drops from her ears. Theresa put them on the table between them.

"I'm not your apprentice anymore. I'm not your daughter either."

Hastily she folded the TellSlip into the blood stained napkin, gathering it onto what little notes she made. Martha was standing like a stone obelisk in the middle of her path. But Theresa was flexible enough to know how to go around. Slipping by, pounding up the stairs she went straight to the front door, turning the dial to red. No one was in Barimus' Office as she yanked open the door.

"Theresa!" Martha cried from behind her.

But the freckle-faced woman slammed the door in her face.

Bursting out into the hallway, Theresa fought through a blind of tears, storming through the hallways. Winding herself silly until she was sure she wasn't being followed. And then she went looking for a red shirt, succeeding after what felt like ages of wandering. She caught the capable looking woman by the arm, yanking her around.

"Ma'am?" The Guard looked more than surprised, going red in the face.

"I need you to take a message to Nalir." She gasped, trying to hold herself together, "Tell him to find Theresa as soon as possible."

The Wizard Guard saluted, "Yes, Lady Theresa."

She blinked, stymied as the woman strode off with purpose. Not used to the fact that the majority of the Reds knew her by name. But then again, she was picking up after Peoter so much he called her his honorary Red.

Dashing at the tears that were suddenly streaming down her cheeks, Theresa blundered through the back halls until she found her way to Nalir's apartment. The door popped open when she touched the handle. It hadn't done that before. Throwing her things onto the coffee table, she stormed into the bedroom and threw herself onto the coverlet.

Sobbing herself silly.

Before in utter exhaustion.

She fell asleep.

And when she woke it was to the sound of music.

Sitting up in the dark, she found herself covered by a blanket. And sliver of light crept beneath the closed door. On its back spilled a muffled river of dulcimer music. Sliding out of bed, Theresa pushed through a crack in the door, coming out into the adjoining room.

Nalir was sitting at the golden harp.

Gone were his party clothes. He had on a plain black shirt and pants. But his hair remained pulled back into a braid. So she could see that the happy flush that once set his features alive had gone as well. Pale with concentration, his hands flew gracefully across the golden strings. And his jade eyes were miles away. She could only imagine the things going on inside his head. Because hanging from one of the wall scones behind him was that fat chunk of ruby.

Closing her eyes she listened to the waves of beautiful music.

The crystalline chords reminded her of star singing.

It calmed her in a way she hadn't thought possible.

"That's pretty."

Strumming a sour note as he jolted, Nalir abruptly silenced the strings. Although he took one look at her face and went stock still.

"I didn't mean to wake you..."

"S'okay…" She avoided his gaze, folding up into the corner of the couch nearest him, "Keeping playing? It's nice."

Nalir remained at the harp, but didn't play. His green eyes stayed fixed on her. "I came as soon as I could. But you were asleep. Parda didn't say anything other than that I should find you. And I didn't want to wake you…" He went quiet. And she could feel the weight of his gaze. Just like she could feel the burn of the tears that threatened to fall again, "W-what happened?"

"I told Martha. It didn't go too well."

That was putting it mildly. But things still felt so very far away. Like it was all a bad dream. But it wasn't a dream. Far from it.

"I… I b-broke my apprenticeship."

"W-what?" Nalir was shocked. He clambered out from under the instrument, coming to sit beside her, "Why!?"

Theresa couldn't repeat some of what was actually said. It hurt too much. And Nalir flinched as she let loose a furious cry, reaching back to tear at the lacing of the dress, yanking them into a tangled mess. Because she couldn't breath. And she turned all her hate on the flouncy thing, venting on it all the pain that burned her insides, trying to tear it off. But she failed. It was stronger than it looked. Frustrated beyond coherence, words came pouring out of Theresa as she struggled.

"Because she's a short-sighted bigot! Because doesn't know what the HELL she's talking about!" Lurching to her feet, Theresa pulled with all her might, rewarded as something popped and ripped, "Get this thing off me, Nalir!"

"Hold still," He murmured soothingly. Part of her envied him his calm. The other half was frightened by it. And she stilled as his hands worked at her back while she snuffled and choked. But after a moment he gave up. "They're too tangled. They'll have to be cut."

"You can cut this thing to shreds for all I care just so long as it comes off!" Theresa resisted the urge to stamp her feet, "I'll never wear it again!"

"Don't say that." He kissed her shoulder lightly before going in his bedroom, making the anger dissolve in an instant. And she heard him from the other room, "You look so very beautiful in gold."

Her insides milled with confusion until he returned with a long black shirt and a pair of scissors, handing her the latter as he returned to her back. The blades snicked through the cords and the dress fell right off, pooling at her feet. Heat burned up into her cheeks as she suddenly became very naked.

"Oh!" Nalir stammered shyly, throwing his eyes away. "I d-didn't know it would do that."

"Goose… What'd you think would happen?"

She couldn't help the weak smile quirking her lips as she kicked the dress and corset aside, rolling down the stockings and garters before shaking out the shirt. Theresa caught him peeking. And she was about to tease him for it until his eyes fell on something she'd forgotten was there.

"Theresa... Where did these come from?"

She winced as he touched one of the burns on her back she earned while climbing among the hot water pipes in the Green Wing walls. The Cesari maids hadn't said a thing about the ones on her hands either. Lucky that gloves were in style. And she yanked the shirt over her head before he could see the burns on her thighs.

"None of your business." She muttered.

But he grabbed her, turning her around until his face was inches from hers. And a shock went through her at the contact. Magic. She recognized the eerie nibbling tingle. But something followed in its footsteps, like a cold wind whisked through her insides. She watched as his emerald eyes widened with the horror of knowledge. It was the same bewildered expression that crossed his face earlier when he'd spread his hands across the flat of her stomach and spoke aloud things he could not know.

"Y-you went to the Green Wing!" He grew hushed with shock as his piercing gaze intensified, "Oh, Gods… Theresa he would have killed you!" But his hands tightened on her arms as he continued to see. His brow knotted up with consternation as what Merra and Martha said flitted through the back of her mind, replaying, plucked from her memory like some awful stage drama.

"G-get out of my head!" Theresa thundered, shoving him back so hard he stumbled on the couch and landed on the carpet

"I… I'm sorry!" Still prostrate, he held out his hands placating, "I… I couldn't help it! Y-you were thinking it so loudly!"

"Don't you dare invade my privacy again, got it!?"

He flinched back as she towered over him with clenched fists, absolutely red with shame. "I'll t-try! I… I'm still new at this."

"You better!" She plunked down on the couch, hugging her knees.

Rubbing a bruised elbow, Nalir sat up, still frowning at her, albeit a bit timidly. "Theresa, please… I don't want to fight… But you can't go back to the Green Wing! Not with him watching! Theodrick's body may be gone, but he'll be even more on his guard now that he knows something is amiss."

"TellSlips don't last forever." She stabbed a finger at the red linen napkin folded on the table. "The words fade within a day as the compounds break down. I've wasted too much time already. I need the books and equipment in the work rooms to find an antidote and soon!"

Nalir stared, uncomprehending. The look was a stab to the heart. And she resisted the urge to punch him in the shoulder. Because he looked just like Markl.

"You'd really help my mother? After everything she said?"

"I took an oath, Nalir!" She sighed in exasperation, "Merra's a sad silly woman so lost in her own suffering that she doesn't know what's up or down anymore. I don't take any of what she said personally. And I won't leave her with that monster a moment longer than is necessary!"

He stared up at her as iron resolve fixed his fine features.

"Marry me, Theresa."

Great, green, growing things! Twice in one bloody day!?

But the look came on him like a storm. Going incandescent in his eyes from where he was still sprawled on the rug like a hapless overturned black beetle. He looked ridiculous there. But still she went weak in the knees beneath the strength of the emotion that drew the pieces of her heart back together, stitching it whole. It took every ounce of her will power not to kick him. And just a little more for her to tell him no.

"No."

He started as confusion punched him in the face, "W-why not!?"

"Goose!" Her hands went right to her hips as she bent over him with a frown. But the look in her eyes was anything but stern, "I'll marry you when no one can doubt our reasons! I'll marry you when no one can say it's political! I don't give a damn what Martha says! I don't need to get married to please anyone! And I don't need a ring on my finger to believe you love me! So I'll marry you when I damn-well feel like it, got that!?"

"Y-yes, ma'am." He cowed, but still looked a little disappointed. Although his lips were quirking as he sat up. And his eyes went right to the red napkin.

"Can I see it?"

"Why?"

"You said it fades. Maybe there's something I can do to preserve it."

Plucking up the cloth, she unfolded it, revealing the tiny slip of white paper. Hew frowned down at it.

"By the Stars, it's tiny. No wonder so many Greens wear glasses. How can you read this?!"

"We use amplification glasses. That's part of the reason I need to go to the labs. We have one at the house, but…" Theresa cut off, remembering how she'd parted from Martha.

There was no way she was going back there.

Not if she could help it.

Turning her thoughts away, she watched Nalir inspect the bit of paper with the same interest a stamp collector might regard and unusual hallmark. It was a very Howl-like expression. Sometimes Theresa forgot that the Wallmaker was also Nalir's teacher.

"May I make it larger?"

"Huh?" Theresa blinked.

"It won't damage the fundamentals of the original charm since they've already been activated. All it'll do is stretch them bigger."

"C-can you do that?" She was amazed.

"Of course. Enlargement is a simply spell, especially in this case." He motioned to the slip, "May I?"

"S-sure. But we need to keep it clean. It contaminates easily."

"I can fix that too." Nalir stood, clearing the table, "I'll bind the slip so it won't fade."

Wiping down a writing slate with a dab of rubbing alcohol, the Magi carefully positioned the TellSlip in the middle of the stone with a tweezers. Peering over his shoulder, she watched as he posited his hands around the bit of paper, making a square out of his overlapping thumbs and index fingers. Theresa started as an increasingly familiar nibble tickled its way across her skin. Nalir's eyes flashed with eerie internal light as his face set with an expression of perfect concentration.

He drew his hands apart and a shiver surged up her spine.

Because the slip followed. Stretching. Growing larger.

And larger. Until it was the size of the slate.

As big as a sheet of writing paper.

Big enough she could easily read the multi-colored words.

Again Theresa jumped as Nalir snapped his fingers. She squeaked, shrinking back as the stone surface jumped, jolting the whole table. And the page lifted up into the air, revealing the imprint it had left in embossed words on the surface of the writing slate. Set in stone. Nalir let out a gusty breath, sinking back against the lip of the couch. There was sweat beaded on his pale face, evidence of the immense exertion magic required. Theresa stared between him and the slate of stone.

"Sometimes I envy you Magi. Sometimes times I don't."

"It gets easier as you get older." He murmured faintly, "Would you please get me a glass of water, dear one?"

Her cheeks burned red at the bare affection in his voice. And she fetched him a glass of water, sitting beside him, putting it into his hands. She almost dropped it as a spark passed between their fingers.

"Ouch!" She shook her hand, "You shocked me!"

Nalir was looking at her askance, staring with a strange unreadable expression. Taking a sip of water, he put the glass on the edge of the table. She frowned as his hands shook.

"That wasn't a shock." He explained softly, "It was magic."

"But… But I'm not… I haven't got a stitch of magic in me!"

"That doesn't matter. It happened because of the baby." Nalir was red in the face again, "Do you know how rare it is for Magi to conceive?"

"N-no… I didn't know it was a problem."

"Think about it. How many Magi do you know who have a whole horde of children? I've seen country folk with upwards of twelve. Most Magi have only one, if any."

"Your right…" Theresa ran through all the Magi couples she knew. Hardly any had children. Suddenly the Council's obsession with producing an heir made sense. "But… But I'm a country woman. D-does that make a difference?"

"Apparently not…" His voice gentled and he was staring at her stomach, his hand hovering between them, "May I?"

"S-sure…" She whispered.

Her heart was beating a million miles a minute, because they hadn't had much of a chance to talk about this. He shocked her again as his hand spread over her stomach, sending that same nibbling shudder uncurling through her body. As she covered it with hers, Nalir jolted, making her jump too. But he turned towards her, putting both his hands on her belly as his eyes went bright and far away. So very far away as a thrill of magic swelled between them. Welling up out of Nalir like a spring until he was saturated with it.

"What?" She demanded, grabbing his arms, resisting the urge to shake him, "What!?"

The look was in his eyes as they lifted to hers. It overtook her complete as the most brilliant beautiful smile spread across his face, lighting him of fire with love.

"It's a boy!"

Theresa went utterly still, so overwhelmed she could barely speak.

"H-how do you know?"

"I… I see him!" He laughed aloud, startling her. And the sound sang in her heart, vibrating through her very being. "Blessed stars! The poor thing has your hair. There are even leaves in it! He's beautiful!"

His smile widened still, glowing with pride, even though his eyes were far again, so very far away. Seeing something she couldn't see, no matter how she ached to share his vision. But she would see eventually. Eventually.

"Everything's going to be alright, Theresa!" Nalir hushed with joy that was catching. And he yanked her into his arms. "I see sunflowers! Fields and fields of golden sunflowers!"

"We… We should name him Caedir." She blurted impulsively, hugging him tightly. "A-after your father. I think Merra would like that."

Nalir didn't argue. Nor did he agree.

He kissed her.

Kissed until her head swam with visions of gold.

But then he stopped. Going absolutely still. With sinking sadness Theresa opened her eyes and watched as that same horrible knowing dawned on Nalir. It stole from him all the happiness that was there a moment prior. He turned angry eyes to the door, his lips drawing into a thin grim line. Seconds later an urgent knock pounded on the other side, rattling it to its hinges.

"W-who is it?" She breathed in dismay.

"Ryden," Nalir whispered as his hugged her close.

"I know you're in there!" The Red called hotly, "I'm trying to be polite!"

Nalir stood, helping her up as he strode over and snatched up his long black robe, hooking them on over his shirt, pulling the fat ruby from the wall, ducking his head through the heavy chain. And his shoulders sagged as if it weighed a hundred stone.

"What's going on?" Theresa demanded, growing angrier by the second as he darted into the bedroom, returning with a pair of boots. "Answer me, Nalir!"

"Howl finally got something out of the unexploded bomb. The Reds have the culprit in custody."

Theresa sat down as her knees stopped working beneath the weight of hope that dumped on her from above.

"Please tell me it's Yewin…"

"No." Nalir scowled as he yanked the shoe-lacing tight, "Someone else."

Good thing she was already sitting. "W-what? W-who!?"

"I don't know!" He barked furiously, "But I'll be damned if I let that fat bastard send an innocent man to the gallows!"