DISCLAIMER: I wish I owned this just so that Char could be mine.

A/N: It hasn't been a while or anything. I'm sorry for being so late, I really had no excuse. But I've recently figured what I think is a brilliant way to get me to update quicker. I outlined in a wonderful five-step plain in my profile titled "The Brilliant Fantastical, Unicorn-Magic-Worthy Five-Step Plan to Get Moose to Update Fanfiction." (This isn't a joke). Check it out if you love me and if you're interested.

Happy New Year to everyone (though I'm a bit late), and enjoy the new chapter. And as always, tell me what you think!


Chapter 7

Promises

A drop of water slid off the side of a frozen apple encased in ice and slipped down the round form, collecting into a teardrop at the bottom peak before falling with an icy plat on my forefinger. The world outside looked like something from a fairytale. A severe ice storm had passed the night before and had left everything wrapped in a cocoon of crystal, making even the most wilted trees look like foreign jewels.

The apple tree outside our rooms was no exception. The fruits, already frozen since mid fall, were blurred in their shells, appearing more like giant, fist-sized rubies than over-ripe apples. The morning sun glittered and shone, blinding me if I so much as turned my head towards it.

I leaned out of the window much in the same way that I did in my first morning at the palace, though then I was too numb with happiness to feel the biting air. Now it tore through me, shaking my limbs, making my teeth chatter, but I didn't bother putting on a cloak to keep the wind at bay. Instead I looked past the crystalline beauty to the horizon, where I could just make out streams of banners and the thuds of drums, celebrating war as if it was something to cheer bout. The black smoke from the armories rose higher than ever, and their clanging could be heard day and night as they struggled to create the sheer number of weapons needed at such short notice.

Soldiers were arriving from the four corners of Kyrria daily, marching with heads held high and hands on their sword hilts, proud to respond to their King's demand for assistance. If I craned my neck enough, I could see past the gates of the menagerie to the city, where people either strode with a jump of their gait, or dragged themselves by, as if burdened with the terrible feeling that someone they knew would leave tomorrow and never come back.

Like me.

"You shouldn't hang out the window like that. You'll catch a chill," a soft voice said from behind me, "or worse, someone might think you were trying to throw yourself off."

"I don't care," I answered bluntly.

I felt Char put his hands at my waist and gently tug me away from the sill, but I latched on to the frozen stone.

"No," I said.

"Ella, it's freezing," he said patiently.

"What does it matter?" Did it matter how cold it was, if almost every man in the kingdom was going to march to war tomorrow? Did it matter if I caught a cold, if I was to stay in a half-empty castle until the right person was killed to end this idiocy? Did it matter if I fell out of the window, if that right person was my husband? I collapsed against the windowsill, shaking, my hands dangling over the edge.

Char draped his heavy cape over my shoulders, and then he pulled me away from the ledge and shut the window, blocking out the cold air. He spun me around in his arms and I clung to him, trembling.

He sat down on a nearby chaise, tucking me beside him, and his hand immediately went to my hair, stroking it.

"You can't torture yourself like this," he said as the last of the cold escaped me.

"What am I to do? Dance around, cheering for battle, certain that you'll come back with Frederick's head in a sac for me?"

He grinned. "I'll have you know, I am above decapitating my enemies for the sake of it.

I didn't say anything, but gave him a look.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. It isn't as bad as it seems. Our forces outnumber theirs twenty to one on any day, and Kyrria hasn't lost a war in fifty years."

"Kyrria hasn't even been to war in fifty years." My voice was laced with ice.

He laughed lightly. "I know. But that's what we like to tell the men on the front line."

I frowned at him.

"What are you so worried about?" he asked me softly, thumbing my cheek, "Do you want me to get someone to bring something up from the kitchens? You hardly touched your plate at breakfast."

"No," I buried my face in his shoulder, and he tightened his arms around me. "I can't lose you again," I whispered into his doublet.

His smile slipped from his face but he didn't say anything, kissing the top of my head instead.

I bit my lip. "This is what I was worried about." The sound of my words barely left my mouth.

"What is?"

I furrowed my brow. "You should be promising me that you'll come back before I've even noticed you're gone. But you're not.

You know this is serious. You know you can't promise me something that will or will not happen without your consent. You know you have no control over stray arrows, and people won't march on the field for you, trumpeting the arrival of the untouchable prince."

You're not bothering to tell me that you'll be far away from the battle on some hill in a tent with the rest of the military commanders, because you know that when you see the body of the first man who dies for you, you'll ride out in a helmet in all your glory and-you might not come back." My voice broke at the end.

He sighed and touched his forehead to mine. "What am I to do without you?" he smiled sadly, pausing before he spoke again, "Ella, my job as a ruler is to lead this kingdom. Leading doesn't involve standing back and watching people die for you. It doesn't involve cowering behind clever military tactics and hoping that the skill and number of your men outnumber your enemies'. But I don't want to feed you lies. The soldier side of me would rather never return home and die in battle rather than live the life of a coward. I'm not promising you anything because I know there is every chance that I might break it, and I know you would never be stupid enough to believe me in the first place."

"I wouldn't, but some false hope would have still been nice."

"Alright," his wide grin was back. I promise in three week's time I'll be back at the palace gates, holding a rose in my hand for you," he breathed in my ear.

"You shouldn't do that. Rose thorns are sharp."

"A little pain is worth it, if it means making you happy."

My heart fluttered and squeezed. What would I do when he left tomorrow? He had been my anchor throughout the past two months, holding me together, keeping me from losing all that was left of my sanity to the hectic life of living in the palace.

"I wish you weren't so brave." I said softly. I wished he could be a coward, even if it was for just a few days. A few days of cowardliness might be able save his life.

Char took my hands and squeezed them. "Listen to me, Ella," he said suddenly, "I want to pretend that nothing is wrong, just for today. Just for me. I want one last day of oblivious peace before tomorrow. Can you do that for me?"

I thought about it. Could I pretend that everything was just dandy? That there was no war, and that until the unforeseeable future, this wasn't the last day I would spend with Char? I looked at his hopeful face, and the small pout he wore on his mouth. I felt my resolve to not shy away from the truth shatter.

"Okay." I said hesitantly.

"That means no moping, no frowning, no hanging out of our windows. There is no war, I'm not going anywhere, and you haven't been acting like a madwoman these past two weeks."

"War? What war?"

"Exactly. Who is King Frederick anyways?" He grabbed my face and kissed me.

"Just briefly though, do you really wish I wasn't brave?" he murmured against my lips, "I thought you liked the fact that you have a personal knight in shining armour."

I smiled slightly. "Don't fool yourself Char. You're not a knight." I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"No, but I like to pretend I'm one."

"How ironic. Don't most knights like to pretend they're princes?"

"They're wishing for all the wrong things. Any lady would take a handsome knight over a stuffy prince." He kissed down the side of my neck.

"Any lady except for the one you married." I gasped as his lips hit my collarbone.

He hummed in agreement. "I was just lucky that day."


Alta slammed a dusty volume upon a nearby end table. Aleda looked up from her crystal, startled. "What is that?" she asked.

"It is a spell to bring back beings from death."

Aleda wrinkled her nose. "Must it be so long?"

The elder woman sighed. "This is dark magic, sister," she said, gingerly flipping through the thin pages, "I fear it is darker than we are capable of performing. It may be beyond our reach, and since our powers have begun to weaken…"

"I skimmed through it last night," Allegra strolled over, shaking her own crystal, "It's the most horrendous thing I've ever laid eyes on. It needs about thirty animal sacrifices, and whoever performs it must first drink a horrific concoction."

"Do we have another option? Because tell me, sister, do you not think drinking a toad-liver brew is worth saving all that exists?" Alta snapped.

Allegra narrowed her eyes. "Of course there is. We can mind our business, rather trying to make sure that these two lovers end up with their own oblivious little happily ever after." She finished mockingly.

"How many times must we go through with this? The Balance is broken. Crops won't grow, rain won't fall, and the ice storm that passed through Kyrria left the poor frozen. They're doomed to live a half-life of pain and hunger and every sorrow that you can imagine. Nobody can die, and nobody can live. Tell me, how many stillborn children have there been these past weeks alone?"

Allegra stayed silent.

"How many?" Alta stalked up to her younger sister, putting her face close to hers.

"Twenty-seven," she answered through gritted teeth.

"Twenty-seven lives were taken away, without even being given a chance to breathe. Soon enough, anyone that wasn't born into riches will starve, leaving them to grovel on the streets for scraps. And as far as I can see, the only way to fix this is to separate those two looms, and the only way to do that is to kill and bring back one of them. So unless you have another plan, then please, enlighten us. But if not, then stay still and shut your mouth." She spat in her face.

Allegra pursed her lips.

"Very well," Alta pushed her copper hair back from her face and opened the spell book once more, "We know that the key is to separate their looms while keeping them both alive. We have already established the fact that the boy cannot die; not in these circumstances at least. The worst that can happen is that he will be wounded in war and will stay in a limbo between life and death, waiting for The Balance to seal before passing on, which as long as his fate is sealed to hers, will not happen."

"But the girl can," Aleda piped, narrowing her eyes at her crystal.

"Our only hope is that. Since she has been proven to exist outside of The Balance, we can assume that she can still die."

"But her death will not stitch reality back together." Allegra pointed out gloomily.

"No. It will simply be as if she never existed. Then the boy will take over both looms, creating an even bigger problem."

"Then she must leave this world, but come back." Aleda squinted into her ball, rubbing it with the end of her sleeve.

"Yes," Alta began to pace back and forth, her robes swishing around her feet, "If Rosaline's suspicions are true, then we might not need this spell." She glanced at the book with distaste. "Once she leaves the mortal world and enters the grey, her loom will begin to unravel from her husband's, and The Balance will begin to restore itself. When she comes back, her loom will be completely separated, and all will be well."

"But if the prince is wounded in war before she tries to cross over?"

"Assuming that we will be able to perform it, then will we use this spell. The minute he enters his limbo, the loom will unravel as well, but he cannot come back on his own. We will bring him back with this. He will be hollow, and will lack any emotions associated with humans, but I suppose one life is hardly anything when compared to the balance of nature."

"And what if she decides that she does not want to come back?" Allegra asked, sinking heavily into her ornate chair.

"She has to. Rosaline has even offered to use her once chance at returning to the same life to cross over into grey at the same time that she does, and to explain the situation to her."

"Who says that she will care about the situation? We don't know what she's like."

Alta snorted. "Of course she will care. She was raised by Mandy."

Aleda set her crystal aside and straightened up. "Let me make this clear, and correct me if I am wrong. If we wish to not have to use dark magic, which we likely will not even be able to perform, we must convince the fairy girl to take a trip to the in-between world, and we must do it before any harm comes to the Kyrrian prince?"

Alta laughed without humour. "Don't be silly, sister. The girl may have fairy blood running through her veins, but she is still human. She cannot simply choose to leave this world."

Allegra raised her eyebrows. "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying, sisters, is that we must find a way for her to die."


"Had enough yet?" I asked Cecilia as she chewed on her umpteenth scone.

"Never," she said, grinning around her mouthful, "I can't get enough of these, especially since Mandy came here. What does she put in them?"

I shrugged. "She never told me."

"No, I suppose not. The secret must be too precious for her to tell anyone."

I breathed out heavily through my nose and folded my legs underneath me, gathering my skirts in a pile around myself.

Cecilia snorted.

"What?"

"Have you taken a look at yourself recently? You're a wreck."

I looked down at myself. I was wearing the same gown from yesterday; the hem of which I could see now was caked with mud. Angeline had to hold me down this morning to brush my hair, and in a symbol of defeat, she'd only managed to shove a sparkly comb behind my ear and pinch my cheeks to get some colour in them before I'd stomped away.

I sighed and leaned my head back on the chaise. We were in Cecilia's bedchambers, wasting the long hours before the formal dinner that was to be held tonight. Hazy sunlight streamed in through the rounded windows, putting most of Cecilia's face in shadow, and making the tiny sequins in her red gown glitter. As always, and unlike me, her hair and face were done up in a way that had I not known, I would have never have guessed that most of her family was to march to battle tomorrow.

"I don't particularly care enough to look in a mirror."

"I've noticed. How did Angeline allow you to leave your chambers looking like that?"

"She didn't. I ran away when she went looking for a clean gown."

Cecilia put her face in her hands. "Oh, Ella," she sighed, "You can't do this to yourself. I understand that you were given the worst end of the package; it's a terrible chance of fate to be faced with losing someone you love so soon after finding them, but you don't have to just be strong, you have to appear it too."

"I'm trying," I said, wringing my hands.

"Try harder," she said cheerfully, picking up another scone, "because starting tomorrow, it'll be just you, Mother, and I who will be running the court. And we can't look like we're losing our minds. Even if we are." She added thoughtfully at the end.

I groaned, dreading the next sunrise even more than I already was.

Char had been called down to the council chambers sometime after noon, and he had begrudgingly left me, telling me that the last minute preparations were not something he could miss. It wasn't difficult to pretend that nothing special was happening tomorrow when his handsome face was around to distract me, but sitting with Cecilia and listening to the distant sounds of the armories brought the fierce worry back, clenching and unclenching my stomach.

I had even tried to help out in the kitchens, but Mandy had shooed me out, saying that a scattered mind ruined food.

"Everything has to be perfect for tonight, Lady," she said as she all but carried me out of the kitchens.

So instead I sat in Cecilia's rooms, trying to let her half-hearted jokes wash over me. Occasionally I would find them amusing, but then my hand would accidentally brush over Char's necklace, and my heart would seize again.

"Ella, are you listening to me?" Cecilia snapped her fingers under my nose.

"Hm?"

"I said, the bear told the frog-"

"Listen, Cecilia," I interrupted her with a grim smile, "I appreciate you trying to entertain me, but I really don't have the heart for it."

"I know," she sighed, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. I had recently noticed that she only did that when she was nervous, and it suddenly hit me that the fear was eating away at her just as it was gnawing on me, if not more.

"Hey," I put my hand over hers, "I think it'll be okay."

She looked at me, her easy smile slipping from her face. "Do you really believe that?"

I bit my lip. "No," I answered softly.

She shook her head. "If anything, we should be trying to comfort Mother. She's in pieces."

"I'd think anyone who is forced to send three sons and a husband to war would be a ruin."

"Yes," she frowned. Like Daria and I, it was obvious that she also was not pleased that the king was allowing the twins to accompany them to the Puvian border. "Though I suppose only one out of the four is in any danger," she continued, "Father would never let Leon and Montel get anywhere near a battle, and he himself will likely be strapped to a chair by his advisors if he tries to put on armour."

"I wish they would do that with Char too."

"He would probably sneak out in the middle of the night before they have a chance to."

"He isn't the type to sit around and watch people die while he remains in relative safety." I agreed.

"It all happened too quickly," she said suddenly, "they brag that our army is triple the size of theirs, but soldiers normally get months, if not years to train. Only a fraction of these men have had sufficient battle training, and they're the military commanders who only shout out orders."

"And then they tell us to stay here and to not worry."

"The nerve of them. I'd go if I could." She said exasperatedly, splaying her long body across the chaise.

"I want to go too." I said as she kicked off her slippers and put her feet in my lap. How was it fair that they could ride off with utter confidence and leave us here with nothing better to do than to mope? I could probably handle a sword better than half of those men, and Mother had taught me how to use a bow and arrow at a young age.

I told this to Cecilia, and she smiled. "Then you're at an advantage to me then. The closest thing to that I know is how to daintily pluck at a lute."

"That is a most useful skill," I lied.

She burst into giggles. "Yes, I can play music for my enemies until they forget that they're in the middle of a war."

"That would be an accomplishment, to make blood-thirsty men forget where they are." I laughed.

"Yes, I suppose so," she stretched and yawned, "Now, enough of this," she said as she pushed the platter of scones away, "I want to be able to scarf down as much as Mandy's cooking as I possibly can."

"And put your slippers on," I patted the bottom of her feet, "You'll catch a chill." At least her feet didn't stink.

"Of course, Mother dear."


"I'd like to thank all of you for sticking by me through these past few weeks, and in the hope that you will continue to stand by me in the future." King Jerrold raised his glass at the head of the table.

"To Kyrria," he said, "May she stand strong."

"To Kyrria," we all murmured as we raised our glasses in a toast.

I glanced down at the long table as food was served and conversation broke out across the dining hall. Members of the court were seated in their finest, and I had to shield my eyes to block them of the sparkle of many jewels. I saw Angeline at the other end of the table, seated between Cecilia's ladies-in-waiting and two quite girls who Daria had also appointed to me shortly after my marriage.

"They've been well trained, and they're just shy of thirteen," she had told me when she first introduced me to them, "Besides, they've been though an awful time lately, and I know you can take care of them."

I had found them to be bearable, pleasant even. They worked with skilled hands and were quick to tell me that they were glad to be with me instead of a rich duke's daughter, who they had been working for before.

Gazelle, the taller one, had whispered once when she was helping me organize my books, "all she talked of was how lucky we were to be her ladies, and how she would be sure to keep us when she became Queen."

The other, Nelly, had nodded fiercely. "She threw a fit and tossed us out when your marriage was announced. She said that we were jealous and had found a way to thwart her from her dream."

I had laughed. "She sounds like my step-sister."

"Almost every maiden in Frell acts as such," Gazelle had continued, "Except you of course, your Highness," Nelly has finished quickly.

The only catch was that I couldn't convince them to call me Ella, and instead kept to the more formal greetings.

"You won't burn in hell if you call me by my first name, you know," I had commented once, before news of the war had reached Frell.

"It would be improper, your Grace," They had answered together.

I could freely say I'd become attached to them, though not nearly as such as I'd become to Angeline. I supposed it was because of the stories she would tell me, stories she'd heard from Lydia, stories about me and the funny incidences that I'd forgotten about until she would remind me of them.

I caught their eyes and flashed the three of them a smile, which they nervously returned. Angeline nodded approvingly at my appearance, which I'd let her fix up before dinner.

"I'm so glad you've come around," she had gushed, running around my dressing rooms in a frenzy.

Thinking of Cecilia's words, I had apologized for running out that morning, and had bit my tongue as she squeezed me into a dress with a lower neckline that I knew could exist, and a more voluminous petticoat than I was comfortable walking in.

"Don't you think I look too much like a temptress?" I had asked as she forced me to stand in front of a mirror.

"Goodness, no," she had said excitedly, smoothing down the dark red velvet, "Mistress Freya made this especially for you."

I didn't believe her, but I kept my mouth shut as I stumbled outside, crashing headlong into Char.

He gave a low whistle as he offered me his arm, eyes running down the length of the gown.

I flashed him a warning look.

"I didn't say anything," he said innocently.

I had narrowed my eyes at him before sliding my arm into his.

"Although," he murmured, swooping in to kiss my cheek, "I can't say I'm too disappointed."

I looked at him, now sitting across from me, and he met my gaze with a quick wink and a crooked smile over his goblet.

I couldn't help but break into a smirk. His cheerfulness was contagious, even if it was fake at the moment.

I set my wine down just as Cecilia cleared her throat quietly beside me. I turned my head to see her waggling her eyebrows at the neckline of my bodice. I grimaced as I fidgeted around a little bit to try to get it to cover more skin. I wondered if Mistress Freya had drunk too much wine when she made this, and marvelled at how I wasn't considered naked in this state.

I heard her cover a quiet giggle behind a gloved hand, and just to spite her, I raised eyebrows at her bare shoulders and poked her tight corset with one finger. She was hardly more covered up than I was.

She half smiled and whispered, "touché" as she picked up her fork.

I sighed as I moved the food around in my plate. Though it smelt delicious, I couldn't bring myself to put any of it in my mouth.

Instead I looked over at Daria, who was biting her lip, her forehead etched with worry lines as she sat next to Char. She held her knife so tightly in her hand, I feared the edge would break through the skin. I caught Char's attention and jerked my head in her direction, and he quickly pulled the utensil from her grasp. The king frowned and patted her hand gently.

She shook her head. "I'm perfectly fine," she mouthed.

Throwing everything Manners Mistress had ever taught me out the window, I gently drummed my fingers on the edge of the table. My ring flashed in the light, the gold band mocking me. This time tomorrow, I'll be the only thing you'll have left of him, it seemed to say.

Not everything, I said to it. I tugged on Char's necklace, moulding my hand over the jewel hanging from its chain. Despite the warm room, it was cold, as if it reflected something other than the temperature of the air around it.

I looked over at Char, and I wondered if this would be the last time I would see him at peace.

He was looking down, and a few curls spilled over his forehead as he chewed contently, his long fingers curled loosely around his wineglass.

Look up, I said in my head.

Almost as if he was actually able to read my mind, he met my eyes.

He didn't speak, nor did he crack a smile or quirk an eyebrow, as it had been his habit the past few days. I expected a quick joke, or even a goofy face to go along with the promise he'd made this morning to pretend nothing was wrong, but I watched as his façade crumbled, and he looked at me pleadingly.

I can't do this anymore, he seemed to say.

I know, I mouthed to him.

I didn't break my gaze, because despite what I'd been telling myself since that note had arrived for the king, I knew that somewhere subconsciously, I was counting down the minutes I had left with my husband.


"This damned crystal!" Aleda shouted as she tossed it across the room. It didn't smash as it made contact with the stone as it should have, but merely bounced on the white marble until it was stopped by a pillar that extended upwards into the dark, misty clouds.

"Hush, I'm trying to memorize this chant." Allegra said distractedly from a spot on the floor, not bothering to look up from the spell book.

"I'd thought we'd agreed to try to use that only if all else fails." Aleda sighed as she strode over to scoop up her crystal from the foot of the pillar.

"Yes, but I'm not nearly as optimistic as the two of you, and since I don't drain my powers daily by trying to look into the unseen or worrying about people's fates, I think I have the most energy reserved, and therefore the greatest chance of being able to perform this, so I'm taking the liberty of learning it as soon as I can. However small that chance may be." She finished under her breath.

"That's hardly our fault," Aleda scoffed, sinking down into her original spot, "As long as the prince's horse is still alive, your seeing eye will still work with minimal effort."

"I'm quite proud to say that I designed to be that way," Allegra flipped a page, "Besides, maybe if you didn't stare into that orb all day, your powers would work better too."

"I can't help it," Aleda brought the smoky orb close to her face, "There's a grainy image that's been replaying over and over again for days. I can't make sense of it, and I'm waiting for it to change."

"Maybe your crystal is broken. It wouldn't be the first time."

"No, that's not it. I think it's trying to tell me something, something I haven't figured out yet."

"Well, what's the image?" Allegra set the spell book aside and rubbed her eyes.

"It's Frederick. He places a long chain over a man's neck, and the image of the man flickers before disappearing."

"The chain's likely a fairy trick. Bends light around it so that the wearer cannot be seen."

"Thank you, sister, I didn't know that already." Aleda said sarcastically.

Allegra sighed. "Well what don't you understand about the vision then? Frederick has got his hands on some fairy party magic. I can't say it's fair or noble, but there's nothing we can really do about it."

"I've already thought of that, but the image keeps replaying. There must be something else."

"Who is the man?"

"A Puvian merchant. Beldana, I think his name was."

"Beldana?" Allegra straightened up, "Isn't he the man that indirectly warned Jerrold about the attack through his cousin?"

"Yes, so?"

"So Frederick likely knows that, and is using Beldana to do his dirty work for him."

"Who's doing dirty work?" Alta suddenly walked out of the mist, carrying an armful of parchment and ink.

"Frederick." Allegra answered.

The eldest didn't say anything, but nodded her head importantly instead.

"Yet it doesn't make sense to me. We already know that he's a liar and a cheater, and we've long established the fact that he does not hold the morality that most humans do, so why am I-" Aleda gasped.

"What is it?" Alta looked up from several rolls of parchment to her youngest sister, whose face had become a blank sheet.

Aleda dropped her crystal, and this time it broke, scattering into little smoky shards on the floor, and the wind swept them around, leaving a pile of glittering dust.

Allegra grimaced and began to help her sister clean up the mess, who was already on her hands and knees, picking up the broken pieces.

"Aleda," Alta, sensing that something was terribly wrong, dropped her ink bottles, which shattered and tossed black ink onto the hem of her robes, "what happened?"

Aleda looked up, tears streaming down her face. Her hands were bloody from the shards, and she wiped them on the front of her robes, ruining them. "Frederick," she croaked, "he knows that he cannot win this war, but he knows Kyrria will be his if there is no one to rule it."

"What are you going on about?" Allegra snapped, pulling out pieces of the crystal ball out of her sister's bloody hands.

"Our efforts have been useless. There's nothing we can do," Aleda sobbed, "We'll never be able to perform the magic needed to bring the boy back, and not even the fairy girl can restore The Balance if half of her loom is ready to disappear the minute she comes back from the in-between world. The Balance is gone forever, and soon, our existence will cease." She blubbered.

Alta strode over and smacked her sister smartly across the face. "Get a hold of yourself," she hissed, "either tell us what you saw or I will force it out of you. Why can't the girl restore The Balance? You even said yourself that as long as the boy isn't on the brink of death, our plan would work!"

Aleda sniffled and hiccupped twice before she spoke. "Frederick is sending the invisible man to war, but not as a soldier. He's sending him to kill the king and his princes."


I spent that entire night in a fit of uneasy sleep, my dreams shifting between equally horrific visions. I imagined a dagger in Char's ribs, a sword slitting the King's throat, the twins' backs pierced by twin assassinators.

I tried to push them aside, but they kept coming back, each one worse then the one before.

Then finally, my dream changed. This one was not hazy or blurred by my own imagination, but was sharp and clear, and I was aware of my surroundings. I could feel the cold night air on my skin and smell the coming of dawn. Under my feet, the grass crunched with frost, and my cloak rustled in the wind. Off to the side, Char was kneeling beside a fire, his face smudged with dirt. He sighed and rubbed his hands together, warming them. I smiled and was about to walk over to him, but a dark, flickering shape cut in front of me and began to stroll towards Char. I squinted at the foggy image of what seemed to be a man, and saw a glittering silver chain around his neck. I wondered why I couldn't see him properly, until he pulled out a dagger when he was just a few steps from the oblivious prince. I froze. I tried to scream, to warn Char, but no sound came out. Couldn't he see him? I tried to run, but my feet wouldn't move. Instead, I watched helplessly as the strange man shoved his dagger into-

I screamed, bolting up. Suddenly, I realized that I was back in our dark rooms, in our warm bed. But I could still see the fire-the man-the silver chain.

"Ella? Ella!" Char grabbed my hand under the sheets, "What's wrong?"

I burst into tears. It wasn't real, it wasn't real, I kept telling myself as I sobbed.

"Ella!" he took my face in his hands and forced me to look at him, "Love, what happened?"

I collapsed into his arms, crying like I did when Mandy went to post the fake letter I'd written to him once. He held me tight. "Did you have a nightmare?" he asked gently.

I nodded against his chest, hiccupping.

"It's alright, it wasn't real. None of it was real." He soothed, stroking my hair.

I nodded again, but somehow, I had trouble believing him.

Then it suddenly hit me, harder than it had ever before, how much I would miss him. I would miss his voice and his smile and his hands and-

"I don't want you to go," I blurted out.

He pulled me closer to him, snaking his arms around my back, letting my head fit into the crook of his neck. He pressed his hot lips to forehead, to my cheek, and finally, he pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

"I know, heart," he said finally, "I don't want to go either."


I didn't sleep through the rest of the night, too afraid that if I closed my eyes, I would see what I saw before. Instead, I listened to the beat of Char's heart and focused on his breathing, trying to match the rhythm of mine to his.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale, exhale.

Every time my eyelids fluttered closed out of exhaustion, I would see a bloody dagger and a silver chain, and they would snap open again and my breath would hitch in my throat.

When the sun finally broke over the horizon, I felt Char stir, and I suspected that he too hadn't slept.

"You should have gotten more sleep," I said as he made to move out of bed, "you have a long journey ahead."

He gave me a small smile as he brushed my hair out of my face with one hand. "I know," he said, and then he went to hunt for the tunic he had hastily discarded of the night before.

I propped myself up on my elbow, watching his dark silhouette against the window. "Char," I whispered.

"If you hurry along we can still eat breakfast together," he said, pulling his boots out from under a table.

"Char," I said louder.

"Mmm?" he asked, turning towards me. He had one arm in his shirtsleeves, the other holding his boots.

"I want to go with you," I told him.

He paused, then abandoned his boots, dropping them on the floor. He pulled his other arm into his shirtsleeves and stroke over to me, pausing a few feet away from the bed.

"Come here," he whispered, holding out his hands.

I took them and he pulled me out of bed, crushing me in his arms. He buried his face in my hair, and I could swear I heard a quiet sob.

"There's nothing, nothing more that I want than to be able to keep an eye on you throughout all of this," he began, "I don't want to be away from you, and I don't like not knowing what will happen to you when I'm away." He stopped for a minute.

"But," I said questioningly.

"But I can't focus when you're around. I won't be able to concentrate on commanding men, and if I go into battle myself, a part of my mind will always be thinking of you."

I sighed. "You won't be able to do your job properly?"

He shook his head.

"I can take care of myself, I won't get in your way," I began to argue.

He chuckled. "I know that you're more than capable-"

"Then why can't I come?"

"Because that's not going to stop me from worrying about you, whether you're here or there. But at least if you're here I'll know that as long as we can keep the Puvians from crossing the border, you'll be safe."

I frowned at him.

"Please, Ella," he begged, looking at me pleadingly, "Let me have some peace of mind, at least in one aspect. I don't want you to get hurt. My father's worst fear is that we won't be able to withstand Frederick's army, and that we'll have to ride home, knowing that we've lost the kingdom. But do you know what my worst fear is? It's to ride home, knowing that I've lost you."

I looked down. "It's not like I'm going to jump in front of somebody's arrow," I mumbled.

Char cupped my face in his hands. "Listen to me, Ella," he hushed, "When I come back after all of this, I promise to you that I'll take you with me wherever I go. Whether it's another city, another court, I'll even take you with me on ogre raids. But not this war. Please don't make me do this. I love you too much to put you into that kind of danger."

"What does that say about me then? Letting you march into that kind of danger?"

He smiled. "I'm supposed to be the one protecting you, not the other way around. I'm your knight in shining armour, remember?"

I gripped his hands and blinked quickly to keep the tears from coming. "Everywhere? You promise?"

"I promise."

I sniffed, and then I pulled his face to mine. His lips grazed mine softly before he tangled his hands in my hair and pulled me closer to him, deepening the kiss. I cupped the back of his neck, and my thumb traced over the sensitive spot behind his ear.

He shivered, and pulled back slightly, his eyelashes brushing my cheek.

"I love you," I breathed.

"I love you too," he whispered before moulding his lips back over mine.


"Now, court proceedings start at nine o'clock sharp. Listen to only the people you want; most of them are greedy merchants looking for easy gold." King Jerrold said as he secured the saddle on his horse.

"Yes dear, I know," Daria pulled her cloak tighter around herself, "I am the one who reminds you of that every morning."

It was after breakfast, and we were standing in front of the palace steps. As we watched, carriages were loaded and horses were saddled. Knights shouted to each other and wielded newly polished swords, and the king's councillors stood stiffly, waiting to be put in their carriages. In a few minutes, they would all be leaving.

"Right," he said cheekily before taking her in his arms and planting a kiss on each of her cheeks, "I'll be back before you notice I'm gone."

"You leaving and taking half of the castle with you. I think I'll notice you're gone." She replied, but she held onto him all the same.

He kissed Cecilia on the forehead and said, "Don't eat too many scones,"

"Never," she laughed, hugging him tight, but I suspected she was holding back tears.

He did the same to me before whispering, "I'd always wanted a second daughter."

"I'd always wanted a real father."

He smiled in a way that softened the sharp angles of his face. "Keep Cecilia out of trouble, will you?"

I grinned as she protested in mock horror, "I'm the one that keeps Ella of out trouble!"

A sudden whoop of laughter caught my attention, and I turned around to see the twins all but dashing down the steps, wearing identical tunics.

"They're far too happy for a situation so grim," Cecilia said quietly into my ear.

I nodded. They were so young; their cheeks still had the rosy tones of a babe.

Char followed behind, looking considerably more somber than his brothers, though he smiled when he caught my gaze. His royal blue cape, much like the one the knights wore, billowed handsomely around him as he descended the palace steps, though his was lined with silver. The wind whipped his curls about slightly as he pulled on his riding gloves, and I wondered how long it would be before I saw such a sight again.

The twins reached me first.

"I expect all of your body parts to be attached to the right body parts when you come back," I told them as I kissed them both on the cheek.

"Oh, and we were so looking forward to switching heads," Leon joked as Montel grinned.

They hugged Cecilia quickly before their mother burst into tears, grabbing them both around the neck.

"Mother, you're suffocating us," Montel gasped as she embraced them tightly.

"Jerrold, don't you think-" Daria sniffled.

"No, Daria, they'll be fine. I won't let them come to any harm." He interrupted smoothly.

"We can take care of ourselves Mother," Leon said, straightening the clasp of his cloak when she finally released them, only to latch onto Char.

He handled her expertly, as if she did this every time he left home.

She probably did.

"I promise I won't do anything stupid, Mother," he said gently as he kissed her on the cheek and wiped some of her tears away.

"You'd better not," she said gruffly.

He pulled a hot, buttery scone out of his pocket and offered it to Cecilia. "I made this myself,"

She squealed in delight before squeezing him in a hug, holding the scone aloft as to not squish it.

Finally, he stood before me.

I sighed. "You'll write?" I asked.

"Of course. Every night." He stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. I breathed in his scent as he placed a lingering kiss on my forehead.

"Are you sure there isn't any room for me on your saddle?"

He merely smiled.

I looked up at him. "Just-" my breath hitched in my throat and I felt tears pool under my eyes, "Just come back to me."

He clasped my hands before brushing a soft kiss over my wedding band. "I'll do it if it's the last thing I do." He said sincerely.

I nodded, squeezing his warm hands one last time, and then I let go.

"If we reach Bast by tomorrow night to meet with the gathered army," the king said as he settled himself onto his horse, "we will be able to reach the border in five days time. That'll be two days before Frederick's planned attack, and will give us plenty of time to organize ourselves."

"Father, may we fight the bad men?" Leon asked hopefully.

"No!" Daria shouted forcefully, "Absolutely not. Jerrold, if you-"

"I'll keep an eye on them at all times, Daria." He answered firmly.

I patted Achilles on the nose as Char swung himself onto the saddle. "You take care of him, you hear me?" I looked straight into his one blue eye, and he snorted as if to agree with me.

"We'll be fine, Ella," Char grinned.

"No harm in asking," I smirked and blew him a final kiss as I stepped back to stand beside Cecilia, who wrapped an arm around me.

I raised my arm in a wave, Char saluted me, and then they were gone.

I stared at the retreating procession until it was just a hazy flicker in the distance, and I itched to run after them, to beg Char to take me with him and to never let me go.

I probably would have, if it had not been for Cecilia's firm arm around my waist.

The queen blew her nose into her handkerchief once they were out of sight. "We might as well go back inside girls, it's freezing."

I thought of their return as we climbed back up the palace steps. I thought of a half drunk army retuning home in victory, of Char at the gates, an easy smile on his face and a rose in his hand. But then I saw my dream again, the bloody dagger and the man with the silver chain.

I mentally shook myself to get rid of the image. You're wrong, I told myself sternly. That can never happen.

If only then I'd knew how right I was.