Recap:

It is the night before the big mission to fight the Blood Prince.

Lann, noticing the sexual tension between his potion-maker and his long-time companion (not going to mince words here), has trouble sleeping that night and decides to instead go drinking alone like a loser at the docks (complete with song and dance). When Evie goes to check up on him (because that's what friends do), he basically drops his marbles, figuratively speaking, and kisses her.

A/N: Also, sorry for my extended absence. I had run out of steam for this story, but your reviews really granted me sudden inspiration. I am now desperately writing before this 'second wind' runs out! Please excuse the mess in here! If there are any mistakes, feel free to point them out. (And no, the 'NEXT' button is naturally like that until the author has written the next chapter. lol)

(Continued from last chapter...)

Life hasn't been very fair to Lann. It hasn't been fair to any of us, as far as I know. Despite knowing this, I can only react in part ways shock and denial to his feelings... and very emphatically, at that. I can't possibly know how Lann views our relationship, but for me, he has always been my best friend or even my goofy older brother (I've never had siblings, but I always picture Lann like that). He was someone I could always trust to love me unconditionally, and I treated him the same in return. Perhaps in hearing this, you can begin to understand why it's such a cold shock to hear that 'my brother' loves me in a very different way.

My mind goes blank, except for the tempest of emotions messing around in it. Shock, denial, guilt, panic, and no, no no! "No." The word is out before I can restrain it. I slap a hand over my loose lips. That was really loud. Oh goddess save me.

Lann, in an almost amusing manner if not for the serious topic, looks drunkenly flushed and completely bewildered at my reaction. "No? What do you mean, no?" He holds my shoulders away from him and looks me straight in the face. "No, what?"

Seriously, I agree with him, who reacts to someone's feelings with just a loud 'No' ? He was being so sincere with me, and I just cruelly rejected him without a thought to his feelings. Granted, I hadn't meant to say it, but still.

Guilt overtakes the shock and I look down at his chest, not able to look him in the eyes. I twitch uncomfortably in my pyjamas as I force out, "I'm sorry... really sorry... Lann. I don't feel the same way." I wish I could say I plan to stay and talk it out with him, he looks like has been holding back for a while, but every molecule in my body is screaming at me to flee, from the guilty tears in my eyes to the sock-less toes sweating in my shoes. I'm quivering like a leaf in fear and I literally can't... I need... To...

I give into the urge, and turn tail like the coward I am. At this point I have no idea how I will face him tomorrow in the mission, or how I will explain to Fiona what's going on. Am I with Brynn? What does he feel toward me, and why do I care? But Lann likes me! How long has this been going on? What do I feel about that? Do I really not feel anything? I can't. I can't. I can't.

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CHAPTER 9
Evie, Little Red Runaway

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When I was a little girl, I lived with my parents out in the countryside, almost as far from Rocheste as you could get in the territory that housed the last vestige of humanity... Anyway, my parents and I were simple people that led simple lives, far from rich but not exactly poor as long as we had the farm. Yes, we were farmers, and everyday our minds were consumed with the welfare of our crops. It was our everything.

Things hadn't been going so well in those last few weeks before I left for Rocheste. Perhaps it was a mistake due to stress, or perhaps it wasn't a mistake after all... Either way, we were suffering along with our crops. I was too young to understand why it was turning out like that, but my parents' nerves were frayed, and yelling in the house became a more frequent occurrence. My parents loved each other, so they never dared hit each other, but sometimes—even if I was a child, I could tell—they were really close to doing so. Father would turn and throw a dish or leave to chop firewood, and mother would stand very still for a few minutes, before eventually turning to do some household chore.

I remember a conversation they had in the week before I was sent away. I was in the next room, my bedroom, and I was supposed to be sleeping, but incidentally I heard everything...

"How do you think we're going to be able to afford to keep the farm at this rate? Everything's ruined... They took away everything." Mother cried at this point, but this soon became muffled, supposedly by my father comforting her.

"I know you don't want to think about it, and trust me I don't either, but... I think it would be better for all of us if we..."

There was a soft thump as mother seemed to push him away. "How can you say that? Evie's our only daughter! We're already losing the farm, how can we give away the only precious thing we have left!"

My heart thumped loudly in my chest. I couldn't connect the dots; I couldn't understand what I was hearing. What could they possible be talking about? Giving up? Giving up what?

My father's voice was strained, but placating, "Think about it, Amelia. At this rate, we're going to be poor and barely supporting ourselves, nonetheless a growing child."

She didn't say anything for a while, and I was actually starting to fall asleep, when she finally said, "I don't trust that man. I don't know why, but the way he talked about our child... like she was an object to be bought... I don't know, but it seems wrong! I can't entrust my child to someone like that..."

"I know, Amelia. Neither do I want to." He sighed. "I don't know what else we can do, though."

A few weeks later I was sold to a rich, old mage named Argeld. Our first meeting was when he came to pick me up at our door to bring me to Rocheste. He had the widest smile, as if he had just won something. I hesitantly smiled back.

"Forgive us, Evie. Your mother and I really love you, but things will only get better if you go with Argeld. You'll see." My father's hand smoothed the hair on my head. "Everything will be fine."

Then my mother tearfully handed me a bag with some of my stuff in it, which was soon taken away by Argeld's escort.

"Ah, he'll carry it for her." Argeld explained to my alarmed parents with an unchanging smile, "We can't let the precious thing strain herself."

.əɪʌə.ʍoɹɔ.əɪʌə.ʍoɹɔ.əɪʌə.ʍoɹɔ.

Needless to say, I haven't seen that bag since that guard had first taken it, and I had a rough time with Argeld. I couldn't tell whether he wanted to kill me in an experiment or keep me as his bargaining chip, the perfect little lady to be wed off to some rich family. I don't know how he found out I could do magic, my parents and I never really went into town often enough to have to worry about people finding out about my oddities, but he made it clear quickly that my ability to use magic was the only reason I was there.

I didn't like the nobles' children and they didn't seem to like me, so I spent a lot of my time alone in libraries and Argeld's study reading up on all sorts of magic. He would force me to go with him to town sometimes, mostly for show rather than for leisure, and I would often be seen wearing the most frilly, lacy dress, the kind you would only expect on a doll. Despite my urge to run away at these times and the amount of dislike I had for Argeld, I have to admit I enjoyed these times around town the most. I met a lot of interesting people—before Argeld politely cut in and pulled me away. I remember the young flower girl my age who gave me a daisy, and how we laughed at a Royal Army recruit at the bar who was drunk and bawling loudly, generally making a nuisance of himself to all the others like him at that table.

When Argeld spotted me, I had to say goodbye. I didn't want him talking to my new friend. Argeld could smile and be polite, but I knew better than to trust him with anything important to me.

.əɪʌə.ʍoɹɔ.əɪʌə.ʍoɹɔ.əɪʌə.ʍoɹɔ.

I'm sorry this isn't exactly an amusing story to tell or even think about. I don't like to generally think about it either. In fact, I'm not sure why I feel compelled to right now. Perhaps it is the stress and overbearing guilt from running away last night.

This is a very quiet, awkward boat ride. It's giving me way too much time to think.

Fiona has been looking like she wants to say something for a while now, but hasn't been sure how to start. She's closer to asking me, however, and I can guess why. Lann is at the other end of the boat looking dark and furious like the day I met him.

I don't blame him. You already know why, though.

I'm not surprised when Fiona sits beside me, and nudges my shoulder. "Hey..." Not wanting to hear her use an awkward conversation starter (I've had more than enough awkward moments lately) I lean my shoulder against hers, sighing, effectively interrupting her.

"Fiona... I'm an idiot."

I start with telling her about Brynn.