(A/N): Last week of school and I still have one more paper to write (bangs against a wall repeatedly) but with summer so close, I feel like I've a severe case of senioritis, or the condition where you know you have stuff to do, but you just don't want to do it (sigh). Well, here's my next chapter. There's a lot less fluff than I had originally intended...it's also a lot longer than I first thought, too. I guess I'll be doing an alternative chapter 8 sometime and post it as an outtake after the story or somewhere to show where I originally wanted this chapter to go...before the story led me elsewhere...hehe

Oh! and just to put a disclaimer or something... Edward himself won't actually know about Bella and Key being the same person until Key goes on his ship again ;).


Chapter 8

The skies were very misty when I woke up the next morning. Not many people were stupid (or, in my case, intuitive) enough to wake up before the sun on the day of the festival. Those that were already up dared not step outside the door unless they desperately needed to. The women, no doubt, were almost waking up. Most spend between eight and ten hours braiding hair, putting on make-up, last-minute tailoring the dresses, and (if they didn't already) make themselves a beautiful mask.

No woman walked outside her house on festival day – women who did were arrested, by tradition, and spend their night in jail while the festival was around them. Dressed as Key, I slipped past the few people on the streets unnoticed towards the dock. For some reason, dawn at the docks was always more splendid on festival day than any other day in the year.

As I strutted through the tall iron gates separating the docking lanes from the loading dock, I took notice of how little activity were around me. Sarijam Port docks were famous for working sunup to sunup. Festival changes everything. The wind blew across the sea, washing onto the land. It flapped the lonely sails; the tall masts of various ships waving as the waves undulated. Beyond the ships, however, was the faintest light dotting the horizon.

I heard a sound. Without even thinking, my dagger was drawn, landing on the neck of someone.

"Damn, Key! I almost got you, too," the man said.

"Jacob?"

"Aye! Who else could sneak up on you without you noticing for so long?" He chuckled, using a finger to divert my dagger from his neck. I slipped it back into its scabbard.

"How goes it?"

"Everyone's preparing for the festival. I'm hoping to finish repairing this ship before I get ready, too." He paused. "What brings you here?"

"Sunrise." Already, the sun was beginning to show its light. Awed, I walked to the edge of the dock, my feet dangling above the gentle waves. He sat down beside me, watching the spectacle, too.

It was gorgeous. The sun was rising from the sea like a reviving fireball, its rays spreading defiantly over the waters, tainting everything in a bright, warm glow. The breeze increased, tugging at my bandana, threatening to pull my hair out of its confines.

"You know any ships setting sail tomorrow?" I asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Only one. It's the one I'm finishing the repairs on. Twilight, it's called," he answered. "Not may people want to set sail the day after the masquerade festival. They want to be wake up late in the afternoon."

"Wanderlust is getting to me. I stayed at port for too long, yet my friends will throttle me if I dared to miss the festival."

"Twilight's the only one setting sail at just after dawn. Did you see the ship when it came in? It looked like it hadna seen a port repair shop for the past five years!" He looked at me thoughtfully. "Mikael's signed up for the crew, though. The man needs someone to keep his arrogance in line."

"You want to sign me up?" He nodded. After a wave, he jogged away back to his work.

Jacob was the only dock hand who knew me. His father was once the Second Mate on the ship Leon was First Mate on before Leon met my father. He was one of the first reasons Leon thought of Sarijam as home port. Jacob and I grew up together, but my frequent trips on trading ships made us rather good friends rather than something more. I suppose if I had stayed in port long enough, I could grow to like, or even love, Jacob, but that point in time was way past. I don't know what he thinks but I knew I could never like him more than a good friend.

And somehow, unwillingly, I thought of Edward Cullen. Unlike on the ship, he seemed to be a completely different man in front of me. Whereas he was cold and almost ruthless, he seemed to have developed a wacky sort of humor. He teased me… at least, he tried until it backfired on him. What bothered me the most was the fact hat he saved me. No one ever saved me. It was always me saving others in my clumsy ways. No one ever talked with me either, apart from Jacob and Leon.

In my thoughts, I almost didn't recognize someone approaching. "To whom do I owe this pleasure?" I asked, hand on the hilt of my dagger.

The new stranger snorted. "Not many can sneak up on you." I realized with a start that this was Alice Cullen. "I saw your friend sign you name on Twilight's crewlist."

"Why a name change?"

I could almost hear her shrug. "Repairmen couldn't read the Eclipse part of it, apparently, so they painted over it until it was too late to get it back. It's just Twilight now," she sighed. "I did tell you that you will come back, didn't I?"

"Only because my wanderlust's impeccable timing demands that I leave the day after festival and it's the only ship setting sail." That was when I realized something. Spinning around, I had a hard time masking my shock. In front of me was Alice. Only…she was dressed almost like I was – in trousers, boots, and a baggy shirt. She was dressed to hide the fact that she was a woman…just like me.

"I suppose I shall see you tomorrow morning. Don't stay too late in the festival celebrations!" With a wink that seemed to say see you later, she turned and glided away, her grace almost ephemeral.

I left the docks around noon, feeling a little sweaty and grimy. I was tempted into swinging across the mast cables after Alice left. My feet often made me fall, but my hands and the ropes were a different matter. It was so exhilarating to swing from one cable to the next, trusting that you had enough momentum to fly through the air twenty-some feet and that your hands would catch the next cable instead of missing it and falling to your death.

By the time I snuck to Angela's shop, it was past noon. Before I had time to register what was happening, desperate hands grabbed me into the homey little shop. Five minutes later, I was dressed in a chemise and dumped into a bath tub freezing cold water, with even more freezing water pouring over my head.

"Do I have to submit to a cold water bath?" I groaned, knowing it was no use fighting them.

"Well, see, we kept the water warm for you until four hours ago. You didn't show up so we decided to let you suffer for coming so late," scolded Jessica. "Did you have any idea how hard it is already to tame you enough so we could dress you up?"

I snorted. "I'm always docile, what are you talking about?" A cascade of water drowned out Angela's laughter and Jessica's answer.

The bath was fast, as I was shivering, and they were doing their best to go through things and supersonic speeds. Ten minutes after the cold bath dump, they tipped over the tub and I ended sprawling on the floor with my white chemise clinging frigidly to my skin. Draping a towel over me, they combed out the braid my hair was in without mercy before finally handing me a new set of underclothes to wear, sending me behind a screen to change.

As soon as I stepped out, however, they attacked me again. Practically tying me down to the chair, one was surreptitiously braiding my hair into tiny French braids before braiding the French braids into more braids; the other was painstakingly applying make-up on me despite my efforts to wince every time she dabbed more eyeliner on my eyelids.

"Bells, cooperate!" Angela scolded, threatening to hit me with her bottle of foundation. "Or you'll end up being covered in this 'white powder' that you so detest."

I felt myself pale at that and stopped struggling. Being covered in that white powder was not a good thing. White powders and me never go well in the same sentence, much less in the same space!

After what seemed to take millenniums, my two torture advocates finally declared themselves done. Pushing me to the nearest mirror, they grinned at me.

The mirror was floor length, but I had my doubts about the mirror. That girl in the mirror actually looks feminine and I was not very feminine at all. The dress was in shades of blue, cut at just below the ankles (Angela, I believe, had the foresight that I would trip over the skirts if it were even just a hair longer). The corset and outer skirt was a dark navy blue, but the skirt parted to reveal a sky blue, glittering skirt underneath. The contrast made it seem as if I was the impersonation of twilight – with the dark coming in but the sun fighting defiantly against the loosing battle with the night.

My hair was also done elaborately. There were so many tiny braids, I was surprised that I had any single strands left over. But in reality, only half of my hair was braided. Half of that was braided into thin braids which were then braided again twice. The other half was left in thin braids and hid among my hair.

Make-up was not that bad, either. Despite what seemed like bottles of cosmetics Jessica put on me, there was only a faint hint of blush, the palest of foundation, and a barely-there trace of eyeliner that seemed to bring out my eyes in contrast to my natural paleness. I looked like a regal lady for the courting season rather than a trouble-making street tramp-ess dressed for an occasion.

"Stunned, much?" one of them, I was too distracted to tell which, said. "We told you that you could pass for about as pretty as you could want." I heard the pride in her voice, distracted as I was.

"That's not me," I whispered, pointing accusingly at the mirror.

Jessica came over and tugged on my arm. "Stop staring. Here's your mask and some accessories. Shoes are by the door. You go out and have fun while we are going to finish our preparations." She handed me a jingling box with a mask on top and pushed me out the door. No doubt they will not be ready until after sundown.

The mask itself was the most important element of port festival. The anonymity of all attendees was always preserved. It was taboo to show one's face or reveal one's name to anyone. I could stand beside Angela and not know that she was there – that was how secretive identities were kept.

My mask was in a color that was a mix between the different shades of blue on my dress. Beads decorated the eye holes and faintly dyed blue feathers fluttered at the fringes. It covered the top half of my face to my nose. Once with it on, even I couldn't believe that I remained unchanged beneath all the finery.

The festival was just starting up when I finally walked out. The sun was setting far away, but the streets were lit as brightly as possible. All street lamps will burn throughout the night; all musicians were to play through the night; and all people were expected to dance through the night. Looking at my shoes, which were a pair of blue slippers, I wondered how they were going to last with all the dancing they expect me to do.

When the sun finally disappeared completely below the horizon, the music started. Folk music was played on this street, ballroom on another. I flitted through the streets, keeping to whatever rare shadows there were. Too many people were in masks; too many men were looking at me as if they want to kidnap me to some forbidden place. And when I stumbled into the garden at the heart of Sarijam, I felt the greatest relief. Only couples stayed here – old couples, new couples, couples that would never see each other again after this night. Soothing ballroom music was playing somewhere near. In a small clearing, a few pairs were twirling.

Relaxed, I lowered myself on the ground, not caring to check whether there was mud or not. The streets made me feel claustrophobic. I never felt as many eyes on me as tonight. I leaned my head back so it rested on an oak tree behind me, half dozing…

I woke up with a start. It wasn't until I realized where I was that I realized what woke me up. It was a feather-light kiss – a gentle brush of lips across mine. And there it was again. I stiffened.

"So the sleeping beauty awakes," murmured a soft, velvet-like voice. "I had a feeling this would get you up."

"You simply don't just kiss random girls awake," I said. As I became more awake, I realized how close this stranger was. I could smell the sweet scent and warmth that came off of him. And when he spoke, I felt the little puffs of air.

"I wanted to ask a dance. You wouldn't wake. What's a man to assume but that you're Princess Aurora and needs a kiss?" he replied softly. His breath was all around me, making me feel like I lost control of all my instincts and body. "And you didn't particularly prove me wrong."

"I suppose not," I answered.

"So…will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Dance with me." My eyes opened. All that time I felt like I was dreaming, only to realize that it wasn't…at least it didn't feel like a dream. The stranger was dressed all in black with a dark blue vest underneath the suit. His shoulders were wide, his frame large and powerful, and the cloth was stretched across him in such a way as to hint the wiry muscle beneath. I felt so weak in comparison. He had his hand stretched out, his eyes seemed unsure, scared even. Trembling slightly, I placed my hand in his. It felt so small in his.

And as if a new personality took over me – I was led by him, walking slowly to the cluster of dancers. He turned, catching my arm and waist. I tensed at the contact; he chuckled. "You don't get very close to people, do you?"

"I'm close to many people," I answered. Standing at this angle, feeling his warmth, I felt as if I knew this man from before. But I was too muddle-minded to think clearly for myself. What was happening? "I never danced, either."

"I find that hard to believe," he answered as he spun me around. I faintly recognized the music as a waltz. I stumbled as we danced, but he caught me smoothly, making it appear as if it was intentional. "Ah, I see." My cheeks flushed. I tried to follow his lead but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Finally, when I thought he was going to kill me for all my clumsiness, he twirled me around so that my back was flush against his. I felt his lips against my neck, and I tensed. "Shhh, relax, or you'll never be dancing."

I tried, but he was too close; and the sensations from what he was doing to my neck were too new. "Stay away from me," I breathed weakly. "It's not a festival of pleasures."

"But you can't deny this was originally made for courtesans to find their own partners instead of being assigned one," he answered softly, his breath on my neck making me shiver.

"I am not a courtesan."

"But you intrigue me."

"How so?"

"You speak too much," he answered, nipping my neck. I gasped.

"You just bit me!" I twisted out of his grip, narrowing my eyes at him. His eyes were green, smoldering, as if a predator finally sighting a worthy prey. Under my scrutiny, he smiled. The corners of his mouth slid up in a crooked grin beneath his mask.

"So I did," he said. "What are you going to do?"

Violence is not the solution, I chanted in my head, clenching and unclenching my fists in an attempt to calm myself. Spinning around, I walked away from him, my internal chant the only thing keeping me from knocking him to the ground. Men.

I heard his footsteps following behind me. "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding sincere. I stopped dead. That was not expected.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I was being too assuming…" He spread his hands out as if to show that he meant no harm and that he really was sorry. "It's just… my sister forced me to go into the park. I hadn't really wanted to come at all, but she made me come here… and then I saw you and it's like I lost all the manners that my parents taught me…" I realized, with a grin, that he was rambling. I placed a finger on his lips, successfully silencing him. To my surprise, he placed a kiss on my finger, sending a chill down my spine. He was suddenly so close. My eyelids fluttered shut as I felt his arms slide around my waist and pull me to his chest. His lips flitted across my hair, nose, cheeks. I struggled to stay cool and reserved. "May I kiss you?" he murmured, his breath fanning over me. Intoxicated, I breathlessly nodded.

The next moment I felt his lips on mine. Sweet Gods! It was like the world faded away and there was only us. He tasted faintly like the ripest berry. And it was my first true kiss… he stole my first kiss. I didn't know what to do. When he tried to deepen the kiss, I acted in the only way I knew how… He hissed in pain as he let go of me completely, cursing. There was one thing I knew he knew: my name.

"Edward Cullen?" I asked the moment I regained my good judgment.

"Bella," he acknowledged. "We are breaking a million rules by just saying that." I snorted.

"As if the police would really care if Bella broke another rule." He raised his eyebrow at that, but he didn't press me. "I should be mad at you." He waited for me to elaborate. "You saved me three times and now you stole kisses. My reputation's crumbling away."

"Your reputation? What about mine?" I stared at him blankly. He sighed. "I saved you from a mob of brutes and you thank me by letting your father pin me to the floor. I saved you again from the runaway horse cart and you told me to leave you alone. Now I kiss you and you attack me. Do I get anything good for my heroic efforts?"

"If by that you mean I should lie still and let you do whatever you want with me, then no." I snapped. "Who do you think I am?"

"I meant – "

"Find someone else to save and fawn over you," I cut him off, flitting away, fingers crossing that I won't trip.

I didn't fall. He didn't follow me either.

I walked onto the streets, away from the park where I knew he was there. I didn't know what it was about him that made me feel so small, so fragile. I was afraid of him, afraid of feeling that way. It didn't matter that I technically owe him my life thrice over, I instinctively shied away from him.

The music was of all sorts by this time. I neared a square dancing street, the lively beat and the laughter made me want a partner to share this night with. It wasn't as if I never attended these alone – I always did. But tonight, I felt especially lonely. Apparently, I made it clear in my demeanor. Footsteps approached me. I looked up. It was a man escorting a woman towards me. They were in matching clothing of violet and blue. The man's blue eyes looked as if they would pierce my soul.

"You look lonely tonight," he said. I recognized him almost immediately, much to my surprise. Jasper. And the one beside him must be Alice.

"I am not lonely," I protested.

"Aye? And no witty comments either." He turned to Alice. "She must be lonely." I raised my eyebrows.

"You know that Edward might kill you for coming onto the ship, yes?" inquired Alice. I froze. "Good evening, Key," she said, clasping my hands. "I see that your friends did a great job making you presentable."

"He would not know if you will not tell him," I replied tersely. Outside I may look cool and reserved, but I was trembling inside. They cannot spill my secret, or I would be stuck in port due to a four-day storm tomorrow night.

Jasper laughed. "I want you live for our duel. I am still quite sure I shall beat you yet."

"You can keep dreaming that. Maybe, one day, I shall loose to you while wielding a blunt wooden sword!" He chuckled as I left them, feeling much better. I was never one to crave for attention, but for some reason, this night, I felt much more alive than I had ever been when people came to talk to me.

I left the dancing shortly after midnight. The stars were out in the alleys. That was when I knew I was being followed. Everything seemed to be against me these days. I had been followed too many times for me to feel comfortable. Slipping into a niche in the wall, I drew the dagger that I painstakingly hid in my skirts. As the footsteps approached, I tensed, and sprang.

It was a boy, not older than my age. My dagger was at his throat, his back against the wall. "Why were you following me?"

"I-I'm n-n-not!" he protested, trying to wriggle away. He lied.

"Move more and my dagger will not show mercy," I hissed. He stilled immediately.

"Now, tell me, who told you to follow me?"

"T-this man in a dark suit. He's got r-red eyes and he t-told me to k-keep an e-eye on you and see w-where y-you lived."

I barely had time to roll away from a dart, but the boy hadn't. It struck him in the chest. My stomach churned at the smell of so much blood as he collapsed slowly on the pavement, his eyes rolling to the top of his head.

"You didn't have to kill him," I called out.

A cruel laughter echoed throughout the alleyways.

"Well met, Isabella Swan." I struggled to not wince at my surname. "You are one sharp lass," said a cold, stone voice. "That boy deserved to die. He was too loose-tongued."

Then, from the farthest corner, a pair of blood red eyes emerged. I clutched my dagger tightly to me, my mind working fast, for here was an unknown enemy, and I was just about to find out why I was stuck in so many sticky situations…


Several notes: in case you're wondering, Bella did NOT knee Edward when he kissed her. She has other ways of making him let go of her other than that... ;) -- like, sharp jerk to his hair (she's strong enough) or a stomp on his toes (she might not be in stilettos, but she still would know how to make it hurt)...I leave that to your imagination :D

And yeah...I did change the name of the ship (on a whim)... shh! pretend you didn't know that and think that I meant to do this all along ;) XD

Anyone can guess who the last attacker is? :D hehe

And as always, please drop a review?

-Cathy