Jaythen visited his father again to wish him well. Although they both knew it would not be so. His father had seen Avalyn the day after she had arrived and was absolutely glowing that his son had found such a beautiful mate—he called it Jaythen's 'stroke of luck'. Jaythen shared his father's idea, but it differed to the fact he felt lucky because he had stumbled upon her when otherwise he would be lost forever in the Great Forest. His father talked of the wedding the next week and Jaythen's mood fell—he wasn't ready to get married and that was why he was lying to everyone. That and the fact, he did not love anyone else enough to even propose. He bid the Count a good night and returned to his chambers in order to prepare for his engagement party.

Warwick handed Jaythen a black, formal jacket to wear over his shirt. Jaythen was turning up his cuffs and studying himself in the mirror, not wanting to have anything for his mother to fuss at. He then grabbed the jacket and slipped it over his arms.

"Warwick, hand me the kerchief in the top drawer there," he ordered. Warwick nodded and retrieved it. Jaythen unwrapped the cloth and looked at the beautiful piece of jewelry. The candlelight around him caught in the surface of the emerald and made it sparkle. He wrapped it back up and put it in the pocket of his jacket. The celebration would be starting soon, and he felt nervousness for it would be the first time he would host a formal cotillion in the castle, and also the first time Avalyn would be publicly presented. He hoped to God that no one from court was well traveled enough to know the extent of Prition's nobility—otherwise they might question Avalyn's true origins. He ran a quick hand over his chin—disappointed it was still so smooth.

Warwick led him out of his room and to the ballroom where guests were mulling about in anticipation of meeting the girl Jaythen had chosen for his bride. He nodded politely and bowed appropriately depending on which guests he passed or was obligated to chitchat with as he made his way further into the room. Warwick had left, seeing his task to his lord was finished—but Jaythen wished his valet would have stayed just a little longer just so he wasn't alone in the groups of courtiers.

My Lord, where is your fiancée? We are positively impatient to catch a glimpse of her."

The speaker was Lady Rossem and she was arm in arm with her husband, Lord Rossem who didn't look like he was dying of impatience from not seeing Avalyn but more from trying to make his way to the table that held all of the party's alcohol if not for his wife's tight grasp. He was too impatient even for a servant to come around and offer him a drink.

"She'll be along shortly," Jaythen's gaze darted across the room to catch sight of Avalyn but she was not among them.

"Warwick!" He called to the lad who was flirting with a young noble. Warwick gave Jaythen a look of frustration but nonetheless made apologies to the pretty girl and approached his master's side.

"My Lord?"

"Would you please go to my lady's chambers and fetch her for me?"

Warwick bowed and departed to follow his orders. Jaythen passed the Lord and Lady Rossem, she now engaged in small talk with the Duchess of Palona—and her husband eyeing the drinks with ever increasing desperation. Jaythen smirked at the fellow's humorous misfortune and grabbed himself a flask of wine. As soon as the liquid hit his tongue, a warning rumbled through his stomach, reminding him of the last party, and that it was not wise to drink on an empty stomach.

Warwick returned but without the girl with green eyes, "She refuses to leave her chambers until she can speak to you."

Jaythen sighed and handed his flask to Warwick who simply shrugged and continued where Jaythen had left it off. Jaythen stepped briskly through the halls, quite exasperated at Avalyn's stubborn behavior. He banged his fist against her door, "I'm here! What would you like to speak to me about?"

The door opened almost immediately and a hand grabbed him by his jacket, pulling him inward. He was pulled to the side of her and she shut the door behind them. He straightened his appearance with a huff before taking a glance at her. She was pacing back and forth the room like a caged animal. His eyes widened as he took in her appearance—a very, very—beautiful caged animal.

The gown Devlin had made was extraordinarily fine looking with gold-colored material bunched up in layers around the skirt and a finely detailed bodice with black lace outlining the edges. Avalyn's hair was for once, braided and put up elegantly with decorative pearls—the color of her gown accented the color of her hair most stunningly.

"I need you to say it again—because it is all coming at me so fast that I am having doubts about the sincerity of your promise."

His mind couldn't comprehend what she was talking about, for it was still distracted at taking in her appearance. She stopped pacing and placed her hands on her stomach and choked out, "Or have you tricked me?"

He shook his head, his distraction broken by the hurt in her tone, "What? Trick you? Never."

She bit her lip, still unsure—"Then tell me again."

He looked to her to see what she was so adamant on hearing—her emerald eyes bore into him and he knew. He sighed and gently took her hand, leading her closer to him.

"I promise that we will never be married, you are only doing this to aid me until my father dies and if plans go awry and you find yourself still here on our set wedding date—you may leave."

She seemed to relax a little and made a move to take her hand back but Jaythen held firm, "One more thing however, to complete my charade."

He pulled the kerchief out of his pocket with his free hand and unwrapped it to reveal the ring. The kerchief dropped to the floor while he brought her hand up and slid the ring on her finger before letting it go. She stared at it, awestruck.

"This is meant for me?"

"It's your 'engagement ring.' Keep it. Maybe you'll remember me by it."

She looked at him as if he were foolish to give her such an expensive thing. He held out his arm for her to take, "Shall we? I would hate to see all of your dancing lessons go to waste."

She nodded while a sudden excitement filled her eyes at the prospect of dancing.

When they arrived back to the ballroom, it was time to set down for the feast. His father was missing everything but Jaythen suspected that he would drag himself out of bed and crawl to the front pew on his wedding day—just to be sure his bloodline was secure. He then had a thought that was both alarming and ridiculously humorous—that his father would go as far to crawl to his son's bedchamber on his wedding night 'just to be sure the bloodline was secure.' He cringed at such a thought but couldn't help but to silently laugh at the ludicrousness of it—and high probability, knowing how desperate his father was.

He sat at the head of the dining table in the formal dining hall. His mother sat on one side while Avalyn sat on the other, followed by Halden. As head of the table, it was his responsibility to begin the feast, and for him to introduce his bride. He held his hand out to Avalyn and she timidly took it and rose in her seat.

"My lords and ladies, I have the pleasure to introduce you to my bride—the future Countess of Wendbury—Lady Avalyn of Prition."

There was applause and congratulations from his guests. He kissed the top of Avalyn's hand, noting the smoothness of her skin against his lips, before letting her sit again. He saw his mother eyeing Avalyn's ring out of the corner of his eye. He straightened up with a clearing of his throat and held out his arms, "Thank you for coming. Please enjoy the fine things the court of Wendbury has to offer."

He sat down and let out a nervous breath—it being his first time heading a formal dinner—which was one of the many things he had been taught to do while in the Imperial City. The servants began to serve the meal—there were at least sixty guests that were seated in the room, twenty at his table alone.

"Did you give her that ring?" His mother broke formality, leaned over and asked with a whisper.

"Yes."

She frowned, but didn't voice any misgivings that she was surely thinking. Instead she snapped, "Tell her to eat something."

"Are you not hungry, my lady?" he inquired, seeing Avalyn's plate was full and she was looking around—taking everyone and everything in.

"Oh," her concentration was broken and she looked about for her utensils. She found a fork, and then began to poke at her mutton with it, "I guess so." She then picked up her knife and sawed at it—nothing that any born and bred lady of court would do. Halden looked at Jaythen with a haughty smirk. His mother looked embarrassed for the poor girl.

"What?" Avalyn inquired, seeing those around her regarding her with puzzlement.

Halden chuckled and set down his own utensils, putting an arm around her and grabbing her hands, showing her the proper way to cut mutton with a knife.

It took every bit of Jaythen's will power not to lean over and tear his cousin off of her. She did not like being touched, as it was apparent by her stiff body language. He let go of her when she managed to be less savage in her cutting. Jaythen could see the threads of his lie unravel as his mother carefully studied his pretend fiancée. He continued to eat, hoping that her dancing would restore the façade.

He held light dinner conversation with a few courtiers who had asked him about his stay at the King's court. He only smiled and recounted small, unimportant things even though his mind went straight to Nicolette. He noticed Avalyn staring at him as he conversed—wondering what she thought of him.

The guests retreated to the ballroom once their stomachs were satisfied. The musicians were in place and ready to play at the front of the room. Jaythen led Avalyn to the center where he positioned them for the first dance.

'Gavotte' he mouthed to her. She nodded—determined and ready. They heard the tap of the court composer's baton, and then with a throw of his arms, the musicians began to play.

Avalyn started out strongly by taking the lead. She must have been slightly nervous from all the stares directed at her. Jaythen smoothed his hand across her back in order to soothe her nerves. Her body remained tense and strained but she let him take the lead instead. He released her waist at the song's crescendo and she twirled around him until he caught her by the waist again. He noticed that she was grinning and with a slight blush. They finished out the gavotte with no other mishaps. He bowed to her and she curtsied in return. Guests clapped for their host—entertained and pleased.

Avalyn let out a breath, as if though she had been holding it the entire dance. She laughed nervously and took swallows of air, "That was amazing."

He couldn't help but to laugh at the innocent glee her expression possessed when she danced, "You would dance all night if you could, wouldn't you?"

She didn't answer but only gave him a sly grin that told of the truth. They started an allemande after that, and then another gavotte, and then a waltz.

Jaythen had to take a rest. His legs ached from so much movement. The Duke of Palona asked if he could take Jaythen's place with Avalyn and Jaythen allowed it. The Duke of Palona was an upstanding gentleman, respected but Jaythen prayed he did not find Avalyn unfamiliar to court. So he watched them intently, as they danced, ready to intervene if the Duke asked too many questions—ones that Avalyn couldn't answer.

Many guests passed by and noted with pleasure how sweet and beautiful Avalyn seemed to be and he wished his mother would have held the same approval that members of the court did for the girl with green eyes.

"You're fiancée is lovely," a body sat down next to him suddenly and said, but with disdain. It was the one member of court who wouldn't approve—he sighed, knowing her voice. He put on an aloof smile to face her.

"Why thank you, Lady Vitoria."

"Although I was in Prition two summers ago at court and I don't recall ever hearing her name mentioned—Avalyn—you said it was, right?"

Jaythen's smile fell just a little but it was too dangerous to give such truths away, so he caught it and quickly thought of a reason, "She attended finishing school when she was fifteen, perhaps that is why you did not see her when you went."

"The finishing School LeTulet?"

"Is there any other?" he asked—meaning it as a real question—for he did not know how many finishing schools were in the Realm. It must have been the only noteworthy one because Vitoria took his question as a snobbish retort.

Vitoria held her hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh, "If she had attended the prestigious LeTulet, then she would know better than to saw mutton with a knife."

He then shrugged, "It matters not how she cuts mutton, I love her."

Vitoria's smile dropped and she scooted nearer, closely studying his face, "I think you are lying."

"How can you even say that?" He asked in a hiss. Her words were dangerous in such an occupied room—during his engagement party no less.

"You have the look of indifference when you say it. If you truly loved someone then it would not be spoken with such apathy."

He cleared his throat and allowed his head to fill with thoughts of Nicolette, "I love her."

Vitoria retreated at his words, although not knowing his tone of truth was meant about the princess. He looked to Avalyn who was waltzing with the Duke, politely smiling at what he was saying but with a brightness in her eyes at the flowing movement she was partaking in. It seemed the Duke was charmed and he would not pose as much as a threat to the undoing of Avalyn's identity as Vitoria would.

Am I the only one that believes in this charade? Or can everyone else see through it? He wasn't talking about the farce of her status, but the charade that was their relationship.