We returned from the Viper's Nest to discover the other moon girls were furious at us, but only because they had not been invited to come along. Even the sweet and shy bookworm Mercury seemed hungry for combat. So we brought them along on all the raids after that. After all, I had many faults, but chauvinism wasn't one of them. They had as much of a right to defend of their princess as any two-silver-a-day soldier. Thanks to their queen, nobody understood better than I did what it felt like to be shunted to the sidelines purely on the basis of gender and planetary origin.

The men of the Grand Design doubled over in laughter when they saw my new army marching into their hideouts in order of height, with shy little Mercury in front with her blue streaked hair and armor to match, followed by Venus in gold and orange armor, mars in black and blood red, and Jupiter, who wore the sexiest armor she could find to draw attention from her towering height. I followed them in my standard armor and fluttering cape. The men screamed out lewd catcalls and I didn't even bother to smirk. The laughter and catcalls stopped as they realized we could take down an entire room in seconds, without suffering so much as a bruise or a hangnail.

It turned out these young women worked remarkable well as a team. Especially Jupiter and Mercury, who were able to take out a room full of enemy combatants without actually harming any of them. Every battle was the same. Mercury would lead off with a disorientating fog, which Jupiter would then electrify to bring the men to the floor. Venus and Mars' provided cover for the rest of us since their attacks tended to be more lethal. I simply looked imposing, barked out advice if it was needed, and lead the impounding and interrogation of the prisoners, which by and large I would have done as a battlefield commander anyway.

When the king found out how we had circumvented his orders, he wasn't pleased. But unlike the moon queen, he cared too much about appearances to press the issue once they reminded him they were not his subjects and therefore didn't need his permission to do anything. The only person he ruled over was me, but the king was wise enough to realize these girls would conduct their raids with or without me, and my absence would only increase their risks of making a dangerous mistake. So he lifted all restrictions from me and now I could join the fighting in earnest.

All in all, life was good. Fighting alongside beautiful women all day, romancing Venus all night. We were moving through the Grand Design like winter wheat. We learned what we could with each new raid, though nothing matched the treasure trove of information we gained at the Viper's Nest that first day. I suffered from wanderlust, of course. Back in those days I never could bear to stay in one place for more than a few weeks at a time. Yet I could almost get used to living life on my own terms, with a beautiful girlfriend at my side, leading an elite fighting force, without having to break up their drunken fistfights or fending off Nephrite's thinly veiled grabs at power. As much as I wanted to resume my prior duties, for the short term, life couldn't be any better.

So why was I still thinking about Zoisite?

I found myself missing him, and wondering what he was up to. I'd never met anyone like him. I guessed he must have been sent to his room for a few days for wandering away from his parents at the party, so I pictured him alone in a stone tower, sewing beads on the front of a coat on a dressmakers form just to keep himself occupied. Granted, his room was probably the size of a market plaza, with many of the same comforts, but I prefered to think of him in a tower with a four-poster bed, a tapestry on the wall, and little else in the way of furnishing.

I had a dream about him. This dream took place in a long forgotten festival in a faroff time. In the dream he took the form of a girl in a silk dress with a garland of flowers in her hair. Her hips were slim and her chest was nearly flat. A less ethereal girl might have looked boyish, but she was a nymph among milkmaids. . I could tell this Zoisite was a girl only because her lips were fuller and her torso less broad. Otherwise, as a girl he looked the same, yet not quite as beautiful, though I wouldn't have expected that.

I saw her through the eyes of a foreign prince, the ninth in line, so in no danger to inherit. She was a young maiden, already betrothed to another man, a friend of her father's, twice her age. But the springtime festival was a time of flirtation. The prince presented her with a single rose and asked if he might be allowed to court her. She blushed deep red and looked away, as if his advances were unwelcome. But then she took the flower, stood on her toes, and gave him the faintest of kisses, a mere brushing of the lips, before backing away with a nervous giggle and running away.

When I woke, I wanted to send Zoisite a gift.

I was halfway to the clerks' office before I realized how ridiculous and inappropriate that would be.

"Have you found anything about Shula the Deathbringer?" I asked the court's research librarian as she gave me a long list of potential leads for us to investigate.

"Certainly, but you will have to be a little more specific. There are currently at least sixteen assassins who call themselves 'Shula the Deathbringer'"

"Why so many?" Shula wasn't a figure from any mythology I knew of, nor was Shula a common name.

She placed a book on the counter and opened to a colored woodcut of a babyfaced young woman, dressed in buckskin vest and trousers, with straight chin-length black hair with a single thin red braid near her bangs. She had a dagger in each hand. The artist demonstrated her flexibility by drawing her in several poses, the most impressive showed her bent back double with one foot poised toward the sky. "The original Shula was a master of ninjitsu who preyed on wayward husbands."

"An avenging angel? Or a manhater?" I asked.

"Neither, according to the dozens of young men who served as her acolytes. They shared her bed without jealousy and their loyalty crossed the border into fanaticism. She developed quite a reputation as a folkhero, but they confess it was only because she liked a physical challenge. In fact, it was they who put this book together."

The book didn't show any wear or yellowing of the pages. I flipped to front and checked the date of publication. It was published only seven years earlier.

"So what makes you think the Grand Design is not looking for the original?"

"Because the original Shula the Deathbringer died nearly a quarter century ago."

This meant the original Shula was either slightly too old or entirely too dead. Still I had to ask. "Died? Or faked her death to go into hiding?"

"Died," the librarian said with certainty, and flipped to a woodcut of a well-dressed but severe looking blonde.

"Who is that?"

"The kept mistress of one of the men Shula killed. She lured Shula onto a bridge to discuss business. Shula was ambushed by ten men, beaten with clubs, and her body was tossed into a shallow stream below."

"She could have floated downriver and swam to the shore."

"She did float downriver, and she did swim to the shore. That's where she died."

She flipped to a woodcut of a howling adolescent cradling her soaked and shattered body in his arms while other weeping boys stood in the background.

"She managed to drag herself about ten feet onto the bank, which was where her followers found her corpse."

"And we know for a fact they told the truth?"

The librarian nodded. "There were many, many eyewitnesses. Not only that, these boys weren't very subtle in their grief. They went on a rampage, murdering anyone remotely affiliated with her death. Most of her young acolytes were rounded up and hanged. As the nooses were placed over their heads they would yell out 'Shula. I gladly give my life to avenge you!' Since then, there here has been no resurgence in murders, and the surviving members of her band either married or moved away.

"The other Shulas are clearly imitators who knew little to nothing of the real woman other than rumor and the trademark red braid, which they all wear." She closed the book and pushed to toward me. "You should read through this anyway if this assassin they are looking for is a copycat."

I took the book, but I figured they wouldn't do much good. The Grand Design wanted to hire a copycat assassin with a red braid to kill the most carefully guarded woman on the planet? Surely they wouldn't be that obvious.

As I turned to leave a young postal clerk with long dark hair called out. "Commander Kunzite, wait. I have a letter for you."

He held out of square of vellum stationery stamped with the treasurer's house seal in red wax. I could only think of two explanations. Either the treasurer had heard of my 'promotion' and wanted to be the first to toady up for influence, or else it was a love letter from his son. I certainly hoped it was a love letter from his son, but recognized that was entirely too improbable. I thanked the clerk and turned to leave.

"I was instructed that you have to read it here."

Oh?

"Are they expecting a reply?"

The clerk smiled and rested his arms on the counter. "Just read the letter."

I sighed, broke the seal, and scanned to bottom to check the signature.

~Zoi~

My heart raced a little. Was it a love letter after all? No. It couldn't it be. Even if he could smuggle such a thing past his parents, why would he insist I read it in front of a palace clerk?

Oh well, enough with the guessing games. I unfolded the letter.

Dear Kunzite,

I am writing to say that it was a great honor to meet you and your beautiful fiancé at the king's party. I mean no disrespect, so I hope that you will not be offended if I tell you how captivated I was by her lovely blue eyes. They are the exact color of some gemstones I purchased some time ago but never found a use for. Green being a more flattering shade on me. When I came home I decided to put them to use by fashioning them into a gift for her. It was only when I was nearly finished that I realized how inappropriate it would be for a man like me to give gems to another's chosen fiancé. Having no use for it, I decided to finish it anyway and offer to you so you might give it to her. Or else throw it out. Whatever you decide.

Refuse it and I'll understand.

With only the upmost respect,

~Zoi~

I couldn't help but laugh at his audacity. Refuse it and I'll understand? The sly little minx. Just minutes before I'd dismissed the idea of smuggling some token of affection to him, but I couldn't think of any possible way to do so without raising eyebrows. Meanwhile, HE was courting ME like I was some timid country maiden. Granted, that's not how it looked. Anyone who confiscated the gift would take the letter at face value and pity him a little for his ill-fated attraction and youthful exuberance. Because they wouldn't know his parents watch him like a hawk. And the thought of kissing a girl on the mouth made Zoisite ill.

Of course I could have been wrong. A part of me knew I was reading too much into it, but the rest of me was too amused to think I wasn't.

I held out my hand to the clerk and he handed me a little envelope sewed of black velvet. I reached in a pulled out a ponytail holder. An oval of black leather with a stylized twig of ebony pierced through the edges. It was quite lovely, very sweet and feminine, certainly better than that tired red bow she always wore. The leather was decorated with swirls of silver and blue gems, the largest stones were indeed the same color as Venus's eyes. But some of the gems were lighter, almost bordering on silver.

I smirked.

"Very nice, I think she'll like it," I told the clerk as he admired it over my shoulder. "I will need some time to formulate a proper reply."

I left the clerk's office in a lighthearted mood. A challenge had been issued, the duel had been declared. Now I HAD to find something to send him.