4 . 12 . 10

Hey guys! I finished NaNo, but I did not finish the story. I got pretty far, though, and I'll probably be posting a lot more over the holidays as I have time to look it all over and fix it up before subjecting you all to it. I know there aren't many people that read this anymore (with just one review on each of the past two chapters, I think I've figured that out), so if you're reading this, I thank you. Your reviews make my day every time.


Cameron put his back against the wall and pressed his palms to the stone, crumpling the crisp stationery and looping handwriting as he did so. He could feel his heartbeat in his fingers a moment after it pounded in his chest. The crazy, dissonant rhythm added to the frustration and confusion in his mind. The letter, delivered by the King's manservant himself, had been given him just ten minutes past, and it only took a cursory read to know exactly what the king was saying. Moments after his eyes read the last word, he felt the great need to leave the room and go—somewhere. His father had questioned him, but the prince hadn't even bothered to reply. His teeth were gritted and his fight instinct was threatening to rear its head.

He dropped the paper, letting it tumble to the ground, half balled up from his grip. The words were still mostly visible in the torchlight.

To the Crown Prince of Grendath, Cameron Braxton:

It should be no secret to you that I did not wish for you to accompany your father here to the Border Control Conference. Since your arrival, my reasons for this have proven themselves true. Cameron, you may have been close to my daughter in years past, but I must politely and firmly request that you engage your time elsewhere while you are here.

Signed,

King Thomas of Berensia.

It was obvious that he wasn't any closer to convincing her father to change his mind, despite the impression he thought he had been making on the king in the meetings. Yet… he felt like there was a strange and foreign piece of him that had been slowly awakening since he began to think of considering Nre as a wife, and he had not stopped it soon enough; it was now thundering upon his senses like a ravenous beast. She drew him in. Every glance captivated him. Every word rang in his ears like a sweet memory. Every touch sent a thrill up his spine. Her personality captured him — it fit so well into his.

He wanted to love her; he wanted to sweep her off her feet. He wanted her to be happy; he wanted her to be his. He wanted to protect her from every hurt and save her from every storm. He loved her.

But he couldn't love her.

He had never considered that possibility: the possibility that he would not be able to convince the king, that he would not succeed. And now that possibility, that reality, was warring against his resolve. The passion and conflict was so strong in him that he trembled, frozen in tandem between two impetuous decisions and trying to make neither and both, simultaneously. He waited for one to outweigh the other, caught in a struggle of wills inside his own soul and unable to move until something happened. He stood poised in the half darkened hallway like a creature of the night, but no answer came to him — and then there were footsteps.


Nre pushed the window open and let the cool evening breeze tease her hair. It had finally stopped raining, but the air was still damp. The tiny droplets of water felt like ice on her cheeks, which were burning. Her thoughts were on Cameron, and on Carvin. Cameron's proposal earlier that day had been swirling around in her mind like a giddy tornado, threatening to loose her hold on sense. Seeing Cameron in the first place had swelled a host of emotions as suddenly as a cloudburst, drowning the hopeful blooms that Carvin's visits had fostered. She really did like Carvin, but— it wasn't the same.

Her hands gripped the windowsill and she closed her eyes. She'd gotten to know Cameron well over the years — better than most, she would think. She felt a pull toward him that she couldn't explain, one that made her burgeoning attraction for Carvin almost entirely disappear. She was drawn to Cameron irrevocably. The boy she'd just met had no ground on the one she'd been friends with for most of her childhood. She knew Cameron better, and she loved him for all that he was.

How could she love Carvin?

The room was stifling to her now, in spite of the open window. Lois hadn't come to undress her yet, so she slipped out the door, careful to cover her bare feet in case she ran into anyone from the conference. Lois would understand. She always knew when Nre needed some time in the iris field to sort her thoughts out. Something about the gently bobbing flowers, balanced on their smooth, slim stalks just gave Nre a sense of peace. And peace was definitely something she wanted right now.

She walked down the little-used staircase behind the guest suites, trying not to think that she might meet Cameron in a hall nearby — it was unrealistic to even consider it, as most guests had repaired to their rooms for the night. The staircase itself was half hidden; only those seeking a different route than the Grand Staircase would have occasion to find it.

Nre squinted in the partial light, taking careful steps so she wouldn't trip over her long skirts on the winding stairwell. Even in the silence, her thoughts were spinning too quickly for her to notice the shadow just past the foot of the stairs, or to hear the agitated breathing. When a familiar voice said her name in a low murmur, she had to swallow a short cry of surprise. All other thoughts vanished as she bobbed a hasty curtsy and stammered a greeting.

"G—good evening, Prince Cameron," she said, completely out of sorts.

She hadn't honestly expected to see him, so his appearance set her back several paces. Again, she glanced down to be sure her feet were covered.

"Good evening," he replied, his voice strained.

He looked into her eyes for a moment, then turned his gaze away. The flame from the lamplight glanced off his eyes like fire on a waterfall. She noticed then that his face was drawn, and his hair was tousled — as if he had been running his hand through it many times, trying to think through a problem.

"Is everything alright, Cameron?" she asked in a hushed voice.

It seemed there was something tight and heavy in the air between them, and one loud word might break it to pieces. She saw a struggle cross his face.

"No, not exactly," he finally replied, his low voice hushed to match hers; he felt the tightness too.

"Is it anything I — could help with?" she asked, taking the smallest of steps toward him.

They were only two feet apart.

"You shouldn't," he said, with only a little hesitation.

"What is it?" Nre asked, even more quietly.

She knew she was probably treading on dangerous ground, but the closeness and intimacy of the chance meeting intoxicated her. Cameron was affected too, it seemed, for he took a step closer to her as he replied.

"I love you."

Just the words made her feel warm. She locked away the knot of fear, or guilt, that throbbed beneath the warmth. She nudged just a breath closer; she could feel his heat.

"I love you," she said.

Even though there was no sense in it, Nre couldn't help herself. She longed for an answer, longed for someone to make the swirling and headaches stop, longed for peace. So she let out a small sigh and wrapped her arms around Cameron, burying her head in his shoulder. Cameron had not been expecting that, but he responded without even a conscious thought, letting his arms settle around her waist and drawing her closer to him. The both closed their eyes in the sweet silence, and for once, their minds stopped churning. Neither had ever felt so at home as they did in that moment, wrapped in each other's arms.

Cameron moved his head, and Nre turned to look at him — and she then realized that their faces were a scant inch apart. She felt his breath on her cheek. Once more, their eyes locked, and Nre was lost in a fiery waterfall. He moved just an inch closer, never looking from her eyes, but searching them closely, as he had done earlier. Feeling his heartbeat in her chest, though, Nre could believe much more readily that he was endeavoring to see her heart. After a moment, he crossed the final gap and tentatively let his lips touch hers.

A wave of euphoria snatched any stray thoughts of propriety, duty, or Carvin from her mind. She moved one hand to the back of his neck and laced the other through his — and kissed him back, smiling.

Suddenly, it felt like a strong rope was being wound around their hands, though nothing was there. As soon as they registered the strange happening, the pressure vanished with an audible snap and they both looked at each other, wondering if they had imagined it in the unreality of the moment.

Their hearts thudded in rhythm.

A noise from the stairs forestalled any comments they might have made; they each took a step back in surprise, though their hands remained entwined.

"The iris field," Nre said in a low voice, and started running down the stairs.

Cameron easily kept pace, stumbling after her in the dark stairwell. In a moment, they had reached the ground floor, and they were flying down the hall and out the side garden door. The smooth pebbles clacked under Nre's bare feet as they ran breathlessly to the back corner of the garden where the iris field was spread, blanketed in dusky light from the vanished sun. All the servants had long departed the garden to complete their chores inside the castle, leaving the two quite alone.

Cameron's feet automatically slowed at the edge of the field, but Nre's hand tugged him further, along a small trail worn between the purple flowers. They walked along the narrow path in silence, Nre in front, with Cameron lingering to her trailing hand. The flowers brushed their legs as they walked, like tiny adoring hands. Nre felt, as she always did among the irises, that everything in the whole world was at peace, in spite of her erratically beating heart.

When they'd gone halfway through the field,

a shadow from the bordering forest broke off from the trees and thundered toward them. Cameron only had time to register that it was a man on horseback and he was traveling with unnatural speed, before the horse was less than ten feet away and crushing the fragile blooms near them under its hooves.

Nre was gaping, aghast, at the rampant destruction the horseman was carelessly wreaking on her beloved flowers — not noticing the very real possibility that she herself would be trampled. Cameron yanked her behind him and stumbled back a few paces as the horse skidded to a stop in front of them, uprooting and hopelessly ruining another patch of delicate flowers.

"I suppose it would be too much to ask for teenaged royals to be smart for a change," the rider said, his annoyed tone riddled with something far more dangerous — something that made Nre rub her hand in memory of the invisible rope.

"Who are you?" Cameron demanded, one hand on Nre's arm behind him, and the other reaching for his dagger.

The man grunted something inaudible as he swung off the horse with far more grace than even an expert jockey.

"Tell me your name, peasant," Cameron snapped, starting to draw his dagger.

"Karl," the man said on a sigh, "not that that information helps you at all. And put that dagger away. You two are in a lot of hot water, and I'm here to—ah—help."

He sounded like he had a bit of difficulty with the last word.

"What are you talking about?" Nre said boldly, stepping past Cameron's protective arm to stand beside him. "Talk fast. If I scream, fifty guards will be swarming the gardens in under a minute."

Karl didn't even blink at her slightly exaggerated threat, but his eyebrows were furrowed in—determination, or concentration. He spoke fast, urgently, but with an undertone that Cameron couldn't place.

"I can't tell you what I'm talking about, but you have about thirty seconds before you're kidnapped, and those wishes you were promised get—"

He choked a little on something, but Cameron had no intention of letting him continue. He pulled out his dagger.

"Look," he said, eying Karl calculatingly. "I don't know who you think you are, or what in Ladyra you're talking about, but unless you get on that horse and ride away now, things are going to get nasty."

Karl let out an angry puff of air and smacked the horse's shoulder. The horse snorted and stomped dangerously close to Karl's foot.

"If you don't come with me, it'll be nasty. A lot more nasty than you think. Ten seconds."

His voice was short, strained, and it looked like he was struggling against something invisible. Cameron suddenly realized that he looked almost scared.

"Trust me," he said after a silence. "Please."

"You're a lunat—" Nre started to say, but then she began to gag.

It felt like a fluid rope was constricting her throat, but as she grasped for it, she found there was nothing there but her own skin.

"Come with me. Now," she heard Karl say harshly.

Her vision was starting to go black, and their voices were blurring together. Head spinning and lungs screaming for air, she dropped unsteadily to her knees, clawing at her throat in desperation for a breath. Around her, she noticed that the irises were wilting and dying before her eyes. She barely heard Cameron yell something, then she felt arms around her. An impossible second later, she was slumped on something large and warm. The irises— she thought dully, then passed out.


"Thomas?"

Gloria's voice reached out like the hand she wanted desperately to offer, but was too scared to even remove from her lap. Her husband hadn't moved from his desk since news of Nre and Cameron's disappearance had reached them hours ago. Gloria had given the orders to start the search parties and interrogations herself, but Thomas had been no help. He gruffly agreed with what she said, but offered no ideas of his own.

She had the feeling that he knew more than he was saying. She was almost out of her mind with fear and panic, though she kept her face impassive and voice steady when servants and soldiers came to report new information — which was not very often, and not very helpful when it came. Thomas, however, looked less panicked, and more… furious.

Not furious in the way of breaking furniture and shouting: not fury that was directed at anyone. She could tell by the look on his face that his anger was directed solely at himself. But, even knowing that, she shrunk back unconsciously after calling his name; he was not unknown for taking out his frustration on others.

However, Thomas didn't even move when she called him.

"Tom?" she tried, still more nervously.

Again, he did not respond.

She had been sitting next to him for hours, neither moving nor speaking (except to the messengers) until just a moment ago. He had not asked her to leave, and he had not moved away. That gave Gloria her courage — what little of it she could muster — to stay, and to offer comfort to him when she had very little hope that he would accept it.

It was her courage and her shriveled twist of stubborn love for Thomas that motivated her to reach out time and time again. With every attempt, she knew that she would fail, but she couldn't stop hoping she wouldn't fail this time. Without exception, Thomas refused her entreaties, pushing her further and further away—

Until Gloria wasn't sure she could stumble backward another step without slipping off the edge.

She screwed up her resolve, dug her toes into the cliff's edge, and tried one more time. One last time.

"Tom."

He didn't move. She could feel the bristling coldness emanating from him, pushing her away. She held her ground, barely, and opened her mouth. But Thomas spoke first.

"Don't talk, Gloria."

A shove. She felt the blow, and something inside of her finally broke: the cord that had been holding her up, keeping her from a fall…

She slipped off the edge.

Tears she had been holding all day — and for far too many years before that — finally escaped her heart and trembled down her cheeks. She stood, quavered for a moment on her feet, then walked out the door.

It took several seconds to realize someone had grabbed her hand. She looked down at the familiar fingers, then followed them up to the face she had tried to read for so long. Now its expression was unguarded — terrible pain and regret marred the handsome features. She didn't move.

"Lori—Gloria," he said. "I—"

But then he stopped. She looked at him, then slipped her hand free and walked away.


"The Prince and Princess seemed to have gone mysteriously missing, just minutes after they kissed," the man said, looking out the window and watching clouds gather over the southern sea.

"Did they?" the fiari said, sounding pleasantly surprised.

"How convenient," the man said dangerously.

"Quite," the fiari said, and said nothing else.

"Were you involved in this escape?" the man asked. A question— direct, and specific.

What he didn't know about fiari magic was the one clause, hidden and kept a secret from every human since the magic's very formation: in the most dire of circumstances, fiari were permitted to lie to their masters. Only once, and only to save their own lives.

The fiari took a deep breath. Well, we're all going to die, so this had better count, he thought to himself. He forced the words out with calmness.

"While I must applaud whoever took this action, I regretfully say that I was not involved."

The words were spoken. They did not catch on his throat like knives. He thanked the stars most sincerely. His heart, which he did not realize had been racing, slowed.

The man looked away from the window and stared at him closely, but in the end he decided the magic would hold, and he turned back to the sea.

"Very well. You may go."

Karl disappeared with a grateful sigh too small for the man to hear.


Carvin had not been having the best of days. Well, the morning was alright, he reflected. More accurately, after leaving Cameron and Nre's company and following the servant, things had gone downhill. The man led him to the Sage Room, and Carvin proceeded to wait there for nearly half and hour before he flagged down another servant and asked him if whoever it was that wanted to see him was coming. The servant looked a little perplexed, and told him to wait in the Lavender Room; the other man must have been mistaken.

That servant had left before he could ask where the Lavender Room was, so he wandered the halls until he found a servant who could direct him appropriately. After he finally located the room (the castle was far more convoluted than he had originally thought) he waited there for another half hour. Now quite irked, he managed to keep his temper with the next servant who appeared. This man looked completely bewildered.

"I do not know of anyone who was requesting your presence, Lord Tiroe," he said carefully. "Perhaps there was a miscommunication. Wait here, and I will verify your summons."

He waited another twenty minutes before the servant came back with profuse apologies.

"There was some sort of mix up in the message room," the man said. "You were not summoned, Lord Tiroe. I am quite sorry for the problem. Would you like me to order some dinner for you in your apartment?"

Carvin, realizing that he had missed dinner with Nre, had accepted his offer with as much grace as his father had taught him to use, but he was not amused with the situation. He did not delight in the fact that he had just missed Nre at dinner — the last time he usually saw her in a day.

He fumed all through dinner, which Faidn spent chattering excitedly about all the beautiful horses the Dukes owned.

"Some of them are from Werinith, I swear they are," Faidn said, a little glossy eyed. "So broad and strong — ah, you just don't see them around Greyson, Carvin. Those Dukes must be from the mountain regions."

"Mhm," Carvin said, taking another bite of salad and glaring at the fork like it had personally offended him.

Faidn took notice of this unusual behavior.

"Look, I hate veggies as much as the average kid, but I doubt the salad could be that awful."

"Huh?" Carvin said, shaken from his thoughts and looking at his friend.

Faidn rolled his eyes.

"What are you all hot and bothered about?"

Carvin told him what had happened that afternoon, and Faidn listened intently.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" Faidn asked when Carvin had finished the story.

"What are you talking about?" Carvin said, genuinely confused. There wasn't much to do about it now.

"Well, this was obviously Cameron's doing," Faidn said in the condescending tone that people usually liked to exercise around him. "So, what's the plan of action? Might I suggest a classic? Jamming the doorknob into a locked position is a failsafe, and I've already checked the doors here; they're perfect."

"Faidn," Carvin said, giving him a look. "Please act like you're older than twelve."

"Fight fire with fire, my friend; he sent you on a wild goose chase, didn't he? That's another classic. Really, you should have used that one first. I must have failed you as a friend…"

"Faidn!"

Faidn crossed his arms stubbornly and looked at Carvin with his eyebrows raised. He was the very picture of a knowing adult.

"Carvin. I don't know if you have been paying any attention at all, but this prince is after your lady. I've spent as little time around you three as possible, and even I know that. Are you just going to stand back and let him sweep her off her feet, or are you going to do something about it?"

"Locking his door isn't going to do anything," Carvin pointed out. "He'll call a servant and unlock it."

"You're thinking too far into the future, Vin," Faidn said, putting a hand on his arm. "Of course it won't do anything in the long run. Neither will sending you on a crazy search for an anonymous noble. It's the short term you've got to think about. If you don't act fast, he'll move right in, and before you know it, she'll be out of reach."

"I thought you didn't like Nre," Carvin said after a pause.

Faidn shrugged and made a face.

"She could be worse. But you like her, and that's what matters here."

Carvin didn't say anything for a while. Faidn let him think.

"Okay," Carvin said finally.

Faidn's face broke out into a grin.

"You'll do it?"

"Why not?" Carvin said, with reservation, but he chuckled.

"All right!" Faidn cheered, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'll find the tools. You just wait right here."

He opened the door to leave and almost ran into a man who was preparing to knock.

"Oh. Um. Hello," Faidn said awkwardly, and he took a few steps back.

"My apologies for the lateness of this message, Lord Tiroe," the man said, bowing to Carvin.

He looked very grave. Carvin stood, eyebrows furrowing.

"It's fine. I was just eating. What's happened?"

"It's the Princess, and the Prince of Grendath," the man said. "They've been kidnapped; someone saw them being carried out of the garden. Also, hoof prints were found in the iris field, and the Prince's dagger has been identified at the scene, confirming it. The Queen requested that you be kept informed."

Carvin sat down again, hard.

"Do you…"

"We're searching, but there's no word," the man said. "How he got past the guards, twice, is unfathomable."

"Thank you," Carvin said, his voice strong though his mind was absent.

The man bowed, and then he left. Faidn blinked after him, then turned to Carvin.

"Well. I guess I'll saddle your horse, then."

"Huh?" Carvin said, again. His mind was racing. Nre gone. Kidnapped.

Faidn sighed impatiently.

"Why do I have to spell everything out to you tonight? Obviously that girl has not been wonderful for your thinking abilities."

Carvin was not in the mood for Faidn at that moment. He fixed his friend with a tired, frustrated look.

"If you're not going to help, go away."

"That's what I'm trying—!" Faidn exclaimed, then cut himself off and began again. "You're a noble man, Carvin. Skip the deliberation and tell me exactly what you know you're going to do."

"Go after her," he breathed.

"Precisely," Faidn said, satisfied. "Go get a bag of provisions from the kitchen, and I'll get your horse ready. Meet me at the stables in ten minutes."

They both left the room, Faidn turning left, and Carvin right. He went into the kitchens, and the servants prepared a sack of food for him without questioning. Faidn had been right — there was no way he would have been okay just sitting in the palace doing nothing.

When he met Faidn in the stables, he learned another key piece of information; word of mouth had told the stable boys that one horse carrying three passengers at an unbelievable speed had entered the West Wood an hour past. Apparently one of them knew someone who was married to someone whose husband's friend lived in the town by the Wood, and the information had reached the palace in record time.

"Be safe," Faidn said, tightening the saddle and handing Carvin a small bag of food. "Find your damsel."

"Thanks, Fai," Carvin said, gripping Faidn's hand for a moment.

Then, he nickered to the horse, urging it into walk, then a trot. Within minutes, he was galloping down the road outside the palace, heading straight for the West Wood.


Thoughts? A little different than the original, but I think it's a bit better. What do you all think?

Mazzie: Congrats on finishing NaNo! I hope you can comment a little more extensively this time. Or at all, really, since your last review didn't even mention the chapter at all. LOL.

EDIT: Thank you, Eva and Lady Thorne for pointing out my typos!