I really planned to get this out sooner. Yet I just kept hitting hard parts in this chapter. Parts that either didn't feel right or parts that I knew how I wanted them to go yet ended up changing them multiple times. Unfortunately the chapters are going to take even longer to write, as I am not only back in school but have also taken on an extra side project. Sorry again for the wait and enjoy!

"You're sure you'll be alright going in on your own?" Cornwall asked, as they prepared for whatever lay ahead.

"It'll look to suspicious if we all of go in," Genevieve explained, shoving a small brass ring they had pulled off one of the packs onto her finger. "Even if we were to go in smaller groups, it may seem strange that so many people are coming for rooms in a short amount of time."

"Not to mention, we have no idea if Anne is even there," James added. "And if she is, and Genevieve and I are separated, at least she'll recognize me."

"Ready?" Genevieve asked, handing him a similar ring.

"Ready," he confirmed, shoving it on.

Together they got onto the most plain horse out of the bunch. They had removed its saddle, as it had contained the castle's seal. With Genevieve sitting behind James, they made their way towards the old inn.

"Do you think this will work?" Genevieve whispered in his ear.

"Hopefully the worst that will come out of this, is that our "friends" never even stepped foot here. And all we lose is a few hours of riding,"

"Yet that's time that gives them a larger lead," Genevieve argued

"I know, but it's better than finding ourselves in some sort of trap,"

As they neared the inn, they saw a little old lady come out the back. She was very short, barely reaching Genevieve's chest. She had grey hair with stripes of white blending in, all pulled up into a tight bun. She walked with a scowl on her face, as though nothing in world could please her.

"Excuse me," James called

The old woman looked over at them, the scowl still present but now with raised eyebrows. As though she wasn't sure whether they meant her trouble or she would find them annoying.

"Are you the owner of this here inn?" he asked, putting on his best smile as he felt Genevieve cuddled closer to him.

"I am," she answered, her voice raspy and corse.

"Is it possible to get a room?" he asked, placing a hand over Genevieve's. "You see my wife and I have been traveling all day."

"We're on our honeymoon," Genevieve added.

"Yes, and we didn't plan on getting lost. We would be grateful if you have a room to spare, we'll pay anything," he said, trying not to wince as he felt Genevieve's nail press into his hand. "At least as much as we have brought."

"And what room would be desiring?" she asked, still giving them that curious scowl.

"Which ever is your best," he said.

Genevieve let out a little squeal, exclaiming, "Oh you spoil me!"

"Well, my wife deserves to be spoiled," he responded, trying not to laugh at her giddy face. It felt strange calling her his wife, and acting as though nothing in the world mattered but her, yet not as strange as he thought it would.

"What a wonderful man. How did I get so lucky?" she cooed, before surprising with a gentle kiss.

At first, he froze. How was he to response to this? Here was a woman who had come to be his best friend, kissing him. Even if it was an act, it still felt as strange as calling her his wife. Yet after a moment of shock, he relaxed into it.

When she pulled away, she flashed the Innkeeper a shy smile. James had to give Genevieve credit, she played the smitten wife very well.

"Sorry," she blushed. "I suppose I got carried away."

"How cute," the Innkeeper droned. "You can tie up your horse over there. Then come in to pay."

They watched as the woman hobbled over to an old garden bed with flowers that had long since wilted. Without a word, he motioned for Genevieve to head inside, while he lead their horse over to the others. As he tied the reins, he couldn't help but feel as though he was being watched. Yet as he traveled into the house, the old woman still seemed poised on watering her dead flowers.

"Well she's a peach," Genevieve muttered as James entered the inn. She had to fight a slight blush. The kiss had been nice, yet it hadn't been something she wasn't fully keen on doing. For while he was handsome and it was an act that was sure to sell the married idea, it was still a kiss with her best friend.

"At least we're getting a room," James said, glancing around the room.

Like the outside, the main room had seen better days. There were table and chairs that looked as though they would collapse if someone so much as touched them. The paint had faded and peeled to a point where you couldn't even tell what color they had been. Off to the side was a set of stairs that had plenty of holes, ready to gobble any unfortunate soul that stepped through. Finishing off the room was a wall littered from top to bottom with hooks. Every hook had a key.

There was also a small tavern like area, complete with a large fireplace. Though just about every table and chair inside that room, looked as though they would collapse if one were to just brush against it.

"Looks like we're the only ones here,"

Before anymore could be said, the door swung open with a loud creak. Quickly, James slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her close.

"You'll be sleeping in the honeymoon suite," the Innkeeper drawled, grabbing one of the keys with even looking. "It's our best room, guaranteed."

"Perfect," Genevieve hummed, as they made their way up the stairs to the second floor. They followed the old woman to the first hallway, where they stopped at a small door.

"Is there anyone else staying here tonight?" Genevieve asked, as the Innkeeper struggled with the old lock.

"Just you," she grunted, pushing the door open.

The room was no larger than one Genevieve had back home. It too had peeling paint walls, and creaky floor boards. There was a small dirty window that let one look outside only to see the yard that they had just come from. The only furniture that decorated the room, was a bed large enough for one person.

"Kitchen closes in ten minutes. Either be down in time, or wait till morning," the woman said, handing James the key and shutting the door without a second glance.

"I think this may have been a broom closet," Genevieve chuckled, once they were sure the woman had left.

"I'd hate to see what the other rooms look, if this is their best," James muttered, trying to move around Genevieve. Yet as there wasn't much room to move around. As they both struggled to move out the other's way, yet it proved to fail. Only a few steps in they found themselves on the bed, with James practically straddling her.

Practically nose to nose, both couldn't help as their faces turned a bright cherry red. Unsure of what to say, Genevieve joked,

"Couldn't wait for more, could you?"

At first she had thought she had ruined it. As his eyes widened at her comment, she thought she may have just crossed a line. Yet just when it seemed that his eyes couldn't get any bigger, he let out a loud barking laugh, rolling over next to her. Sitting up, both let out a low chuckle.

"Sorry couldn't help myself," she apologized, glancing over at him.

"It's fine," he waved off.

"And sorry for, you know, that other kiss. It just-"

"Don't worry about it," he assured her.

"It wasn't your first kiss, was it?" she asked. "If it was then-"

"No, it wasn't," he said, before adding, "Was it yours?"

"No, mine was with a Carny,"

"A Carny?"

"I was sixteen and there was this carnival," Genevieve explained "I thought that it would be fun for Anne. This man was doing this trick, where flowers would appear out of his "magic" wand."

She sighed before continuing, "He was rather charming. Dark hair that brushed by his eyes just so, heart stopping smile. And those eyes, oh those eyes."

"I think I get it!" he snapped.

"Oh, is some jealous that they aren't the only handsome man in my life?" she teased, watching a small pink tinge appear on his cheeks. Yet he was prepared.

"You think I'm handsome?"

"Well, I... yes, but," she stuttered.

"Does someone dream of marrying a prince?" he smirked, clearly enjoying getting her back.

"Anyway!" Genevieve exclaimed "Anne wanted to keep the flowers, so I asked him how much. He said that all it would cost is a kiss from "the lovely lady"."

"And you kissed him?"

"Yeah," she blushed. "The man was a complete flirt though. We passed by him again, and he was doing the exact same trick to another girl. Not that I really expected anything to come from it."

"You don't to be the wife of a carnival man?"

"If I was then I'd either have a husband who would never be home, or I'd be away from Anne for far too long,"

"And you couldn't do that to Anne," James guessed.

"Yeah," she agreed. "So what about you?"

"Me what?"

"Your first kiss," Genevieve pressed, elbowing him. "I told you mine, what was your first kiss?"

"It was... weird,"

"How so?" she asked

"To put it mildly, one of the ladies of the court decided she wanted a kiss from the crown prince,"

"Oh,"

"And we were seven,"

"Oh. No!" she moaned, while trying to hide her smile. "What happened?"

"Let's just say it had her chasing me down several hallways, disrupting multiple meetings, and ending with me in a closet while she pinned me down."

"What happened after?"

"She told everyone she knew, and it spread like wildfire. I was the butt of jokes for a month,"

"I'm so sorry,"

"It's alright. Her family moved around the time that the news was starting to die down. By the end of the year, everyone had forgotten about it,"

"Still that's no way for someone to experience their first kiss,"

"I'm not embarrassed by it," he defended. "It wasn't how I would have preferred it to go, but we were seven. It could've been worse."

"I fail to see how, but alright," she said, her eyes wandering to the little window. "Do you think she's here?"

"I hope so. Otherwise it's going to be very hard finding her," he answered "Do you?"

"I don't know," she said "It seems like she is. But it's so easy for it look like she isn't. I mean you saw how many rooms there are here. And there could be other rooms that are hidden all around. How are we going to find her?"

Yet James didn't answer her. Instead he seemed fixed on the door. Annoyed Genevieve asked,

"Did you hear me?"

"James?"

Suddenly Genevieve found herself flat on the bed, James hovering over her.

"Sorry," was all he said, before his lips came crashing down.

Unlike the one before, this kiss was rough. While it still felt strange, there was a small part that seemed to sigh in pleasure, begging for more. Just as she was about to push him off and demand an explanation, that little part grew, clouding her mind for one brief yet beautiful second.

Paradise. That was the only way to describe the feeling of his lips on hers. Slowly they began to massage at the bottom of hers. Causing her to moan out in pleasure as the taste of honey, cinnamon, and some spice she couldn't quite place, filled her mouth. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating. Her hands soon shot up into his hair, tangling themselves, pulling him closer.

Her mind screamed for her to stop. It was an act, nothing more. They were here to find her sister, not play house and pretend that mother and father needed some alone time.

It's James! her mind repeated.

Yet just as her body and mind seemed to reached an impasse, the loud squeak of the door's hinges caused them to pull apart.

Genevieve felt her face grow hot, as her eyes fell upon the short little woman with that same scowl only now with one raised eyebrow.

"Lights out in 5 minutes, any noise will result in both of being throw out," She glanced at Genevieve before continuing. "Understand?"

"Of course," James said, his voice calm and cool, as he pushed himself off her and made to move towards the woman. "We wouldn't-"

"Good,"

For a second, Genevieve watched as James stood there, his mouth still open with words left hanging on his tongue. Her face stilled burned, as she thought of the kiss. She knew it had been fake, yet it still burned on her lips. Tempting her to ask if there was more behind it. Yet at the moment, she didn't care to know.

"Perhaps you should get some rest," James calm voice snapping her from her thoughts.

"What?"

"We agreed on waiting till midnight to look for Anne, that's still a few hours off. Might as well try and get some rest," he reasoned.

"What about you?" she asked, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I'll keep watch,"

"Won't you get tired?"

"I think you're the one that needs the sleep,"

"But you're the one who knows how to fight,"

"I have excellent stamina,"

"And you're lying through you're teeth,"

"Just rest,"

Sighing, Genevieve laid back down on the bed and faced the wall. If she was going to sleep, she'd rather the wall be the last thing she sees than James, lest her dreams betray her as well.

James sighed once more, as he looked out the window. It had been well over an hour after since he took watch and despite his attempts, he couldn't seem to shake the small butterflies that flitted inside whenever he thought back to the kiss.

"Focus!" he berated himself. "This is not about some pretend kiss. There's a little girl out there, and you promised her sister to help. No! You promise your best friend you'd help."

Yet as he gazed out the window, he still felt the small blush creep up his neck as he thought back. Never should he have even considered the action. Even if he had heard the woman come, he should have simply held her. Even if he had tried to warn her, he still caused a good amount of confusion between the both of them. At the worst time.

Hours passed slowly, and finally when he believed that night had fallen long enough, he set to work.

Creeping to the door, and peering out, he was glad to see only an empty and quiet hallway. Once he was certain that it was clear, he crept back to the window. Opening it with a loud crack, he peeked his head out hoping this would work.

"Is it time?"

Whipping around, he found Genevieve upright and awake, her face bathed in the moonlight. Large dark bags hung under her eyes.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Not really," she muttered, running a hand through her hair. "Is it?"

"Just about," he nodded. "Why don't you check the hallway again, while I give the signal."

She nodded and made her way over to the door. Turning back to the window, he let out a low whistle trying to mimic that of an owl.

Whistle, pause, whistle, pause, two whistles, that then followed a very short higher hoot.

When he was done, he turned back to let Genevieve know it was alright to go yet found himself alone in the small room, the door hanging wide open.

She could feel her heartbeat. Only it was in her ear, not her chest. With every creak or groan of the house, she could feel it skip.

There had been a time shortly after her mother's death, when Anne had gotten terribly ill. All night she had scream and cried, and at the time Genevieve was lost. None of the other staff at the time had done anything to help.

She had felt so helpless. She was only twelve. And already she felt as though she had failed. Not just to her mother but to her sister. At the time, she was so sure that she would never she feel more scared.

Yet as she crept down, that night seemed as though she was just a child who was scared of the dark.

When she had made it to the wall of keys, her heart turned to lead.

"Have you got the door?"

Nearly leaping out of her skin, she turned to see James at the foot of the stairs.

"What? Oh, no, not yet," she whispered, making her way to the door.

"Quite a lot of empty rooms," he mused, glancing over at the wall before rooting through the desk.

"60," she said, trying to turn a rather large and rusted lock without it moaning as though it were about die. "There are 60 rooms in this place, how in the world can five people search 60 rooms in one night?"

"If we can't get to them all, then we try again tomorrow,"

"And if we're caught? What then?" she hissed, now working on the last lock. "Even if the sun should rise and we come back the next day, how can we be sure that those keys are where they are now?"

"We can't," he admitted. "Which is why we're going to do our best. Now look at this."

While rummaging through the desk, he had come across a drawer with a false bottom. There, there was a second set of keys. All on a small metal hoop, all the same size, all the same shape. Yet the loop held only three keys.

"What do you think these go to?" he asked

She gave no answer, only looked at the keys with a grim expression. After a moment she was able to get the lock open, and with much care, opened the door to the faces of their three companions.

"What took you so long?" asked Gilbath, wasting no time in entering.

"Right, because opening an old and rather rusted door without making a peep of sound is so easy," she mocked.

"Ignore him," whispered Cornwall. "He's just mad that we made him keep watch all night."

"So what's the plan?" asked Hawkeworth, once everyone was inside and the door had been re-locked.

"Split up, and search through each room," James said "Simple."

"Right, simple,"

"What about light?" Cornwall asked. "Wouldn't be much of a search if we can't see."

Riffling through the desk once more, they uncovered a few candles and matches. Lighting one, everyone was able to see the true affect this trip was causing everyone. Everyone's hair looked as though it had been through a small tornado, Cornwall's being the worse with bits of leaves and twigs. Bags hung under all their eyes, though Genevieve's was clearly the worst. And though they tried no to show it, everyone just had an air of sluggishness.

"We'll split up into two teams, each team carry only one candle," James instructed. "Hawkeworth and Cornwall, go with Genevieve. While I'll go with Gilbath."

"Genevieve, you alright?" asked Cornwall.

"That's not right," she muttered, looking at the fireplace.

"What?" they all asked

"The fireplace it's too big," she explained, as she made her way over. "This is the kind you would use to cook."

"Maybe it's for the kitchen?"

"But there's no pots or anything else to cook with,"

"Well-"

"Let me see the candle," she asked

Taking the candle, she held it along the edge of the fireplace. As it was moved along the crack between the floor, they saw the flame flicker and bend.

"Allow me," said Cornwall leaning down. Taking out his sword, he carefully began to pry up each board. After a minute or two of work, they found that there was a staircase that seemed to lead off into nothing.

"Looks like it simply goes down," remarked Genevieve, trying to see down.

"Give me one of the candles," James ordered.

"You're not actually going down there?" Hawkworth hissed. "For all you know, there could be nothing down there."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But it's possible they're keeping her down there."

"So you and I will go down, then meet up with the others when we're done?" asked Gilbath.

"No, I'll go alone,"

"Are you insane?"

"I'd rather it be me that runs into trouble than any of you," he explained "Hawkeworth go with Gilbath, instead of Cornwall and Genevieve."

"Sir-"

"That's an order,"

All three men shared a look of concern, yet began to walk back to the keys.

"Be careful," Genevieve whispered. "We wouldn't want to lose our crown prince."

Even with that joke, he couldn't ignore the concern in her eyes. Gently taking her hand, he whispered back,

"I'll be fine,"

Giving it a squeeze, he saw a small smile cross her face.

They exchanged one last look, before she joined the others.

"How shall we do this?" asked Cornwall, as the four them began to take down the keys, trying to remember the order they were hung in.

"Gilbath and I will take the next floor up, while you and Genevieve take the top floor and we'll meet in the middle," Hawkeworth suggested.

"And if one of us should find my sister?" Genevieve asked.

"Then one of us will go back for the Prince, while the rest go for the horses,"

As soon as they had collected the last of the keys, the four of them climbed up the stairs, spliting after the first floor. When Genevieve and Cornwall reached the top, they could barely make out the long hallway with it's 20 rooms.

"So, shall we split up, or search each room together?" Cornwall asked

"I'd rather us search together," Genevieve said, squinting around at each door, as though just by looking at it may give her the answer as to which one held her sister. "Less likely of us to miss something, not to mention those thugs could be staying her in any room."

"Alright," said Cornwall, and together they made their way to the end of the hall.

Unlocking the first door, Genevieve saw that it was similar to the one James and her were given. Though this one was a bit bigger than the other, was much cleaner, and had a larger bed, dresser, table and chair.

"Honeymoon suite my ass," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing,"

Slowly they began to roam about the room. Genevieve did her best to look through the drawers of the dresser, while Cornwall searched every crack and floor board incase there might be another hidden pit or compartment.

Finally when the last crevice was searched, they moved to the next room. Again and again they searched, finding nothing but dust and some floor boards that were close to breaking yet held nothing underneath.

By the time they reached the twelfth room the moon had begun to dip behind the hills, and Genevieve began to fear that they would have to wait till the next night to finish. Yet they gained a new surprise as the opened the door.

Now it was still the same size as the others, only this room had no windows, no furniture, nothing. Except for people.

From the dim light, Genevieve could make out at least ten people. As they moved about the room, they could tell who had been there longer than others. For they had hollow and withered faces, as though they hadn't eaten in weeks, making them look bug eyed. Their clothes were torn, blackened, and seemed to barely cover their body. The better ones had clothes less worn, as well as fuller faces. Yet every person in the room had a scared look, and cuffs around their ankles and wrists with chains that lead to the next person's cuffs.

"Oh my god," she whispered, as the people shrank back.

"It's alright," Cornwall whispered "We're not here to hurt, we're here to help."

"How are we going to-" Genevieve began

"I have no idea," he answered.

Slowly he bent down to examine one of the cuffs, only to have the person shriek out.

"No, no, it's alright," Genevieve reasoned, bending down. "We're going to get you out."

"All of us?"

Genevieve turned to see a girl a few years younger than her. She had short auburn hair that seemed to have whacked with a pair of scissors. A slightly faded dress that resembled her own, yet looked as though it had been owned by someone slightly larger than her. Smudges of dirt dotted her face, yet Genevieve could tell that without it, the girl's skin would be as smooth as silk.

"Yes," she said. "Now um, have any of you seen a little girl come here recently? About six years old? Has black hair, grey eyes, sweet smile?"

After a moment of silence, she sighed.

"Looks like me?" she tried again.

"I was the last person they put in this room," the girl explained.

"Do you know how long you've been here?" asked Cornwall, still fiddling with the cuffs.

"No, but I do know that it was summer when I was put in here,"

"That was almost two months ago," Genevieve gasped.

"Do you know who put you in here?" Cornwall asked, ignoring Genevieve's statement

"Only that they were two men," she said.

"Well we'll get you out of here as soon we can get these cuffs undone," Cornwall said through gritted teeth.

Genevieve looked over his shoulder at the cuffs. They were well kept, barely any rust. Yet they still held the same weathered look as everything else in the inn. The cuffs had a small hole, yet the as well as they knew the keys could be with the men.

"Unless..." she muttered, digging through the numerous keys in her little pocket. Finally she pulled out the ring of keys she had pulled from the desk drawer. Taking one, she placed it in the hole. Again and again she tried, till she heard a clunk. The cuffs slid off with a loud clank, that made Cornwall and Genevieve glance behind them in fear. Yet when they heard nothing but the cold silence of the night, Cornwall took the keys from her and began to unlock the other cuffs, while Genevieve began helping people up.

"Where did you find these?" he asked, when they had gotten everyone unlocked and out of the room.

"They were in a secret compartment in the desk downstairs,"

"Wonder what other secrets this place holds?" he remarked

"I just wonder how many other people are here,"

They found that there were 35 people locked away on the floor.

"How are we going to get 35 people out of here?" Genevieve whispered to Cornwall. "We still have one more floor to look through."

After a moment he answered, "We'll get these people into the caravan we saw earlier. Then come back and finish our search,"

"Wait, we're going to steal a caravan!"

"Do you have a better suggestion?" he snapped.

When she didn't respond, he sighed and said, "Come on, the sooner we get these people outside, the sooner we can get back to looking for your sister."

She nodding, knowing he was right. And after quietly making their way down the rickety stairs, which was not easy with 37 people, they began to shuffle people out.

"You go out first," she told him after he gestured for her to go. "If the old woman comes down, we'll have less trouble if she sees only me."

Nodding he made his way out. As she watched the last of them go, Genevieve couldn't help but feel off. As though there was something different about the place. Yet as she shook herself of these thoughts, a small thump was heard in the other room. Scared, Genevieve held her candle close as though the flame would somehow protect her as she made way towards the noise.

When she reached the other room, she immediately noticed the light now pouring from the secret pit. Peering around, she saw a set of cookware hanging, and quickly snatching the frying pan, she debated whether or not to go in.

After all James was down there, and if she went she could give him away. Unless that thump and light meant that he had already been spotted and needed help. Cornwall would be back soon, and perhaps she had just imagined it all. But just when she thought to set the frying pan down and go back, she heard the soft muffled yet still crabby voice of the old woman float up

"What was she doing down there?" she thought, and without another thought, softly jumped down.

The first thing she noticed was how tight of a fit it was. She wasn't squished, but could by no means stretch her arms out. If she did, her elbows would hit. The second thing was how the pit seemed to be a tunnel, that lead off around a corner to where the light seemed to be coming from.

"This must have been a wine cellar once," she thought.

Slowly she crept down the hall. With every step, the voices and her heart became louder. Soon she began to hear what they were saying.

"I've done my end of the bargain," the old woman's voice huffed. "How much longer are we going to keep her here? It's bad for business, rotten little brat."

"You'll keep her here as long as we say," came a deep voice, that sounded strangely familiar. "Or would you like us to spill the beans on your little smuggle ring?"

"If you have me keep that little girl in my room for one day longer, I may just let you," she snapped. "Having to listen to her go on and on about that sister of hers."

Genevieve let out a small gasp at the woman's words. Anne was here! And that woman had something to do with it all!

Seeing only red, she continued her way down wanting a look at the others involved. Yet before she could even glimpse into the room, a large hand clamped itself over mouth, muffling her screams.

Finally able to pry the hand off, she whirled around to face her captor.

"James!" she hissed, trying to calm her racing heart. Yet as she saw him put a finger to his lips, his message rang clear. Nodding her head, she turned back toward the opening to continue listening. And while she wanted nothing more than go in and murder those on the other side, James had a hand on her arm gently holding her back.

"So what are we going to do about our visitors?" the old woman's voice croaked

"They matter not," the deep voice spoke

"Lest they find our little operation, I agree," a third voice spoke.

"If all goes as planned, your "little" operation won't matter,"

"So you claim,"

At this, she felt James pull her back. Slowly he inched his way forward, till he was able to peer around the doorway. Genevieve longed to peer around with him, yet knew that if she saw their faces, her anger would take control.

"Oi! What the hell are you doing down here!"

Turning around quickly, they saw a large bald man wielding a rather thin sword. He faced looked like a wrinkled lemon, though that may have been from the large scowl on his face. It didn't really matter as both of their eyes were set on the sword.

"Eve," she heard James murmur. "Run."

Yet her legs seemed to have frozen. So when James saw that she wasn't moving, he pushed her, causing the frying pan that had somehow still remain in her hands to fall with a great clatter.

Yet with that noise, it was as though her body snapped back into action. Grabbing the frying pan, and with all her might smacked the man over the head, as he had engaged himself in a sword fight with James who had pulled out his own sword.

A sickening crack echoed off the walls, yet Genevieve couldn't believe that she had managed to knock out such a large fellow, it was shortly lived as the sound of heavy footsteps caught their attention. A second man, similar to the first, had made his way around the doorway looking just as angry as the first.

"Let's go!" she exclaimed, pulling James along.

When they made it to the opening, James quickly climbed through and lifted her up after. Just before she was all the way through, she felt a searing pain shoot through her back causing her to almost let go. Looking back she saw that the man had taken a swipe at them with his own sword. Apparently he wasn't very smart.

As soon as her feet touched the wooden floor Genevieve ran with a speed she had never felt before. Barely could she feel the ground beneath her, instead the world around became a blur all except for the door that lead out.

"Go! Go!" she screamed as they reached the outside. She could see the three guards still helping some into the caravan or onto one of the horses. Yet at her words, she could see them rush and hurry to get the last in safely.

As they reached near, she saw them lift a small girl with black hair and tanned skin into the caravan. She felt her heart leap for joy.

It was Anne!

Oh how she wanted to leap into that caravan, and hold her sister once more. Yet the many shouts from the house quickly shook her of that thought. So focussing back on running, she reached out her hand as James leapt up onto his horse. In their hurry, he had nearly pulled her arm off when lifting her.

In a flash the horses were off. As Genevieve looked back she could see the man lumbering towards them.

Spying a small puddle near him, she looked back at James and was pleased to see his attention was on the road ahead, Genevieve dung deep. Deep down to that small part of her, and let the elemental power flow through. From deep in within to the tips of her fingers, and was pleased to see the water flash out and grab him round the ankle. Pulling him down, and pratically causing the ground to shake.

Smiling at her work, she turned back around. Only to met with the puzzling gaze of James.

Her heart sunk. He had saw!

What would her think of her now?

Saying nothing, she simply nodded her head forward. And when his back was turned, she gently rested hers against his back. Oh she wished she had never done it.

Once they had stopped to rest, the sun had risen bathing them all in light. Dismounting, Genevieve was ready to find Anne and hug her once more. Yet before she could run off, she felt a strong hand grip her arm. Turning around she saw James staring at her with an unreadable expression.

"You're hurt," he said simply.

"What?" she asked, before her back decided to remind her of her injury.

Hissing in pain she mumbled "It's nothing. I'm fine,"

"No, it's not," he said, neither angry or upset.

"I'll deal with it later," she argued, starting to get annoyed. "I have to-"

"We're going to do it now," he said, pulling her away from the group. And as he did so, she knew they weren't going to deal with just her injury.

They walked a small ways away, still able to see and hear the group yet with enough privacy so as not to be disturbed.

"Sit," he instructed, pointing a thick log.

The pain now catching up, and the fatigue of several sleepness nights, she didn't argue. She watched as he walked back to the group, pulled something out from one of the bags they had packed and walked back.

Sitting next to her, he pulled a small bottle of clear liquid poured some on a piece of cloth and proceeded to dab it on her back.

She couldn't help the hiss that escaped her lips. Yet he offered no apology, only asking,

"How long have you been an elemental?"

"James, what you saw-"

"Was you moving water with your hand," he finished

"I-" she tired, yet from the look he gave her, she knew it was pointless to argue.

"I've been one all my life," she answered

"And you kept it hidden because?"

"Because it's expected," she said, confused. "Surely you would know this?"

"I do," he answered. "I just thought that my friend who valued the truth, had lied to me about the two most important parts of her life."

"Now hold on," she interjected, turning to look at him only to hiss out in pain. "I did not lie about being an elemental, I just decided to keep that part hidden. And secondly, you were not mad when I told you the truth about my family."

"But still you weren't honest," he argued, gently touching the wound. "I thought we agreed to be honest with each other."

"We agreed not to lie,"

"That's the same thing,"

"No it's-" she began, yet knew it was a loosing battle. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being truthful about my family. It is not something to be fully proud of. And as for not telling you of being an elemental, it is not something many people scream to the world."

"But why not tell me?" he asked, his voice much more gentle than before.

"People look at you differently," she explained. "When I learned you were the prince, I begin to look at you differently, before I saw there was no difference. I suppose a small part of me feared you would do the same."

"And what, leave you?" he chuckled. "You really think I would do something like that?"

"No,"

"Is there anything else I should know about you?" he asked "So we can stop having the same argument over and over again."

"Anne's one," she said.

"Really?"

"Yes, but please don't tell her you know," she begged "She'll just use it as an excuse to use her powers all the time."

"Do not like them?"

"I like them well enough," she said

"Anything else I should know about you?"

"No," she smiled. "How does it look back there?"

"Well on the bright side the wound isn't too deep, so you won't need stitches," he explained.

"But?"

"But, in order to bandage it properly," he paused "We'll have remove your dress."

"What!" she exclaimed.

"Just enough so I can cover the gash,"

"Wait!" she exclaimed again, before he could even touch the laces to her dress. "There is one more thing you should know. Please keep in mind that... it's not uncommon for people like me to have them, and that not all of them were meant for me."

Confused by her words, yet not wanting to dawdle on something like this began to gently undo the laces.

When enough were undone that he could peel back the partially blooded soaked material, he was shocked at what was underneath.

Dozen of scars littered her back. Some were long and thin. Others were thick and short. Most were faded yet some seemed to be new.

"What did you-" he began

"Like I said, not all of them were meant for me," she whispered

"Anne,"

"She doesn't deserve to have a scarred back, not if I can help it,"

"But neither do you," he said, as he gently wrapped a bandage around her torso and back. "I'm sorry that we weren't able to find her."

At this she smiled, "Whose says we didn't?"

"You mean?"

"I saw them loading her into the caravan just as we were leaving,"

"Then what are you doing here?" he asked, tying off the bandage.

"Well for one I'm half naked," she teased "And secondly, someone decided that the scratch on my back needed tending to."

"Not anymore," he said, finishing the last lace. "Go get her."

Laughing, she leapt up from the log and without another word dashed towards the camp.

"Anne? Anne!" she called, gazing around.

Most of the people seemed to have settled and were sitting around in groups around small fires.

"Anne?"

"Gen!"

Her heart leapt once more. Her eyes darted around, trying to find that little girl that had caused her heart so much grief.

"Anne?" she called again "Where are you?"

"Gen! I'm here!"

Whirling around, she felt as though her heart would burst from excitement. For there, standing not ten feet from her, was Anne.

Wasting no time, she ran towards her sister. Threw her arms around her, and pulled her close.

"Oh Anne," she murmured, kissing the side her sister's head. Hot tears ran down her face as she cradled Anne. "Let me look at you,"

Yet aside from the cobwebs, twigs and dirt that littered her hair, and the smudges of dirt and dust on her face and dress. She could see no scratches or bruises anywhere.

"I'm so sorry," Anne repeated over and over, tears running down her face.

"Shh," Genevieve whispered, pulling Anne close. "It's alright. Everything gonna be okay."

And for a moment she truly believed it. For a moment she had forgotten that they were in middle of the forest. That waiting at home was most likely a world of misery. Because in that moment she had Anne back in her arms, and that's all she needed.

Dang it, I am really bad at this. But there were parts that were driving me nuts. And I actually planned to have this end at them returning home, but decided it was stronger ending it here. So that ends the little rescue of Anne. What will happen next to our heroes? Well, only I know, and I'm not telling. But please tell me what you think. Good? Bad? Should I have had a kiss so earlier in the story or should I have saved it for later? Please feel free to let lose. And since I probably won't have a new chapter up till after Christmas, MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HANUKKAH, AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Thanks!