Winter's Wrath

by Sonata16

Love. Betrayal. Conspiracy. Shennanigans. And lots of Nightshade. That's what adventures in the Nevernever are made of. (This started as a little one piece for a friend that has grown into a seemingly endless story line...Hopefully others like it as well.)

21. Chapter 21

She didn't answer, looking straight at his chest, trying to keep her lower lip from trembling, or her hands from shaking in his grip, but it didn't seem to make any difference. He could see right through her as easily as if she was made of the finest glass, and he could break her just as easily, too, if he wanted. She didn't know if he knew that, but given the way he seemed to draw her so close into his arms that her body brushed up against his, and she had to fight hard to keep a whimper of alarm from coming out of her mouth, he did, though she figured the way she sucked in her breath was just as much a giveaway as the first would have been.

"So that is a yes," he murmured quietly into her ear, having lowered his head again so she felt the silken brush of his ebony hair against her face as it slid over his shoulder. "I guess I should not be too surprised that you still seem to cling to the memories of what has come to pass between us, though why you would continue to cling to such trivial things is something entirely beyond me. There is no value in those memories. And what is in the past is in the past. Why do you continue to linger in it?"

Because it had become part of her, and it was part of her present. If it weren't for what had happened in the past, she wouldn't be wishing that the present would quickly turn to the future, where the dance would end and she could break away from him. She had thought she could suppress the memories of the past with him, no matter how meaningless they might seem to anyone else if they were to rifle through them. To anyone else, what they had exchanged might seem like nothing more than the favor he had decided to name it, but she had always known it would take a piece of her with it when she gave it to him, that seemingly insignificant kiss. What she hadn't known, however, was just how hard it would be to see that piece of herself embodied in him when he stood before her again, or how agonizing it would be to feel that piece of her so close, yet so far away; irretrievable. She hadn't anticipated the pain that came with such close proximity to a missing part of one's self…she'd been stupid again.

"You really refuse to answer me," sighed Sage, sounding resigned as he dipped her again. "That is becoming very irritating."

She bit down hard on her tongue, nearly tasting blood as she cut against the skin, to keep herself from answering him. She knew the words in her mind would only become angry and violent when they emerged, and she had no desire to rouse the anger of Mab if she misspoke to her son, and therein again laid the issue of Titania's desperation to see her trip over herself, and she wasn't going to give either of the Bitch Queens the satisfaction of making herself a target, though, locked in Sage's arms, feeling the subtle warmth of his strong form against hers, she already felt like she had several enormous targets on her back. Titania's gaze was ever present, a glowing set of icy cold blue orbs staring down at her, waiting for her to falter, to make her prey. And Mab's pitch black eyes held all the mercilessness of a blizzard in their depths, and when Catherine made the mistake of glancing at the Winter Queen as Sage spun them around the very edge of the dance floor, near to the high table, she felt as though her heart had been frozen into an icy stone as the Ice Monarch stared down with the eyes of death at her. She might not have the same consciously malicious intent as Titania, but she had never been Catherine's biggest fan, and seeing her former prisoner embraced in the arms of her eldest son would do nothing to endear her any further.

"I am getting tired of this, half-blood," sighed Sage, snapping her from her reverie as he spun her away then back into his waiting arms. "Your silence is grating on my nerves, not to mention you do not seem to have the decency to look me in the eyes since I started questioning you."

"Sorry to disappoint you," she whispered back, grinding her teeth into her cheek to keep from looking up and glaring openly at him, though she didn't manage to keep the venom that was injected into her tone.

Sage glanced down at her, the surprise evident in his eyes as he cocked an eyebrow at her, but Catherine didn't notice, as she was much too relieved as the final strains of the orchestra floated through the air, and the dance finally came to a close. Gasping a small breath of relief, she snatched her hand from his, trying not to be too obviously eager to escape him, though she felt she ruined that subtle effect as she put both hands to his chest and started to push him away, trying to step back in unison with the action. He wasn't ready to let her sneak away that quickly, however, and just as she was stepping away he grabbed both of her hands in his, his fingers becoming manacles around her wrists, keeping her immobile.

"The dance is over," she whispered, not looking up as she tugged at her hands, trying to break his grip to no avail.

"The dance is just beginning," he murmured back, and suddenly the orchestra struck back up in full swing as yet more dancing couples swept onto the floor from the tables full of the nobility. "And I am not finished talking to you, half-blood."

"Let go," she hissed, feeling panic building in her chest, but he was already pulling her back, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"Would you prefer I let you push me away and offer an insult to your Lord and Lady as well as my mother the Queen?"

Catherine froze, her eyes darting back to the high table to see Titania narrowing her eyes in a kind of savage glee, as the Summer Queen could very easily see Catherine making attempts to break away from Sage as other couples swarmed the dance floor around them. As for Mab, the Queen was deep in conversation with Oberon, and not quite so observant, but that didn't mean someone else of power at the table wasn't keeping an eye on them in her stead. Rowan's ice blue eyes met her eyes, and the younger Winter Prince's lips curved in a lazy, self-satisfied smirk as he gazed down at her, chin propped up on his hand. She looked away quickly, feeling nauseous, and allowed Sage to pull her back to him, placing her hand obediently on his arm again and fighting back tears as he swept across the floor again, noticing that, in spite of the increased numbers of dancers on the floor, the circle of space around them never crowded, leaving them quite alone in their own little area.

"That was blackmail," she whispered shakily to Sage, closing her eyes as she felt tears burning just in the corners of her eyes.

"You could have said no," he told her quietly, sounding indifferent.

"I didn't really have a choice, did I?" she shot back at him, feeling her anger flare briefly.

"There is always a choice," he murmured. "You merely chose the path of self-preservation."

Catherine didn't answer, feeling her stomach shriveling up inside of her, and her heart giving that painful squeeze in her chest that was slowly starting to become commonplace the longer she stood with him. He was holding her close than he should be again, and she felt it was just his tactic of making her as unsettled and uncomfortable as possible in the hopes of getting yet more answers from her, as seemed to be his priority. But being so close was starting to add a whole new level of pain to her already aching heart, as clichéd as that might have sounded, even just in her mind, and she just wanted to let go and run away. But that wasn't an option, no matter what he said. There were no options.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered after a long moment of silent dancing.

"Doing what?" he murmured back quietly, his emerald eyes looking down at her, completely neutral, though her arched a slender brow inquiringly.

"You know what," she snapped back, momentarily losing her patience in spite of herself.

"Do I now?" he asked, sounding faintly amused. "I would assume you are referring to this seemingly undesired contact, and how I have apparently forced you to endure being in my presence. You know, half-blood, this is easily solved. All I require are answers."

She shook her head, keeping her eyes tightly shut, feeling the tears threatening to break through her defense.

"No," she breathed.

"Then I imagine we shall be here quite a while," Sage murmured, twirling her under his arm. "And I am prepared to dance all night if necessary, my Lady. Are you?"

"You can't do that," she whispered, terrified, her eyes snapping open to stare up into Sage's impassive emerald ones.

He smiled a very small, almost sarcastic smile and his emerald eyes seemed to darken.

"You seem to underestimate the abilities of what I, as a Winter Prince, am capable of doing," he murmured very softly, his voice holding a subtly concealed threat, "If I so cared to, I could have any woman in this room brought to me on her knees. What makes you think I cannot demand that you dance with me for the duration of this night? And would you really risk the fury of any of our rulers if I was to demand such a thing and you were to deny me?"

"Why would you do that?" she asked, feeling the tears pricking at her eyes, knowing he could see them, knowing she was powerless to stop them.

"Because I want answers," he said simply. "It's very easy to give me what I want, my Lady. You are only prolonging the inevitable and making the situation much more difficult than it needs to be. I have only asked why you are afraid, and why you would fear me of all the people in this room that could do you harm."

"And I don't want to answer you," she said in a trembling voice. "So forget it…"

"You are becoming ridiculously stubborn on the matter," sighed the Winter Prince, narrowing his eyes down at her, and she winced as she glanced up into his frosty emerald gaze.

"Losing your patience?" she asked, knowing she shouldn't taunt him, but unable to help herself.

"Hardly," he murmured back. "But, as I said, my Lady, I am fully prepared to wait out this night. Do you think you can as well? After all, it is not so hard to see from this vantage point that you are still very much buried in the memories of a mere two weeks ago."

Why did he seem to have the skilled ability to drive daggers into her heart without so much as breaking a sweat about it? And why had he had to see straight through her like that? She hated that…she hated that he could look right into her soul like he knew everything about her, as easily as if she'd written it out for him to read in the morning paper.

"So, what are you saying?" she questioned him in a tear filled voice, looking down at his chest, fighting tears with all of her might, her face drained of all color so she was almost as pale as he was, only where he looked like some angelic being sent to torment her, she looked near-death. "Is that your way of saying if I don't tell you what you want to know, you'll seduce me into telling you?"

"It wouldn't exactly be a difficult feat," he responded softly, and she felt the answer as though it had been a shock straight to her heart. "You are, after all, incredibly susceptible to me. That much is obvious. And, I am going to assume that you are still very much in the same mindset that you were two weeks ago."

"And what mindset would that be?" she asked.

Sage's lips turned up slightly at the corners in a smile, though there was no warmth or amusement in his emerald eyes as he looked down at her bowed head, only a cold, calculating kind of knowing. Inclining his head to hers, his lips brushing the top of her copper colored head, a feather light touch she felt all the way to her very core, he whispered against her temple,

"That you are in love with me."

Another stab straight into her heart, another wrenching blow that left her with diamond tears shimmering in her eyes, though, with her head bowed, she doubted anyone would see, and she wouldn't really want them to in any case. However, she should really have known better than to think no one would notice…but she had momentarily forgotten two very important people in the room.

Nikki and Trinity had been all but stranded at their table for the past few minutes in which they had both been attentively watching as Sage danced with Catherine, first as the only couple to command the dance floor, and now as the main focus of attention in their own circle of space in spite of the crowd now swarming the marble floor. In that time, Trinity had felt her unease slowly building and building the longer she watched her friend caught in the arms of the Winter Prince, especially when she had easily been able to see that at the end of the first dance Catherine had tried to get away, but Sage had prevented her. She'd watched the Prince whisper something to her friend, and though she had had no hope of hearing the words, she had the very distinct impression it had been a form of blackmail, because Catherine had stopped her bids for freedom after that, and was now permitting the Prince to continue twirling her idly across the floor. Nikki had also taken note of this, and the entire time her stomach been done up in painful knots, and her hand, which was nestled in the palm of Puck's, had clenched down until her knuckles almost turned white, and though Puck had occasionally winced, he did not reprimand her, and merely brushed his thumb over her hand, trying to silently comfort her. Though he was just as on edge as she was as he watched Sage and Catherine on the dance floor, his emerald eyes narrowed and thoughtful.

"Something's wrong," Nikki whispered suddenly, and tightened her hand a fraction tighter about his fingers.

"Are you sure?" Puck murmured, though he felt he really shouldn't have had to ask that.

"Really wrong," Nikki confirmed with a small nod, her chocolate eyes narrowing towards the dance floor as Catherine faced her for the briefest moment as she was twirled out from Sage. "She hasn't been looking up since the second dance started…"

"She might not want to look at him after whatever he said," Puck suggested very quietly.

"No," said Nikki, and a deep frown appeared on her face and she started to rise from her seat. "No, it's not just that. Something is really wrong, Puck. I need to get her."

Puck believed Nikki when she said it, though at the moment as he watched Sage and Catherine he himself couldn't really notice anything unusual aside from Catherine's noted reluctance to face the Prince, but Nikki had a sense he did not, as Catherine's friend of nearly a decade. She was going to notice things he wouldn't, and he had to trust her. Unfortunately, he also had to be the voice of reason.

"We can't just rush out there, Nikki," he said, taking his turn to grip her hand more tightly when she would have yanked it away and made a dash for Catherine. "We don't have anything to go on in front of everyone else, and it would be a huge problem if we went out there and split them up, especially if Sage is the one keeping her there. It means he wants to be there, and she is required to be there, and going out there to separate them is just going to throw all kinds of gasoline on the fire and Mab isn't going to be happy. And I get the feeling Titania is waiting for Cat to screw up, or for one of us to screw up by helping her, just to have an excuse to fuck us all over."

"But," Nikki turned to stare at him, her dark eyes imploring him, bright with fear, "She's in trouble, Puck, real trouble. I can tell. I can't just sit here and let her be stuck with him if he's hurting her!"

"I know, Nikki, and I'm not asking you to," he told her fervently, keeping a tight grip on her arm, "What I'm asking you to do is let me go take care of this in such a fashion that we'll all have our heads in their correct places, and so that Catherine doesn't get the short end of the stick and end up on Titania's shit list."

Nikki hesitated as she realized the sensibility in his words, though she still felt the itching in her to jump up as she caught sight of Catherine's face again. Her stomach dissolved. Catherine was in tears…

"Just hurry, Puck, I'm begging you, she's crying," Nikki hissed at the faery, staring towards her friend and barely keeping her seat.

Puck nodded once at her, gave her hand a brief, reassuring squeeze, then rose from his seat and proceeded quickly down from the table, heading for the dance floor. Nikki caught her breath, praying silently that she was about to witness Puck be heroic and step right in between her friend and the Prince and sweep Catherine out of harm's way, but she was disappointed a second later when the Summer faery swept right past the pair and continued towards one of the farther tables.

"Robin, what are you doing?" Nikki whispered, watching anxiously as the red headed fey glanced along the length of the table, searching for something. She could feel herself practically bouncing her seat with anxiety as he moved rapidly along the length of the table, his emerald gaze fixed unmoving on his target.

Nikki tried to follow the path of his eyes, but couldn't tell just where he was angling for, and began to chew hard on her lower lip, trying to fight down her anxiety as she glanced between where Puck was making his way along the tables to where Catherine was still being held in the imprisoning grip of Prince Sage.

"Hurry up," she whispered, glancing back at Puck again in time to see the fiery haired faery practically screech to a halt in front of a Summer sidhe who was deep in conversation with the bearded sidhe at his side.

As Puck waved a hand hurriedly at the Summer fey, however, the snowy haired noble paused in the middle of his conference to raise electric blue eyes to the jester's anxious, pleading face as Puck leaned forward to murmur inaudibly to him. Nikki stared at the pair of them as the white haired sidhe inclined his head even more in Puck's direction, his equally white brows turning down in a severe line as his striking gaze swept the floor to fixate on the singular spot where Sage and Catherine were still whirling in time to the music of the fey orchestra. He murmured something back to Puck, who shook his head curtly, and after a few more brief seconds of hushed conversation Sonata rose from his seat, swept around the edge of the table, and, after pausing merely to place a hand on Puck's shoulder and whisper into the fey's ear, he slipped away towards the dance floor. The crowds of dancers parted before him as he disappeared into their midst, and Nikki strained for a moment to keep track of his snowy head before she found herself much more interested in Puck as the Summer faery came speed walking back towards the table, his emerald eyes shimmering with triumph as he all but hopped back into his seat and flashed her a broad grin.

"Thank you," she whispered to him, immediately seizing his hand as he reached out to her, and he gave her his trademark wink.

"I was lucky he was willing to help," he told her, leaning his head in towards her as they both turned their attention back towards the dance floor, just able to catch sight of Sonata's shimmering snow white hair as he slipped between a set of couples twirling magnificently on the edge of the dance floor. "Though, we'll be lucky if he can make Sage give up his dance with Catherine."

"What happens if Sage tells him no?" Nikki whispered then, feeling her temporary surge of relief become immediately overshadowed by a wave of unease.

"I don't know," Puck admitted with a small frown at her, "But I'd imagine that, given how anxious Sonata was when I brought up the issue, he'll insist on cutting in. You've got to remember he cares about Catherine about as much as we do. He was her imaginary Prince Charming, after all. I'm pretty sure he realizes now is his moment to come sweeping in to rescue the fair maiden, even if he has to do it without a horse."

"There's just a small problem with your plan," a voice murmured, and Nikki turned her head rapidly to see Trinity standing behind her chair, her sapphire eyes wide with anxiety as she also stared towards the floor. "If Sage says no, and Sonata insists, that's going to catch everyone's attention in a split second. Not to mention Sage is a prince, and Sonata isn't."

"And what does that matter?" demanded Nikki.

"That if Sonata tells Sage to give up the dance," Puck murmured, his emerald eyes narrowing to mere slits as he focused them on the dance floor, "And Sage doesn't want to, that it'll go down about as well as a mouse telling a cat to give up the cheese."

"Then what's the hope of it?" Nikki felt ill again, and Puck felt like he might never feel his fingers again if she didn't loosen up on his hand.

"Just sit and see," he told her, gently patting her hand with his free one, at the same time discreetly trying to ease her death grip just enough to let a few blood drops into his veins. "Sonata might not be a prince, but he is a knight. And no self-respecting knight would ever leave his lady fair out among the wolves."

"I hope you're right," Nikki murmured, barely noticing the faery's attempts to restore circulation to his hands. Trinity didn't speak, but she was thinking the exactly the same thing as she watched—throat dry with fear—as Sonata finally drew level with Sage and Catherine and tapped the Winter Prince smartly on the shoulder.

"Pardon me, sire," Sonata murmured, electric blue eyes just barely narrowed as Sage turned curiously towards him. "Might I cut in? The lady had earlier promised me a dance, you see, and I was hoping to collect."

"Is that so?" Sage asked, his eyebrows shooting up, though he did pause, mid-step.

"Yes," murmured Sonata, and there was the subtlest warning in his voice. "Not to mention I believe the lady has had quite enough of you, if I might be so brazen as to suggest. Or perhaps you would care to tell me her tears are from the sheer joy of dancing with your highness."

It was Sage's turn to narrow his icy emerald eyes at Sonata, who did not so much as flinch under the bitterly cold stare of the Winter sidhe, and merely stood there expectantly, his eyes traveling only once to Catherine's face, which, as she stared desperately up at him, was streaked with sparkling tears. Sonata let a soft smile touch his face as he gazed back at her, reassurance in his lightning blue eyes, before a movement from Sage had him bringing his attention straight back to the man before him, who was contemplating him through thoughtful emerald eyes.

"You fancy the lady, knight?" Sage asked in a very low voice, and Sonata's eyes flashed. "Ah…I see…"

"I hardly think you do, sire," murmured Sonata in his soft voice, his tone even, though his eyes fairly burned with warning as he stared hard at the Prince, "The Lady and I have a promise between us, and, as my oaths of knighthood state, I am to offer my assistance to a Lady in distress, and I sincerely doubt that this young woman is shedding tears out of anything but the sheer disgust of being imprisoned here by you."

A soft gasp escaped Catherine; shock clear on her face as she stared up at Sonata, completely horrified by the words he had just spoken to Sage. The Winter Prince seemed to have similar feelings, though he kept them under much better wraps, his expression only flickering with disbelief for a split second before shutting off completely, though a small, humorless smile touched his mouth as he released Catherine, only to turn and fully face the Summer knight before him, who held his ground as Sage stepped forward so they were toe to toe.

"I admire your gall, knight," the Prince said, his voice carrying all the ice of winter in it, though his expression was well composed, "Though I would advise you to take care of how you address me the next time we encounter each other. Very well, you may have your dance with the Lady. Perhaps she will find comfort in the arms of Oberon's knave."

He said the last word with the closest thing to contempt one could get without letting too much emotion inject itself into his tone, and with a brief nod to Sonata, and a small bow to Catherine, who was standing just to the side, staring between the two males, Sage took his leave of them, not once glancing back. Sonata watched the Ice Prince walk away, careful to keep him in his peripherals until he had assured himself that Sage had resumed his proper place at the table on Mab's right hand, before turning to Catherine with a small sigh, his hard expression melting away until she could see nothing but concern in his gaze as he stepped forward to gently take her hand.

"Are you alright, my Lady?" he asked her quietly, not making a move to dance with her, but simply standing there and staring down into her over bright jade eyes as she stared back. "I would have come sooner, but I didn't realize anything was the matter until Robin Goodfellow came to tell me you were in need of me."

Puck…

Catherine glanced up towards the table where Puck was sitting with Nikki, and saw that Trinity had also joined them, standing between the other two. All three of them were looking in her direction, their expression identical masks of fear and concern, though she could also detect relief in the way that Nikki and Trinity tried to smile, though neither girl quite managed the effort as well as they had probably intended. Puck didn't even try to smile, but gave her a small nod of reassurance, his emerald eyes glowing with the kind of concern she had grown up seeing in her elder brother's eyes. Feeling a new flood of tears as her gratitude nearly overwhelmed her, and the guilt for not thinking her friends would realize she was in trouble, she quickly ducked her hand, lifting a hand to cover her eyes and biting down hard on her lip to fight back the urge to sob.

"My Lady."

Sonata's voice was clearly concerned, and she felt an arm circle her shoulders, drawing her away from the dance floor. She leaned into the Summer knight, trying her hardest to stifle her sobs, but the tears that managed to escape were clue enough for Sonata, and as he ushered her into a chair on a far table that was, for the most part, deserted, he frowned and drew a handkerchief from his breast pocket.

"This is no good," he murmured, genuflecting and reaching up to gently dab at her tear streaked face as she continued to struggle with her very precarious hold on self control. "Forgive me, my Lady, I had told you I would be here if you had need of me, but I wasn't able to protect you."

Catherine tried to tell him it wasn't his fault, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she almost choked on a sob, and settled for shaking her head in vehement denial. It hadn't been his fault, not at all. How could he hope to protect her from a danger she hadn't told him about? Besides, she hadn't meant for him to have to rescue her. She had fully intended that she would handle herself tonight, thinking, foolishly, that she'd be able to stand being close to Sage, or even in the same room with him, but that had been the stupidest thing she'd ever conceived of. Even now, though she was practically on the opposite side of the room from the Winter Prince, and was no longer trapped in his arms, she could easily feel his arms around her as surely as if he were still dancing with her. And her cheek still tingled from where his breath had whispered across it. Her hand and side fairly burned from his light touch, and behind her now closed eyelids she could see his emerald eyes, like chips of ice, staring back at her, just like in her nightmares. Judging her…

"It's not your fault," she whispered to Sonata, finally able to get control of her voice, but not quite able to keep the horrible trembling out of it, "You didn't know…I didn't tell you…"

"Then, please, my Lady, tell me now," Sonata implored her, dropping his hand from brushing her tears away to circle her fingers with his own, "Tell me what he has done to hurt you and I swear I will—"

"No," she whispered, feeling terror strike her dead in the heart, and her eyes snapped open to stare into Sonata's startled blue ones. "No, you can't…!"

"My Lady," Sonata's voice lowered, and his eyes narrowed to slits of electric blue, "If he has threatened you…"

"No, he hasn't," she whispered, shaking her head, resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to glance up towards the main table. Only the fear of what she might see on either Titania's or Rowan's face, or even on Sage's, kept her from doing so. "He didn't threaten me…I just…I lost control of myself…"

It wasn't a lie; it just wasn't the whole truth either. And Sonata seemed to know that, for his expression was clearly disbelieving as he looked up at her from his kneeling position on the ground. His fingers tightened on hers when she would have pulled her hand away from him, and he lifted his other to brush a thumb across her cheek, wiping away a rogue tear.

"Catherine," he said softly, and she felt her stomach twist, "I know you can't confide in me the same way that you used to, but I made a vow of loyalty to you all those years ago, and I still stand by it. Even if the inferences of the contract are not the same, I am still sworn to stand by your side and to protect you. Even if that means going against your wishes to discover the truth, I am obliged to do so to keep you safe and your dignity intact."

His words struck her to the core, as potent as a strike of lightning, and as she gazed down at him, totally thrown out of balance by the depth and severity held in those simple words, she felt the iron bars that had wrapped themselves around her heart since the encounter with Sage tighten even further, nearly robbing her of breath as she fought the agony in her chest.

"That was…" she tried to say, but her throat was too dry. She swallowed hard and tried again, "That was a long time ago…I was just a kid…You don't have to stand by that oath."

"I want to," he said quietly, his electric blue eyes burning so intensely she almost had to look away. "I was fey then and I am fey now. If I had not wanted to make that oath—no matter how innocent it might have seemed to you then—I would not have made it. I would have found a way around it, but I wanted to make the oath then, and I desire to keep it now. Because of that, I will continue to stand by your side. But, my Lady, we can debate the consequences of childish naivety at a later time. Right now, my duty is to ensure that whatever disgrace the Winter Prince has caused you is repaid."

"He didn't," she began, but Sonata glared at her and she cut off, startled.

"Please do not lie to me, my Lady," he told her very quietly.

"I'm not," she whispered, a little hurt by his mistrust.

"Then do not attempt to dance around the truth as you have taken to doing," he murmured, "Leave that to Robin Goodfellow."

"He didn't do anything, Sonata," she said, feeling a small jolt of frustration as the Summer noble continued to stare at her intently. "I'm serious, he didn't…I just lost control of myself…"

"You wouldn't lose control of yourself for no reason," Sonata said, still apparently not sold on her excuses.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, managing to inject a firm note into her voice, despite how she could feel herself coming apart inside. She was about to break down again, and she didn't want to be in public when it happened. She'd been lucky enough to get away practically unnoticed with her little scene on the dance floor. "I'm sorry, Sonata, but I just don't want to talk about it…"

Sonata was quiet, and she could see, looking into his eyes, the barely-there glimmer of hurt in his eyes as he realized she was pushing him aside, and she felt a deep wrenching in her stomach as guilt flooded her. She didn't want to push him away, she just wasn't about to drag him into the middle of her problems. She should be able to handle it on her own, and she felt so helpless and useless to realize she couldn't…at least not yet. She shouldn't have to rely on Sonata to help her with something so trivial as her broken emotions…

"I'm sorry," she whispered, slipping her hand away from his and rising from her seat, "I just…I need to be alone for a minute…"

She stepped around him, he made no move to stop her, and hurried for the archway leading out of the great hall, fighting the urge to run from the room, and biting so hard on her lower lip that she could taste the blood welling up in her mouth as she fought back tears. She felt horrible, for so many reasons they were almost impossible to count. She'd told herself she'd be able to handle herself tonight, and that had fallen through without so much as a safety net to catch her. She'd nearly had a breakdown on the dance floor, before Oberon and all, and Sonata had come to her rescue at Puck's warning that she was in need of the knight. Now she'd pushed him away when he had been doing nothing more than trying to help her. He'd sworn to stand by the childhood vow he'd made her when she was six years old, and he had no intention of letting it go.

Well, she thought miserably, turning sharply down a hall, heading for the courtyard, maybe he'd reconsider now, since she'd gone and pushed him out of the way. He wasn't the first person she'd done it to in the past few weeks, like Nikki and Trinity, and Demon, and he probably wouldn't be the last before this was all over and done with. And that was what she hated the most, pushing people away. People who had promised to be there for her through thick and thin, no matter what, even if they didn't have the fey oath to bind them, and who had continued to be there through all the hell she'd managed to put herself through, and here she was dusting them off like so much filth, trying to deal with it all on her own.

If she'd been a real friend, if she'd really cared, she would have told them by now, at least Nikki and Trinity, if no one else, but she hadn't even had the decency to do that. And she loathed it… Especially when she considered that, before Sage, before Nevernever, she wouldn't have hesitated for a second to go seek out her friends for help and support, and now she'd spent the past month basically lying to them. Yeah, she was some great friend…just a right chum. The tears were flowing freely now, and she had finally broken into a run, though she wondered in the back of her mind just how wise an idea it was to run while half blinded by tears, but she didn't particularly care too much if she ended up tripping. She just wanted to get away…

"I hate this," she choked, wiping angrily at the tears in her eyes and gasping in relief to see that she had finally come to the front entrance, where she would find the courtyard just beyond.

Quickening her pace, nearly tripping over the hem of her dress, she dashed the last few steps and reached out her hands to shove at the door, which opened with a soft whistling creaking sound, freeing her from the confines of the castle. She ran out, into the moonlit courtyard, gasping deep breaths of Summer air as she stumbled into the almost silent garden, blinking tears out of her jade eyes as she looked around, finding she was alone, and that was fine with her. She'd come here meaning to be alone…

Gasping still, sobs occasionally punctuating her breaths, she moved slowly across the open yard, still wiping pathetically at the tears in her eyes, until she stood before one of the many bubbling fountains that littered the place, and sank down onto the marble edge of it, dropping her face into her hands and allowing her sobs to take full control of her.

Her shoulders began to shake, and her entire body trembled as she cried openly, feeling the hot tears searing against her skin as she hunched over, curling in on herself. Her heart throbbed and ached in her chest, so painful at one point that she clutched at it with a hand, trying to press down and stifle the agony, but not managing to do more than remind herself that no matter what she did it would continue to ache and hurt. She'd done that to herself… If she'd been smarter, just a little bit wiser, she wouldn't have ended up like this, pining after a man who wouldn't look twice at her for anything but answers, and shoving away the friends she'd held dear for so long while they struggled to find just what was wrong, still trying to help her despite all the worry and pain she knew she had caused them.

Why had she become like this? Maybe she'd always been this way, she thought, it just hadn't manifested until now, since her own fey genetics were slowly mixing in. After all, hadn't she heard that Cait Sith couldn't love? Maybe her love for her friends had been a stupid human illusion that she'd managed to conjure up during her life as a human in the Mortal Realm, and now that she was here, among the fey, her Cait Sith blood was finally waking up, and waking her up to the reality that she couldn't have friends. Having friends required loving, and if she couldn't love, then wouldn't it be a lie to have friends?

"I hate this," she whispered again, Nikki's and Trinity's faces swimming before her eyes. "I hate this so much…I should have just stayed home…"

"Oh, now, whatever is the matter?" The voice that spoke so gently scared her more than anything, and she jerked her head up immediately, swinging around to the source of the sound.

A shadow lingered just out of sight nearby her, hidden by the overhanging branches of a nearby willow, though she thought she could make out the soft gleam of hazel eyes watching her attentively from between the dangling strands of leaves. She couldn't tell anything about it, other than it was rather short, not quite as tall as her, but that didn't mean anything. Size didn't matter when something wanted to hurt you…and she didn't trust anyone who had managed to sneak up on her like she had been.

"Who—who are you?" she stammered out, rising quickly to her feet, wiping at her tears and keeping one eye on the shadow as it shifted just barely in the darkness.

"A friend," the voice said softly, and she felt a jolt as the shadow moved forward with a soft clopping sound, like hooves striking the leaf carpeted ground, and a moment later she was staring into the young, concerned face of a satyr as he ambled towards her, his hazel eyes trained on her face.

Her heart went straight to her throat as she gazed back at the satyr, who offered a friendly smile, raking a hand carelessly through his short cropped black hair, his horns sticking up from his bangs, and she nearly tripped over herself as she took several rapid steps away from him.

"Oh, don't be afraid," he said, putting his hands out to her, as though to show he meant no harm, "I won't hurt you. I just heard you sounding so sad and thought you might like some company. Come, sit with me, talk."

Pretty words, she thought, her stomach turning in knots as she continued to retreat from the goat-man, who continued his slow approach towards her. Satyrs were nothing more than promiscuous, sex-addicted fiends and they would do anything to get what they wanted, and Catherine would sooner die than let herself become a victim.

"I need to get back," she said, trying to sound firm when she was really choking on fear. "A friend is waiting for me."

Briefly she wondered just what friend would wait for her when she came back, then shook off the painful thought as Sonata's, Nikki's and Trinity's face crossed her mind's eye and turned her full attention back to the satyr, who was still smiling, though the friendliness that had once been there was gone. In its place she could see the glint of lust and eagerness as she continued to step away from him, and he stepped closer.

"Stay a while," he invited her, and glamour shimmered around him for a moment, showing her a handsome young fey with flowing blond hair and sparkling violet eyes, his hand outstretched towards her, beckoning. "Please. I can make you happy again."

She shook her head firmly, forcing herself to see past the glamour to the satyr, who was still closing in, and when she glanced around, trying to determine who quickly she could reach the door before he could catch her, she felt her throat close to see he was no longer alone. Three satyrs lounged in the entrance way, smiling at her, their eyes burning hungrily, and, alerted by a soft clopping to her right, she turned and found herself staring at two more satyrs, who, along with the first, were beginning to corral her into a corner of the courtyard. Fear became a living thing in her, and her entire body began to tremble as she finally felt her back hit a leafy wall, and the satyrs formed a loose semi-circle around her, the leader in front of her, smiling.

"Don't be afraid," he crooned at her, and his companions chuckled darkly, "We promise, we'll be gentle. And you won't have to cry anymore."

She was beyond tears at this point, and was staring desperately around the circle, looking for an escape route, anything to get away, but there was nothing. The satyrs were already closing ranks, cutting off any loose holes she might think of running through, and she felt her stomach drop straight to her toes as the leader came even nearer, not even seven feet away, a lustful gleam in his hazel eyes.

She tried to scream, but her voice had died, and her mind was a whirling blur of chaotic thought and terror as she pressed herself as far back into the wall behind her as she could, her heart slamming hard into her chest as the lead satyr smiled greedily at her, his eyes raking her body. She just wanted to vanish, to disappear…evaporate into nothing.

A spark went off in her mind, and she let a small gasp escape as realization hit her with the force of a freight train. She'd been stupid. What had Demon been training her for all this time before now? She could vanish, evaporate, even, but would she able to evaporate far enough? Thirty feet was her max… She glanced around the circle of advancing satyrs, the leader now four feet away, close enough to reach out and grab her. His companions were further off, almost ten feet off…It would be enough.

She closed her eyes, reaching for her glamour as the lead satyr lifted a hand, reaching for her arm, and as the bright colors rose to engulf her she drew it tightly around her, and pushed. She felt her body shimmer, almost like a tremor running all throughout her, and for a moment her feet left the ground as the earth dropped away, no longer able to bind her, and then she was on the ground again, her feet touching down and she heard the satyrs gasp in unified shock.

"Where did she go?!" one of them yelled as she opened her eyes and looked around to see them all staring stupidly at the spot where she had been. She quickly ducked behind a tree before they could turn and discover her, gasping with a trembling hand pressed to her mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound.

"Damn," hissed another, and she heard a flurry of clopping as the herd spread out, searching for her. "She might have evaporated right back into the castle!"

"No, she's still here," insisted another, sounding like the leader. "I can smell her here…Come out, little flower, we're not going to hurt you. We just want to make you happy again. Don't you want to be happy?"

Catherine didn't answer, pressing herself into the shadows of the willow she'd taken cover behind, almost holding her breath as she heard the satyrs moving around, hunting for her. Some of them called out to her, their voices gentle and almost concerned, but she did not answer, and instead hid in the shadows, praying they would give up and leave. But something in her gut told her they wouldn't…they would keep looking…and they would find her…

She closed her eyes tightly, fighting tears again as she heard a satyr move very close to her hiding place, his crooning voice calling out to her, coaxing her to show herself so he could show her true happiness. She wanted to make herself invisible, but she was already exhausted, and she felt she was too emotionally unbalanced right now to manage more than a flickering few seconds of invisibility. Her best bet was to stay where she was, completely still, and hope they didn't spot her, and moved further into the courtyard so she could escape back into the castle.

"Ah," a voice murmured then, and she opened her jade eyes, glancing around, and feeling her heart stop beating to see an auburn haired satyr staring right at her, just four feet away, with a triumphant smile on his face, "Hello, flower…"

She bolted, not stopping to give him the chance to get nearer, but as she dashed from the shelter of the tree, she felt a hand seize her firmly by the arm, and, looking around, she found herself staring into the hazel eyes of the lead satyr.

"There you are, flower," he said, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away, "My, my, if you wanted to play a game, you should have told us sooner. We love to play games, don't we, boys?"

The other satyrs were circling up again, this time forming a tight ring around her and their leader as she struggled to get away, lashing out to kick him in the gut so he grunted and doubled over gagging. She tried to run, but was immediately seized by two other satyrs and thrown back into the center of the circle.

"No more running away, pretty," sneered the leader, getting his breath back and seizing her, using his superior strength to throw her to the ground.

She felt her dress tear, and the ground scraped up her arms and palms as she tried to catch herself. The satyrs were laughing as the leader loomed over her, his hazel eyes glinting lustfully.

She wanted to scream, but her voice had gone again, and she could only stare up in terror as the leader and the others closed in, reaching out to seize her arms, pawing at her ruined dress. Tears gathered in her eyes as she kicked out again, but missed, and a satyr pinned her ankle to the ground. This was it, she thought, she was about to be raped by a bunch of satyrs…and she had thought her night had already suffered the worst violation…

"Now, don't cry, flower," crooned a satyr by her head, his breath hot and disgusting against her cheek. "We promise, we'll be good."

"Or you'll be dead," purred a soft voice, menace dripping from every syllable, and the air around her suddenly dropped ten degrees and the satyrs stopped tearing at her clothes to turn wide, terrified eyes towards a figure approaching slowly from the main entrance.

"P-Prince Rowan!" squeaked the leader, and the other satyrs immediately relinquished their hold on Catherine, leaving her on the ground as they retreated, bowing low to the Winter Prince as he towered above them.

Rowan smiled down at the herd, but there was no kindness in his ice blue eyes as he gazed at them, and Catherine felt her blood chill to see the pure malevolence glowing in the cerulean depths. The Prince idly palmed the hilt of his sword, as though contemplating drawing it, as he cocked his head at the satyrs.

"I am going to count to five," he said, still in that velvety murmur that sent chills running down Catherine's spine, "And any one of you who hasn't managed to disappear by then will be very, very sorry…One…"

The satyrs fled, scrambling over each other to clear out before Rowan could finish counting, squealing in fear and terror as they tripped over themselves. Rowan watched them go, a sinister smile curling his lips as the last one finally vanished from sight, and silence settled over the courtyard again. Catherine was still on the ground, staring up at Rowan, hardly able to believe what had just happened. Rowan, Prince Rowan, her past-tormentor and captor, had just rescued her.

"Filthy animals," the Prince said then, disdain coloring his voice as he snorted and shook his head. "I don't understand why Oberon favors them so much…Mab has frozen entire armies for less than that."

He looked down at her then, and a small smile touched his handsome face, not sardonic or sneering, just…gentle.

"Are you alright?" he asked, stepping forward and going to one knee to offer his hand.

"I…" Catherine suddenly became aware she was still lying on the ground, covered in dirt, and her dress—while still covering her—was devastated. Glancing down in embarrassment she tentatively took Rowan's hand, and allowed the Prince to lift her to her feet, feeling herself blush when he wrapped an arm around her waist to help her stand upright as she got her bearings.

"What a pity," he sighed, gently dusting off her back and shoulders and frowning down at her dress. "I am sure Oberon's seamstress worked on that dress, and you looked so lovely in it."

She had to be hearing things…Was Rowan complimenting her? Turning a critical eye on him, momentarily distracted from her previous terror by his uncharacteristic show of compassion and concern, she gave him a skeptical look as he met her gaze and raised a dark eyebrow.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

"Why are you being nice to me?" she asked slowly.

His eyebrows shot up. "Beg pardon?"

"Did you drink too much faery wine or something?" she inquired, arching an eyebrow.

Rowan laughed aloud, clearly amused, and gently took her hand, startling her, to draw her over to a nearby fountain.

"And I thought you didn't have a sense of humor," he chuckled, gesturing that she should take a seat, which, after a moment's hesitation, she did.

She still kept a watchful eye on him as he pulled his cloak from his shoulders, only to drape it around her before assuming a seat beside her on the fountain's lip, turning his eyes skyward.

"I was serious," she mumbled after a moment, subconsciously pulling the cloak tighter around herself, noting that it smelled subtly of frost and something like pine.

"I can't be nice?" Rowan asked, turning to give her a small smirk.

"You locked me up for almost a week," she said curtly, casting him a sharp look to which he sighed and looked slightly resigned.

"The past is the past, my Lady," he told her calmly. "I would hope you'd forgive that transgression in light of recent events."

She flushed and looked away, realizing he was right. He might have locked her up all that time ago, but he had just saved her from being assaulted and raped by a herd of satyrs. On the tail of that thought, she felt a tremor run through her entire body as she remembered the few seconds before, trapped by the satyrs, their hands greedy on her body. She shuddered again, drawing Rowan's attention, and took a shaky breath, suddenly fighting the urge to cry—again. How many times could she cry in one night, really?

"Are you alright?" Rowan asked quietly, and she chanced a look in his direction to see him watching her with a small frown on his face.

She looked away, not managing to hide a small sniff, and shook her head. There was a brief pause, and then she started in alarm as Rowan leaned forward to wrap both arms around her, drawing her into him and leaning his head against hers. She froze up in his embrace, not at all certain what to do, or whether she might be dreaming, but the coolness of Rowan's breath against her temple was very much real, and after a moment of sitting as though frozen, a thousand emotions came pouring in on her all at once, too fast to stop or comprehend, and then she was crying into his chest, her hands fisted in his tunic.

He murmured softly to her, one hand petting her hair while the other smoothed over her back, gentle and reassuring, and for once she didn't care who he was, or what he had done. He was there, and he didn't mind she was coming apart in his arms, and that was all that really mattered at that point. That he let her cry out her fear and her pain and her anger at the world, and not ask a single thing about it, just calmly accept it as he rocked her gently back and forth in his arms.

All in all, the sob session didn't take as long as she might have expected it to, and soon enough she was gently pulling back from Rowan, wiping pathetically at her watering eyes and bowing her head as she heaved a deep sigh.

"Sorry," she murmured, sniffling and avoiding his gaze, though he kept one hand resting on her arm, his fingers moving in a soothing caress. "I don't know what happened…"

"You've been overwhelmed," Rowan said with a lazy shrug, offering a small, understanding smile.

Catherine glanced up at him briefly, trying to read more than just the gentle warmth radiating from his blue eyes, but not managing to find anything she looked away again.

"I guess so," she mumbled, sniffing again and looking out across the courtyard. "I hadn't really thought about it…I've just been waiting to get today over with for the past couple of weeks…"

"Why?" Rowan asked, sounding bemused. "Were you really not looking forward to the party?"

"That, too," she admitted, "But…I just want to get on with finding my father…"

She paused, realizing what she had just confessed, and glanced up in unease at him, to see if he had found her words too interesting, but he merely sat there, looking unruffled and calm, his blue eyes contemplative but not malicious as he gazed back at her.

"Is that why you came back to Faery?" he asked, inclining his head to one side. "When you ran away the first time, and then came back, you did so to look for your father?"

She hesitated to answer him, wondering just how much he was really letting on about his interest in her venture, and if she should really trust those too-blue eyes, but she couldn't sense any malevolence about him, and she had made sure to tune herself into it. After all, one didn't simply forget when someone locked them up, no matter how the person might act later. Swallowing a little, trying not to look too suspicious of him, she lowered her jade eyes to the ground and nodded.

"Demon's helping me," she murmured, "Since I can't do it on my own…"

"Have you had any luck so far?"

Why was he being so nice about this? She might have suspected he'd drugged her with something if they'd been in the hall eating, trying to worm answers out of her like a certain sibling of his, but she hadn't touched anything given to her, and she was pretty sure he didn't carry needles around for the purpose of drugging up his victims for questioning. And she couldn't detect any glamour in the air that wasn't already naturally there…Well, she thought, peeking up at Rowan from under her lashes, locking eyes with him as he looked attentively back, what the hell did she have to lose?

"Not yet," she sighed, shaking her head in answer to his question. "We thought maybe a friend of Demon's here might know something, but he just told us we'd be better off going to ask Lord Wrath."

"Lord Wrath," murmured Rowan, and a shadow of emotion crossed his fair skinned face before he could manage to hide it, but Catherine wasn't quick enough to decipher what it was before it was gone. "Well, your friend might very well be right. If anyone might know a thing or two about your father, it would be the King of Cats. When do you leave to find him?"

"I had hoped tonight," Catherine said, shrugging lamely, "But I'm thinking that won't happen."

"Oh, and why not?" Rowan frowned.

"Just…" Catherine paused to consider her answer, then sighed again and bowed her head, "I'm just not up to going anywhere tonight…too much has happened…"

"I had noticed," said Rowan with a small smile. "Satyrs running around like rutting goats, Oberon's Queen has it out for you…"

"How did you know about that?" Catherine asked, turning to stare at him, and he smirked a little.

"It's kind of obvious," he said idly. "Given the way she was looking like she just might turn you into a newt for the way that Summer knight was being so kind to you right before you ran away."

"Oh," mumbled Catherine, feeling her cheeks darken as she quickly averted her gaze. "That's…nothing…he's a very old friend of mine…"

"Really?" Rowan arched an eyebrow. "I didn't know you had friends in the Summer nobility already."

"He was my 'imaginary' friend when I was little," she confessed, feeling a little embarrassed admitting it that way. "I didn't know he actually existed until a couple of weeks ago. And I thought he would have forgotten anyway, since I was so little when we met, but he remembered. Titania doesn't really know about it, but she doesn't like me anyway…"

"Titania doesn't like anyone," Rowan said with a derisive snort. "How Oberon has tolerated her all these centuries is really beyond anyone, and how she hasn't murdered him yet is just as mind boggling. Everyone assumes it's because he's too powerful for her to get rid of and he loves her too much to throw her out on her ass."

"You sound like Puck when you say that," she sighed, rolling her eyes at the stars and smiling slightly.

Rowan chuckled softly. "Well, at least Goodfellow and I agree on something," he said with a wry smirk, "Though, while we're still talking about it, I get the feeling that a vengeful faery Queen is the last of your worries, really."

"Oh?" Catherine looked around at him, expecting to see that contemplative expression on his face, and felt a jolt hit her low in the gut when she saw his ice blue eyes narrowing, and a rather knowing smile played across the corners of his mouth. "And…what makes you say that?"

"Because I am neither blind, nor stupid," he told her, cocking an eyebrow, "And it wasn't exactly difficult to see the troubles all started the minute you went to dance with my prude of a brother."

Shit…

"Which brings me to another topic," Rowan said, rising slowly to his feet and dusting himself off before turning to look down at her, head cocked to one side like a curious feline. "Since we were discussing how you returned to Faery after you ran away before, I was just wondering how you managed to hide out for so long in Winter the second time around, and don't even try telling me you weren't in Winter, because—while my Thornguards might be lacking in brains—they are highly adept at tracking. They caught your scent when they were searching for you after we got the heads up you'd come back with your guardian. I, of course, went out to look for you, just wondering how you would have gotten back in, and managed to hide out so well. But when we found the place where you had apparently been hiding out you were gone, and there wasn't a trace left behind."

Catherine could feel her heart picking up speed, and stared in fear into Rowan's ice blue eyes as the Winter Prince offered her a rather sardonic smile, the one that she had first been anticipating from the moment he had come out to rescue her from the satyrs.

"Someone helped you," the sidhe prince murmured, "And it wasn't your guardian, though I certainly did contemplate that. But he wouldn't have the ability to hide you and himself for so long, and you couldn't possibly do it on your own. So, who in the whole of Unseelie Territory would consider helping you under threat of death from Mab for doing so?"

Catherine felt her throat go dry, and had to keep herself from swallowing convulsively and giving herself away as she gazed up as calmly as she could into Rowan's face, though she wasn't sure how long she could hold herself together with her heart pounding like battering ram against her rib cage. Not to mention she felt certain Rowan could sense her fear, and judging by the growing smirk on his face, he was getting all the answers he wanted just from watching her squirm.

"Who was it, Catherine?" he asked softly, stepping directly in front of her and leaning down so their faces were just inches apart. "I'd really like to tell them thank you for making it possible to see you again, though maybe not on the terms I would have preferred."

Catherine bit down on her lip, wincing as she aggravated the earlier cut from where she'd bitten herself, and feeling the copper tang of blood on her tongue as it reopened.

"Oh, don't do that," Rowan said, his tone almost chastising as he reached up with a hand to cup her chin, his thumb brushing over her bloodied lip. "Would it really be so bad to tell me?"

"It's none of your business," she said quietly, feeling herself trembling just at his touch, though there was no excitement in her as the Prince leaned even closer, his blue eyes narrowed, until she could feel the cool, wintery touch of his breath on her cheek.

"It is entirely my business," he told her in a velvety purr. "Besides, Catherine, I think you owe me a favor for saving you just a while ago, unless you'd rather I call those sexually frustrated zoo animals back to have a little fun."

Catherine felt terror strike deep into her core, and knew it shone in her eyes from the triumphant way Rowan smirked at her.

"Now," he said, and suddenly she was jerked upright as he grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet, "I think we can settle this very easily, without having to resort to underhanded measures, don't you? I just want to know who helped you out. Was it my tender hearted big brother? He sure seems very keen on you, and I don't remember him getting so into a girl in all the six hundred years I've known him, even if you are a little half blooded cat."

Catherine was trying to keep breathing, trying not to panic as she stood captive in Rowan's almost crushing grip, and as she looked up into his maliciously gleaming eyes a thought occurred to her and it gave her just the smallest bit of reassurance.

"Do you really want to make it known in the whole Nevernever that the great Prince Rowan stooped so low as to command a bunch of satyrs to rape a girl just because she told him no?" she asked him very softly, and felt a small surge of satisfaction to see him pause.

"And who would believe you?" he asked, recovering quickly.

"Anyone," she told him, and felt a small smirk come to her face. "I have friends in high places, too, Rowan. And I think my dress already kind of speaks for itself."

His eyes flickered down to confirm the tattered mess that was her previously regal black gown, and darkened as they lifted back up slowly to pin her with a rather malevolent stare.

"Well played, half breed," he congratulated her with a dark smile. "Fine, I won't call the petting zoo back, but I can think of a few other ways to play this game."

Catherine didn't speak, waiting to see just what kind of blackmail he'd pull this time around, figuring that whatever he threw at her couldn't be anywhere near as bad as his threat to call the satyrs. After escaping a herd of fey intent on raping her, she could take anything he tried to suffocate her with.

"You're good friends with Lady Trinity, aren't you, Catherine?" Rowan purred softly, his eyes narrowing to mere slits, and Catherine felt her heart still. "Quite a lovely girl, even for a half breed daughter of Oberon's lackey. You know, she actually kind of reminds me of another half breed I used to know. I missed the chance to play with that other one, since she managed to run off into her little metal kingdom and protect herself, as well as steal away my baby brother."

Meghan… Catherine saw the Iron Queen's face flash in front of her face, and felt nauseous as Rowan continued in a lazy drawl,

"But, you know, Trinity could almost be the Queen's twin if you get her in the right lighting, wouldn't you agree? Just dim the lights a little and you have a perfect match…and while I'll admit it will probably be a little tricky getting her alone, she isn't quite as safe as she might like to think, even in Oberon's court."

"Don't touch her," Catherine gasped out, her fear and anger mixing together as she lifted her head to glare up at Rowan, who looked exceptionally pleased with her reaction.

"I'll have no need to put my hands on your friend," he told her softly, "So long as you tell me what I want to know. It's just a simple yes or no question, Catherine, really. Did Sage open his bleeding heart up to you and keep you safe and warm in Winter? Or was it some other poor bastard you managed to catch favor with. A pretty face like yours, it wouldn't be all that hard to get someone to look your way, would it?"

"Shut up," she said, her voice fairly trembling with anger, "Just shut up, and let go of me!"

"Of course," he said idly, almost oblivious to her struggles as she tried to push at his chest for some kind of leverage to free herself. "Right after I get what's owed to me. I saved you, Catherine, and I am very sure you wouldn't want to put yourself in a bad position with Mab if she heard you didn't pay me back a favor."

"You sound just like your brother," she spat at him, then a split second later realized what she'd done as Rowan's icy eyes lit up with triumphant glee.

"So it was Sage," he purred, his lips curling into a deep smile as horror washed over her. "My darling brother hid you from me…How interesting. And what did you give him to keep you from me, hm? I don't imagine he took much interest in what your body has to offer, but I could be mistaken. After all, here was me thinking he'd been telling the truth when he said he didn't hide you from me."

Catherine froze at those words, stunned. Sage had lied to Rowan? Lied about keeping her in the castle? No…that couldn't be right. Sage couldn't lie. But he could easily have maneuvered his way out of the straight truth and Rowan had just decided that, to suit his own purposes, his brother had lied to him. But how had he done it? How could he say he hadn't hidden her and have it be the truth?

"He…didn't hide me," Catherine stammered out, her mind already working frantically to make sense of the words coming out before she could stumble over them.

"Oh, he didn't?" Rowan asked, though he didn't look at all like he believed her now. "I had thought you were just telling me you owed him a favor for hiding you from me."

"I don't owe him any favors," she said furiously, and that, at least, was the truth. She owed Sage nothing anymore. He'd collected every one of his damned favors from her, but she wasn't about to let Rowan in on the fact that she had owed Sage anything in the first place. Besides, she hadn't really owed Sage for giving her safe haven in the first place. Demon had paid those debts, and Catherine had only had to promise Sage would never see her in his territory again.

Well, that had been easier said than done, but the fact still stood that she owed Sage nothing and never would again. And Rowan was about to be sorely disappointed if he thought he was going to get away with blackmailing her and trying to catch his brother in the act of treason.

"Then why did you say I sounded just like my brother, I wonder?" Rowan was asking lightly, cocking his head at her. "Or did I mistake the context in which you spoke? Are we not alike in the way we pick up what is owed to us?"

No, he hadn't mistaken it at all, but how did she get around it?

"I don't owe him anything," she repeated firmly, still twisting her wrists in his grip, trying to break free, and wincing when he tightened his grip, "I just get sick of that condescending tone the both of you use like you're so much better!"

There, that was it! She could see the frustrated gleam in Rowan's eyes as he stared down at her, and knew she'd done it. Though why she'd done it, she didn't know…Why hadn't she let Sage take the fall? There was no binding promise that made it so she couldn't tell others what he'd done, whether it would get him in trouble or praised. So why was she protecting him? She felt the answer stirring in her mind, and quickly shoved it to the darkest recesses of her mind where she couldn't see it, ignoring the small protesting voice that went with it, telling her to accept what was.

"Well, then," sighed Rowan, frowning, clearly annoyed, though his eyes still gleamed bright blue with malice, "That is an unfortunate misunderstanding. I had hoped to get mother's favorite son in a bit of trouble, since he's always been such a boring little kiss up, minding his own business. But, as you humans like to say, c'est la vie. That's life."

Catherine ignored him, still pulling at her hands, trying to break away from him, but he gave a low chuckle of amusement and tightened his grip deliberately until she squeaked with pain and stopped moving, not wanting to risk him snapping her bones.

"There's a good girl," he purred at her, and she threw a venomous glare up at him to which he laughed. "Aw, you're such a little wildcat. And here I thought you were just a tame little house cat. Silly me."

"Let go," she hissed at him, glad, at least, that he didn't seem to notice that really she wasn't so much angry as downright terrified.

"But I am not done with you, yet, my Lady," the sidhe Prince said in his softest voice, leaning down over her so she had to turn her head away to avoid his lips meeting hers as he came too close to her. "You still me owe me a favor, and I think, since this last plan has fallen through that I'll have to change it to something else a little more rewarding."

"What, you're done blackmailing me to find out who helped me?" she asked bitterly.

"Well, if it isn't my brother, I don't particularly feel like wasting my time and energy on figuring out who the bastard is," Rowan said carelessly.

Of course not, she thought, he'd only wanted to hear her answer to get his brother up to his neck in shit with Mab and whoever else might raise a fuss about it.

"Now, let's see," sighed the prince, tilting his head back as though to star gaze, though she could see the cogs of his devious mind beginning to turn as he contemplated just how to make her pay him back. If she'd cared less for herself, she would have been half wishing he'd just left her to the satyrs, but she'd sooner pay a debt to Rowan than be left to the mercy of a herd of sex-addicted fey. "Ah, yes…I think that will work…"

She felt nauseous as he turned glinting blue eyes onto her, and had to make herself keep from struggling or giving in to her urge to scream for help as he briefly released one of her hands, only to snake his arm firmly around her waist and drag her up against him, nearly making her sick from the close contact with him. Though she managed to keep her stomach from rebelling, she couldn't help the small gasp of alarm as she was pressed against the Prince, and his cool breath brushed like the touch of a winter chill against her face, causing her to jerk her head away as he brought his face very near to hers.

"I think I would like a kiss as my repayment," he murmured, angling his head to speak directly into her ear, sending shivers of disgust crawling down her spine. "And don't think about getting the idea of giving me anything less than a kiss on the lips, Catherine, because I know you would take my literal meaning and worm your way right out of this favor."

She was really going to be sick now, but not even so much because the feel of his body against hers was making her head reel with nausea. No…she was thinking of something else entirely… Of another Winter Prince, who had also demanded a kiss as her repayment to him. If it hadn't been so terrifying, she might have laughed in scorn at how all Winter Princes seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in kissing her, or gone so far as to taunt Rowan for wanting to put his lips on a half-breed like her, but she was too busy trembling in Rowan's arms to really care about anything else.

There were a thousand different reasons why she did not want Rowan to kiss her, the most obvious being she didn't want to put her lips on any part of him, the other being because she wasn't about to give away another kiss as a favor to some self-serving jack ass like Rowan. But the main reason that she was reluctant to admit to herself for not wanting Rowan to kiss her was that just the thought of a kiss made her remember Sage, and she could feel the eldest Prince's kiss almost like it had happened minutes ago, and she was terrified if she kissed Rowan she would lose that feeling. She'd sooner remember Sage's kiss for a thousand years, even if it caused her nothing but grief, then remember Rowan's for a minute and lose Sage's for good.

She might like to entertain the idea that Sage's kiss had been so potent nothing could ever wipe it from her mind, but she wasn't naïve enough to sit there and think she wasn't entirely susceptible to Rowan, because she totally and completely was. Just looking at him now, staring into his eyes, she could feel her heart beat a little faster, and felt a kick of excitement as he smiled down at her, his blue eyes momentarily void of all that maliciousness and darkness. He looked almost handsome that way, she thought, her hands tightening unconsciously in his tunic, rather than trying to push him away as he freed her other hand to wrap his arm firmly around her waist, pulling her even closer, if that was even possible.

Would it even be so bad to kiss him, she wondered vaguely as he lifted hand to idly brush back a stray strand of copper hair that was hanging in her face. What was so horrible about it? It wasn't really like she had feelings for Rowan, so it wouldn't mean anything…she was just paying back a favor…

She jolted at her own thoughts, turning her face away at the last second with a gasp as she realized she'd nearly been glamoured right into kissing him. Just paying back a favor? Bullshit, the last time she'd tried to convince herself of that she'd landed herself in such hell. Hell that she was still suffering as a result from when she'd seen Sage…been dancing with him… No, nothing was ever 'just' anything, whether it was a favor or anything else, especially not when the favor was this.

"Catherine," Rowan murmured, breaking in on her mental reprimand, his voice reproachful and tender. "Come on, look at me…it's just a little kiss…"

Just, she thought sourly. Yeah, 'just'. It would never be 'just' anything… She risked a glance up at the Winter sidhe, fearful of just what kind of power he'd had over her if their eyes met, and went completely rigid as she found herself staring up into a pair of vibrant, icy emerald eyes gazing back down at her from a fair, narrow face that was not Rowan's.

"Catherine," Sage murmured her name again, his voice soft and almost pleading as his fingers brushed across her cheek. "Just kiss me…that's all I'm asking. Is that so bad?"

Her mind was reeling. What the hell was going on? Rowan had just been standing here, but not it was Sage…glamour, she thought, shaking her head as though to clear it. It had to be glamour! But…why didn't it feel like glamour?

"I," she stammered, lifting her head to look up at him again, stunned, "But…Rowan…"

"What about him?" Sage asked with a small frown.

"He was just," she said, feeling her voice faltering as his fingertips touched her lip softly, lingering over the small laceration she'd given herself.

"Shh," Sage murmured, pressing a finger lightly to her lips, silencing her. "Stop, Catherine…This isn't about Rowan…"

Something was so very wrong with all of this, but she couldn't seem to keep her mind steady as she stared up into his sparkling green eyes. Everything was a whirl and she could practically feel the ground caving underneath her so she was gripping his shoulders even more tightly than before.

"This isn't you," she whispered, even as he leaned closer, her image reflected in his emerald gaze, "It can't be…You…"

"I…?" Sage prompted her gently, his lips feathering lightly over hers.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he sighed softly against her lips, and she felt herself tremble inside as his arms tightened around her, nearly crushing her against him.

"Kiss me," he whispered softly.

She wanted to… She could already feel herself leaning in towards him, closing that almost nonexistent space between them, her breath leaving her in a shaky sigh that almost became his name. Just as his lips brushed over hers again, a screeching cry rang out overhead, startling her, and she opened her eyes to see a shadow sweep over her vision, momentarily cutting out Sage's face as the moonlight was blotted out of existence by the wings of a giant owl as the bird soared by, crying out again. When the great bird had passed them, taking its shadow with it, Catherine turned her eyes back to Sage's face, and gasped in alarm to find herself staring into Rowan's glowing blue eyes as he began to lean in towards her again, his lips caressing hers.

"No!"

She didn't know how she did it, but in the middle of slamming a hand forward against Rowan's chest to drive him back her glamour whirled chaotically and she pulled on it, becoming immediately insubstantial and streaming away from the Prince, who let out a curse. She dropped from the air a ways away, nearly losing her balance as she straightened, his borrowed cloak falling from her shoulders as she staggered backwards, gasping in relief. But it was a short lived victory. Though she'd managed to evaporate, thirty feet had been a long shot to hope for. Looking up, she felt a stab of horror to realize she had only just gotten out of a five-foot reach of Rowan, who, during the moments it had taken her to recover, had strode forward and was reaching for her, his ice blue eyes narrowed.

She turned to run but his fingers had already had her wrist and were dragging her backwards even as she cried out in fear and tried to pull away.

"Neat disappearing trick," he said as he managed to lock an arm around her waist and haul her backwards, "I almost thought you were really trying to get away until you showed up within arm's reach."

"Let go!" she gasped, tears pricking at her eyes as she struggled as hard as she could, but he'd pinned her with her back to his chest and her arms locked in front of her in the unyielding grip of his hands and she had no escape.

"You owe me a kiss, Catherine," he murmured in her ear, "Though if you'd like to tell me just who you saw during that little glamour spell so you can enjoy the moment more, I'd be happy to oblige you."

"No," she exclaimed, trying to jam her heel into his foot, but he shifted, moving so suddenly that she didn't have time to realize what was happening until she hit a wall with him in front of her, and a stabbing pain shot up her shoulder so she screamed and jerked away from the wall behind her, her hand clutching her arm. When she lifted her fingers away, they were coated in blood.

Gasping in pain and terror, she looked back to see a wall of briars rising up nearly sixteen feet into the air behind her, their barbed thorns long and wicked, some now shimmering in a coating of her blood.

"Aw, poor thing," murmured Rowan in mock sympathy, and his hands grabbed her again, pulling her forward despite her struggles until she was locked in his arms again. "Really, Oberon needs to think about his gardening selection. A lady can hurt herself out here with all of these thorns."

She whimpered as he brushed his fingers lightly along the stinging gashes in her shoulder and arm, but didn't dare struggle now, afraid he might inflict real pain if she did, and stood there, tears in her eyes, as blood trickled sluggishly down her skin, staining her dress.

"This just won't do," said Rowan, his head bowed over her injured shoulder, his blue eyes aglow with malice as he examined the deep wounds. "If the redcaps catch the scent of blood I don't think even Mab will be able to stop them from coming to investigate. We should really stop the bleeding before that happens. I'd hate to have to be the one to explain to Mab and Oberon just how you got yourself in such a situation."

Catherine didn't know just what he was plotting, only that her back was stinging and throbbing, and she was terrified, trapped against him, and that she wanted to cry but that would only encourage him. Not to mention the shame that was slowly drowning her as she realized that she had almost kissed him, thinking he was Sage, having let herself become so enamored by his tricks that she'd really gone so far as to believe he had been his brother. If that owl hadn't stopped her, she would have said Sage's name…what would Rowan have done then?

She jerked as something cool touched her shoulder, and squealed in alarm as she felt Rowan's lips moving languidly across her skin, licking at the blood on her shoulder.

"Let go!" she cried, struggling again, disgusted and terrified, as she felt the cool moistness of his tongue lapping at the open wounds.

"But you're hurt, my Lady," he said in a low, taunting voice, only tightening his grip when she might have wriggled her way free. "Would you have me leave you in pain like this?"

"Get off!"

She caught her breath in a pained gasp as Rowan deliberately pressed his fingers down on one of the wounds, drawing more blood and causing tears to stream from her jade eyes.

"Play nice, Catherine," he told her as she breathed through the pain, her eyes blurring from tears. "You didn't want to pay me my favor, so let's just call this even."

"You're sick," she choked out, closing her eyes tightly against the pain, feeling a tear run hotly down her cheek.

"You do not even begin to comprehend the meaning of the word," he murmured, lifting his head to speak into her ear, his breath chilled and harsh against her skin. "Don't go throwing around words without knowing what they mean, Catherine, you'll only embarrass yourself. Though, I find it interesting…"

He lowered his head once more and she whimpered as she endured the slow caress of his tongue across her shoulder again.

"I can taste frost in your blood," he murmured quietly, sounding triumphant, "Frost and winter…you are born of the ice, like me. Your blood gives it away. You belong in Winter, in my lands…"

His lips feathered a kiss across her temple.

"You belong to me," he breathed.

"I don't belong to anyone," she whispered, and he chuckled softly in her ear.

"Poor child," he sighed, "You really think I can't make you mine? It would be so easy… I am a Prince, son of the Winter Queen, heir to the Throne, and you think I can be denied what I want? I might not be able to claim as you quickly as I would like, given the current circumstances, but it would be only too easy to do it. And there is nowhere you could run where I couldn't find you, not even your little Mortal World."

She choked on a sob as his fingers brushed across her face, catching her chin and forcing her to look at him as his cerulean eyes bored down into hers.

"And I don't think you'd really want to resist me in any case, Catherine," he went on casually, almost as though carrying on a leisurely conversation on the weather as he smirked cruelly, "After all, I think you remember what I said earlier…How easy it is to get my hands on even those who are supposedly well protected in Oberon's court?"