A collective stiffening was visible in the room, as if all four members had simultaneously been turned into statues.

"Tell me what?" Tom repeated again, his boyish face turning serious.

It was Riven who did the thinking. He had always been quick to come up with solutions, and this was certainly a situation that demanded it.

"Tell you that-" he indicated himself and Alberta, "We haven't had the privilege of being interviewed by you or your esteemed colleagues yet."

If anyone else had said the same thing, it may have come out wrong, but Riven's tone, laced thick with sarcasm and an obvious disrespect for the Officer, did the trick. Tom glared at Riven's familiar Face, one he had seen in the crime files as well as the newspapers. He thought he remembered the headline 'A Prison Break is not Child's Play', or something like that.

"Well," said Tom, the politeness in his voice giving Riven a run for his money, "You will have that honour, now. Leave-" he looked towards Musa and Sky and then to Alberta,"You, wait outside."

The three fled. Riven could hear Alberta say," Who does he think he is?"

"And don't listen at the door!" Tom yelled at them as they shut the door of the Dining Room. He seemed have suddenly turned from a lazy character to some kind of dictator. Like royalty, Riven thought, unable to stop comparing his father with Tom.

Tom scooped up a plate and began to serve himself the pasta. Hardly the grand food he had expected at a castle.

"So, Tom, you told my girlfriend, how very discreet of you," began Riven, breaking into his reverie.

Tom brought his plate to the dining table, and placing it directly opposite Riven, plopped down on to a dining chair.

"That's Officer Tom," Tom corrected.

"Whatever, Officer," Riven shot back, "Why did you do it?"

Tom regarded him with suspicion, "If she's your girlfriend, she ought to know all about you," he insisted, his eyes glaring into the red-haired specialists, "And what do you do in this Red Fountain anyway? What a bad name for a school…"

"Mind your own business, that's what. I can tell my girlfriend what I want. As for your last statement, we train to be heroes," Riven shot back. Now, even though Riven knew this was practically the slogan of Red Fountain, he couldn't help realize how lame it sounded. So when Tom laughed, he didn't take offence as many other specialists would have.

"And you guys are called specialists" he asked. "specialists in what exactly?"

"Combat and Defence." riven was quoting from the RF handbook again, but he couldn't help it.

Tom grinned. "Clearly, I have established a rapport with the interviewee," he said, in a comic and flat voice. Riven tried his best to curb the urge to grin. This guy clearly knew he already knew the format, and was quoting it for his amusement. He still hated him, of course, and everything he stood for, but the way he had chosen to go about his business was certainly admirable. Rule number one, Riven told himself, ever underestimate your opponent.

"Okay, ask me where I was last night and blah-blah-blah, and then I can get rid of you," Riven said, no apologies in his voice. He could have taken the meek guy approach, or the ready-to-help-justice-at-any-cost approach or the robotic answering approach. He had seriously considered going for the last one, but had abandoned it for the current offensive and rude approach at the end. These guys knew your personality whether you hid it or not, so what was the use of being someone he was not?

"and I find it difficult to find a girl for myself?" Tom quipped. He was quite enjoying himself. This was one person who wasn't crying, gushing, babbling or worse, asking questions about the murder. He had had enough of that, with sobbing girls all morning. The bride was understandable, but most others were certainly overreacting.

"Okay, let us have it," Tom added, resigning himself to his pen and paper. Riven began with a sigh. It was annoying, but it had to be done. If only they had taken half this much trouble with me…

Pushing personal feelings out completely, he informed him about last night, only omitting the part about his argument with Sky. Tom listened attentively till Riven ended with an exasperated huff.

"Seems a difficulty to pin this one on you then, "Tom said with a chuckle, "Especially since we have got this eye witness that says it was Jared. You know the boy?"

Riven then explained to him what exactly he thought about Jared and used very colourful language while doing so. Finally, Tom had to clear his throat to stop him from going too far for even his own taste.

"Okay, so he is the murderer. And you hate him. That's good. Maybe you can help us—"

"Not a chance."

"and Why not."

"I have better stuff to do."

That was that, apparently. Tom made the gesture for Riven to leave, and the red-head got up to do just that.

"Send that blonde in, will you? She'll be the one whose ear will be attached to the door." Tom said this almost flatly, though there was a slight hint of humour, though almost untraceable. It had been a long day, and he was eating his first meal at three in the afternoon. But he was wrong. There was no one, much less Alberta, when Riven opened the door. He was greeted by silence.

It had happened as soon as they had left the room. Bloom came rushing up the stairs, taking three at a time, a security risk that Sky didn't fail to point out as she arrived to meet them, panting and breathless. But her words shut them up at once.

"J-Jared," she stammered, "They found him."

"Where?" Sky was the first to start running down, but Bloom didn't move.

"Have to tell Layla…" she gasped, pointing up. "She's…all…the way up there."

"Shall I do that?" Alberta did not do this because she wanted to help Bloom out. Or anyone else, for that matter. She was putting two and two together, in that shrewd and calculating way she always did. Sky glared at her.

"Musa can—" he began, but Alberta threw her hands up to indicate her absence. The musical fairy had clearly been jumpy all day and had taken the first opportunity to clear off without being rude.

"I'll go, then," he said, stubbornly. But Bloom was tugging at his sleeve. Alberta smirked. Whiny, needy, stupid… She counted Bloom's qualities mentally ticking them off one by one.

"Sky," she moaned, extending the word as long as fairyily possible, "I haven't seen you properly all day."

Alberta snorted. Her cousin was so whipped. She didn't wait for an answer or even to ask the question, it would only waste time. She took off up the staircase, regretting not knowing anything about magic, or having wings or even the simple muscular strength to climb faster.

Her mind began to wander , preferring to spend time thinking about things rather than focusing on the endless stairs.. Why hadn't Bloom simply called Layla up? Did she count this as a 'sit down, I have something important to tell you' kind of event? If it was, she hadn't picked a very suitable candidate to do this speech. But then, Alberta hadn't given her the opportunity to think about it, or even approve.

Alberta suddenly felt a course of dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. She had always admired Layla, if no one else in the fairy club that never seemed to break up. She thought 'Winx' was the stupidest name for a club, especially since she knew a pornographic website with the exact same name.

"Comes from having too much time to surf the virtual world," she grumbled, aloud, slightly out of breadth, temporarily distracted with her musings from the real matter at hand.

She was actually glad that she didn't have the 'Winx' power or whatever, as she wanted time to decide how exactly she wanted to approach this. It was a good thing Bloom had passed the baton to her. This way, she could at least explain herself, rather than Layla coming to know from someone else.

She pictured Jared hurling accusations at Layla, the watery-eyed princess looking confusedly on. Perhaps she and he would never come face to face. Nonetheless, Alberta was just in the mood to come clean, and this was just the push she had needed.

She counted as she climbed. Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven… Didn't this place have an elevator? And why was Layla's room so high? Did she use Stella's portals to get up there every day, or did she actually climb all these stairs?

Her mind drifted. So if a fairy muttered "Winx," it resulted in a long song and dance routine, resulting in a discreet wardrobe change and powers? Did the specialists mumble something, too?

She imagined Riven changing in the same way, and giggled. Okay, he and his girlfriend clearly had some issues, but she knew she didn't stand a chance, at least as much as a shot she had had with him the day before. She was okay with that, she simply admired Riven's personality, not really him, per se. the quiet determination. The strong, silent types had always been her favourites. And she had picked Jared out of a random draw. Ugh. She had bad random selection abilities.

She was almost surprised when she reached Layla's door, the thoughts had come to blur her understanding of time. But she was here, and she knocked on Layla's door before she could start thinking again.

"Come in," the voice was tired but commanding. When Alberta nervously opened the door, she saw the dark-haired girl, a quiet brilliance radiating from her, even when things were so bad…

"Oh," Layla's eyes flew open in surprise as she encountered Alberta's unsteady ones.

"Alberta, right?" Her tone was uncertain.

"Yes."

They stood in awkward silence for some time. Clearly, Alberta thought, kicking herself mentally, I should have thought this through, instead of lamenting my lack of Winx powers.

"Um…" She began uncertainly, but it was easy once she had started. Layla was fierce, yes, but the sadness had stolen the edge of steel that usually hung in her gaze, which made it easier to tell her.

"And they just found Jared, he is being carted off to the Tides' prison," finished Alberta. She had sat herself down on the couch, while Layla remained sitting on her bed. Alberta was done. She let out a breadth in a low whoosh, leaning back with relief. She waited, then, expectantly, not daring to look up or even straighten up. That was, until she heard the soft swoosh of skirts and the door open. By the time she had managed to pull herself upright, there was no one there.

Layla had to see him. The hatred she had been feeling for him for the past twenty-four hours had been now replaced with utter confusion. She had been confused, herself, about Jared's motives. He had seemed completely civil and sane to her, and what was worse, she had been the one who had practically begged him to come to the wedding. And he had accepted, only to repay her by making her a widow? She realized that that was what she was. She had refused to wear black, as she said these things were stupid. She didn't need to show people she was in mourning, it was clear from her face.

But after the initial babbling of Alberta had begun to make some sense, she had begun to piece the pieces of the jigsaw together. Jared was a murderer. While what he had done was definitely despicable and unforgivable, he wasn't mad. He didn't have a secret passion for her, he had had one for Alberta. Well, an Alberta that looked like her. It was all still a bit confusing, and the speed at which Alberta had delivered her confession was no help. She hadn't known what to say to her, so she had just left.

How very unprincess-like. Well, she would renounce this stupid title, she decided. She couldn't rule herself, as a single woman, anyway. Royal laws and decrees had taken care of that. And she didn't want to marry a trophy husband and rule like a silent backseat driver, either. She forced herself to get back on track. What was she going to do, now?

Jared was being escorted in handcuffs. There were quicker ways of doing it, of course, but ever since the tragedy, all the fairies seemed to have forgotten they could use magic. Perhaps the upbeat song and dance transformation would have looked garish in these circumstances, and since there was no alternative 'mourning' or 'subtle' transformation routine, they had somehow given up on it, altogether.

The two Officers held both his hands securely, but Jared was not really fighting them. He knew, eventually, that his crime would catch up with him. If it was not for the reason that Layla was a princess, and he had just killed a prince, it would be because he wasn't anything special. He wasn't a specialist, a wizard or a sorcerer. He wasn't even that fast a runner. He had managed to kill Nabu only because he had the element of surprise on his side. That, and fortunately or unfortunately, he had found a knife somewhere on the way, which had culminated in this drastic and impulsive urge to kill.

The sting of defeat after the careful planning had done it, too. He had never prided himself on his strength, but he had considerable pride when it came to his schemes. It had failed.

"Love conquers all," he had heard one of the guests mumble. Well, death conquers love, whatever people said. And then he had caught sight of the specialist's knife. He wasn't sure who it belonged to, but it had been the spark he had needed to light the fire of resentment he had been feeling as soon as the final e-mail had been read. The anger had alighted a rage he never knew he had. Bloodlust. That was the only way to describe the feeling. And then it had all happened, and he had run away.

The law had caught up with him, eventually. Well, he had expected that. What he hadn't expected was the crowds that had gathered around him. He was new to this overdose of resentment. They leered menacingly at him, some even threw whatever they could lay their hands on. At the end of it, he was almost crying with relief when they took him into the dark, prison chambers of Tides. Or Andros, whatever they called it was fine with him, as long as they kept those horrible eyes away from him.

He had just processed the thought when a pair of blue eyes, ringed with tears looked at him through the darkness.

"Oh!" Surprise was etched in every syllable. Not because she was here. Because she wasn't angry. Layla.