A/N: Cliffhangers are awesome. I'm making it a goal to add one at the end of each chapter except for the finale. :D By the way, next chapter is an interlude. I think you can guess what it is by the end of it.

Recap, in case you forgot who Simon is (he was from like five chapters ago): He was Lizzie's dance partner in the Academy that had a crush on her. Her parents trying to betroth her to him was the final straw, and she ran away from home.

The Month of Running (March) Age 11

Week 1

Me being a rich kid—it's gone too far to treat it casually, anymore. Something has to be done. Soon.

Last week, my mom just stared at Simon Banks with her mouth gaping. She couldn't seem to say anything. Smoothly, he stepped forward with a sly little smile on his face and bowed. "Elizabeth Windsor," he said pleasantly. "Delightful to see you again, after so many years; and looking as beautiful as ever. I've been waiting forever to see you again."

"I'm sure you have." Mom finally found her voice and was glaring at him. "What are you doing here, Simon? Aren't you supposed to be in Meridell?"

He laughed. "Oh, come on, Liz. I think we both agree that the place made us both miserable—you don't think I wouldn't have left there the moment I had a chance? You certainly did. No, I haven't been there in ages."

"So you live here now?" she said flatly.

"Nope. If I did, I would've gone to see you a lot sooner." He grinned at her. "As soon as I had the chance, I ran away to a different kingdom. My parents were livid and tried to cut me off—but I did well for myself anyway. I even work in the royal court, just like I wanted, remember?"

"I'm glad of that," she said. There was a note of sincerity in her voice, but it was blocked out mostly by impatience. "You still haven't told me what you're doing here."

He tilted his head. "What kind of person I'd be if I let you get away from me again, Miss Windsor?"

She took a step back. "Aren't you already supposed to be married?" she asked him.

"Widowed," he replied. "The lady I married was quite sickly. She died a few months after our marriage, and she gave me no children. I was not obligated to wed again."

Behind me, Harley whistled appreciatively. "One of the few ways a person can be free."

"Indeed." Simon smiled. "I have been very, very lucky in many cases—without my dear witch of a mother to torment me, doing a job I love, and being free….to come back for you."

"That's creepy on so many levels," I muttered.

The guy shot me a disdainful look. "And what would a child like you know about love?" I had no answer to give him. "Who are you, anyway?"

"My son," Mom said, snatching a chance to escape. "You're too late, Simon. I'm already-"

"Married?" Simon asked. He chuckled. "I did take that to account, Lizzie dear. In a way, I'm glad of it." She gaped at him again. "Especially," he said, with a small smirk on his face, "how convenient the date of the wedding was. You did it on your birthday, did you not? Even with the ribbons and stuff, probably." Mom nodded, looking like she wanted to curse her stupidity. "Brilliant, because in that case-"

"You're leaving," said another voice stiffly.

Simon arched an eyebrow. "Grace? Well, I haven't seen you in quite a long time, either. How've you been?"

"Cut it out with the pleasantries, Banks," she snapped. I couldn't help being shocked. This was the first time out of the flashbacks and when we met up with her in the market that she truly acted like Grace. "You may have been invited by Lizzie's mother, but you're not welcome here. Out!"

"Excuse me?" he said, a bit miffed. "It's not your house either, you know."

"She's right," Mom said. "You're not welcome."

"Right," Charlie confirmed.

"You're not going to win this game, Grace," he warned her. He smiled, sardonically this time. "I think we both know it's not Lizzie I'm competing with—she has many talents, but last I remember playing the game isn't one of them."

"You know I'm not just going to take your word for it," she hissed.

"Always sticking up for your friends." He shook his head. "Even against all odds. An trait, but one that's not going to help you right now." He examined her thoughtfully. "Just because I found your last stand admirable – though foolhardy – I'll give you a head-start. I'll come again around next month. You have until then to prepare…or decide to surrender."

"Never," Mom snapped.

He sighed. "I did hope you wouldn't make this difficult, Lizzie. You are going to come with me eventually, you know."

"Keep dreaming," she said disgustedly. "I love my family."

"Exactly." Before she could ask what he meant by that, he bowed and swept out.


"This is not good," Grace said, pacing. She was Grace, this time—not Lady Adonai, not Honey. Black was on one of his business trips again. We were at her house, in that lavish living-room with the creepy portraits, but I didn't mind it so much; there were other things to worry about. Charlie, Ivy, and Harley had to go home, but Ebony was still there. He was perched on a chair, quiet for once, but with a small grin on his face like he was watching a very entertaining show. I wanted to hit him. This is my life, for Fyora's sake. "I knew they'd send someone as the final chess piece, but I didn't think it would be him—well, I did, but I prayed it wouldn't be him…."

"Why?" Mom asked. She was in a bit of a foul temper. "He's still that same boy who had a crush on me in school."

Grace shook her head hurriedly. "No, Liz. You don't understand. He is different. He has done well for himself, and through his own wits, too. He's become a better chess player than maybe even me."

"How's that even possible?"

"He does it for a living," Grace replied wryly. "Haven't you been listening? He's lives in court, and I know he has one of the highest positions. There's been talk that he might even become Lord Chancellor next year, if he gains his monarch's favour, though that might not be possible because-" She shook her head. "That's not important. But what I've got to emphasize to you, Lizzie, is that he's dangerous, now. You can't see him as that quivering dark-haired guy from the Academy. He's ruthless, he's devious, and he's a very good chess player."

"I get it," Mom huffed. "Still, even if he is those things, I can't see what he could do to me. I'm married. I broke the Tradition."

"No, you didn't," Grace said. "Not really, anyway. Rules say you're supposed to be married by your twenty-second birthday, right? You did get married by your twenty-second birthday. But technically, you were betrothed to Simon. Yes, you were," she said to Mom's shocked face. "Your parents did it by proxy with your mother. I found that out later. If you had stayed even one more day, you'd have already been married to him." She closed her eyes. "I can't see his plan yet, though. You were betrothed to him—technically, you still are—but you are also married."

"He'll fix that, then," Ebony muttered.

Grace's head shot up. "What?"

He smirked. "It's nothing, Mother. I'm being quiet now."

"Ebony, if you have something to say, spit it out."

He hesitated, probably debating with himself, and then shrugged. "He could ask for an annulment. It's really rare, I know, but you said he had a King's ear, right? And the King's word trumps all. You'd have to agree to it first, though," he said, nodding to my mom.

"And why would I do that?" Mom wondered out loud.

For a moment, Ebony and Grace glanced at each other, and understanding flashed in their eyes. Grace groaned. "Because it's a solution to most of your problems," she said. "If you didn't technically break the Tradition, you're still eligible. Annulment of the marriage won't change that, I think. If you do it, Hanso will be declared illegitimate—he's not going to be able to inherit the properties or have to abide by our rules. He wouldn't have to be a rich kid anymore. But…"

"But I'd have to leave Peter," Mom finished. "And marry Simon. Oh, Fyora."

"Mom!" I exclaimed. "You aren't actually thinking of doing it, are you?"

"How can I not consider it? If I can't be free, at least you can. I refuse to let you go down with me if that's the case."

"Mom!" I repeated. "You can't do that. There has to be a better solution." I glared at them. "Help me with this!"

"Of course I will," Grace promised. "But, honestly, honey? I got nothing so far. I'll look through every possibility, but I can't guarantee anything."

"Ebony?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "If I would have agreed to help you, I would have done it in front of Em. You know my answer."

"Nice boy," Mom said sarcastically.

"I try," he replied.

"In that case," Grace said, turning to her son, "You're not to tell a word of this to your father."

"You can defend yourself, Mother. Vi and Haze aren't here anymore. What are you scared of?"

"Oh, please," she hissed. "Like you don't know he'll bring at least Hazel back when he gets a whiff of me abandoning the 'meek little slave/wife' act. At least Violet has some immunity." Like he had said before, she made no mention of him—and for a moment, I felt a little sorry for the guy.

"Uh-huh," he said dryly. "And if I don't?"

"If you don't, you're father isn't here all the time, and I know a number of ways to make this place a living hell for you."

"Grace!" Mom exclaimed, shocked. Even I thought she was taking it a bit too far.

"I have to get my point across, Liz," Grace snapped. "It's nice that your son isn't like that—but mine's just like his father. You have to drop your anvil in hard for him to get it."

"Said son is standing right here." Ebony scowled. "And whatever I am, Mother, it certainly is not stupid."

"So you won't tell your father?"

"I won't. Not because I'm scared of your threats," he added. "Because I'm curious to see how this would all work out."

"Don't sabotage anything, either."

"Haven't I, as you put it, dropped the anvil already? I think I've already made it clear I'm not going to interfere. You can have your chess game, Mother. It might be interesting, but I'm not going to play, especially not on your side." For a moment, the two Adonais glared at each other. Then Grace rolled her eyes and looked away. I almost wanted to say something about that. I mean, there are times my mom and I don't get along, but there was no such instance that she ever treated me like that. It was too awkward, though—I didn't really know either of them. And I doubted they would appreciate it.

Finally, Mom broke the silence by sighing. "Peter will be starting to get worried—we'd better go home now," she said. "We have a lot to tell him."


For his part, Dad took it pretty well. He just looked at us silently as we finished, and then sighed. "We can't even beat up this Simon guy, can we, huh?" he said to Mom. "Because he could be Hanso's only hope in escaping this entire darn thing."

"This is all my fault," Mom said softly.

"Oh, Liz, I didn't mean it like that-"

"But it is. If I hadn't gotten all desperate and strode up to Uptown—"

"They would've found out eventually, Lizzie," Dad said quietly. "We always knew this couldn't remain a secret forever. Hanso would've eventually stumbled in to it accidentally, and we always agreed to tell him. If he was older, then they might have argued that him being in ignorance in who he is would excuse him from passing the Tradition's time limit, and he would've had to have gotten married right away. At least now we have time to prepare-"

"Prepare for what?" I asked. "Don't I have a say in this? I do not want to be related to Simon!"

"Neither do I want to be with him," she stated. They shared a look. "But if it's the only way to save-"

"No!" I shrieked. "That's not an option. That can't be an option. There has to be a better way."

"Not all choices have a third option," Mom said. "Once, I had to choose between marrying a guy who had a crush on me against my will, or leaving everything I've ever known. I chose the latter, and while I'd never regret it…the experience was still truly painful for me."

"I wish you'd just tell me about it," I muttered. "Tell me anything that could give me a hint. I've gotten out of a lot of other things before."

"You wouldn't understand, Hanso. You're just a child."

"I'm a thief's child," I countered. "I've faced loads of other things you didn't when you were a kid-"

"There you are. Stereotyping again."

"But Mom-"

"I have to think, Hanso." She looked weary and tired. "I won't rush in to things—I'll give you my word on that. But no matter what, we don't want you to endure what I did."

"Dad?" I pleaded, but at once I could see no help from him. He had a sad, sad look in his eyes, like a guy who had been having a wonderful dream suddenly waking up to a harsh and cold reality. I closed my eyes, trying to find a way out of this. The one thing I knew for sure was that I needed to see how Mom got out of the Tradition in the first place (sort of). Maybe they had their wedding day on a different date, or they didn't do some ritual. I couldn't do that if Mom didn't tell me and Marie's crystal ball broke-

Then I remembered. The necklace.

The one that Kayley gave back to me on New Year's.

The one that would kill her if it broke, I realized with a shudder. I'd taken to carrying it everywhere. You might think that dangerous, and you would be right, but it was a lot better than keeping it my house. Take it from a thief. We're not above from stealing each other. At least while I put it on myself, I could keep an eye on it and make sure no one ships it off to the Mystery Island volcano. For such a powerful thing, it was so fragile.

But I still needed someone's permission with their memories. I studied my parents, thinking. "You don't want to talk about it because it's too painful," I concluded. Mom seemed to want to object, but her shoulders slumped in defeat and she simply nodded. "If I can find a way to see what happened, you'd let me, won't you? It won't involve you having to tell me anything." Again, she nodded slowly. "And Dad?"

"Does that mean you're going to interview people or something?" he asked.

"No." I bit my lip. "I have my own way of finding out information."

A small smirk came up to his face. "Snooping skills, ya mean," he said. "Sure, Hanso. Just be careful of all the secrets you find out—knowledge is power, and power is hardly ever safe."

Week 2

The good news? I managed not to get my brain fried. The bad news? Kayley still hasn't returned to class, and I couldn't find anyone else who could help me control that stupid necklace. I wish she told me how to use it before she went. The full moon is already waning, and I'm not going to get a chance to try the thing out again until next month. A part of me thought that I might be able to ask Bridgette or Tyler, but I had a feeling that Kayley would be very, very angry if I showed this to either of them.

Either way, I was stuck, unless I could find another way to see Miss Incognito—highly unlikely, since I hadn't seen her since I showed off last month.

Something did happen, though. A glimmer of a solution to the rich kid problem, despite a lot of people's doubt that it would work. I found out about this happy possibility when I was, once again, ambushed in Uptown.

"So, this is how you say hello in the Lost Desert?" I asked nervously.

Rosaline was smirking, pointing her dagger at me as she backed me against the wall. "Nope. But it is very fun, do you not think?" She grinned.

"Where're you off to, anyway?" Romeo asked. "We haven't seen you in a while, either."

"Rosaline," Mercutio said, with a small twinkle in his eye. "Stalking." Two words, but probably anyone could have worked out what it meant. For his trouble, Rosaline gave him a swift kick in the shins, and then gave me a sweet smile.

"He is joking," she promised. Lie. I couldn't help but chuckle. "What are you doing here?" she asked, gesturing to our beautiful surroundings. "I would have thought only the privileged people would be allowed to come to these parts." She frowned. "Are the rumours true, then? Are you really a rich kid?"

"Uh, I, um, don't really know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Romeo asked curiously.

"It's complicated," I explained. "My mom might have done the Tradition-"

"What is the Tradition?" Rosaline inquired.

"Ah, the question of innocence!" a voice called over. "If only I could hear the question more, I'd be a happy guy."

"Hi Harley," I said, waving. "Mind if you tell them what it's about?"

"And disillusion them? Ebony would be better suited for that—says he enjoys the expressions of shock outsiders get when they realize our lives aren't so perfect after all. Of course," he said with a smirk, "Master Adonai is very busy at the moment."

"Busy?" I was immediately suspicious. I didn't trust Ebony's word that he wouldn't sabotage my chance of not becoming a rich kid. "Busy how?"

"You'll see." He gave a nod to the triplets, and then started towards the Adonai mansion.

"Are all rich kids that friendly?" Romeo wondered out loud.

"Surprising, huh?" I remarked. "I used to think of them as spoilt brats, but Charlie and Hazel were really nice for me. And now…I don't know. A lot of them are pretty nice, too. Snobby, but generally friendly, if they didn't declare war on you."

"Huh?" Mercutio said questioningly.

"Oh, Ebony has a grudge against me for trying to get Timmy on the swing. Long story," I told them. They simply nodded, as if they knew they didn't want to know, and we followed Harley. To my surprise, we didn't even have to go inside to find him. He was outside – not wearing the business suit get-up by choice, if you can believe it – as he cleaned up the windows. Even more shocking was his expression. Instead of being angry or anything, his face was more amused than anything.

"Mother," he replied, before I asked. He dipped a rag in the bucket and began wiping the glass. "Father's on a business trip again and can't rescue me. He doesn't even know I'm being treated this way."

"Why don't you write to him, then?" I asked.

"What, and lose the game by default?" he said rhetorically. I stared at him, and he sighed. "It's been war these past few days; a competition to see who gets to rule the house. Mother's housework has doubled since neither of my sisters is here to help out, and since Hazel's gone she doesn't have to act like a willing slave anymore. And since I'm the nearest target, she's trying to get me to do half of it."

"That does not sound so bad," Rosaline commented. "You already know how to do housework, it seems." I blinked; she was right. He seemed to know what he was doing, instead of fumbling over what to do like I thought a rich kid would. Mom would probably call it stereotyping again.

He smirked. "Who do you thought helped my mother before Violet was born?" he asked. "Anyway, it's not about whether the work is hard or not. It's simply who gets to win."

"You don't seem to be trying too hard," Harley said.

"Oh, contraire," Ebony chuckled. "Dearest Mother is taking a shower right now, which means she'll be receiving her unpleasant surprise in five…four…three…two…."

A scream.

Ebony grinned, and then innocently kept doing his work. A few minutes later, Grace went outside wearing a bathrobe, slippers, and a very angry expression. Her son pretended not to notice, even when she was standing over him with her hands on her hips. A slow chuckle came out of my throat. Before I knew it, everyone, including me, was doubled over laughing. I tried to stop myself. Honestly. But when I finally start to get back my composure, I get a glimpse of her again and just start guffawing maniacally.

Lady Grace's hair was a vivid, vibrant shade of green.

"Oh, hello, Mother," her son said sweetly. "New hairstyle? I like it."

"Don't give me that snark, Ebony."

"No, I mean it, Mother. I rather like the colour green." He winked at us. "As we all know."

"You dyed my hair!" She used the same tone as others probably would when they said "You murdered someone!"

"Of course I didn't—I was here the entire time. Even Hanso here can attest to that," he replied cheekily. "If you just happened to grab the green dye I bought and it just happened to be in the place where you put your shampoo, it isn't my fault. You really should have taken more care, Mother."

"You little-" She couldn't even finish the thought.

"What're you going to do? Throw more housework at me?" With that, he gave the windows a final swipe. I have to admit, he did an awfully good job on it; maybe even better than Hazel, since he could actually reach the panes without needing a ladder. "You showed me all the shortcuts a long time ago. Or are you planning to call Father?" She scowled at him.

Again, they had their little glaring match. Another test of wills. Finally, Grace sighed and shook her head. "When is this going to wash off?"

"It's permanent," Ebony said with a straight face, and then burst out laughing at Grace's look of utter horror. "I'm kidding. Really! It'll wash out in the next week or so. Guaranteed."

"It better," Grace said through gritted teeth. "For your sake."

"I could do the groceries," he offered.

"Are you pitying me?" she spat.

"Why would you say so?"

"You never did this when Hazel was around."

"Ah, but you're no fun then. Or do you want to admit entire defeat? Here's a deal. I clean up after myself – meals included and all – and do the groceries, and all you have to do is do the same for yourself. Take it or leave it, Mother."

"And why would you make such a generous offer?" she asked, her voice laced in sarcasm.

"Can't I be gracious in victory? Besides, I'm bored."

"Not much to do without Hazel to throw in the shed?"

"Not much to do even when she's here. Take it or leave it, Mother," he repeated.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But don't think the war's over yet." She stomped back in to the house.

"And I thought you had bigger things to worry about!" he called after her. She waved away his remark. He chuckled. "Well, this is the most fun she's been in years."

"Who's fun?" a voice asked. It was Ivy, striding down the sidewalk. "Heard Hanso here was in the neighbourhood with his friends," she said carelessly. "Might as well make good in the promise we made to Em."

"Aunt Honey," Harley replied.

"Aunt Honey?" she exclaimed. "She's as dull as butter on toast."

"She is," Ebony agreed. "Grace, however, is completely different."

Ivy grinned. "She's back? Does that mean you'll be worshipping the ground she walks on again?"

"Unlikely."

"Figured," Ivy said. "What are you all gathering for?"

"These innocent little children," Harley said, gesturing to the taken aback triplets, "Have not heard of the Tradition yet. I'm asking Ebony to tell them about it."

"Aye," Ebony said in a sing-song voice, like a storyteller would use. "'Tis a most unfortunate curse, put on us by stupid prince who wanted to marry a commoner a long, long time ago." He began telling them the details, and we spent the better part of an hour entranced with the tale. He got a lot of things right; I guess the story has been passed down for a long time. Momentarily, I wondered who would have told this to him. Grace, maybe? But he couldn't have all the details. No one but me knew who really started the awful old thing. "And so," he finished, "Rich kids are now forever doomed to marry who their parents want to."

"Why can you not simply say no at the betrothal?" Rosaline asked.

He chuckled. "You think that didn't occur to a few of us in the past? That just resulted to betrothal by proxy. Parents would appoint someone to represent you and they would seal the betrothal while you're locked up in your room or something."

"It's even worse for girls," Ivy muttered. "The parents don't even ask for permission. Sometimes, you don't even know you're betrothed until they tell you right before the wedding."

"It's the same for boys if you used up your three refusals," Harley supplemented.

"You're lives are pretty awful," Romeo commented. "I think I'd prefer to being a thief instead of one of you."

"That makes us feel so much better."

"And it's not the Tradition that's only annoying," Ivy complained. "There are other rules, too. How girls are supposed to be girly, meek little slaves, how guys are supposed to be strong and powerful, blah blah blah. It's not a problem for people who can act, like Emerald and Ebony. But I for one loathe doing it." Rosaline nodded in sympathy. "But the Tradition is our biggest problem. If you ask me, it's a system to keep us under control before we're fully grown up and could do something about all the other stuff. Look at Grace," she said.

"Dear Mother used to be quite the rebel," Ebony agreed. "Still is, as you've seen. But she can only do it whilst hidden, or my precious sisters will get hurt. Anyway, my maternal grandparents were…concerned by her behaviour. Took her straight to the Academy, but that still didn't break her. So, while she was there, they betrothed her by proxy to the most awful, domineering man they knew: My father."

"I thought you liked you father," I said. He ignored me.

"Eventually, she became the servant she is today, but that's not a unique story. For every person willing to stand up and protest, there's a strictly traditional person willing to put them in their place, and they're all usually matched up, and there's nothing we can do about it."

"Emerald doesn't believe that," Ivy said.

"Emerald is Emerald; clever, suave, and strategic, but not always good with people and a little naïve at times."

"You don't believe that," Ivy pressed.

He paused, but shrugged. "If you think a problem is impossible, it will be so. If this one isn't impossible, though, then it's pretty damn close."

"Makes me kind of wish for those old stories our mothers told us about," Harley said wistfully. "You know, when this faerie godmother appeared and granted you whatever you desired." Rosaline stiffened. "I know it's silly – like the faeries would ever do that for someone – but still."

"Not so impossible," Rosaline murmured. They turned to look at her questioningly. "In the Desert, we have a legend – in fact, I have even heard legends about her here – about a wandering traveller who would grant wishes to those who can catch her. But those wishes often came with…with a price."

Ebony frowned doubtfully, but the rest of the rich kids leaned forward, eager to hear what she had to say. "Go on," Ivy pressed.

"Well, the legend says you have to catch her first. You know her for her dark beauty—the kind that you cannot help but stare in fascination, but something you know that you would not like to get close to, perhaps as a poisoned rose or a jewelled dagger. I am not really sure what it means, actually. They say that this lady was a victim of a curse. For her beauty, she is bound to use the power that made her like that to grant wishes."

"What?" I asked, puzzled. "Why would anyone want that kind of beauty?"

"She did not want it," Rosaline replied. "She wanted the natural kind of beauty—the one she already possessed, but was too vain to see. She wanted to be the best. The hardest part, they say, is not catching her, but getting what you want. The lady had her revenge against the power in the end. She was supposed to grant good souls wishes for a price, but she made it so that every blessing was a curse and that the price was always too hard for almost anyone to ever pay."

"That's crazy! Why would this mysterious power give her so much magic?"

Rosaline shrugged. "They seem to be bound to each other, now. I am not sure. The legend is very fuzzy."

"What's the name of this legend, anyway? I thought you guys kept talking about genies in bottles or whatever," Ebony commented.

Mercutio glared at him. "Lies. We fear djinn."

"That was a full sentence!" Rosaline praised her brother. He stuck his tongue out at her. "The name of the legend, the name of the lady, is-"

"Vira," Ivy finished. She had a thoughtful expression on her face. "Why didn't I see it before?"

Rosaline raised her eyebrows. "You have heard of her?"

"Yep." She didn't look happy. "Making a deal with Vira would be close to suicide—way too risky to get a good deal out of her. I'd put more faith that someone in this miserable neighbourhood would do something about it than a person having a chance on making the Tradition go away with a deal with Vira."

"And she has very, very little faith on the people of the neighbourhood," Harley informed us.

I jumped up. "But if this is the only chance that I can get out of this-"

"It's not your only chance," Ebony interrupted. "Ever problem has a solution you can solve with your own head. You just have to think of it."

"Yeah, that and Vira will trick the heck out of you," Ivy said. She shook her head at Rosaline. "Sorry, kid. It's best to just let this go."

I frowned at her suspiciously. "You seem to have known her yourself."

"Who? Vira?" Ivy asked. "Oh, no. I'd probably be dead if that was the case."

"Then how do you know she's so dangerous?"

"Because, little brat, one of my…acquaintances, I suppose, has been one of her victims."

Harley looked on guard. "Not Aves?"

Ivy stared at him. "No!"

"Good," said her brother, relieved.

"Who's Aves?" I asked.

"No one important," Harley said hastily. "But if it isn't, um, You-Know-Who, then there's a very limited number of people who it could be."

"I could call her, if you want," Ivy suggested. "I'm not sure if she'd even answer. I mean, the only reason we even talked is 'cause I found out about her little secret. But I think she'll come, if the alternative is me revealing it."

"Of course," said Harley sarcastically. "The best way you get your friends to come over. Blackmail!"

She grinned at him. "Well, Emmy did say we should help Hanso out. Might as well do it now."

Week 3

Romeo and Mercutio had decided they had had enough of Uptown and decided to trust Rosaline to not get into trouble on her own. Being alone would her would have been uncomfortable enough – I liked her a lot, really, but I'm never sure what to say – when Juliet decided that she hasn't talked to me for far too long and decided to tag along, too. Secretly, I think they were both hoping that the other would leave. I hoped that Julius would help out, but he just laughed when I asked if he was coming with. "Nah. The only reason I go there is to look after my little sis….but with Rosy, you're both as safe as can be."

"What, you think I would protect little Juliet if worst came to worst?" Rosaline said angrily.

"Yep."

"You presumptuous little-"

"Come on, Rosaline," I said, grabbing her arm. "We better go."

"The nerve of him!" she hissed as we walked along the road. "He expects me to take care of his baby sibling when he's too lazy to do it."

"That's my brother you're talking about," Juliet said with a warning tone.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Rosaline snapped. "Can you tell me something I don't know? Like why, for some reason, are you suddenly stalking us?"

"Stalking you guys? Please!" Juliet snarled. "Hanso is my friend. I went with him all the time."

"Sure you did."

"Are you implying something?"

"Of course not, Miss I-am-so-innocent! Of course you never lied, never framed anyone, never exaggerated but a trifle crime-"

"Trifle crime?" Juliet screeched. "You call that a trifle crime? What's a big crime, then? Murder? Genocide? Did you do that in the Lost Desert too?"

"Oh, look, we're here!" I said frantically, pulling the two out of their bickering.

"Took you long enough," Ivy commented when she saw me. "Oh, wow. You have two girlfriends, Hanso?" She smirked. "You're an even bigger playboy than Ebony!"

"Excuse me?" said the Usul himself. "Playboy?"

"Don't deny it, cousin. From thirteen onwards – maybe even before that –you've had girls at your feet Uncle Black would just point to some rich lady-to-be, order him to charm her, and it's done. It's rather disgusting, really," she assured us. "He has a new girl ever family gathering."

"And I never liked one of them."

"Except one," she sang. "We all know how partial you are to a certain shade of green."

"Yes," he snapped. "And I know how much you like birds!"

Ivy's smile instantly vanished. "Oh, that's low."

I had no idea what was going on. Juliet and Rosaline too looked confused on why they were discussing the colour green and birds. I coughed. "Um, isn't there someone I'm supposed to meet?"

"That would be me," a Petri girl replied, opening the door. She had short blonde hair tied in braids, but that wasn't enough to make her look young—on the contrary, she looked more grown-up than any of us here, with lipstick on her beak (no idea how that worked) and earrings clinging to her head. Her eyes were a startling shade of scarlet. She looked awfully familiar, but I knew I never met her before. However, she seemed to know me. "Wait a minute. Aren't you the kid who-?"

"Sasha!" I blurted out.

"I knew it," she hissed, turning to Ivy. "This is a trap."

Ivy looked blank. "You two know each other?"

"Yes!" I yelled. "She was working for Masila last year. She nearly got me killed!" I looked pointedly at Ebony. "She nearly got Hazel killed, too."

Slowly, recognition dawned in his face. "Oh, yeah. Hazel's nanny." Then he scowled. "You stole my watch!" I stared at him; he was more angrier about this than her killing his sister? "Oh," he said, noticing my glare. "And tried to kill Hazel, too."

"If I remember correctly, Master Adonai, you never cared what happened to your youngest sibling," she said in clipped tones. "I could even say you did more harm to her than I ever could, you being her brother and all."

He shrugged. "Just thought I'd give indignant anger a try."

"Doesn't suit you," said Ivy critically. "You're a lot scarier when you're coldly furious."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

"What am I doing here again?" she asked boredly.

"To help Hanso break his little rich kid problem," Juliet supplied helpfully.

Her eyebrows rose. "Seriously, Ivy? This is what you called me here? What use are my talents, then?"

"Plus, she'll probably just mess up everything," I added.

She turned to me, her eyes flashing. "Excuse me? I do not 'mess up.'"

"You underestimated Hazel once," I said stubbornly.

She waved that away. "A mistake. It hasn't happened since. If you recall, Masila fell before me; and I escaped."

"She escaped too," I said defensively. Then I realized I was defending Masila and promptly shut up.

She smirked triumphantly. "And just so you know, I never worked for Masila. We were partners."

"How did you end up working with the Mistress of Double-cross, then?" Juliet stepped up, wanting to defend me. Rosaline scowled, as if she was irritated that she didn't get to do it herself. "I thought anyone would take one look at her name and run at the opposite direction."

"Mistress Double-cross, as you called her, is actually a lot more trustworthy than she looks," she said wryly. "She paid well, too. Besides...it's funny what bonds fate can give us. We both share a connection to a certain person we both would probably rather not meet again." She smiled slightly. "When we learned what happened to each other, well, sympathy kinda kicked in and we ended up making a deal. I spy around the Guild and some guard girl's family. She gives me room, board, and money for the duration that I did it. Don't worry, though. I'm not so fond of her that I would break her out of jail." She shuddered.

"Jail isn't that bad," I commented.

"That's just the Brightvale Guard. Ever been in the dungeons of Meridell? Terror Mountain? The Lost Desert?"

"Yes," Rosaline said to the last one.

"We once saw the insides of a lock-up in Terror Mountain," Juliet said. "We were never jailed, but still."

"Bah! A bunch of worldly young twits, are you?" She shook her head. "A lock-up is very different from a jail, thank you very much. And I'm a free spirit. I loathe being enclosed in small spaces—I'd have to have quite a high opinion of you for me to go there willingly, and Masila never really came close. Now, what do you need me for?" She looked at us suspiciously. "More spying?"

"No," Ivy said. "We don't have need of your…special talents this time."

"What special talents?" Ebony asked.

With a groan, Sasha changed to the colour blue. Her beak turned in to a snout. Her body changed shape, growing taller and bigger. We all watched, horribly fascinated, until she turned in to a light-blue Zafara. Only her eyes did not change. "This, Master Adonai," she told him, "Is my special talent."

He stared at her, open-mouthed. "I can't believe I never suspected you were a shape-shifter. You were in my house!"

"Neither did your mother," she drawled. "Amazing, you two such renowned chess players you couldn't even notice an intruder in your house. Your sister did, though." Her voice had a venomous edge to it. "Lovely little Hazel." She shook her head disgustedly. "If you don't need me here for my powers, why did I receive that fancy invitation?" She glared at Ivy pointedly.

"No need to look so sulky," Ivy snapped. "We don't need your powers. We want to know how you got them."

Unexpectedly, she burst out laughing. "You kids? You? You want to go hunting for Vira?" She doubled up, shaking. "You? What do you guys have to ask for? Your lives are perfect!"

"Yeah, right," Ivy snarled, cutting her laughter short. "You might have observed us for a year, but you don't know what happens to us. How about the Tradition?"

"What, you get riches and money for following a few rules? Sign me up, then."

"Not traditions, you dolt," she snapped. "The Tradition."

"And what's that?"

"Ah, the question of innocence!" Harley exclaimed, and we couldn't help but laugh.

She scowled. "Are you mocking me, little master?" She made herself grow ten feet tall. His chuckling died. I couldn't blame him—it's intimidating to have a girl look down at you and know that she couldn't care less if you died. "Calling me innocent?" She huffed. "I've seen things in the world that you'd never dream of."

"I'm sure you did," he said weakly. "You can go shorter now."

Sasha smiled menacingly. "I don't think so—Ow!" She screamed.

Ivy had just stepped on her foot with a scowl on her face. "Hey! Only I get to intimidate my brother. Shorten up or I'll get my wrench and whack you." Sasha glowered at her, but she what was asked. "Look, the Tradition is not important now. What we need to know is how to make a deal with Vira."

"Simple," she said tonelessly. "Fine Vira. Catch her. Make a deal with her. Try not to get killed."

"You're forgetting something," Harley said. "How do we track her?"

"You're kidding me, right?" She looked around us. "Who are the rich kids here that has actually been out of the Medieval Lands?" No one put their hand up. "Thought so," she said smugly. "Listen to me, people. You are never going to track Vira. It took years and years and years for me to find her and catch her—and once it was over, I wished I never tried. It pretty much ruined my life. Every piece of magic comes with a price." For a moment, she looked at me, and I could've sworn her eyes darted to the stone that Kayley gave. Probably just my imagination.

"Right," Ebony said. "You've heard the woman. It's far too dangerous."

"Coward," Ivy muttered.

"Ivy, I'm saving our necks. What would Aves have to say if he heard that you're going to chase some random sorceress for a wish?"

She snickered and did an imitation of a guy's voice. "Let me get this straight, Adonai. You went on a wild adventure to chase some crazy sorceress for the miniscule chance that she could break the Tradition….without ME?"

"Perhaps Aves wasn't the best example."

"Yep. Why are you against this, anyway?"

"Because," he said through gritted teeth. "Magic and enchantments are tools. They're not even reliable ones, let alone the complete solution. When you're in a problem, the best weapon you've got is your head. Using magic to finish everything is…is…"

"Is what?"

"Cheating."

Ivy snorted. "Please. Like you've never cheated before."

"I might have made my way a little smoother in a few cases, but as such in the game. Everyone cheats. One false move will bring you back where you started. The point is that you can't rely so much on chancy stuff, like luck and magic. You have to use your own skills."

"That might not be possible," I told him. "Look, if this was a fight my dad could win it hands down-"

"Of course it's not a physical fight!" he snapped. "You're in Uptown, kid. You learn to use your head or you're doomed to a life of misery."

"I don't even want to be in Uptown!"

"What's going on here?" said an irritated voice.

Sasha turned around and, for the second time, burst out laughing. "Oh, Fyora….Lady Adonai? Is that you? What did you do to your…?"

"It still hasn't washed off," she said, glaring at her son. Her hair wasn't as bad as last week, but it still had a noticeable tint on of green on it. She was carrying a plate of cookies, I noticed; she placed it on the table.

"Give it another week or so, Mother," he said with a grin. "We're discussing stuff about magic."

"Magic is cheating," Grace said in a slightly offended tone. "I thought I taught you better than that."

He spread out his hands. "See what I mean? Something Mother and I finally agree on!" Grace just shook her head in confusion and backed out of the room. "If you ask me," he said, absent-mindedly putting a cookie in his mouth. "I think da whole thin ith uthelly rid-ik-ku-lus!

"What?" Ivy asked him.

He frowned. "I thaid da-" He suddenly realized that he wasn't speaking properly. He opened his mouth, and we found the cause—his tongue had swelled three times its size. Instantly, we knew who did it. "NUTHER!"

An evil laugh echoed from the hallway. "It'll only last for a day or two, honey," Grace called out.

Rosaline giggled. "That is one of the best pranks I have ever seen. She has definitely repaid you in full. Do not pout," she said to Ebony, who was sulking. "It is unseemly. She got you back fair and square."

"You should have seen Hanso's when we were seven," Juliet said with a cheeky grin. "He, ah, 'accidentally' pranked the Guild Leader."

"Really?" For a moment, the girls exchanged smirks. Then they remembered who they were, and that they weren't friends. They began scowling instead. I sighed. It was too good to last.

"What happened here?" Sasha asked. "Last I heard, he was treating her like a slave."

"That's when the rest of the family is around," Ivy told her.

She shook her head. "This place is crazier than I thought. I was glad to get out of there."

"It's our greatest consolation in life," Ivy said sarcastically, "Having people, even poor people, say that they're glad they're not us."

Even Sasha cracked a smile at that. "All right, guys," she said finally. "If you really want to track down Vira, I've got to say, you don't have much hope in that. Your parents are probably not going to let you run over the world. But," she said before we could protest, "You could try to get her to come to you."

"How?" I asked.

"What, I'm supposed to figure it out for you?" Sasha said. "Like Mr Tongue Tied there said-" Ebony tried to protest at this nickname, but due to him being unable to speak, it was ineffective –"You gotta use your head sometimes." Then she smirked. "Luckily, you seem to have quite a bit of dumb luck up your sleeves, because apparently, you have a number of powerful people hanging around Brightvale."

"Powerful people? Like who?" I asked suspiciously.

She didn't answer. "So," she said, taking out a small little glass map of Neopia, "According to my magic tracker – gift from Masila, by the way – she'll actually be skulking around here next month. She probably won't bother you, unless you do something stupid and deliberately go out and look for her. You won't do anything stupid, right?" Ebony snorted. Even if he couldn't talk, his meaning was heard loud and clear. "Thought so," she sighed. "Call me up and tell me how it goes, 'kay? I'm curious to see what you guys could do against her."

Week 4

It's really tiring to have the leader of the Thieves' Guild as a mentor sometimes.

Kayley still hasn't shown up – which is good, I guess, since they haven't really decided on who'd mentor her yet and she'd throw a temper tantrum if it was Master Sahira – but the rest of the class had someone for them. Bridgette stepped in for Tyler. As for the triplets, well, they kind of had to share the Meerca Brothers, something that my classmates were not happy about. For me, I just went to the Thieves' Guild office to find Kanrik staring wearily at a map. He was muttering to himself.

"Why did they have to come now?" he groaned. "Years and years they've ignored us, and suddenly they've popped up just when two of my best thieves are out-of-action-"

"Hi."

He jumped. "Hanso," he snarled. "Don't…do that."

"What, walk in to your office? I've done it thousands of times before, and you never said anything."

He sighed. "Never mind. I'm too busy right now. Go take care of your little kid—his mother is busy today."

I frowned. "Who are 'they'?"

"They who?"

"The people you were just talking about. You said something about them ignoring us and suddenly popping up-"

"It's nothing, Hanso."

"It's not nothing if you're muttering about it."

"Nothing that a child should worry about, then."

"I'm eleven! That's three years older than we broke you out of jail!" I reminded him. "Besides, remember the last time you tried to keep me out of something? You know I'm probably just gonna end up the middle of it again. Might as well be informed."

He glowered, probably thinking that he should kick me out of his office. But I guess he thought better of it. Instead, he turned around to a map that adorned the wall. "You know that we're not the solitary Thieves' Guild in the world," he said. "We're allied with a lot of different kinds of thieves: Pirates, the Desert Scarabs, the Gypsies…" I nodded. "In Terror Mountain, we used to have a kind of rivalry with this particular group. Galem especially was ferocious. When we fought, large amounts of people on both sides got killed….but we always won. Made them a tad bitter, really."

"It'd be annoying," I agreed.

"When I replaced Galem, the relations between our groups were a little less frosty; but I couldn't trust the other group to attack when we were vulnerable. So, after much searching, we decided to settle down in Brightvale. Only now, for some reason, they want to come and do the same thing. Apparently," he said in an irritated tone, "They had a feeling that some power was calling them there, or whatever. They didn't say this," he added. "One of my spies got the information when he eavesdropped on a conversation between the ruler of that Thieves' Guild and the son."

"Maybe they're the powerful people Sasha was talking about," I murmured. If they were, they could end up a very big threat. But I couldn't worry about them now.

Kanrik looked at me. "What?"

"Uh, nothing. Go on."

"Anyway," he said, holding up a letter. "They're moving to Meridell, and they're asking us for assistance on how to cope with the change. Problem is, I'm not really sure I support them coming closer to our territory. It could mean…" He trailed off, and then shook his head.

"It's not really your choice, is it?" I asked. "Maybe you should help out to show you mean to be friendly. You can't kick them out, that's for sure."

"I suppose," he said reluctantly. "In any case, it'll take quite a bit of time for them to pose an actual threat. I'm just hoping I don't regret this." He paused. "Am I truly so desperate that I'm confiding to an eleven-year-old?"

"Don't feel bad," I said lightly. "I talked you in to it. I'm good at that."

He gave me a small smile. "Yes. Yes, you are."


Timmy, I'm sure, is going to be the death of me.

After learning I was a rich kid—well, his mom isn't that gushing lady from a few months ago, anymore. She seemed to think of me as some sort of zombie, and that handing Timmy over would be the equivalent of giving me permission to eat his brains. But she didn't have a choice. She just scowled, told me to look after him properly, snapped at Timmy to use his common sense, and strode away. I blinked. "What was that about?"

"Mom's mad," he said sadly.

"Why?"

"I asked a bad question."

"There aren't any bad questions," I replied indignantly. "Did she give you an answer?" He shook his head no. "You can tell me. I'll answer it for you if I can; and if I can't, I can always ask Razor or maybe Sophia."

He shook his head. "I don't weally – really –want to."

"Oh. Okay."

We walked in silence for a little while. "I do have another question, though."

"What is it?"

"Is that possible for anybody?" he asked. I blinked, confused. "I mean, being friends with people that are not thieves? Being friends with people who are different?"

"Definitely!" I assured him. "I was pals with Charlie long before I knew we were cousins, remember? Kayley and I eventually overcame our differences – well, most of them – and now we're an awesome crime duo!" When she's here, at least.

He wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, but that's you. You're Hanso. I never saw anyone else try and do it. Your friends just kind of go with whatever you do." He looked at me slightly enviously. "If I turned out to be different, would my friends stay with me?"

"Is that what it's all about?" I asked. I grinned. "Look, Timmy. This is gonna sound really cheesy – and it is – but if they don't accept you then they're simply not your friends. Besides," I added when I saw his worried face. "When you're in the Thieves' Guild you'll be working really closely together, so you can't really fight that much or-"

"Oh, look, candy!" he exclaimed, and suddenly vanished out of sight. I blinked. Either the candy looked really good, or he was avoiding a conversation with me.

Anyway, I was stuck trying to look for him for around three hours. During that time, the afternoon sky burned, and I began panicking. I mean, it was becoming clear his mother hated my guts. What would she do to me if I brought him home late, or even worse, didn't bring him back at all? And what happened to Timmy, anyway? Sure, he's a resourceful little kid, but didn't mean he could beat Masila, or Vira, or even Harry. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. Someone probably saw him—he isn't so big on stealth yet.

A girl with bright blonde hair was kicking stones. She looked like she was in a bad mood; but, considering that most of the other people were either in a hurry or had company, I decided to ask her first. "Excuse me, miss?" I said. She kept her eyes down, which I thought was a little rude—like she didn't think I was important enough to talk to. But whatever. At least she wasn't running away or screaming for the guards. I continued. "I'm looking for a Wocky. He's small, brown, and has a messy mop of hair which he doesn't like in his eyes. Have you seen-"

Her eyes flickered upwards, and I caught sight of a familiar flash of electric blue. I nearly spluttered. "Nope," she said quickly, kicking the stone even harder. "Sorry."

"Brynn?" I asked, shocked. My brain scrambled in my head, trying to process what I was seeing. It was so ridiculous I almost couldn't believe it.

"Yes?" she grumbled.

"What happened to your-?"

"Violet happened!" she snarled. I snickered. The other Adonai sibling? Like brother, like sister, I guess, but I wasn't about to say that out loud. She kicked the stone so hard, it landed on an old lady's foot. I had to hard a grin as Brynn rushed to apologize at the screaming, foot-carrying lady. Said lady gave a loud 'hmph!' and huffed out of the marketplace. Brynn was a bit calmer after this, though. She said, "You're looking for someone, right?"

"Oh, yeah, right." Her having blonde hair distracted me. "Timmy, the little kid you sometimes see me with. Have you seen him?"

She shook her head. I was almost disappointed, when she asked, "Need some help looking at him?" She had nothing better to do, it seemed. I nodded, and we went around the marketplace searching for the little kid. Despite my growing hysteria, I was glad that Brynn came along. It was nice not to be the barrier between two girls who seemed to be on the brink of fighting each other.

Oh, and she was nice enough not to let be brain myself while I was hitting my head with a lamp post after saying "I'm so dead" many times.

"You're not," she said coaxingly. "I'm sure he's just hiding and…" She railed off, and for a moment I thought she had given up trying to help me. Then she grabbed my arm and led me (read: dragged me) to a sweet shop, where a familiar little Wocky kid was running out with a pack of sweets. Might have gotten away with it, too, if he hadn't run straight into me.

Brynn talked to the shopkeeper, who went back inside with a huff. Timmy tried to give her one of his sweet little looks, but she was unmoved by them. "I was hungy." I noticed he didn't try to correct himself with his pronunciation this time. Probably knew how downright cute it was.

"Brynn," I tried to excuse him, "He's thinking with his stomach so he-"

Her eyes shot daggers at me, and I couldn't finish my sentence. "It's my day off," she said simply, and walked away. Wow. She must have been really, really bored.


"Are you sure it's a good idea to go there?" Timmy asked.

"Positive."

"It's overflowing with bubbles!"

"That's exactly why I want to find out what happened."

We were just supposed to past through Uptown, when I smelled the sweet scent of dishwasher. Naturally, I had to investigate, and what do you know, it led to the Adonai house! I have to say, besides mine that is the craziest family I've ever seen. Ebon was standing outside, his hands clasped behind his back and a pleased expression on his face. Grace opened the door to let a stream of pink bubble mixture go out. "Ebony!"

"Mother."

"What did you do?"

"I told you I would clean after myself," he said, with an innocent tone. She groaned, but he just laughed. "It'll go out soon; I bought the quick-drying one, don't worry."

"I'll get you back for this," she promised. He just grinned. "I mean it! When you least expect it, I will get my vengeance-"

"Hi."

They both turned around. "Oh, it's you," Ebony said when he saw Timmy. "Well, swing's all yours, if you want it. I have new ways of entertaining myself now."

"You mean torturing me with pranks?" Grace moaned. "I suppose I should just be thankful you didn't do it when your sisters were here."

For a moment, his smile faded. "Don't be. It's no fun when you can't fight back."

"So I suppose it's okay to lock your sisters in the shed when you know I can't protest?"

"That's different!"

"Of course it is," she said angrily. "I don't mind if it's me you have to abuse, but your sisters-"

"Oh, yes. The girls always need protecting. Good message, Mother dearest."

"That's not what I mean."

"Yes, it is. Violet is a guard!"

"And yet she's as powerless against your father and the Tradition as just about any girl if she doesn't succeed in her little plot."

"She'd be as helpless as the rest of us, you mean."

For a moment, she struggled. "What about Hazel? She hasn't had any training-"

"Oh, for Fyora's sake!" he snapped. "You're babying her! Ever since she was little she's gotten her own way whenever you could sneak something behind Father's back, so you've made out that anyone who isn't nice to her is evil. That's not going to help her, and the sooner she sees that the better-" He stiffened, as if sensing something.

And suddenly, we saw a familiar carriage riding rapidly down the street. Ebony's eyes followed it avidly. He seemed to wince as it turned right near a hill, still within our sight, where I knew Sapphire's – now Guinevere's – house to be. A girl with long, dark hair stepped out of the coach. "Wow," Timmy marvelled. "She'd be really pretty if she wasn't so sad." Her usually bright green eyes were tinted with red, as if she'd been crying, and instead of her usual confident stride, she practically ran to the house, as if she didn't want to stay out in the open more than she had to.

It was weird, like someone had melted through Emerald's defences and left a sad, frightened girl.

"Oh, damn," Ebony muttered. "Something's wrong." He glanced at me. "Don't take this the wrong way, Hanso, but I'd really appreciate it if you don't come next week. I have to fix this."

"Sure," I managed to croak out. With that, he darted for Guinevere's house. "Come on, Timmy. I don't think it's a good idea for us to be here—you mom will be looking for you."

My last look in Uptown this week was Grace's face, her expression taken aback. In that moment, I think it seemed to dawn to her that she didn't know her son at all.


A/N: Betrothal by proxy is now expanded on in my profile. This won't affect Ivy in BD, by the way—betrothals can be done by proxy, but not weddings. ;)