Chapter 33

Beneath the polished, shining floors of the royal palace there was a tunnel. Wide in breadth with low, arched ceilings, it dripped with the condensation that ran down the walls in thick rivulets, pooling in small, shallow trenches that glistened beneath the dim glow of oil lamps that hung on on the walls. Footsteps echoed in this place—the tapping of hard-soled shoes on the cobbled, stony floor made phantom knocks ring from the darkness ahead and it spooked her, unsettled as she was, though she held her head high and her face impassive.

"They're just down yonder," drawled the guard at her side. Emmett, who stood like a sentry at her back, clapped her shoulder in sympathy.

"It is not common for a Lady to venture this far down," he said apologetically. "We'd not ask it of you were it not of vital importance."

"I'm fine." Her voice did not shake. "I'm not afraid."

But the tingle that ran down her back, icy and sharp, said otherwise.

The King had remained above, sending her off like a stony-faced gargoyle at the locked and barred entrance to the dungeon tunnels. The sloping floor had seemed to her a terrible descent—walking those first few metres in absolute blackness, with nothing but a soldier's glinting sword to give her any sense of purpose or direction, she had held her breath the entire way down. She had exhaled only once her feet had found sturdy ground that neither sloped nor bent, but rather went on in a line so absolutely straight and long that even though she squinted, she could not make out its end.

"The prisoner will not talk to you," a guard had told the King. "He's said it plainly enough. He will have nothing to do with you, and will not speak if you deign to show your face."

The King had been displeased, but Bella, feeling suddenly braver than she ought, had turned without another word to descend into the great abyss.

Emmett's presence was a balm to her agitated and heightened nerves. Bella did not know him very well, but despite their fledgling acquaintance, there seemed to be a natural trust that marked him as worthy. He had been unfailingly kind to her from the first, had done whatever he could to make her safe and comfortable, and the gentleness and dedication with which he'd argued Rosalie's case before the King made him, if not a friend, then at least a solid and familiar presence in the darkness of the dank, dripping corridor, where there was neither sunlight nor moonlight to guide them.

"Who is this man, Emmett?" she asked. Her voice, though low and soft, was amplified in the corridor. It bounced back at her in noisy, mocking echoes, each talking over the other until they fell silent in a lull. Emmett glanced down at her with concern when she started, but did not comment as he answered.

"A man from the cliffs," he said gruffly. He, too, was answered by the void. "One of the captured…"

"I know that, but who?" she asked again. "What is his name?"

"He will not tell it."

"How did he come to be captured?"

"He was disarmed," said Emmett easily enough, "and then bound. He was brought here for questioning with his comrades. I've had men down here day and night to watch over them, and not one of them has said a sensible word since they arrived."

"Are they all together?"

"Same block, different cells," he replied. "There are fewer men needed that way."

"And are they…"

Emmett eyed her curiously.

"Are they what?" he asked and Bella hesitated. "You can ask me anything you'd like."

"I just…"

"You just what?"

"I just worry, that's all."

"Are you concerned for them?"

She blushed bright pink though in the darkness, he could not see it. He had guessed it true, though her squirming concern and nervousness was tempered by a measure of hot and sticky apprehension. She knew these men were foul—she would know it without ever laying eyes or ears on any of them—and she knew that they were dangerous. She knew that they had done terrible things… that they had sought her in the mountainous jungles, and that they'd hunted Rosalie, with not-so-pure motives and intentions. They'd attacked and wounded the King, gouging that great and terrible wound in his shoulder and arm, and they'd killed Samuelo and countless other guards in the name of justice and revenge, all for a crime which was, in Bella's mind, no real crime at all.

But still, she worried.

"What a gentle little heart you must have, Miss Bella," laughed Emmett. He sounded genuinely amused and Bella, feeling hot and foolish, scowled into the blackness. "What a kind and generous soul."

Bella said nothing.

"All men in custody are treated with civility," Emmett said finally, after his chortles had died down. "They are given food and drink, provided with blankets and a pallet for sleeping, and are given water to wash when they require it. The cells are not so dank as this—there are windows there, though they are barred, and the air is fresh and clean."

Bella nodded her approval.

"They should have no complaints, I assure you. It might not be exactly how they're used to living but it is not uncivil and they are not left wanting."

"Good."

"Yes." He eyed her with curious interest and she looked away at once. "Yes, I suppose it is…"

"Just ahead, Sir!" The soldier leading them gestured forward, taking a lamp from the wall. He held it out before them with a squint. "The sun is low, sir, and the cells are dark."

"Come, Bella." Emmett pulled her forward. "We will speak with this man before night falls completely. I'd not like to keep you long, for I fear that if I do, that skulking creature at the gate will come to snatch you up."

Bella stifled a grin at this astute description of the waiting Edward.

"He is down here, My Lady." The soldier pointed down the darkened hallway, where Bella could just begin to hear the pattering of footsteps that were not her own or her guards'. "In cell seven."

Empty cells, which had begun to flash by as she walked, were numbered with a digit made of rusted iron nailed into the stone above each set of bars. Bella had avoided looking within—the dank emptiness made her shiver with perceived cold and discomfort—but she glanced up on instinct upon hearing this bit of news and saw the number 21 imprinted on the cell to her right. She hesitated when she saw the interior of that gloomy abode—a high window was half hidden by a well of stone on the outside, set with thick iron bars that were fastened deep within the rock walls themselves. A pallet of straw was piled in the far corner and two pots—one a pitcher and the other a commode—were on the floor to the right. The stony walls had once been red—all the stone in the castle, Bella knew, was the same ruddy brick—but years of dripping water and filthy, groping hands had turned it a dull and dingy gray. It looked mottled in the twilight, and cold, and she steered herself away at once when she felt Emmett's hand between her shoulders.

"Come, Bella." He ushered her forward. "The sooner we get finished, the better. The King mistrusts these men, and I know it tries him greatly to wait as he must."

Cell seven came sooner than Bella might have liked.

Bella could tell when they were near the tenanted cells by the sudden appearance of armed guards. Bella, being a Lady and a special favourite of the King, came with her own accompaniment of a guide and Emmett, both of whom were charged with her safety and protection amongst such dangerous and volatile men. Two guards for one woman had seemed excessive to Bella, who wondered just what sort of damage an unarmed destitute could do in the bowels of a dungeon where he had neither hope nor prayer of escape, but when she saw the retinue lined up along the walls which were now lit by flaming torches instead of lamps, she staggered in disbelief.

Six cells, all locked tight, stood three by three across from one another. As with all the other cells, these were placed well apart with a thick expanse of bare, ruddy wall between each. Doors two, four, and six were along the left-hand wall, three, five and seven to the right, and Bella saw with mild amazement that there were two men on either side of each cell door, one armed with a sword and the other a spear. Each stared so steadfastly into the cell across that they didn't so much as stir when Bella, Emmett, and their guide came into view, blinking in the sudden harshness of the orange torchlight.

"The Lady for prisoner seven," said Emmett gruffly and Bella saw two men beside cell six step forward.

The guards, it seemed, had been well-trained on how to watch their prisoners. Bella saw with some wonder how the placement of these men had been no mere accident, and how there seemed to be a method to the strange business of twelve guards for six caged men. The soldiers beside door number seven did not stir when Emmett gestured, as Bella expected they might. Instead they remained still, staring into cell six, where they watched their hunched and silent prisoner curled atop his thin pallet of straw.

A clever system, Bella thought ruefully, watching as one of the guards began to fit a large, rusted key from an old ring into the lock on the barred door of cell seven. But an exceedingly torturous hell, to be constantly scrutinized and so utterly and completely laid bare.

"Prisoner up!" The guard's voice echoed noisily and jarred more than one dozing prisoner. "Seven, up!"

Bella watched with sudden apprehension when the guard with the spear moved into the cell and there was a scuffle—a few bumps, a shout, and finally, a volley of curses—before a tousled, scrawny man was pulled into the light of the corridor where he squinted, bringing his unbound hands to shield his face.

"Bind him," ordered Emmett coldly. "Hands at least. Leave his feet for now. If he gets unruly, we'll rethink it."

From Bella knew not where, a length of thick, rough rope was produced. The man's hands, now clenched and outstretched, were bound tightly together before him.

"Where are we to go?" Bella asked in a whisper and Emmett, snapping his eyes back down to her, frowned.

"Has the chamber been set up?" he asked, glancing down towards the end of the hallway. Bella saw a wooden door there with a square grille of iron at eye-level, and the guards nodded sagely.

"Set him there," said Emmett at once. "Is there a chair for the Lady?"

"Aye, Sir." The soldier with the spear nodded. "And paper and pencil."

"Good." Emmett nodded towards the door. "Put him in. You'll stand sentry at the door, you hear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And you, man." Emmett turned to their guide, who was standing by the nearest sconce. "You'll remain here until we are ready to return. Assist as needed."

"Understood, sir."

"Bella, I'll go in with you," said Emmett to her, and feeling suddenly small under the might of his authority, she nodded quickly. "He said he'd not speak before the King, but he said nothing of me."

"Thank you."

He smiled weakly at her.

"I pray to the Gods that he tells us something useful," sighed Emmett, urging her forward towards the room. Bella stared steadfastly forward as they moved past the other cells. She could hear the grunts and groans of their inhabitants, and she could smell the musty, sour scent of unwashed bodies and unclean linens. She held her breath for as long as she could, the odor making her recoil in violent disgust as the sudden memories of her long days in the jungle arose without invitation.

"Just through here, and sit opposite him," said Emmett. "If he so much as lays a finger on you, the interview is over."

"I understand." Emmett must have heard the tremor in her voice for when she spoke, he stopped, watching her with infinite compassion.

"Are you scared, Bella?" he asked gently. "I promise, he can't hurt you."

"I'm not afraid of him," said Bella with the familiar comfort of honesty on her side. "I just don't know what he might have to say."

"I wish I could help you there," said Emmett ruefully. "But alas, he will speak to no one except what he calls the English."

The word, spoken in such a terrible accent that it was almost unrecognizable, made Bella's stomach lurch. In Emmett's mouth it sounded more like een-GALL-eesh than the true word, and it took her a moment to recognize it for what it was. He seemed to understand the quirk of her brow when she made sense of the word for he chuckled at himself and at her, but offered nothing more.

"In," he said. "If you want to stop, just say the word. Don't let yourself become frightened or alarmed by the likes of him."

Bella was ushered through the door where she blinked, stunned by the sudden brightness of a hearth, into a small, but not uncomfortable, room. It was a rather bare space, and more than a little austere, but it was cozy and warm. A table that could comfortably seat six sat along the far wall with a bench on one side and chairs along the other. The fire, by which there were no chairs or stools, was large and hot. There were hooks along the walls for swords and pikes—weapons, no doubt, kept by the soldiers who guarded these dungeons—and along the farthest wall, through a door that was only just cracked open, Bella could see a series of long, narrow beds with clean, white linens and a single down pillow on each.

"This is where the guards sleep when they are on duty," explained Emmett. "They switch out through the night and so must take their rest here. This is where they eat, and over yonder is where they sleep."

Bella said nothing, glancing down at the table.

The prisoner sat on the centre of the long, wooden bench, his head bent down and his bound hands resting atop the table. Opposite him, before the centre chair, was a pile of rough-edged parchment and a pencil of wood and charcoal, accompanied by an ewer of cool, sweet water and an etched glass goblet that looked as if it had been summoned directly from the King's own kitchen.

Emmett pulled out the seat for her and she sat, somewhat stiff and awkward, before this strange and tired creature. She felt her face grow suddenly warm, though her blush did not entice him to move, and he sat, still and silent, for what felt like an hour before she shifted uneasily in her seat.

Before she could ask a thing, she saw Emmett's foot snap out and kick the edge of the bench, jolting the man so that he sat up, his face red with fury.

"Filthy animal!" spat the man, and Bella saw the unmoved placidity on Emmett's face when he did not recognize the words. "Filthy, brazen beast…"

Bella cleared her throat and the man snapped around, his hot eyes fixed on her in an instant. This look Emmett did recognize and Bella saw him sidle up to stand at the head of the table, his fists clenched atop the wood.

"Call off your dog or I'll not say a thing," drawled the man at once, eying him with some disquiet. He would not look at Bella, keeping his disgusted, narrowed gaze on Emmett who stared steadily back. "Go on, My Lady. Tell him."

"The man bids you stand aside," said Bella delicately, and Emmett's face went dark. "He says he will not speak if…"

"You nasty little liar!" The man banged his fists on the table and she yelped. "Tell him what I said! I did not bid him stand aside. Tell him what I called him, girl… I want to see his face when you say it!"

Bella was more than a little astonished and felt her temper piqued and primed, but turned to Emmett with as much grace as she could muster and blew out her breath.

"The man," she scowled to herself, "bids me tell my dog to stand aside," she said with distaste. "He says he shan't speak if you don't move."

"Dog, eh?" Emmett chuckled low, leaning closer to the skinny figure on the bench. "He'd best be careful who he's calling dog. I'm not the one who's bound and caged." To his credit, Bella saw that the man did not flinch, even when Emmett's menacing knuckles cracked against the table. The man grinned with crooked, yellowing teeth when Emmett's temper shone through, but the latter only glanced apologetically at Bella, whose heart was racing.

Upon seeing her apprehension Emmett desisted at once, retreating back into the shadows where he continued to lurk, but did not impose.

"Better…" The man leaned his elbows on the table. "Much better. You must be a good mistress to keep such an animal on a leash."

Bella didn't say a word.

"Iknew they'd bring me you," he continued tauntingly. "I just knew it. I knew the rumours were true."

"What rumours?" It had been so long since she'd spoken her mother tongue that it felt strange to hear it flow so naturally, though their accents were vastly different. Hers was the familiar American she'd had all her life while his, while not entirely describable by any words she knew, seemed a vague amalgamation of European intonations.

"The West knows all," said the man with a grin. His hair, which was slicked with grease, hung dark and stringy before his wide, blue eyes. Those eyes were fixed on Bella with an unsettling intensity that would have made her squirm had she not been so steadfastly determined to remain still and stoic.

The man ogled her with abject glee and she sighed, shaking her head.

"Whatever you've heard, I'm sure it's a lie."

The man chortled.

"Goddesses are no mean company," he said lowly, and her heart stuttered wildly. "A goddess is a worthy foe."

"I'm not your foe."

"Aren't you?" The man leaned back, shaking his hair from his eyes. Bella saw how sallow he looked—how thin, and wasted, and pale—and she had a sudden suspicion that he was not entirely well. He might have been a handsome man—he was younger, even, than she, and neither broad nor tall, but he had the sharp cheeks and the strong jaw and chin that were the marks of manly beauty. His face was covered in a thick, black stubble that made his eyes look sunken and overlarge, and he had a long, shapely nose that might have been broken a time or two. His mouth was pursed, pressed into a hard, disgusted line, but when he relaxed after a moment of scrutiny, Bella thought she might have caught a touch of mirth about the edges.

"What do they call you?" she asked softly. The man said nothing. "Do you have a name?"

"Do you have a name, Goddess?"

"I'm not a goddess."

"I'm sure."

Bella bit her tongue to keep herself in check.

"Why did you ask me here?"

"Did I ask you here?" The man raised a sardonic eyebrow and gazed about the chamber with reluctant appreciation. "I must say… it is an upgrade from my usual cell, and how kind of those animals to let me loose for such a visit! I suppose I should be honoured."

"I've no time for games," she said at once. "If you won't tell me what it is you want, I'll leave."

"A tragic threat, I assure you." His mocking, drawling voice grated on her. "A most unpleasant tantrum…"

"I mean it."

"Sure you do…"

Bella, suddenly hot with impatience, lifted herself from her chair and glanced haughtily at Emmett.

"He won't say anything worth hearing," she said in Maronese. "I think we should go…"

"As you wish…"

"Wait."

The two men spoke at the same time and Bella, feeling a surge of prideful triumph, glanced imperiously at the man at the table.

"Sit down," he said, jerking his chin towards her seat. "Sit down, girl…"

"I am not a girl." She sat down stiffly. "Far from it. And you've no right to call me so."

"Woman, then," said the man impatiently. "By the Gods, you're hasty."

"I'm not hasty," she corrected. "I've merely no wish to talk nonsense. And it grows dark… I'd like to go to bed."

He stared at her sharply and this time, she did not blush.

"Why have you summoned me here?" she asked again, studying his face with suspicion. "You tell the guards that you will speak to no one but the English. Why is that?"

"Because I wanted to know if the rumours were real," said the man at once. "I wanted to know if you were real."

"I am quite real, I assure you." She sat back in her chair, fiddling with her pencil. "But what's it to you?"

"A goddess is fallen from the heavens, and she asks me what it means to me?" The man tipped his head back in astonishment. "It means a great deal, I assure you…"

"I'm not a goddess."

"No?" He eyed her quietly. "Then explain yourself to me. I want to know how you came to be here, and more importantly, how you know the Sacred Language."

This took Bella by surprise and she froze, suddenly pensive.

"The Sacred Language?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the language of the Gods, the language of the heavens!" The man reached out his bound hands, stopping before the ropes could pull. "I've tested you through and through, and your mastery of it is sound. More sound, I daresay, than even our most learned scholars."

"I am a scholar." Bella laughed derisively. "I studied English for six years!"

The man stared at her in amazement.

"Then you've studied the Texts," he said, and he spoke the word with such respect that Bella immediately capitalized it in her head. "The ancient Texts…"

"If you mean the Bible," she said, "then yes, I know it."

The man bowed his head in reverence and Bella bade him sit up, impatient and embarrassed.

"I can die a happy man," said the creature, and there was a new and sudden light about him that unnerved her. "I can die a happy man having met a goddess walking among us."

"I am not a goddess!"

"Yes, ma'am." He ducked his head again and she felt her irritation grow. "Yes, My Lady…"

"Sit up!" The words were waspish and he obeyed at once, which only further piqued her. "What is it that you want? Surely you didn't call me here to gawk?"

He considered her for a long moment before he spoke again.

"What I want," he asked, glancing at Emmett, "is a favour."

Bella laughed outright.

"What have you done to earn such a thing?" she demanded. "Why should I speak to anyone on your behalf if all you do is vex and taunt me?"

"Because I know things." The man spoke lowly. "I know many things, My Lady, that would do you good to know, too."

"And what things are those?"

"I want your word that I'll get what I want."

"I don't know what you want…"

"I want a cell," said the man, interrupting her. "I want a new cell. Away from the rest."

"Why would you want that?"

"My reasons don't matter," he said. "I want a new cell. I don't care which and I don't care where, just so long as it isn't there, and it isn't near my comrades.

"I don't have the power to…"

"And I want peace," he continued. "I will be guarded—I know it plainly—but I want my guards to stand outside my door. I do not like being watched so."

"I don't have the authority to change cells."

"Aye, I know." He glanced quickly at Emmett, who still lurked unspeaking in the shadows. "But he does. And I think…"

He smirked at Bella with a knowing, almost offensive pride before he spoke, and she felt bitter dislike in the very back of her throat.

"He does," finished the man. "That creature there has all the power in the world to give me what I want, and you've got his ear. So ask him, Lady, and see what he has to say."

Bella, disgruntled and suspicious, put the request to Emmett, who frowned.

"And what does he say he'll give us in return?" asked the latter in Maronese. "What does he offer in exchange?"

The man did not need her to translate for him.

"Information," repeated the man in English. "Information that is of dire importance to your Kingdom, and more importantly, your King."

"What information?" She spoke without translating for Emmett. "What information is that?"

"Give me your word and I'll give you mine," he bargained. "A cell away from the others, with guards who do not stare. That is all I ask. A little peace, a little quiet, and some goddamned privacy."

Bella translated and Emmett, looking serious, spoke slowly.

"You will be given a new cell down the hall, and guards who do not stare if and when you give us information that is pertinent and useful," he said. The man stared blankly at him. "I know you understand me, so nod if you agree."

The man, pondering for a moment, nodded in quiet acquiescence.

"And you, Lady." He eyed Bella with fervent delight. "I want your word that he'll keep his." He jerked his chin at Emmett. "The word of a Goddess is as good as gold."

"I am not…"

"Not a goddess, I know." The man rolled his eyes. "But nevertheless. If not a goddess' word, then at least a Lady's. I'll trust you more than him."

"Emmett is honest and true," said Bella impatiently. "If he says a thing, he means it."

"Good."

There was silence for a moment longer.

"You asked me my name, before," said the man. "They call me Clemens."

"Clemens," Bella repeated. "Is that the name your mother gave you?"

"No," admitted the man, "but that is what I'm called nevertheless. Do you know why we were at your Holy Lands?"

"I do." She felt her spine stiffen. "I've learned all about it in the interim."

"We know she's here," said the man with dark delight. "The wife of my master's brother."

"Your master?" Bella asked sharply. "Who do you call master?"

"You know his name as well as I," said Clemens sharply. "Do not waste our brief time together with banalities."

Bella grimaced.

"His brother's wife, and his brother's son," said the man. "We heard she'd come here."

"You heard?"

"Aye, we did…" The man began to fidget with the ends of the rope around his wrists. "We heard it plain as day."

"From where?"

"All in due course, my little Lady. All in due course."

Bella fell silent.

"You were never our target, you know," said Clemens idly, once he'd finished toying with the rope. "Not even the King, may the devil take him. Attacking him and his own was merely a happy accident."

"I know."

"We wanted the woman and the boy," he continued. "They'd been missing for four days already, and my Master feared them dead. Do you know that the child is his only heir?"

"I've heard."

"He is." Clemens nodded sagely. "A very rich little brat indeed, though hardly worth what it costs to feed him. Such a sickly princeling I've never seen before in all my life."

"Don't talk so about a child," snapped Bella. "He's just a boy."

"Ahh…" Clemens lit up like a child at Christmas, and Bella's protests stuttered to a halt. "So you admit it, then… you have seen him."

She said nothing.

"Then our suspicions were correct." He glanced at Emmett, looking speculative. "Is it also true that this great oaf was seen sleeping on her couch in the little pink house?"

Bella felt suddenly cold. Her fear, which had thus far lain dormant behind the irritation and fury glowing hot in her breast, doused her at once in a wash of icy apprehension that made her shiver on her chair. The fire was warm—that was not the issue—but hearing those words from this creature's mouth, hearing them so plainly and confidently spoken, made her blood run cold.

"I don't know what you mean," she said shakily. "What house?"

"Oh don't play me for a fool." Clemens leaned forward, leering. "I know exactly where to find her. Oh, we learned it quick enough… a little pink house by the river through town, with a little yard and a coconut tree. Isn't that what they call it? Coconut Cottage?"

Bella pushed herself away from the table with a start.

"Who told you that?" she demanded. "Who told you such lies?"

"Lies?" The man chortled. "I think not, Lady. We know full well that the bitch and her brat are right here in the King's city, given sanctuary they have no right to claim and that he has no right to give."

"Anyone can claim sanctuary, especially when they're fleeing violence," she hissed. "It's nothing to you what either of them do."

"No, it's not," shrugged the man with a grin. "But it is the business of Rojce Lamman, and even more so the business of Jamos."

The two names, spoken so sharply and clearly, made even Emmett jerk his head up. He stared between Bella and the prisoner as if they played a demented game of table tennis until he fixed his eyes on Bella's pale face and, seeing her fear, stepped forward.

"Enough," said Emmett sharply. "My Lady, come. We will go…"

But before she could stand from the table Bella felt the sharp, cold grip of the man's thin fingers on her wrist.

Swords were drawn. Spears, resting against walls and doors, were poised in an instant. Bella heard Emmett shouting, felt the cold fingers retreat when a blade was pressed to the prisoner's back, and saw, with a disconcerting terror, how steadfast and unflinching the man remained, staring so intently that she felt as if he might look through her.

"Tell your King that we already know!" he shouted. Emmett jerked him to his feet. "Tell your King that Rojce knows! Tell him that we know where she is, and what he has done, and that the West will come for him, with all its fighting glory, to reclaim what is theirs and lay waste to his city!"

The man was hauled away by the guards at the door, screaming and shouting like a mad thing, until they heard the clamour of voices rise to a crescendo, the unsettling sound of a thud against the wall, and then silence—blissful, peaceful, yet terrifying silence—that made Bella's heart race in her throat.

"Write it down, Bella," said Emmett softly, kneeling next to her. "Whatever that madman told you, write it down."

"I don't need to." Bella pushed her papers aside. "I need to go, Emmett. We need to go."

"Are you alright?" He pressed his fingers to her cheek, but she slapped them away impatiently. "You're pale and hot…"

"We must go," she insisted, rising to her feet. "Take me back to Edward. We must go now."

"Alright…" He stepped aside and watched, with mild astonishment, as Bella forced her way through the guarded door. She moved with purpose down the long, wide corridor, Emmett hot at her heels. She did not look into any of the cells, though the other prisoners had arisen and were growing loud. She ran into the darkness, sprinting past door 19 where the man was being resettled, and moved with a purpose through the dingy, dripping corridor, rising some minutes later up the tall and narrow ramp.

The sky outside was black now, with a smattering of bright white stars, and she nearly crashed into the King who'd heard her approach and was waiting, filled with worry, at the mouth of the cave. He caught her when she stumbled, breathless and panting, and she threw her arms around him in a tight and trembling hug.

"Easy, sweetheart." He pulled her further from the gate as Emmett, puffing and confused, emerged from the darkness after her. The guard at the gate locked it up at once and Edward raised a questioning brow at Emmett.

"Beats me," he said in astonishment. "The man was foul enough, to be sure, but I've no idea what was said."

Bella pulled back at once.

"Did he frighten you, sweetheart?" Edward smoothed her hair back from her flushed and heated face. "Was he very rude?"

"No…"

"Then what?" The guard at the gate, watching them with interest, made Bella falter. She felt a sudden and queasy suspicion deep in her belly and she eyed him with mistrust, making the man falter and blush. The King saw it too, eying her with peculiar inquiry but he did not complain when she pulled him into a dark recess beside the castle doors, out of sight and hearing from anyone but himself and Emmett.

"Come this way." Bella glanced nervously about her, looking around the corner and to the closed and bolted window before she spoke, her voice shaking in the stillness.

"The West knows about Rosalie and Finn," she said in a rush and both men's faces went dark with anger. "They know she's here, and that you've agreed to shelter them, and that her house is pink, and near the river…"

"Impossible," said Emmett at once, his face dark and surly. "Absolutely impossible. Not even our own townsfolk know the whole story!"

"He told me so himself!" Bella insisted. "He told me exactly that, down to the very colour of her walls! He told me about you, Emmett, and how you were sleeping on her couch!"

"They've not been out of that dungeon in weeks," said Edward softly. "Not even to roam the grounds."

"They know," Bella said again. "They know everything!"

"How is that possible?" Edward stared, disconcerted, at Bella's plaintive, nervous face. "How did he find out, Bella?"

"He didn't say," she admitted. "He didn't tell me…"

"There is only one way that they could know anything of the sort, Edward," said Emmett at once, and Bella, sensing his bubbling ire, shrank deeper into the shadows. "There is only one possible way that those men could know anything about Rosalie or her child, and that is if someone in this very castle has been feeding information through to the dungeons, right under our very noses."

"A spy?" demanded Edward indignantly. "A spy in my own castle, under my employ?"

Emmett's silence said enough.

"Round up your soldiers, Emmett," said Edward at once. "Every last one. Bring them to the courtyard at dawn. I will root out the source of this betrayal and believe me—I will not rest until it is done."

The stranger would not, under any coercion, prying, or pleading, speak another sensible word to Bella or any of the other guards who attended him in cell 19 of the King's royal dungeons.

Thrice Bella met him, and thrice she was rebuffed. For three days she had gone down to the dungeon, accompanied by Emmett, or Joro, or sometimes even Ruben—the happy, jubilant young guard who'd identified her at the gates with Rosalie, and who seemed more than happy to chatter away at her while they walked, alleviating some of that dreadful gloom that permeated the dank and cavernous dungeon.

No longer were her meetings held in the guards' private quarters at the end of the long, wide hallway. No longer was she given paper and pencil, or water to drink when she sat with him, asking questions that were never answered and staring into that inscrutable gaze that pierced like daggers in her chest. He watched her constantly—those buggy blue eyes tracked every motion of her body, every twitch and shiver of her face—and she was unnerved by this scrutiny, if unmoved by his taciturn and stubborn silence.

He would say nothing—would reveal nothing—that might aid the King in his earnest and relentless inquisition of the soldiers and castle staff who might, even under the most unlikely of circumstances, have spoken the words that Clemens had revealed three nights prior.

Who was the spy? The man would not say.

Where had he heard the rumours? The man would not reply.

Why had he told Bella such stories?

What had he gained from the telling?

How had word travelled?

Where was the culprit now?

Silence, silence, and more infernal, deafening silence.

The stool beneath her was hard and uncomfortable. Her arms, resting on the rusted, iron bars of the cell, were cold and cramped. Her skirts, dragging in a murky puddle of water in the trench beside the cell door, was stinking and damp and her hair, escaping its neat plait, hung over her cheeks, looking for all the world, Bella thought, as greasy and dishevelled as his.

She asked him questions in English. She repeated them in Maronese. She even spat Spanish at him—what little she could recall from high school—but neither the familiar tongues nor the new were in any way provoking to him. He chose instead to stare, his mouth agape like some infernal, devilish idiot, looking for all the world as if he were not only unwilling to speak, but incapable and infirm.

"Who sent you to Terosankta?"

Silence.

"Why do you seek the woman and her child?"

Not a word.

"Who are you really?"

He sneered at her, but said nothing.

"Are you dumb?" she demanded hotly, "or simply stupid?"

He made a grotesque face—a mocking, obscene mask—and his tongue lolled out of his mouth.

"Stupid, I suppose," he drawled greasily. "If it pleases My Lady…"

Bella felt her face pale in anger and her nostrils flared, her temper rising like mercury as she bit back an urge to hit him.

"What do you want with Rosalie?" she demanded, giving up all pretense. "What do you want with Finn?"

"Master wants and master gets…" chuckled the man dryly. "I am a soldier, Madam. I do as I'm told."

"And I'm telling you to tell me," she growled. "Tell me who's been sneaking you stories."

The man pressed his lips together, eyes dancing with glee.

"Why are you doing this?"

He beamed at her, rotting teeth on display through the curtain of shaggy black hair.

"Because I can," he said. "Because I want to. Because it amuses me to see you so worked up—and because I know how badly you want to know!"

Bella's temper snapped and she rose, knocking her stool over with a clatter on the stone. Her guard, Ruben, looked up in alarm, staring suspiciously at the man he could not understand. With a loyalty that Bella had no right to expect from this near stranger, he slammed his spear against the bars to drive the creature back. Bella felt a perverse pleasure when he scampered away, more fearful of the weapon than anything else, burrowing in his pallet of hay and blankets with a flashing, venomous glare that made his eyes glow hot.

"Take me up," she said darkly. The man in the cell, whose bound hands were tapping rhythmically on his bent knees, sneered foolishly at her once the spear was put away. "He won't say a thing to me now."

The sneer grew wider.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Ruben, glancing at the prisoner with some distaste. "Yes, as you wish…"

She followed Ruben back to the realm of light, and of fresh air. The trek was quick—this cell was not five minutes from the entrance and Bella, having lost some of her distaste for the empty, mouldering cells, no longer shuddered to walk by them.

She followed behind the diligent Ruben with a face so sour and taciturn that even he, a cheerful and jolly youth, could do nothing to alleviate her suffering.

"Do not let him bother you, My Lady," he advised upon seeing her darkened countenance. "Do not let him aggravate you so."

"I can't help it," she growled, frustrated. "He irks me."

"Aye, I know it," he said with sympathy. "He irks me too, but he is so far below either one of us that we really should pay him no mind."

"I can't help it, Ruben," she replied. "I can't help but feel angry… to be so useless is an such an utter failure."

"You are far from useless," said Ruben seriously. "So far, in fact, that I'd put money on it."

Despite herself, Bella laughed.

"Don't waste your pay," she warned. "My only useful deed has been to extract that precious little tidbit from that uncivilized creature in the cell. What he told me is shocking, I know, but it is of no use to anyone if we cannot figure out its source."

"I know, My Lady." Ruben sighed and it echoed off the walls like a serpentine hiss. "I know. But that little tidbit, as you call it, has been invaluable in the pursuit."

Bella grimaced silently, thoroughly surly and unpleasant, and said nothing more.

They emerged into the grounds in a halo of overcast light and clouds. The sky was white with them—not the dark, ominous grey of storm, but the bright, vivid white of drizzle or mist. The light shocked her eyes—after the darkness of the cells, to which she had grown accustomed, this brightness seemed aggravating. She blinked away the spots, shielding her eyes from the worst of the light, and had just made up her mind to sneak her way into the kitchens for a bite when she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard a voice at her ear.

"Any news, Bella?"

Startled and blind, Bella yelped and wheeled, nearly knocking poor Ruben into the dirt. The guard grunted when she hit him, her elbow connecting with the soft flesh of his middle, but he caught her up at once and snapped towards the threat, which held up its hands in apologetic regret. Ruben, upon realizing who it was, dropped to a bow at once, and did not rise until Edward, with a rueful smile, bade him stand.

"Sorry," he muttered wryly. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"You scared me half to death," she accused sourly. "Where did you come from?"

An explanation, which might have been easily spoken, was provided instead by his outstretched hand. Bella glanced down at it with some confusion but she felt her surliness freeze at once when she saw that it held a parcel, wrapped and tied in a cloth napkin from the kitchen. She knew it as soon as she smelled it—a sweet sugar bun, drizzled in honey and laced with cinnamon. It was a particular favourite of hers from the castle kitchens and a singular specialty of Lessie's, Edward's cook. Her cheeks turned pink when he handed it to her, still steaming through the cloth, and she held its warmth to her nose, breathing in the yeasty, sweet smell.

She apologized in a murmur, feeling sorry for her temper, but he waved her off at once.

"No matter," he said, offering her his arm. "You missed breakfast."

Bella said nothing.

They walked together for some moments, each silent and contemplative as Bella, feeling ravenous, unwrapped the honey bun. It glistened with sweetness, dripping down onto her hand and she took a bite at once, fighting the urge to groan when she tasted it.

The King watched her with undisguised amusement, chuckling when she licked some honey from her fingers.

"Sweet tooth," he teased, drawing her a little nearer. "You'll be a nightmare at festivals, I'm sure of it. You'll buy out the baking stalls!"

Bella grinned sheepishly.

"Were you with the man again?" he asked gently after Bella had taken another bite. She nodded quickly. "Did he say anything?"

Irritation, though not as poignant as before, rose in her belly once again.

"Not a peep," she complained. "Not one word of any sense."

"He's said nothing of note?" Edward prodded. "Nothing that might… help?"

"Not a thing," she said. Her face contorted into frustrated discontent and Edward, catching on at once, squeezed her arm in sympathy. "He just stares at me, Edward, and replies with such nonsense… it makes me so unsettled, and so angry."

"Ah, Bella," he sighed softly. "I wish you wouldn't get so worked up."

"How can I not?" She brought another bite to her mouth, savouring the sweetness. "It's the only useful thing I've been able to do, and now, even that has become useless."

"You are useful in more ways than one," said Edward and Bella, hearing Ruben's similar reply in her head, grimaced. "You have done this whole Kingdom a great service by agreeing to speak with that cretin in the first place."

"And he's said nothing of note."

"He's said plenty," countered Edward. "Thanks to you, we know that there is a leak in my castle. We know that there is a spy, and that someone very close to me and my own is sharing secrets with my enemies."

"But we don't know which person, nor do we know all the secrets they've told."

"Not yet," he agreed, "but we will. These things take time. Even I—impatient scoundrel though I may be—know it."

"I'm impatient," she admitted, toying with the string from the napkin. "Very impatient, and I want to be useful."

"Then keep on as you are," he advised. "Keep talking to him, if you can. You might wear him down yet, or maybe not, but the effort is all that matters."

"He speaks such nonsense," she complained. "Such foolish nonsense…"

"Aye, as most madmen do," agreed Edward gently. "And make no mistake—that creature is mad, though he may appear otherwise."

"How so?"

"Any man who seeks such revenge on a woman and child they do not know must be mad," he reasoned. "What man in his right mind would try and take a woman, by force, and return her to a violent husband?"

"One who believes in her inferiority," said Bella promptly. "Someone who thinks she deserves what she gets."

"Aye, and in short, I call him a madman," quipped Edward. "Absolutely and unequivocally mad. But thanks to him we know of their scheme, and will be better prepared to meet that danger when it comes."

She felt her cheeks go pale and she stopped their walk, turning to him in dismay.

"Do you think there is a danger?" she asked quietly. "Are the west really a threat?"

"A threat?" he asked softly. "Absolutely. An immediate danger? I think not."

Bella waited, frowning, for an explanation.

"I've spoken with the Council and I've spoken with my Uncle," he continued. "Two very good sources that I trust implicitly. The Council and Carlisle both agree that while the West is bound to retaliate if they know that we've sheltered their wife and heir, that they are very unlikely to do it with any haste."

"How can you be sure?"

"They've got no resources," said Edward simply and they continued their walking. "They've got absolutely nothing to sustain themselves. They sacked the Hollow Lands—the herbalist's family was one of many that were killed and the rest have packed up and moved away out of fear. There are no more farms to raid, no more livestock to steal… only trees to cut and some fields, which have since grown wild, to harvest."

"And what stops them from coming further East?" she said with worry. "What stops them coming for the farms, or the villages?"

"Soldiers," said Edward easily. "My men are everywhere this side of the mountains. Each district has a retinue for their own protection, and the minute I hear of any further threats you can rest assured that those numbers will be increased."

Bella felt some of her worry ease.

"This spy, Bella, is a serious matter," continued the King. "It bothers me greatly to think it true—to think that one of my own could be so two-faced, so traitorous."

The word sounded like a curse and Bella, taken aback by his sudden vehemence, said nothing at all.

"But there is no immediate threat," he continued. "I will find the mole—yes, indeed, I shall—but there is no use in fretting unnecessarily about what might be. We will figure out the leak and seal it tight, but until we do, we must simply take precautions."

"Precautions?"

"Yes," said Edward. "Absolutely."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean taking care," he said. "Those who have employment in the castle will no longer be privy to my private quarters or chambers, excepting those servants who've been vetted and approved by me."

"You'll fire them?"

"No," said Edward gently. "That would be cruel indeed, and a great trial to those families who depend on the income. No. I will fire no one until I find the spy, or until I have a reasonable suspicion of who it might be. I simply mean that my servants will be kept at arm's length, when, until now, I've welcomed many and all into my fold with ease."

Bella sighed heavily.

"It means that my footmen and butlers will be few," he continued. "The maids will perform household duties, but will not be privy to my private quarters."

"For how long?"

"For however long it takes for me to question the group," said Edward. "As long as it takes before I know who is sneaking information to the dungeons, and how, exactly that information is making its way West. I know, almost for certain, that it is not one of the soldiers, so it must, therefore, be one of my staff."

Bella nodded her agreement, thinking over this plan with careful consideration as she recalled, in vivid detail, just how the King knew the soldiers were innocent.

The interrogation of the men had lasted almost two full days. Bella had watched the proceedings like a ghost, ever the King's shadow as he brought man after man to kneel before the throne, to swear his fealty, and to tell, to the best of his knowledge, of any wrongdoing or suspicion of his fellows in the ranks. Edward had interviewed knights, and soldiers, and even Emmett, who was undoubtedly blameless in the entirety of the affair, but who had to be interviewed in the name of thoroughness alone. He'd asked after interlopers or instigators, and breaches in protocol. He'd asked whether there had been an error—even the slightest error—that could have let slip any of the information that the prisoner had told Bella in his haughty and fleeting bid for favour. Edward wanted to know whether anyone spoke, on the the job or off, about the business of the newcomer and her child in the castle. Had anyone noticed anything strange or suspicious? Had there been talk among the men, prompted perhaps by the woman's beauty, to rouse any salacious rumour or gossip?

Bella had heard with her own ears the verdict of this unmovable and aggressive inquisition. She'd heard everyone, from the lowliest foot soldier to the Commander himself, reveal the same and utterly irrefutable truth, though it did nothing to ease her anxiety or lessen her nerves.

The men knew nothing of a mole in their ranks, knew nothing of any person or thing that might have acted as it shouldn't have. They knew nothing of the woman—indeed, only Emmett and the few Kingsguards who had been appointed to watch her knew anything of significance, and those who spoke of her at all spoke only of her beauty, and her novelty.

No one said a thing about the West. No one said, even in whispers, that they suspected Rosalie to be anything other than what she'd been professed—a widow, lately moved to the city for protection after the death of her husband in the Hollow Lands. Her son, they said, was this man's child. The father of the babe in her belly, they could not name.

But still, Bella thought, this lack of progress was maddening. She wanted to know, if nothing else, just who was making her friend's life such a misery and why, in God's name, they would show such impunity for the happiness of harmless strangers. Why was this sneak—this terrible and underhanded betrayer—so bound and determined to make others unhappy? Why would they endanger the entirety of Edward's kingdom—every man, woman, and child in the realm—with the threat of war from a volatile and angry enemy? What did they have to gain? What had the western leaders, Jamos and Rojce, promised this traitor in return for their knowledge? What lies had they produced to make such reward even possible?

"Put it out of your mind, Bella, I beg you," said Edward gently and Bella, feeling her pallor turn to flush, felt a prickle of embarrassment. Edward was watching her with concern, his eyes soft and gentle as he gazed upon her worried face. "I don't wish you to be troubled. Trust me when I say that all is well."

"I want to know who, and I want to know why," said Bella quietly, her brooding anger subsiding only slightly. "I love Rosalie, and it does me a great sadness to know that someone—a stranger, most likely—is so keen to see her destroyed."

"It is a threat to us all, not just Rosalie," said Edward, "and I understand your anger, but I must ask you to put it aside, for there is nothing more that you can do."

"I want to help," she insisted. "I want to be useful."

"You are useful," he returned. "You got us the tip. Now let us—my soldiers, my Commander, and myself—act upon that tip to make sure that you and everyone else are safe."

A bitter seed was planted within her—that hot and angry piece of her that demanded to know why and who—but she was able to force it back, to swallow it down with the last of her sweet bun where it simmered, but did not flare, in the pit of her belly.

"I'll try," she said slowly, though she felt the threat of betrayal at the back of her throat. "I promise I'll try. I'm sorry if I'm being obstinate."

Edward laughed at her and Bella, despite herself, chuckled back.

"I'd expect nothing less," teased Edward. "Absolutely nothing else from you, the very Queen of Obstinacy."

Bella flushed pink.

"My mother always called me a stubborn goose," she joked. "Always headstrong and always determined."

"It is an admirable thing to have," he soothed. "And a very strong quality. I'll take stubbornness over placidity any day. It is far more interesting to have a determined and headstrong comrade than one who is agreeable and mindless."

Bella, though saying nothing more on the subject, found that she quite agreed. They walked on in silence for a moment longer, moving slowly towards the castle doors before Edward, hedging and nervous, spoke again.

"Would you despise me," Edward wondered, "if I asked you to endure yet another surprise?"

Bella, astonished enough by the statement itself, turned suspiciously towards him.

"What sort of surprise?" she asked slowly. "You've given me more than enough."

"A good surprise, I promise," he assured. "And a compliment to the first, which I think you've enjoyed?"

"Yes," she said at once. "I have enjoyed it. It is more lovely than I thought it would be."

"Marta did well?"

"Extremely," said Bella. "Everything is just right."

"I'm glad of it," he said warmly. "I told her to spare no trouble."

"And I think she did not," said Bella with a laugh. "It was lovely before, and it is lovelier still for its improvements."

"It was shut up too long, you know," said Edward sadly. "After my mother died, no one used it until you."

Bella felt a keen sympathy that made her squeeze his hand.

"Thank you again," she said. "It is a lovely space."

"I'm glad to have it used again."

That surprise, which Edward had been so keen to give her, had come unexpectedly just the night before, when they had been seated together at the supper table in the King's private rooms. They had been in the midst of a lively conversation when they had been interrupted by a timid knock on the door, surprising both him and her with its suddenness and unexpectedness. When Edward had opened it, all curious surprise and courtesy, it had been to admit Marta, who had bowed to both him and her and declared, with some pride and satisfaction, that if it pleased His Grace, the Lady's chamber was finally ready to receive its mistress.

Bella had left the King's chambers with mingled joy and sorrow, glad to have a space to call her own but sorry, in more ways than one, to leave her company behind. Her joy, however, had risen exponentially when she'd been allowed entry into the chamber, stepping through the familiar doorway with a startled and unexpected wonder that gave her reason to pause.

The chamber, as familiar to her as the King's own rooms, was a space entirely changed. The antechamber, which had been filled with antique furniture covered with cloths, and austere, plain décor had been transformed into a veritable women's sanctuary. The hearth, blackened and disused, had been scoured and loaded with wood and timbre. The fire, crackling merrily, drew the moisture from the air and made the room, while warm, pleasant and amiable. Windows had been scrubbed to a sparkling shine inside and out, and floors had been waxed and polished. Walls, which had been dusty and greying, were wiped clean of their disuse and the furniture—polished, dusted, aired, and mended—had been set about the circular room with chairs before the fire, a seat beneath the window, a desk along the rear wall and a screen—the only piece that Bella hadn't seen before—for dressing and bathing. The wooden tub she'd used that first night in the King's chambers rested beneath a frosted window in the corner with towels and sheets aplenty—a gift which was, the King told her, for her own personal use whenever she felt so inclined.

That had been his surprise for her—that beautiful Lady's chamber, where she could have space and room of her own, and where she was, for all intents and purposes, the mistress of her own abode.

The bed, it was true, was lonesome, but it was warm, and soft, and cozy. The rooms, while empty, were comforting in their solitude, allowing her space to sit and think. Last night had been the first that she'd slept there since departing it some weeks prior, and she'd been so unnerved by the quiet and stillness that she'd been forced to keep one of her new oil lamps lit throughout the night to stave off her childish fears. The night had been a disgruntling mix of wonder and nerves as she was so unused to being alone, and yet she'd been so desperately, gloriously happy that she'd been thought worthy of such a delightful space that she could not help but revel in it.

"There is a new surprise," said Edward again, "and one that I hope will make you glad. It is as much my brother's doing as mine, and I know he will be happy to see your response."

"Jasper?" Bella asked curiously. "What could he want to give me?"

Edward laughed outright and Bella, despite herself, chuckled as well.

"He'd give you the moon if you asked for it," said Edward derisively. "He is completely and utterly enamoured with you. You've got a servant for life in that boy, I think, and he'll love you until the end of time if you let him."

"I can't fathom why," she replied, bemused. "I've done nothing to earn it."

"You were kind to him when few others were," said Edward sadly. "Kindness goes a long way, especially for a grieving child."

Bella's heart ached at the thought.

"Esme, Carlisle, and I were kind too, of course," said Edward, "but there is a different sort of kindness that comes from a parent. After our parents died, I was both mother and father to him, and a poor replacement for either. Esme, too, became a sort of mother and Carlisle, bless him, is a father to everyone he meets."

Bella grinned at these astute descriptions, which gave her a pang of longing to see them again.

"You were just kind," he said. "You don't mother him and you don't coddle him. You gave him something to care for when you were ill, and you've shown him such patience, even when he is completely undeserving of it."

"But what could he possibly want to give me?" Bella wondered out loud. "I can think of nothing I've asked for."

"You haven't asked for it," said Edward quickly. They crossed the threshold of the castle doors and strode, slow and easy, towards the tower that would lead to her newly restored bedchamber. "You've not asked me for anything."

"Then why should I receive anything?" she asked. "What could I possibly need that I don't already have?"

"You didn't ask for it, but it asked for you."

This confused her all the more and she stared, frowning, at the side of his face.

"Tell me," she asked, following him through the hall. "What do you mean?"

"Come and see," he said with a smile. "Come and tell me what you think, and if you swear to me that you do not want to have it, then you have my word that you will not be forced to endure it."

He led her towards that familiar tower that would lead to the blue rooms and she followed him willingly, her frustration with the prisoner, for the time being, abated. They climbed the stairs in silent comfort, her hand still held tightly in his, and when they reached the door to the antechamber, he bowed politely and let her step forward, reaching for the knob on the door that no longer creaked as it swung in.

She felt a shock—a delightful and giddy shock—that made her heart race and her eyes well up as she saw the creature that lay within. Before she could so much as speak she felt the tight embrace of thin, girlish arms about her waist. Bella took in the sight of her with amazement, her hands coming up to pat her back and smooth her long, black plait still tied, Bella saw, with the same bright red ribbon that she'd had the very first time they'd met.

"Oh My Lady!" cried the child with relish. The girl squeezed her impulsively. "I'm so glad you've come back safe!"

"Alice!" gasped Bella in astonishment, and the child, giddy with the delight of her recognition, giggled into Bella's chest. "Alice, where on earth have you been?!"

"Oh, here and there," said the girl breezily, pulling away to look Bella in the face. Those grey eyes, so wide and bright, watched her with a vivacity and joy that nearly overtook her. "I've been here, at the castle, and back home, at the orphanage…"

The very word made Bella's heart ache and she turned to Edward with wonder, feeling for all the world as if she should grovel at his feet.

"A good surprise, no?" he asked wryly, leaning back against the door. Bella nodded profusely, her arms reaching out to pull the little thing back to her with joy, pressing a firm and sound kiss to the crown of the child's head. The motion seemed to startle the girl—she jumped slightly when she felt Bella's lips—but she did not shy away, melting into the embrace with a happy little sigh that made her head rest on Bella's shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed.

What a poor, unloved little thing this girl must be, living in an orphanage without a family to care for her.

Bella thought that she understood, even just a little, how Alice might feel.

"Thank you," said Bella earnestly, glancing between Alice and Edward with bewilderment. "What on earth possessed you to do it?"

Edward laughed, delighted by her response, and shrugged.

"I knew you'd need a maid," said Edward easily, "for these rooms are too solitary and lonesome to be enjoyed on one's own. It is only right that you should have one—most Ladies do—and I could hardly assign you one from my current stock… not without a thorough vetting, anyhow, and that could take weeks."

Bella squished the child even more tightly to her breast.

"Jasper was the one who suggested her," said Edward gently. "He overheard my talk with Esme—I'd planned on finding you someone good and reputable—and Jasper told me that you might like Alice back. You and she got on before you left, despite your challenges, and he told me that she would be more than willing to come back to you."

"Did he?" Bella asked in amazement. The child, beaming up tearfully at her, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She stepped back and nodded, corroborating this fact most earnestly, and spoke for herself.

"He often comes to visit," she said quickly. "He is a great playmate with the boys there."

"I didn't know…"

"Nor did I," admitted Edward wryly. "But it is not an objectionable pastime. Go on, child."

"He and I talked when he visited," she continued. "He told me of you, My Lady, and where you were. And I asked him ever so many questions."

"Was he kind?"

"Oh yes." The child blushed pink and Bella, endeared to the very end, felt soft and indulgent. "Very kind. He told me all about your time here."

"I had wondered where you went," said Bella, "though I didn't dare ask. I thought you left, Alice."

"I had to," said Alice quickly, "for there was no one else for me to serve here. There are maids enough already, and I've no great skill at cleaning."

Edward chuckled.

"She'll be paid this time." He winked at the girl and she, still nervous of his stature and sword, went red in the face. "Paid as a lady's maid, too, which is no mean salary."

The child turned to Bella with sincerity.

"I will do my very best to be a good maid," she said at once. "I've never done it before, but I…"

"You will do just fine," said Bella, putting any fears to bed at once. "I'm very glad to have you back, sweetheart."

The child, beaming happily at this praise, was more than willing to sink back into the shadows when Bella, overcome by glad appreciation, embraced Edward with a tight and fervent ardor.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice low in his ear. His arms were tight around her, his chin atop her head. "Thank you very much."

"I don't want you to be lonely," said Edward in response. "It wouldn't sit well with me to evict you from my presence and banish you to solitude. You must be removed from me at night—it is only proper, now that other, more suitable arrangements have been made, but that does not mean you must suffer here alone."

"Suffer," snorted Bella in derision. "Only a fool could suffer here, in rooms such as these. But she is lovely, Edward," she insisted. "The best possible choice."

"You'll have to thank my brother."

"Oh, I will." Bella pulled back with a beam. "Believe me, sir. When I find him, I will."

"She will have the room off the antechamber," said Edward gently. "The door beside the fire leads to the maid's quarters. I've had Marta air it, too, for I knew that you'd have someone coming in to sit with you soon enough."

"She will sleep with me," said Bella at once, knowing for a fact that the maid's chamber was, while suitable and proper, not nearly as comfortable as the main bedroom with the overlarge bed. "If she wants to. I will never forget her first kindness to me, even in the face of my suspicion and sorrow when I first awoke in that room all those months ago."

"Such a different creature you were then," said Edward with a laugh. "Such a markedly different thing altogether."

"As were you, Edward," said Bella in a whisper. "As were you, when you came to feed me fruit."

"Ah, the fruit," he chuckled. "That was a fun game, no?"

"For you, maybe," she replied. "I was just hungry."

"And my uncle scolded me terribly," he recalled. "You were not quite fit for solid foods, he told me, but alas, there was no harm done."

The child, still lingering in the corner, gave her a grin when Bella met her gaze.

"A better surprise than this, Edward, you could have never given. I will thank you a million times over before the day is out."

"Then we shan't have time for lunch," he protested. "And I must tell you, Madam, that I will not be kept from that."

A/N: Thanks for your patience! As I've mentioned before, my job as a supply teacher is back in play since the summer break is over, and I've had quite a bit of work even though it's still early in the school year! I hope we're all glad to see Alice back again—many of you had questions about where she went and if/when she would be back, and I'm very happy to say that she's returned! I think I've missed her almost as much as all of you. She gave me a bit of trouble this chapter—she didn't quite know how she wanted to make her big return, and it took a tries before we got it right.

As always, let me know what you think! I'm always eager to hear from you. Stay tuned for the next chapter, which will hopefully be out within the week!

Also, best place for writing updates is on my Twitter ( Moonchild_707). If you want to know where a chapter is, or you have a question that you want answered, that is probably the best way to get ahold of me. You'll know when new chapters are up, and where I am with my writing if a chapter is late or troublesome.