Devon had been in the council chamber for hours. It was definitely at least mid-morning by now, if not early afternoon and she was getting increasingly frustrated with everyone in the room. She had long since given up on shooting daggers at Firesong with her eyes every few moments. He had retrieved his mask from the floor and replaced it, so all she could see of him were his eyes, which were hidden in shadow anyway. All in all, her glaring was wasted on someone she wasn't sure was even noticing it.

            Silverfox had appeared shortly after her little episode, watching Devon's every move like a hawk waiting for the right moment to stoop down on his prey. Devon could not have cared less. She'd had people at her school that had made her feel more uncomfortable than this kestra'chern could ever hope to manage; she knew he would not harm her. He might make her feel about thumbs'-length tall with a verbal assault or a well-placed comment or two, but he would never strike out at her. After all, that is exactly what he'd been sent to prevent Firesong from doing so long ago.

            Devon now had a vague idea of the time frame she was dealing with now. It was definitely after the Mage Storms trilogy, and Kiesha and Darian seemed to have been married for a while now; they had a small boy of about eight that was whispered about to one of the servants who went to check on him and bring him some of the twin's old toys.

            Everyone else was discussing what they thought should be done with her; Devon simply sat back and let the words flow right in one ear and out the other. She could not, in all her life, been more disgusted for even a moment that she was right now with the entire situation. Currently, Firesong was putting his dollar-and-a-half into the conversation, saying that they should find out exactly how she managed to get here so they could send her back. Apparently he was concerned about his safety. Firesong was thinking only of himself. How apt.

            "If we figured out how to stop the Mage Storms, then I think we can handle the appearance of one little girl!" Firesong exclaimed. This was not the Firesong of the Owl trilogy; he was shifting back into the arrogant, self-possessed attitude he'd had in the Mage Storms, mask or not. This was the straw that broke the horses back. Devon, thoroughly fed up with everyone in the room as well as exhausted beyond belief, shoved back her chair abruptly and stood. She was already at the door and throwing it open before Selenay's voice broke the sudden silence.

            "Come back here and sit down, we are far from finished." Devon spun around, her hair flying and sending a fine cloud of sparkles fluttering to the floor.

            "When," Devon snapped through clenched teeth, "in this entire discussion have you asked me anything? You take it for granted that you can figure me out all on your own." Devon turned to face Firesong, all her anger and frustration—not to mention hurt—focused on him. "And it is quite impossible to send me back; take my word for it. You would sooner sprout wings and fly around this room." At this, Firesong opened his mouth to speak, but Devon overrode him completely." No, I will not tell you why! No one in this room has given me any reason to trust them at all, so why should I trust any of you? And half of you people wear white as an international symbol of truth, justice, and everything that's good. I must say I'm considerably more than a little disappointed and disgusted." She looked from face to unreadable face, their silence making her all the more angry. With a disgusted snort, she spun and walked through the door, slamming it behind her so hard that dust fell from the frame.

            As Devon ran past the startled guards, she felt Arden's calming presence enter her mind. :I think it would be wise, Chosen, to change your clothing. If you think that White's are targets, then what you're wearing now it positively screaming "I'm foreign!": This made Devon pause in her flight and think for a moment. She knew that new trainees needed to be fit for their uniforms and then wait a bit, but she really didn't have time. It was around mid-day; everyone should be either at lunch, chores, or classes.

            :Arden, where is the Trainee's wing?: Devon made sure to think directly at him so as he would be the only one getting her thoughts. She felt his startlement, then his flood of approval before he answered.

            :I'll direct you there. Follow where I lead you.: Devon tried to memorize where they were going as he had her twist down hallway after hallway before he finally made her pause right outside a door. She looked up and didn't see anything different about it.

            :What's in there?:

            :Housekeeper. You need uniforms.: Devon wasn't very happy. He knew she was impatient. But maybe if she just let her mind roam and see if she could sense anyone in a room.... She let down her clumsy shields and found there were a few occupants in several different rooms, but most were empty. She took a deep breath and put her hand on the knob of one of the doors where she sensed nothing inside, but just as she did, it opened and she was left staring open-mouthed at a boy who might have been Greg's twin brother. He was tall—much taller than herself—and had hair the color of honey held up to the sunlight. He was almost identical to Greg, except for his eyes. His eyes were a deep amber, the same as her own, and as she stared up into them she felt the rest of the world disappear.

            Devon didn't know how long they stayed like that, with their gazes locked but it was a snicker behind her that broke the spell. She spun around to see a girl dressed in what looked like a blue uniform; one of the unaffiliated no doubt. And she was looking Devon up and down with the kind of smirk on her face that was just screaming "give me a chance to think up something nasty to say." Just as the girl opened her mouth to speak, Devon spun on her heel and raced down the hallway, leaving a cloud of glitter in her wake as it flew off her hair. Just as she tore around the corner, she heard the boy saying something that sounded quite a bit more than physically impossible to the girl. Devon was used to running, but not on no sleep. Soon enough she was gasping and had a kink in her side. She was running blindly up and down staircases and down odd hallways. Just as she was about to break down she noticed large double doors in front of her. As she swung them open, she found a rather busy room; this was good. No one would pay attention to her. And to her utter relief, there was freshly washed gray clothing stacked neatly by the door on a few racks.

            Devon surreptitiously sidled over to the racks and snatched a random uniform. As she let it unfold in her hands, she saw it might be a bit big, but it would fit. She snuck back into the hallway, the uniform crumpled in her arms, and decided to have Arden direct her to the bathing rooms this time. He complied, sounding more amused than anything by her reaction to that boy and girl. As Devon walked through the halls, this time she kept to the shadows, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Once in the bathing room—now empty—she shed her dress and pulled on the uniform, making a face at how uncomfortable it was compared to the clothes she normally wore.

            She then balled up her dress and brought it with her, stopping a passing servant and asking him to have it cleaned. Devon looked down at herself and sighed; it wasn't her color, that was for sure, but it didn't look all that bad as far as size went. Whoever's uniform she'd stolen was practically her size exactly. The only thing that made her stick out now were her shoes; they were still the slippers she'd worn with the dress. She wasn't sure she wanted to try and pilfer people's boots; they might catch her doing that.

            Once again under Arden's careful direction she managed to make it outside where he met her in the garden. He didn't approve of her stealing the uniform, but he knew she was not ready for confrontations with people right now, not after that meeting, and he accepted that. She grabbed a handful of his mane and pulled herself onto his bare back. In moments they were off running through the trees, the cold wind whipping Devon's hair out behind her and making her shiver. When they near a grove of trees, Arden slowed to a stop and let her sit on the ground, curling his warm body around her and shielding her against the worst of the wind. He didn't say a word; he knew she needed quiet and sleep, neither of which she would get at the palace, so he just sent her comfort and reassurance, letting her benumbed mind know it was safe to sleep.

            Devon's head was, indeed, spinning like a top. All she kept seeing was that boy's face. That was a face she wasn't going to forget. And he looked so much like Greg! He had the same high cheekbones, lips and even the same shape face. It just wasn't fair that she would have to see someone who would remind her so much of the life she'd left behind. It didn't matter that she wouldn't have been able to go back anyway; what mattered was now she was aware that there would be a constant reminder of her past life.

            When it became clear that her head would explode before she fell asleep, she felt Arden smoothing out her thoughts with his own, overwhelming her mind and sending her into a deep slumber. Her last thought before the blackness surrounded her was to wonder who that boy was and maybe if she could get to know him.