The arrival of the floating fortress set the Asturian capital a-buzz with gossip. Wild rumours spread that Zaibach was invading, and some citizens even packed up and left the city, until King Aston was obliged to sent out criers to announce that this was merely a state visit by their allies. The people remained in a state of tense expectation, however.
They were rewarded later that afternoon when a squadron of blue guymelefs and their red leader flew over the city in perfect V-formation, trailing coloured smoke. Shortly afterwards a carriage arrived at the gates of the palace, accompanied by six armoured youths on horseback. A tall figure got out and was greeted by the king, and the word soon spread that Lord Strategos, Emperor Dornkirk's chief-of-staff, had arrived.
When Carenza heard the news her blood ran cold. The general, here in Palas? Was this her father's doing? He had been silent on the subject of marriage for so long that she had assumed that negotiations had broken down. What if she were wrong, and Lord Strategos was here to complete them? She prayed that she would not be expected to meet him, and yet she was morbidly curious to find out what kind of man her father had chosen for her. When the summons finally came for the princesses to attend a reception in the general's honour, Carenza was both relieved and terrified at the prospect.
Reluctantly she followed Eries and Millerna into the reception. Even in the press of nobles and dignitaries, the tall figure of the general was unmistakeable. A gaunt, black-cloaked man with a shock of blue-grey hair, he stood with his back to them, talking to the king.
'Ah, and here are my daughters,' said King Aston, gesturing towards them.
The general turned, and Carenza felt the ground fall away from beneath her feet. He was just as Belkin described him, with a grave demeanour and purple tattoos on his face, and yet the clerk had left out one tiny, crucial detail. His name.
'I don't know if you remember Lord Folken, girls,' the king went on, 'you were all very young when he last visited.'
Millerna shook her head, and Eries frowned in thought. Carenza just stared ahead, unable to meet those familiar garnet eyes. Final proof, if any were needed, that this was the former Prince of Fanelia was the small heart-shaped brooch pinning his cloak on his left shoulder - made from the earring she had given him on their last day together - although why it was upside-down she could not imagine.
'I remember both of you,' Folken replied. His voice was deeper than she remembered it. 'And your friend, of course.' He smiled politely at her. 'You haven't changed a bit, Carenza.'
She opened her mouth, and closed it again. What could she say? The polite thing was to return the compliment, but that would be ridiculous in the circumstances. He had changed almost beyond recognition.
'Th-thank you, my lord. I am flattered that you recall my name after all these years.'
He nodded, looking faintly embarrassed. He kept his maimed arm hidden beneath his cloak, she noticed. Belkin had said he had a metal claw now. A shiver ran up her spine.
'Are you all right, Carenza?' Millerna asked.
'I'm fine. It's just a little hot in here. Please, excuse me.'
She accepted an iced tea from a passing waiter and sat down for a while. As soon as she was sure that neither the king nor Folken were looking in her direction, she left the reception and hurried back to her room. Tears streamed down her face, though whether of joy or grief she could not tell. He was alive, her beloved Folken was alive - and he served Zaibach.
The next day the king and his advisors were taken on a tour of the floating fortress. The princesses were not invited, so Carenza had no excuse to go. She didn't see Folken the next day either, and she began to suspect he was avoiding her. She could understand that he felt awkward seeing her again after all these years, but she was itching to know where he had been and what had happened since his mysterious disappearance.
She managed to find out from one of the cooks that the Strategos and his delegation were returning to the palace for further negotiations and would be staying overnight before departing for Zaibach the next day. After that it was a simple matter to persuade a chambermaid to tell her which rooms had been assigned to Folken. When she reconnoitred the corridor, however, she found that two of the young guymelef pilots were standing guard outside their commander's apartments. She cursed under her breath and walked past, pretending to be on an errand elsewhere in the guest wing.
Fate was on her side, however. As she came down the stairs from the guest apartments she spotted Folken bowing to one of the councillors, who then walked away, leaving the Strategos alone in the corridor. Carenza hurried up to him before they could be interrupted.
'Folken? Please, may we talk in private?'
He looked startled and made to move past her, but she held him with her eyes.
'Please?'
He nodded.
'Where do you suggest?'
She looked around, and noticed that the door to the music room was ajar. It had seldom been used since Marlene went to Freid, and there was certainly no sound coming from the open door, so she beckoned him over.
'In here.'
He followed her inside, and took up a position by the empty fireplace.
For several long moments neither of them spoke. At last Carenza could bear it no longer.
'Where have you been all these years? I thought you were dead.' The words came out louder and more angrily than she had intended.
'The Folken you knew is dead,' he said softly. 'He was killed by the dragon. I am Folken, Strategos of Zaibach.'
'Then why do you still wear the heart I gave you that day?'
'I had forgotten it was yours,' he said carelessly.
'Bullshit! You still care about me, otherwise you wouldn't be avoiding me, and I-I still love you-'
His eyes widened, and he went pale.
'Did your father put you up to this?'
'What?' Carenza stared at him, totally flummoxed by the change of tack.
'I told him that I had no interest in his petty ambitions for his family. I will not marry you.'
'You said no?'
He inclined his head.
'But my father told me...'
'If he gave any indication that I was interested, he was deceiving you, and perhaps himself.'
Carenza sank into a chair.
'Why?' she whispered. She looked up at him. 'We loved each other once, didn't we?'
Folken hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. He reached up with his left hand and unfastened the heart brooch, letting his cloak fall to the floor.
'Can you love me - like this?'
Carenza gasped; she had been expecting a simple hook, not an entire arm made of cable and polished steel plate, a hand tipped with panther-like claws.
'This is Emperor Dornkirk's gift to me,' he said bitterly.
'I-I knew you'd lost your arm to the dragon,' she said, 'but I had not expected such a...an impressive replacement.'
'You knew? How?'
She told him about her trip to Fanelia and her discovery in the forest. He shook his head wonderingly.
'I'm so sorry...I should have written to you, or something...I was just so ashamed of what I had done, what I had become...'
'It doesn't matter, you're here now.' She stood up and gestured to his arm. 'May I...touch it?'
He nodded and lifted it up, palm towards the floor. She stepped closer, ran her fingers over the chill metallic surface of his forearm.
'Can you feel anything with it?'
'Not there. I can feel where the arm is because the connectors pull on my shoulder muscles. And the palm and inner surface of the fingers have simple touch sensors so that I can use it to handle equipment without having to watch my hand constantly.'
He turned his hand over, and she could see that there were oval patches of a fine metallic fabric, one on each fingertip and several on the palm. She traced a finger around the cool surface of his palm, and was surprised to hear him laugh softly.
'Stop it, it tickles!' He closed his hand gently and lowered the arm to his side.
'Why claws?' she mused.
'I suppose Emperor Dornkirk thought they would be useful.'
Carenza shook her head.
'It was to control you.'
Folken frowned.
'Control? How? By giving me the ability to rip out a man's throat in one blow?'
She ignored the casual reference, hoping that it was no more than theory.
'To make you feel less human. Vulnerable and alienated, you were easier to manipulate.'
'Oh yes, Dornkirk is good at that,' he said. 'He always thinks he knows what's best for other people.'
'Folken, I don't care what they've done to you. You're back now. And I still love you.'
She closed the remaining distance between them, slipped her arms around his waist and gazed up into those intense, garnet-coloured eyes. Folken opened his mouth to protest, but she stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him before he could say anything. For a moment his mouth was dry and unyielding against hers, then he wrapped his good arm about her shoulders and pulled her close, his tongue tracing a pattern of fire across her lips.
It seemed like only a few minutes later that the door opened. The young guymelef pilot stared at them for a second before stammering his apologies. Carenza disengaged herself from Folken's embrace, blushing scarlet.
'What is it, Migel?' Folken asked calmly.
'Er, it's time for dinner, Lord Folken. We've been looking for you everywhere...'
Folken nodded.
'I'll be there in a moment.'
Migel bowed and retreated from the music room, tactfully closing the door behind him. Carenza looked around. The afternoon had turned to evening whilst they had stood there, making up for the lost kisses of ten lonely years.
'Well, that will set the cat amongst the pigeons.' Folken smiled ruefully. 'At least it might put a stop to certain other rumours...'
'What rumours?'
'Nothing - just silly schoolboyish finger-pointing. Forget I mentioned it.'
She smiled up at him shyly.
'What do we do now?'
He retrieved his cloak from the floor and settled it around his shoulders.
'I suppose you're expecting me to go to your father and tell him I've changed my mind.'
Carenza's heart leapt at the thought.
'Have you?'
'I don't know. This is all very sudden. I have to leave for Zaibach tomorrow; my duties to the emperor leave me little time for a personal life...'
'Then he must owe you some leave by now,' she pointed out.
'It's not that simple,' he sighed. 'Emperor Dornkirk's plans are nearing fruition. A few more weeks, maybe months...I'd like to wait until it's over before making any plans of my own.'
She forced a smile.
'That's all right. I've waited ten, no, twelve years for you - what's a few more months?'