I stood nervously outside the stables, wondering why Numair and Jon were suddenly interested in me. I didn't want them to be interested—well maybe Jon, but he wasn't interested in me; he was interested in what he saw in me. Hopefully it wouldn't lead me into any more trouble.

Yawning now, I waited patiently; arms crossed over my chest as the cold wind nearly blew me away.

'You're late,' I grumbled at Numair, who calmly and gracefully walked towards me. I frowned. 'Can't you, you know, use your astounding Gift to shorten yourself? I'm gonna end up neck-less if I have to keep lookin' up at you like that!'

How does Daine cope with the daily back and neckpain? I wondered silently.

Numair merely made a face at me, then dragged me into the stables and ordered me to mount a horse and follow him back outside. Once I'd saddled Tether (who thanks to the Prince was now mine) and fed him of course, I led the gorgeous mount outside, where Numair stood waiting rather impatiently.

'It's not my fault you were late!'

He glared at me, so I rolled my eyes with a sigh and mounted my steed. 'Where to?' I asked, ever so grateful for the riding lessons (which had been temporarily—or maybe permanently now—stopped) that Roald had so kindly given up his time for.

'Just follow,' was the dry retort. Black-robe mages obviously weren't very chatty people.

'So…Numair…how's Daine?' It had been getting boring, just riding on and on quietly, and I definitely wasn't the silent one.

He turned to look at me, obviously uncomfortable on his horse. I giggled; I'd forgotten his dislike towards horses. Or nervousness with riding them anyhow. 'Well, well, well…' I grinned to myself.

When we reached the hill where I'd once—which seemed like eons ago—sat with Roald, Numair dismounted ungracefully and motioned for me to do the same. I managed to do with it with more dignity, then followed Numair's suit and sat cross-legged, back to the view of the city of Tortall.

The handsome black-robed mage took a deep breath in; I complied.

I breathed in and out when he did, and slowly felt my body relax. I closed my eyes and unconsciously slipped into my own rhythmic breathing.

'How do you feel?' Numair's cool voice drifted into my soothed mind.

Deep breath in…

Release…

'Relaxed,' I whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace that had finally settled on me.

'Clear your mind,' Numair requested gently, his breathing still light.

Nodding, I collated the thoughts and bothers in my head and forced them away…or tried to anyway.

After a few frustratingly unsuccessful tries, I got angry and my breathing shallowed, so Numair stopped me patiently.

'Try again, this time try to concentrate on blocking the thoughts in your head rather than questioning them.'

I frowned; I had been trying to unravel answers to the queries in my head rather than just ignore them. But how he'd known that, I had no clue. So I tried again, refraining a sigh as doubts and hopes of me, my life, Khalil and Roald flooded me.

But I shook my head and pushed them to the back of my mind, promising to think about them later.

After ten or so more minutes, the mage told me that was enough. I opened my eyes and grimaced at the assault of the bright light of the sun.

'Lunch,' he declared, and unpacked the "basket" I'd never noticed him carry.

I beamed. 'God I'm bloody starved! Serve it up, bud!'

Numair frowned at me with irritation, as he lay out a blanket, so perfectly it made me a tad sick. '"Gods, I'm starving, please serve lunch, Numair."'

My eyes danced. 'Ok…asking yourself…to serve yourself…fine Numair, whatever catches your wave…'

He scowled at me and told me to—ever so politely—shut up and eat. I obeyed with a wink.

To my utter surprise, he didn't talk through lunch, instead ate silently. I'd expected him to chatter endlessly, questioning me about whatever he suspected me off. But he didn't do that at all.

When I was about to eat my last biscuit, he coughed and rubbed at his hands, having finished his meal. I put the biscuit down and realized he'd been thinking while he'd been eating, so that probably exclaimed his silence.

'I've been informed,' the mage began somberly, 'that you are one of the newest girls.'

An eyebrow rose without thought. 'Newest? Well I've been here for a good few months…'

He nodded and bore his eyes into mine, probing.

Erm. 'So what's all this about?'

'You should know,' Numair said, smiling slightly as he packed up the empty plates and equipment.

I helped him, frowning at what he said. What've they found out? The King gave me weird looks right after…

'I'm not inhabited by a devil, you know!' I glared at him. Jon had seen me go semi-crazy,

Numair's head snapped up and a confused look crossed his handsome, somber face. 'A devil?! What the King noticed and passed on to me is quite strange. The way of the Gift, as of experience, is s—'

I knew he'd blab on and on in university language if I let him, of my own experience, so I interrupted. 'Just tell me what he saw, alright?'

'Are you always this rude?' he demanded impatiently. 'As I was saying, the Gift is quite a complex magic; the fact that no magic is simple and easy adds to its complexity. To work with the Gift, you must comprehend its basics. As with anything, really. You cannot expect to work with something efficiently if you don't understand it. For example—'

'No examples, please!' I groaned, remembering Daine barely stopping him from boring her to death with his unending examples—in the books, of course.

Numair glared at me irritably, then sighed and shook his head. 'Fine. What I was getting at is that you have some form of magic. Jon doesn't think it's the Gift…but it could be a form of the Gift.

'The way to—Reem?' He frowned at me, as I glowered.

'I do not have magic,' I objected firmly.

His frown deepened as he looked at me questioningly. 'You sound so sure.'

'Because exploding like a loon isn't enough proof that I have magic!'

Numair shot me a dry look. 'In your case, you're a lunatic with or without magic. Now, come over here. I will see whether you have magic.'

Scowling, I sat where he'd pointed to so stubbornly and waited for an angry zap. But he just put his hands on my shoulders gently, then told me to close my eyes and relax as I had done while meditating.

I didn't clear my mind, just relaxed.

When Numair took his hands off my shoulder, I jerked my eyes open and turned to look at him curiously. Why hadn't he done anything?! 'Why didn't ya do nothing?'

'But I did,' he replied, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

'What?' I demanded, not liking the curious look on his face. It meant he was undergoing a thoughtful ponder about his 'experiment'.

So long as he leaves me alone after this, I'll be fine, I thought grimly. I mean who exactly would like being poked and probed like a dead animal? If anyone did, I wasn't one of them! (Now here we have a 'Reem'…which is her technical name. She's been nicknamed 'freak' and 'lunatic'…)

'Are you against magic, Reem?'

I frowned at Numair's sudden question. I mean what a stupid question, would I be here if I was?

'It's alright,' I replied.

The mage nodded, and returned to the process of freaking me out by using philosophical talk on me like I totally understood—which I didn't.

'… and it is technically a very enhancing and enthralling study…furthermore, the fascinating assumption that it is not naturalistically sound is of utmost significant concern,' he was explaining rather quickly, with a serious, engrossed look on his face. Well at least he knew what he was going on about.

I just smiled and nodded, trying to look absolutely fascinated and immersed with the gibberish he was blabbing about. Lovely, I thought dryly, I'd rather listen to Ms Cassin explain the parts of a dead rabbit—with the rotting animal in front of me, mind you…at least then I'd know what she was talking about. A dead animal.

'…generates wavelinks of abnormal capacity! It's the missing link we've been understandably having significant trouble with…'

Nod. Smile. Nod. Smile.

While I waited for him to calm down from his mood, I decided to keep to my promise—the one about thinking through the lost thoughts in my mind.

First stop; Roald…

I made a face and sighed inwardly. There's nothing I can do about him… I'd rather forget he ever existed. Well, in my life anyway.

Next stop; Khalil.

I chewed on my bottom lip, wondering to myself. What are you to me? You've always been a friend…always. Now…you've forgotten I existed.

Great. I'm trying to forget Roald ever existed, meanwhile my best friend's been there and done that—to me.

I didn't think I could really do anything about that either, so I moved on.

Atkin.

Just the name sent shivers up and down my spine.

All I knew at the time was that I didn't like him, his personality or his behaviour. I guess it's called instincts, and I was sticking to them. I just needed proof. Proof that Atkin was up to and doing no good. But with my luck, I guessed I'd end up in court for breaking and entering.

Home.

Again, I sighed inwardly, absently noticing Numair was still at it. I didn't want to go home then, I knew that. I enjoyed it in Tortall, as depressing as it got at times. Even if I was in love with a heartbreaking, startlingly gorgeous prince…I mean God, people back home were in love with Prince William.

Thinking more thoroughly, I noticed the only thing I could do about Roald was to let him go about his business and do nothing but be respectfully polite to him…if I got to ever see him again. If Jon gets what he wants, I thought glumly, I probably won't.

Khalil just needed a break from me…he probably got sick of me, that's all. It happens between best friends, I told myself, at times you feel you know them too well and vice versa and you just need a break. But it still hurt like hell. I mean, he was the first person I'd ever shared my new, good crayons with; he was the first person I'd told about my dirty dress after a secret trip to the park when the Lebanese party had nearly finished—the one mum had told me not to get dirty or a spanking was in the ready, let's just say I was a very hyper child—and he'd been my first kiss.

I blinked at the realization of the latter. 

I hadn't thought about it as much as I should have.

Maybe…

Could be… Frowning, I snapped out of my deep thoughtfulness and dared to interrupt Numair. 'Numair…Numair…NUMAIR!' He stopped babbling and frowned at me. 'You don't have to yell, Reem…what?' 'I gotta go, ' I said impatiently.

The mage rolled his eyes just as patiently and waved me off. 'Go, go. I won't be here for a while, so take care of yourself and do not use your magic under any circumstance, do you hear me, young lady? Not until I get back, anyway.'

I was eyed firmly.

Nodding with a sigh, I mounted up and went back to the Palace.

I bumped into Serena on the way to my room, and she told me all about Hayley's new interest—all but his name of course. She just talked about his looks, his voice and some other things she thought were interesting that I rolled my eyes at. Something about the way she described him made me fidgety. Merely nodding and feigning interest, I inwardly groaned with boredom and impatience. I felt dirty and was in great need of a shower and change of clothes.

'I swear to God,' Serena was squealing excitedly. 'If he wasn't already taken—or if I wasn't—I'd—'

'You'd what?'

Ducking to hide the wicked grin, I walked past Serena, giving her a sly sideway look. The girl's expression was startled as she turned to look at Khalil with a slow smile. 'Oh, Khalil, there you are!'

Khalil was clearly unimpressed as he folded his arms across his chest, a questioning look on his face. 'We need to talk,' he snapped at Serena, ignoring me.

My eyebrows rose but I remained quiet as I made my way, slowly, to my room.

I heard Serena let out a sigh. 'Khalil, I don't know why you—'

'I saw what you were doing during lunch, Serena, and it had nothing to do with being friendly,' Khalil interrupted angrily. Khalil, I knew, rarely got that angry. The only times he got that angry with me was—well, when he'd find me sprawled in my room after a long fight; injured, bruised and exhausted. That had been often. But those had been the only times. He only got angry at serious things, otherwise he was all calm.

Shaking my head with a sigh, hoping things wouldn't get too bad between the two, I lay back on my bed and soaked in boredom.

I jumped when I heard a voice close to me. '…trust you ever again?'

'Can't you knock, you—' I began to say, but when I'd looked around, there was no one in the room. The door was shut.

I closed my eyes again and decided on a nap.

 '…flirted…bloody take this…'

Frowning, I realized it was Khalil's voice. Very loud. Very terse. Very unKhalil. Since when did Khalil yell so loud about such a private matter? Usually he only talked of private issues to two people; the person concerned, and me. He almost always kept it hush-hush, so I was quite confused by his abnormal loudness.

 '…sick to death…'

 'I just…can't help it.' Serena.

 I shook my head and tried to block their voices.

'…love you…' Serena, again.

For a whole ten minutes, there was grateful silence.

When I thought it was safe to venture out, I grabbed my bathing things and walked out of the room. I nearly tripped over a sitting figure on my way and scowled angrily when I barely held myself up, leaning against the wall.

But I merely frowned when I saw who it was. 'Khalil?'

His head was hung and his knees tugged up, his shoulders drooped. He didn't answer.

Oh shit, I though, knowing I wasn't any good at helping pick up the pieces after a break up or serious face. From the look on Khalil's face, it was the former.

Wondering what to do, I finally sat down next to him and slipped my hand into his strong and firm one, tugging comfortingly. 'You alright?' I whispered.

He looked up and I could see he was every bit upset by the wary look on his face, and the downward tug at his mouth—and his jaded expression. 'Peachy,' he croaked, directing me with a strange look as his eyes wandered over mine.

'Doubt it,' was my dry retort. I cupped his chin with my fingers and sighed, my heart breaking at the weariness that hung onto him. 'What did she do to you?'

Prying his hand loose, he kept his eyes on me. 'Never worse than what you did to me.'

Not only did my heart break then, it bled. 'Khalil, you know I'd never hurt you!' I cried.

He smiled grimly as I dropped my hand to my lap. 'Too late now.'

'But…I don't understand…I never did anything…you've been too busy ignoring me for me to do anything wrong…'

'Ignoring you,' he repeated quietly and raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. 'You have no idea, do you?'

My eyes fell. 'No.'

He was quiet for a long while, and made me jump when he next talked. His tone was low and precise. 'This may remind you, then.'

He tilted my head upwards with his fingertips and dipped his lips into mine, his other hand slipped onto my waist. My heart picketed wildly, going into overload as my stomach fluttered.

Next thing I knew, I was pulling away and pushing his hand off my waist.

But Khalil wasn't interested; instead he dragged me back closer and kissed me again, not allowing me a chance to protest this time. So I just went on feeling used and guilty.

Used because Khalil was obviously still upset about Serena, and thought he'd get over her by doing what she'd done to him. Guilty because I was letting him do it, and enjoyed it.

Oh shut up. It's not like you don't want this.

I mentally made a face and sighed inwardly.

Khalil finally let go off me and smoothed the hair out of my face. 'You're tense,' he commented.

I stared at him, making strangled noises as I groped for the right way to yell my ass off at him. 'Excuse me?' I finally said; that always worked. 'You kiss me, I push you away, you kiss me again, and I'm supposed to be grateful and smother you with love? I said no but you—'

'No you didn't,' he cut in, smiling mischievously.

Glaring at him, I snapped, 'Well of course I couldn't with your tongue in my friggin' mouth!'

His eyebrows rose as his smile remained. 'Yeah, that does take a bit of practice. Wanna try again? I'll work at you till perfection. Promise.'

I groaned and slapped his arm. 'Are you listening to me?'

'You know I can listen and kiss, it's you that needs to learn to talk and kiss. But obviously, you aren't up to it.' He shrugged and tugged at my nose.

I gaped at him. Well he was the moody one! I'm meant to believe he'd changed moods in a few seconds? 'You're joking about this?'

'I don't see why not.'

Shaking my head, I glowered impatiently. 'You're insane! Grieve, boy! You've lost your girl!'

'All that kissin' made me forget,' he complained, grinning widely.

'God…you're sick.'

He nodded in agreement. 'So how's it feel to kiss a sicko?'

I rubbed at my temples, feigning patience as I took a deep breath. 'As much as I'd love to have this insightful conversation with you, I got a nice, hot tub waiting for me…'

'Can I come, then?' he said innocently. 'I swear to God I'll be as quiet as a mute.'

'Yeah,' I replied mock-cheerfully. When he gave me a startled, questioning look, I went on. 'The girls at the baths need the excitement. And I'd love to see your arse get kicked out of there.'

He made a face at me. 'So,' he said, coughing now. 'You wanna have some, erm, afternoon tea or something?'

'Nah.'

'Oh,' he said, obviously disappointment.

I grinned and ruffled his hair. 'But dinner'll be fine. Seven o'clock sharp.'

He eyed me firmly. 'You're serious? Not just playin' around?'

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. 'No. I'm not playing around. I swear it.'

'Promise me then,' Khalil insisted.

I sighed and nodded, placing the flat of my palm against the middle of my chest solemnly. 'Promise, Khalil. Not even an earthquake could keep me away.' I tweaked his cheek and winked.

Strolling away, I whistled cheerfully, grateful at the outturn of things.

I don't need a royal prince; I've already got a gorgeous Lebo prince.

Deciding to go for a walk in the courtyard, I went just before dinner, wanting to be in a good mood when I next saw Khalil. I still couldn't believe what had happened. Minutes after he'd broken up with Serena, he'd asked me out. One thing I thought was for sure; he was a very confusing guy. He was mad as hell to start with, then depressed when I talked to him and ended up kissing me, ending it all with all around cheery mood.

Shaking my head with confusion, I sat on a bench near a fountain.

I sat there for quite a while, thinking things over and finally deciding a few things; really deciding things for once instead of breezing through them and randomly picking out my choices like I always had.

After half an hour or so of hard thinking and revolutionizing my life, I got up to leave, but froze when I heard hushed voices close by. Moving as quietly as I possibly could, I kept my ears alert to the banter.

'…word from Bahnar. You know what to do. So get to it!'

That was Atkin's voice, and he was meant to be with his training master, away from Tortall! I'd thought he'd be too busy doing what squires did to cause any havoc, but obviously he knew how happy it would of and had made me, so sweet Atkin had altered his plans for little me.

'…let's go.'

Looking around, I frowned at the fact that the courtyard was deserted and there was no rustling to point out the intruders. Peering around at every inch of the courtyard, I started to wonder if I'd gone mad, hearing voices because I wanted to. (I had after all desperately wanted to get proof of Atkin's plans.)

I heard cursing and a painful gasp. 'The Gods-cursed stove is—'

'You fool! … under the salt bag, hurry!'

Stove? Salt bag?!? What the—

'Got it! Let's get out of here! Cook's here!' Atkin.

My mind whirled…the kitchen!?

But how had I…?

Shaking my head, I bolted for the kitchen, needing to get my hands or eyes on what Atkin had 'got'… Proof, it could be proof, I thought anxiously as I hurried my footsteps. Hurry, hurry…

By the time I got to the kitchens, there was not a single sign of anyone having searched the place. And the cook was there, grumbling as he started dinner. I guess that's what Atkin had in mind, what had I expected? To outrun assassin-wannabes? Sure, get your maths right Reem.

I stood there, not knowing what to do…this was way out of my league. My league was 'bash-up-the-crims'; I'd never needed proof. Now I had to find proof, otherwise I'd end up in jail for assaulting a squire with insufficient evidence. Pondering, I tried to think over a plan that'd end up him in prison and me with the key, watching him from outside the iron bars.

A cough from beside me interrupted my innocent thoughts. Looking up, I saw it was the cook, glaring at me from his neat kitchen. 'No free food here, lady. Move along before I call the guards.'

Scowling with impatience, I rolled my eyes and moved away from the door, still staying close to the kitchens, but out of sight of the snappy cook.

Lost in thought again, I finally snapped when I was again interrupted. 'Can't you see when a bloody girl is trying to—'

I came to a halt and felt my whole face heat up as I stared at the intruder. Coughing, I cursed privately. Great. Just great, I thought bitterly. Just when I thought my day had reached peak-high.

The Prince nodded slightly at me, looking past my shoulder quietly.

Oh, so I'm not worth looking at now, am I?

'Are you gonna stand there and ignore me or are ya here for a reason?' I snapped, fed up.

He glanced at me expressionlessly, but remained silent.

What the—

'Right, well, I'll just—'

I glowered at him when he covered my mouth with his hand, tucking a hand over my waist, and pushed me into a hidden, dark corner (there seemed to be many of those in the Palace, interestingly enough), the opposite side of the kitchen. Biting into his palm, he released me with a scowl. 'What do you think you're doing?' I demanded angrily, hands on hips.

He sighed impatiently and pointed at the kitchen door.

The cook was muttering as he locked the door to the kitchen and left.

Looking over at Roald, I was washed with emotion. I'd forgotten how heartachingly gorgeous he was. Putting a lid to my uncontrollable hormones when he was an inch or so away from me was pretty hard. Shaking my head at my foolishness, I waited patiently for what Roald wanted me to see.

After minutes of utter stillness, I started to complain, but I heard muffled arguing and shut up.

'…believe you dropped it! You bloody—'

'SHUT up! Do you want us caught, you fool?' The pompous, velvety voice belonged to Atkin.

'I'm sick of you playing boss! You're not, so stop treating me like you are!'

Turning to see Roald's reaction to all this, he remained quiet and impassive. I looked back to see the two guys unlocking the door and shuffling in, cursing as they lit a candle and looked around for what they dropped.

Badly wanting to get in there and bash the life out of Atkin, I held back only because Roald had practically read my thoughts and clutched at my arm with a warning glare. Making a face, I silently—if irritably—watched and waited.

We can't let them get away! I wanted to scream.

Lanterns were lit, and hushed arguing commenced while the two prowlers searched for what they'd dropped. Or rather, what Atkin had dropped. Waiting anxiously, I wondered what the Prince had in mind; there was no telling from the solemn, patient look on his face.

I heard scrambling and then the jeering sound of bones being forcefully crushed. Risking a glance at Roald, I saw him clench his teeth, hard, and take in a calming breath. Would he let me do something now? I thought angrily.

My anger tripled as Atkin strolled out of the room, an impatient and bothered look on his face as he brushed the hair out of his face and straightened out his clothes, moving out quietly and guiltlessly. I felt my face heat up and a bubble of rage rise up my throat, but I pushed it down and turned to Roald. 'What now?' I growled, angry with him for not stopping what had happened. I could have. I knew I could've taken on Atkin, obviously Roald thought I was a weakling who couldn't fight off a dead pig…

'You are to go to dinner,' Roald replied sternly, eyeing me warningly.

'Oh,' I snapped tersely. 'And I suppose you'll go be a hero of a Prince and demolish the enemy?'

The Prince's face broke into a grim smile as he squeezed my hand. 'You've read too much of my father. I have certain princely duties to attend to, ones I couldn't escape from even if I did follow my friends and jumped off a bridge.'

Chuckling at the face he made, I patted his shoulder sympathetically and winked. 'I'm sure even dead you'd make any girl faint.'

'Gods you're comforting to have around,' he retorted dryly.

'I know.' I smiled graciously and curtsied gracefully, eyeing him slyly. 'Your Majesty.'

He rolled his eyes and crossed his hands over his chest, an impatient look on his face. 'Go to dinner,' he said with a shake of the head. That action was so like Jon's, I had to look twice at him before shaking my own head and retreating to my destination. And that definitely wasn't to dinner.

Knocking on the door I faced, I felt my body flood with fury as my teeth and hands clenched. The rims of my knuckles were white from the pressure and my eyes nearly burned with anger. The door obviously didn't open, so I knocked again, more forcefully. 'Open the door, now!' I snarled, patience spent.

Grumbling to myself, I stormed down the hallway and checked the places where the scoundrel might be hiding; coincidently, I found none. Because I didn't know where morons like Atkin skipped off to day and night.

I froze in place, just when I'd been about to open the trainees' mess hall.

Chewing on my lip as I lost myself in thought, I squinted my eyes. Where could Atkin be, at this time, after he'd most probably killed a man? Closing my eyes, I thought of different places, but only one stuck. Where else but the hideout for scum like him and his followers? He could either be the leader or a mindless follower himself…

But I didn't know Tortall or its streets, so how was I supposed to look or find his hideout? Was there even a hideout? Was I imagining this whole problem? Was Atkin innocent and me, just looking for trouble? Maybe I'd gotten so bored and had missed all the fights back home, I'd made up one down here…

I made too much sense for my comfort.

But I snapped out of it. Roald knew of this. In a way. So I couldn't possible be imagining it all…

Biting at my nails and the skin around them ferociously, I pondered in serious thought, wondering and wondering where he could possibly be in the Godcursed city. I winced when I tore too much flesh from the side of my thumb, but went on chewing.

'Taverns,' I thought aloud, snapping my finger. 'But I don't know my way around…if only Roald had…' Drifting off, I chewed on my bottom lip and sighed. Dinner was over, the doors to the mess hall opened and the pages and squires drifted out.

My eyes widened as I raced to the dining hall, where I usually dined with friends, but there was no one there. 'Oh God…'

Khalil…

I promised, I swore I'd come…

He knew this sort of thing would happen, that's why he made me promise…

I'm so sorry.

The anger that had controlled me earlier deserted me and instead I was rushed with guilt and shame. Walking somberly back to my room, I slammed into something hard. Dazed, my head swirling, I looked up into the eyes of the Prince. I frowned. He'd said he had some princely duties to attend to, so what was he doing here?

He looked me over expressionlessly and walked off.

Not in the mood for his elusiveness, I went to my room and shut the door. Sandry had moved out to live with her new husband; Hayley was most probably with her guy, and Serena…well, where a heartbroken girl would be—at a pub with boisterous men.

About to jump back on my bed, I noticed a letter and unconsciously raised an eyebrow. Tearing at the waxing, I unrolled the parchment and read.

Meet me at the Baywolf Hurtling at dinner tomorrow.

Both eyebrows were now lifted as I frowned at the perfect handwriting. It wasn't signed, but I knew the style of the writing and knew the owner too well. I slid a book out of the bookcase and opened it to page twenty-five, a note fell out. I picked it up and traced the writing, comparing it to the new note.

The older one read:

Reem,

I need an answer; Mithros Reem, you'll be the jewel of the ball, dress or no dress! Promise me the first and last dance at the ball; please say yes,

                                                    Love,

                                                       Roald

Smiling distantly, I folded the parchment and placed it back into the book, and the book back into the bookcase. Then I tucked the latest note—which I knew was to be about "the case" (a.k.a. Atkin)—into my pocket and strode out of my room, needing directions.