Questions:

What about the real Roald? Is he okay?

Oh, don't worry about him. He'll be just fine. *smile*

How many chapters until the end?

Eh….I'm not quite sure yet. But definitely more than 28. *pauses to think about it* Yes, definitely more than 28.

Is Demon's Hill a volcano?

Indeed, yes it is. When I was first writing/figuring out this fic, I knew it had to be about a girl who went back in time to keep the 'end of the world as we know it' from happening. But I still didn't have an idea for why and how the world ended. I was struck with the idea of having a volcano explode and cover the world while reading (heh) a very dull, boring, long, verbose book for AP biology class, known as "The Diversity of Life." (alright, so it wasn't that bad, especially compared to the book "This is Biology, the science of the living world", but it was still bad and I didn't finish reading either of the books: I gave up barely a quarter of a way through) But anyway, in the "Diversity of Life" book, I had just finished reading a chapter on how an entire island (and the ocean and islands that were a few miles away) were covered with lava/ash from a volcanic explosion. And then I thought to myself, 'why not have something like that happen in Tortall? But instead, have it fueled by magic and then cover the continent with desert sand when it exploded…'

What is a cliché?

It is an overly common/used phrase. Or in my case, an overly used situation. It's sorta similar to the Mary Sues that are so hated around here.

Cliches are phrases/words/situations that are used so often that people become sick of hearing them. "her eyes were as blue as the summer sky" or "she sang as sweet as a nightingale" or "it was so dark that I couldn't see the nose on my face" (Hah! I caught myself writing the last one in one of my writings for school. Bad, bad!)

Avoid cliches when writing as much as possible. Be creative: think of your own ways to describe things. Writing in cliches is a sure sign of an amateur.

Someone in the background: hey…but aren't we all amateurs here?

Krizsta: Shhh! Don't interrupt!

Well anyway, "that's all folks!" (haha, cliché!)

Now on with the story…

18. A King's Son

"Kaprice," Roald said softly, "why are you mad at me?"

She stared, no, glared at him. But then it became too painful to look into his eyes, and so she looked away.

"Kaprice." His hand lifted, as if to touch her cheek.

Kaprice jumped back, upsetting her chair. "Don't touch me," she said harshly.

"You didn't mind my touch before," Roald said softly.

"That was before I knew you were a king's son," she bit out.

He frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You never told me you were a prince."

"I didn't think it mattered. That was in the past, it had no affect on who and what I was in the desert."

"It does matter," she objected. "It matters to me."

"But why?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

She shook her head. "Forget it. Forget I said anything. It's not important." The sudden rush of resentful anger she had felt for him was gone, replaced by undeniable sadness.

Roald may have been able to reach through walls and tables, but he wasn't able to physically reach through her: he put his hand on her elbow and his grip was as real as the ground she stood on.

"Don't do that, Kaprice. Don't hide from me," he said, his tone tender. "My being a prince obviously angered you. Tell me why."

She shook her head.

"Kaprice."

When she noticed that her eyes had filled with the slightest of tears, she cursed herself silently. Gods, she was such a fool.

"Kaprice?"

"Ryker," she finally said.

"What about him?" he asked. When she didn't say anything, he spoke again. "Damn it, if he hurt you--"

"No, no, no," she protested. "It was nothing like that. He would never hurt my physically," she said with a shaky laugh.

"Then what is it?" he asked, calm again.

"Ryker is a chieftain's son," she said hesitantly. "I suppose by Tortall's standards, that would make him comparable to a prince. Or at least a high noble."

He stared at her, struggling to comprehend.

"Ryker is a chieftain's son. While I…I'm nobody," she said.

Roald shook his head. "That's not true--"

"Yes, it is," she said, shaking her head. "I was too…low in status for Ryker. I wasn't good enough for him."

"Kaprice--"

"I gave Ryker up because he is a chieftain's son," she interrupted. "But then I met you. And I thought…"

"Thought what?" he asked when she didn't continue.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Just as Ryker is a chieftain's son, you are a king's. And I am not good enough for either." The last sentence was said with bitter anger.

"But you," he said slowly, "were more than good enough for The Wanderer."

She turned away.

"Kaprice, I'm not a prince any longer. The Devastation took that from me. There are two Roalds here. And only one is a prince." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Look at me, Kaprice. These people can't even see or hear me. How can I be a prince to them?"

She shook her head and shrugged warily.

"If we were still out in the desert, would my past have mattered?" he asked her.

She thought about it. "Probably not," she admitted. "But…"

Roald wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. "Don't worry. No one here will tell us that we cannot be together because I am a prince." He pulled back to look down at her for a moment. "Unless…you don't want us to be together?"

She held up her hands in a vulnerable manner. "I …don't know."

He blinked, hurt by her uncertainty. "Very well. I understand," he said quietly.

She sighed. "Is there anything else about your past self that I should know about? So that I don't become so surprised again?"

He frowned. "Actually, there is."

"Oh?" She waited.

"Well, when I was still a prince before the Devastation, I was marrie--"

"Kaprice?"

Kaprice and Roald jumped away from one another in surprise. Roald silently backed into a wall, disappearing through the other side and leaving her alone with Daine.

Daine frowned when she spotted Kaprice's fallen chair. Kaprice flushed and quickly set it to rights again.

"Was there a problem?" Daine asked, puzzled.

Kaprice quickly shook her head. "No, no problem."

Daine looked as if she wanted to question her further, but then she shrugged. "Are you done? King Jonathan wants to talk to you."

Kaprice looked down at her plate. "Yes, I'm done." She no longer felt hungry.

"All right, follow me and--"

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"Uhm, earlier while you and," she paused, trying to remember the tall man's name, "Numair were speaking with the king, he said that Roald was ill. Has something happened to Roald? Can you please tell me…?" she asked Daine hesitantly.

Daine glanced at her skeptically. "Why do you want to know?"

"I just find myself curious," she said rather lamely.

Daine stared at her for a moment. "You know, you remind me of someone…"

Kaprice blinked with surprise. "What?"

Daine shrugged. "You remind me of someone, but I can't remember who. Nevermind, forget that." Daine shook her head. :"King Jonathan says that Roald just collapsed while walking to his room last night. And since then, he's remained in an unwaking sleep."

"What's wrong with him?"

"We aren't sure. Numair doesn't think it has anything to do with magic, but Roald is quite physically fit. There's no reason for him to collapse and not wake up hours later, even if he was exhausted," Daine finished worriedly.

Kaprice had the sinking feeling that this incident had something to do with her and The Wanderer's entrance into Tortall.

"Can I see him?"

"What?" Daine asked, startled.

"Before you take me to the king, can I see Roald? Just for a moment, I won't do anything," Kaprice said.

Daine watched her carefully. "Kaprice," she started softly, "do you know Roald?"

"No." Kaprice only knew the Roald from the desert, not the one that lay unconscious in the castle. But then, that was getting technical…

Daine gave her a doubtful look. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she answered.

"All right. I'll take you to see Roald. But it'll have to be real quick, since the king is expecting us."

"That's fine," Kaprice assured her.

Daine quickly led her through the maze of hallways and rooms. She stopped before one and turned to Kaprice, a finger pressed to her lips. "Quiet, now. Shinko is still asleep."

Shinko? But Kaprice kept her mouth shut and silently entered the room after Daine.

The large room was bright with early morning sunlight. But Kaprice didn't notice it, nor did she notice the rich furnishings that decorated the rooms.

Her gaze immediately fell on Roald.

He looks the exact same…

Well, of course. He wasn't able to age after the Devastation. But she had still expected there to be some differences between the Roald she knew and the Roald that lay here.

She was immediately able to observe that this Roald was not sleeping normal sleep. His breathing was too slow, and his eyelids didn't flicker in the least.

Beside the bed, a young woman sat sideways in a chair. Her head was leaned back against the chair and her eyes were closed with normal sleep. Her long, glossy black hair fell across her cheek like a curtain. She was quite lovely in face.

But the thing that Kaprice noticed most about the girl was her hand. The girl's hand was tightly wrapped around one of Roald's own.

Who's --

"That's Princess Shinkokami," Roald said, coming in out of nowhere. He turned his head to gaze at Kaprice. "My wife. I was about to tell you about her, but Daine interrupted us--"

"Kaprice?" Daine suddenly whispered. "We should go now."

Kaprice nodded and followed Daine outside. Roald walked beside her. Neither tried to speak.

Daine led them to another room. She stopped in front of the door to knock: two quick, sharp raps, followed by two more that were widely spaced out.

The door open, and Kaprice was quickly ushered inside. Roald was just barely able to enter before the door closed. As soon as the door shut, a black end of string-like magic reached across the door and linked itself to another end of black magic string that waited from the other side of the door.

"What's that?" Kaprice asked with shock.

"It's to keep outsiders from listening to the conversation," Numair said. He pointed to the way the string ran across all four walls of the room.

King Jonathan was facing one of the walls, and he seemed to be arguing with himself.

"How do we know we can trust her?" he demanded.

"Well, how do we know we can't trust her?" a female voice retorted back. "Let me see her."

On a closer look, Kaprice realized that King Jonathan wasn't just looking at a wall: he was looking into a mirror. And when he stepped aside, Kaprice saw that there was someone in the mirror.

Someone who was definitely not King Jonathan.

The woman had bright red hair, and even brighter purple eyes. And in the background behind the woman, there were trees and other people.

The woman's uncanny purple eyes widened when she spotted Kaprice. "Goddess…" the woman murmured with surprise.

"That's it!" Daine suddenly spoke. She turned to look at Kaprice. "The Great Mother Goddess. You remind me of…you look just like…" her voice faded into silence when she saw Kaprice's harsh look.

Everyone in the room turned to stare at her.

"My name is Kaprice," she said coolly. "And don't you dare compare me to that woman."

A.N.- here's a random question for you: which do you prefer? Ninjas or pirates? And why?

Oh, and don't forget to tell me what you thought of my chapter. Thanks! *smile*

~krizsta