A/N: I am thoroughly astonished! I never expected to have such a surge of reviews, especially with something I did out of inspiration and didn't expect to finish! I'm so grateful to you guys! Lydiby, chava, Calzini, Andrea (who, by the way, is saying Shevraeth because she knows I hated it when Mel only called Vidanric Shevraeth. It's like calling someone Paris!) Nicole, Sanaria, Annje, CCD fan, Rael and Aylis (PLEASE tell me why you think Vidanric sound gay! :P Being Gay is not right for this fic ;)) Jj, me (hello me! :P), Mary, Saranha de Angelo, Calcifersgrl, Geniusgirl, Jalla, Angelprinczess29, chikki-g, Wild Mage, and Athena!

By the way, I WOULD have given you each a comment on your review (and most likely e-mailed you a thanks for those who didn't get one) but I wrote out all the comments, and it go deleted. After a day of writing this chapter, I don't want to have to go write that again. Plus it's hot :P In terms of the late update, I've had a toothache lately :P

Oh! I will, however, write the lyrics to The Brilliant Dance, because it was requested! Again, some verses remind me of what Vidanric had to go through to get Mel, but that doesn't really mean the WHOLE ENTIRE song does :P So take it with a grain of salt ^_^

So this is odd,

The painful realization that has all gone wrong,

And nobody cares at all,

And nobody cares at all.

So you buried all your lover's clothes

And burned the letters your lover wrote,

But does it make it any better?

And the plaster dented from your fist

In the hall where you had your first kiss

Reminds you that the memories will fade.

So this is strange,

Our sidestepping has come to be a brilliant dance

Where nobody leads at all,

Where nobody leads at all.

And the picture frames are facing down

And the ringing from this empty sound

Is deafening and keeping you from sleep.

And breathing is a foreign task

And thinking's just too much to ask

And you're measuring your minutes by a clock that's blinking eights.

This is incredible.

Starving, insatiable,

Yes, this is love for the first time.

Well you'd like to think you were invincible.

Yeah, well weren't we all once before we felt loss for the first time?

Well this is the last time.

Maybe you didn't understand that this song is about breaking up and the grief you feel after it :P not exactly something Vidanric had to go through. But the frustration of it all, I think shows through. Also the verse So this is strange ,our sidestepping has come to be a brilliant dance where nobody leads at all, where nobody leads at all. Seems to be like the confusion they must have felt, trying to figure on another out. The last verse also strikes a chord with me in terms of the story, but I'm not quite sure why, so I'll let you decide for youselves ^_^

Chapter 2: The Affair Tamara

After the Marquises gathering, I arrived at my rooms and lay on my bed, unable to sleep. Mel had promised me once before that she would not try to obtain the crown, and I valued that. At the same time, I had to reason with the Marquises skills of persuasion.

Was it possible that I was letting my admiration for the Countess of Tlanth blind me?

I'm not sure how long I tossed and turned, listening to the gentle rain tap along the ground, but when there was a soft knock on my door and my manservant Sirkar walked in, a graciously took the distraction.

He handed me a letter and, my heart thumping in my chest, I excused him. She must have written it only a few minutes ago…which meant she was having some trouble sleeping as well.

The letter read:

Dear Unknown,

You probably won't want to answer a letter, but I need some advice on court etiquette, without my asking be noised around, and who could be more closemouthed than you? Let's say I was at a party, and a high-ranking lady approached me-

I breathed a sigh of relief, and flung myself on my bed. Thank the Lord for Mel's wits. I was still unsure about whether Mel would believe the Marquise of Merindar, but at the very least she wanted to know what she was getting into.

It might have been my insomnia attacking me, but a had a strange idea. Unlocking my bookshelf, I scanned bindings, before my eyes rested on the one I wanted. Pulling it out, I looked for a particular passage I had read at a young age and remembered forever after. It might not mean anything to Mel, but to me this particular part of the memoir by the Duchess Nirth Masharlias represented the way to deal with an attacker-with humour and wit.

and though the Count spoke strictly with Accordance and with Etiquette, his words were an Affront, for he knew my thoughts on Courtship for Married Persons…

It went on to describe the way the Duchess challenged him to a mock duel, and in doing so, politely and without disrupt discouraged any further advances.

But would she understand that much?

Whether she would or wouldn't was half the fun, I suppose. Another truth to the fact that I was sending her a book instead of a true letter I attributed to my confusion. I didn't understand exactly why she wanted me, an admirer she knew only through text, to guide her. She did not know who I was (and if she did she most certainly would not be having this topic of conversation with me), and so I found it hard to reply without bringing my own opinions in.

Just as I was about to mark the passage with a scrap piece of parchment, a flower slipped out of the envelope she had sent me, and fell to the floor. As I picked it up, I realized it was a starliss-or Queensblossom, symbolic for ambition.

It also didn't escape me that the Marquise of Merindar had them sprouting up all around her 'humble abode', or that Mel left with the flower in her hair.

Not quite sure why she had sent me it, I plucked a petal off it nonetheless and used it to mark the passage instead. Placing the book on my dresser, I left a note for Sirkar to attend to it in the morning.

And just like that, I feel into the easiest sleep of my life.

­­­­­­­­­_______

Late the next morning I received another letter from Mel. Childish as it sounds, it made me happy to have her responding eagerly. But what exactly is wrong with that? These days, there's very little I care about when concerning politics, not like I used to anyway. If I want to be childish, if I want to be smitten, if I want to be truthful and honest, however blunt-as opposed to roundabout and at times deceitful-why can't I? My mother has reprimanded me several times on this new outlook, and I can't help but see her view. As a would-be king, I have to behave like one. Not like a human, however ridiculous that may sound.

But there are times…

Coming back to reality, I looked down at the letter, and opened it carefully.

Dear Mysterious Benefactor,

I read the pages you marked, and though I was greatly diverted, the connection between this story and my own dilemma leaves me more confused than before. Would you advise my young lady to act the fool to the high-ranking lady-or are you hinting that the young one already has? Or is it merely a suggestion that she follow the duchess's example and ward of the high-ranking lady's hints with a joke duel?

If you've figured out that this is a real situation and not a mental exercise, then you should also know that I promised someone important that I would not let myself get involved in political brangles; and I wish most straightly to keep this promise. Truth to tell, if you have insights that I have not-and it's obvious that you do-in this dilemma I'd rather have plain discourse than gifts.

Well…needless to say I was a bit taken aback, but very pleased. This was Mel. Blunt, to the point-perfect in her own way. Maybe she wasn't perfect in a court way-but there was something about her.

I wanted to write her back then and there, but I had to be at the sword fighting practice in a matter of minutes. Getting dressed, I walked down to the courts, to meet with Russav. As soon as I appeared on the courts, however, one of my spies discreetly signaled me from another court, and I walked over, feinting an invitation to practice.

The man, who was slight and shifty, came up to me and said in a low voice that wasn't as suspicious as a whisper, "Countess Meliara Astiar of Tlanth has been spotted at the estate of Lord Flauvic of Merindar."

Well.

That could present a problem. I had been watching the Merindar's house casually for quite a long time, as I wouldn't trust them for anything. But Mel there? I doubted she was plotting with him-for her letters revealed her hesitancy, and 'plotting' wasn't even the proper word to describe what Mel would do-but it could evolve. Why else would he be called the flower?

I nodded to the man, and dismissed him discreetly. He had been one of my good friends when I was younger, and so he was one of the few spies I could afford to be seen with in public. As I walked back to Russav, he looked at me quizzically, and I explained the dilemma.

"Well, what are you going to do? It's not that big of deal, as I can't seriously believe Meliara would do something as drastic as" he swallowed the thought and continued on a new thread, "but Flauvic is…well, we all know what he is."

 I shrugged at Russav; "I suppose we should pay him a visit, then."

Russav smiled teasingly, "Not jealous, are you, Danric?"

I smiled slightly, but inside my head was spinning. Were my affections for her once again getting in the way of my perception? Or now, on the completely opposite side, would I become jealous of her relationship with Flauvic and start making up false accusations in my head?

Life, it was all too damn complicated.

Politics are what the court is made of. I had been taught that all my life. At this time, I needed to stop following my heart and think with my mind. Otherwise, I was going to do something very stupid and the Merindars were going to do something very wrong.

So Russav and I took a little 'ride' in the direction of Flauvic's estate. As we saw Flauvic and Mel walking down the path of his courtyard, we brought our horses up to a trot, before greeting Flauvic. As I stole a glance at Mel, her face was unreadable - blank, and she gave us a silent, deadpan curtsy.

After a few subtle threats disguised as superfluous compliments, Russav and I tore Mel away from him and began to escort her back to the Residence, each of us dismounting from our horses and walking on either side of her.

After a moment, Mel piped up. "Please don't think you have to change your direction for my sake. I'm just out wandering about, and my steps took me past Merindar House."

I got a little uneasy at this comment, for it was clear she knew partly what we were up to. "And lose an opportunity to engage in converse without your usual crowd of swains?" Russav had saved my speechlessness around the countess with his free-flowing mouth once again. And I, once again, felt like a fool.

"Crowd? Swains?" She repeated, laughter bubbling up from her beautiful throat, "Has the rain affected your vision? Or am I the blind one? I don't see any swains. Just as well, too."

I couldn't help myself. Although I tried to disguise it as a cough, my laugh was unmistakable. "I don't mean you two!" Mel added hastily, and looked up at Russav (I couldn't help thinking it was because she didn't want to look at me.)

"About you lack of swains," Russav said quietly, "Deric would be desolated to hear your heartless glee."

Mel grinned widely, "I suspect he'd be desolated if I thought him half-serious."

For some odd reason, my heart jumped at the words, unwillingly. It confirmed that she did not feel Russav was as serious as he could have let on, and it was comforting to hear those words from her mouth-even if it was a stupid thing to worry about.

"-The very moment I heard you had pinched a chicken pie from under Nenthar Debegri's twitchy nose, then rode off on his favorite mount, getting clean away from three ridings off his hand picked warriors."

Despite the wanderings of my mind, I caught up to Russav's mock indignation of her hints that she was on to him. I also couldn't help take a sharp intake of breath, for the instance he was talking about happened to be the one in which he discovered my love for her – and consequently, the rest of my servants.

As she laughed, Russav jested a bit more with her, "Now don't – please don't – destroy my faith in heroism by telling me it's not true."

"Oh, it's true enough, but heroic?" she scoffed, even while laughing, "What's so heroic about that? I was hungry! Only got one bite of the pie-"

As we both started laughing, Mel looked a bit bewildered, and I realized she hadn't really meant it as a joke – which seemed to only make me laugh harder.

"And then you compounded your attractions by keeping my cousin on the hop for days." Russav continued, indicating me, proving that even he could falter with one simple sentence – if indeed it was a mistake, and not deliberate.

What was I supposed to say? I never understood how to deal with that old uncertainty, and in bringing it up I saw her stiffen and her laughter vanish. At those times, in her mind, (and possibly still in the present) I was no better than Galdran's filthy cousin Baron Debegri. I was one and the same with the man that tried to capture her – and indeed in court politics I made no denial to it – although my intentions were quite the opposite. All I represented to her was a court-spoiled, conniving Marquis when I stood next to the Baron – and I was having a difficult time erasing that residue. Life…that might be all I was.

The thing that astonished me was that, as wary as she was around me, she was ashamed of herself.

The forced lightness of her voice was apparent as she said, "On the contrary, it was he who kept me on the hop for days." And then, to my dismay, added quietly, "very long days."

I took a deep intake of breath, and suddenly her gaze was on mine as she asked, "When you said to search the houses. In the lake town. Did you know I was inside one?"

Swallowing hard, I searched Russav's face, willing the mouth that brought along this conversation to be sewed up. He just grinned.

Attempting to make coherent words out of my once articulate mouth that now felt like a pile of sand, I choked out, "I…had a sense of it." Oh. I astonished her with my wit.

"And outside Thorsek. When you and Debegri rode by. You looked right at me. Did you know it was me?"

Mel, you have red hair. No matter how hard you try, or how high you pin it up, it will show. Plus the small fact I had been memorizing your face. But I doubt the outcome would be as satisfactory as I wanted it to be if I said that.

Instead, I felt a deep foreboding that whatever I said would only make her angry, and (if possible) drive her further away. Life! In the beginning, all I wanted to do was intimidate her, not kill her or Bran. In the middle, I wanted to help her…and now…well, you know. Was my cause, as Russav said, not lost in hopelessness? …I hoped so. But it didn't help me right now.

Turning to her, the words I attempted to conceal with a court drawl dropped out of my mouth heavily, and I braced myself, "Will it make you very angry if I admit that I did? But the timing seemed inopportune for us to, ah, reacquaint ourselves."

She sighed, "I'm not angry. I know you weren't trying to get me killed, but to keep me from getting killed by Debegri and Galdran's people. Except - well, never mind. The whole thing is stupid."

I breathed an inner sigh of relief. Russav, seeing this and finally letting his game drop, said quickly, "Come then, forgive me for straying into memories you'd rather leave behind, and let us instead discuss tonight's prospective delights."

His voice slowly droned on, and I was left with an unpleasant buzz in my ears. Despite my efforts to push it away from my mind, something in me knew that the Merindar's were up to something - and Flauvic, although his involvement was questionable, was also a grave danger to the well being of Athanarel. But I would just have to wait. I wanted to wait. These feelings of court politics playing over my mind like a chess match came frequently and without warning, and today I really didn't want to think about it.

But then as I saw Tamara strolling up the same pathway in the opposite direction, I wished that court politics were all I had to deal with. I greeted her, and moved over to make room, all as politely as etiquette that had been drilled into me (and consequently was as much a part of me as my silent – if fruitless – rebellion to it) decreed.

After several minutes of idle talk, in which Tamara made sure she was the focus of, the lady turned to Mel, and with a tone of friendliness I knew immediately as mischief, said politely, "You did promise me, my dear Countess, a little of your time. I think I will hold you to that promise."

Promise? I tried to remember a conversation where Mel had promised Tamara anything. Although I couldn't, I assumed it was probably of no consequence. If Tamara was planning something - which I undoubtedly knew she was – Mel could take care of herself.

"I – well –" Mel stumbled, failing mildly to disguise the reluctance and wariness in her voice, "I think – that is, if I haven't forgotten – "

Tamara simply continued on, talking to Russav, "You'll have the evening free?"

Now this was possibly the only intrigue I had ever taken interest in. To explain it shortly, Tamara, perpetually power-hungry, took an interest in my cousin at an early age. Yet, over the years, it's my belief that it developed into something more – possibly on both sides. Although as soon as I had a chance at being king, that old trait in Tamara sparked up again, and suddenly she started (vainly, I might add) going after me. Something, I believe, both parties are unhappy about. Not that either of them will admit it. Frankly, I don't know what he sees in her, but they were an odd match from the beginning.

Which is why, when Russav bowed rather dryly to her, Tamara got a little – disturbed, I should put it. Well, disturbed the way a courtier gets disturbed: stiff lips, and narrow eyes. Briefly and only for a moment, of course.

Subtly dismissing Russav, she turned her gaze onto me, "And you, Vidanric?"

"Regrettably, my mother has a previous claim on me." Which was true. As much as I wanted to go and survey what she had planned, my mother is…quite persuasive in her requests. Add that to the fact that Mel rarely – if ever – is around my at informal social events, if she can help it.

Tamara sketched a curtsy, and turned back to Mel. "I'll invite a few more of your many friends. Do not distress me with a refusal."

Well…how was she supposed to get around that?  With a resolve of politeness she said "Of course. Be delighted."

She curtsied again, and, her mission over, began talking casually about the latest play and her opinions on it. After several minutes, Mel turned to us and said hastily, "I fear I have to leave you all now. Good day!"

She swept a general curtsy, and fled. Why? I have no clue.

_________

When I returned to my rooms that afternoon, I picked up the letter again and read it. Sighing even while smiling, I began penning my reply. After a short time it was finished, for I found my thoughts to flow freely – although they were simply thoughts of a neutral mentor – whenever I wrote a letter to her.

My Dear Countess,

You say you would prefer discourse to gifts. I am yours to command. I will confess my hesitancy was due largely to my own confusion. It seems, from my vantage anyway, that you are surrounded by people in whom you could confide and from whom you could obtain excellent advice. Your turning to a faceless stranger for both could be attributed to a taste for the idiosyncratic if not to mere caprice.

I cringed slightly at the comment, unsure whether it was too frank. Yet, I should not offend her or slight her wishes by not telling her the reality of the matter. In truth, I did not know why she didn't talk to someone around her she knew – as opposed to an Unknown. At the same time, I saw the reason.

Deciding to leave it, I picked up my quill and penned the rest:

But I am willing to serve as foil, if foil you require. Judging from what you reported of your conversation with your lady of high rank, the insights you requested are these: First, with regard to her hint that someone else in power lied about rendering assistance at a crucial moment the year previous, you will not see either contender for power with any clarity until you ascertain which of them is telling the truth.

Second, she wishes to attach you to her cause. From my limited understanding of said lady, I suspect she would not so bestir herself unless she believed you to be, at least potentially, a position of influence.

Lying back, I surveyed my writing. I had tried to maintain the neutrality she had sought after, even though I, in my assumptions, was the figure at the other end of the spectrum, opposite the Marquise of Merindar. It was difficult, but that was what court training was for, and I truly believed Mel deserved unbiased advice.

I folded the letter and sealed it, leaving it on the table. I no longer needed to notify Sirkar, for by now he was familiar with the exchanges.

_________

My mother and father's estate was beautiful, as usual, and I spent the night conversing pleasantly with them. I was also eagerly awaiting my arrival at the Residence as we said our good-byes and I mounted my horse. There was anxiousness in discovering exactly what Tamara had set up, and how it had played out.

As I rode up to the Residence, and into my suite at the Right Wing, I waited for a report from Russav about the party. There were two letters on my dresser – one from Mel and one from Lady Elenet.

Although I wanted to open the one from Mel first, my duty took over. Elenet was a good friend of mine, but I was sure her letter was of business. We had been corresponding recently over the possibility of her presence being shown at court, for her uncle, Duke Grumareth, had recently 'gone down with a sickness' that seemed to me to be a bit more than just the usual excuse to leave. Her person at court would create a warning. This letter was just outlining her potential trip, where and for how long she would stay.

I picked up the letter from Mel, and was about to open it, when Sirkar knocked on the door.

As I looked up he said, "The Duke of Savona is here to see you – I assume you were expecting him."

I nodded, anticipation trickling through my veins, and Sirkar left to fetch him. When he entered the room, his expression was taut, worried – and even outraged. My stomach curled up into a knot of tightness and I attempted to not let the sickness show on my face. "What of Tamara's gathering?" I said tautly.

"What of it?" Russav repeated, only with a degree of anger several times higher than my query. "That stupid, power-hungry girl got Meliara drunk. Drunk! And on substances the Countess would have had absolutely no previous experience with!" He sighed, "Danric, I knew she was up to something – something low – but…this? It's hardly deserving – even of her!"

Feeling as if I was sinking through the ground, I said to him vaguely, trying to convince myself more than him "Russ, would you stop? And think about it? I'm willing to wager my estate and horse that our dear Lady Tamara served those 'substances' as you called it, right into the hands of Mel, and that all members of the party were – or are now – aware of the Countess' ignorance toward the…potency."

Russav ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose you're right, Danric. I also suppose, considering those circumstances, Tamara is the one who will be having trouble tomorrow. As well, I escorted Meliara home, and therefore I believe my influence will be placed on her." He smiled wryly, "yet again, my temper has gotten the best of me – but you have always known how the Lady Tamara and I quarrel – it's as if I war has been initiated!"

I smiled half-heartedly. Their fights were court-renowned. But I was still worried about Mel. Looking up at him, I said quietly, "Thank-you for taking her to her rooms. Would it be possible to write her an invitation to a gathering tomorrow? – I'm sure she will take the hint that since certain persons won't be present, she is not to blame herself for what went on tonight, as I'm sure she will."

 "I've already thought of it." Russav smiled, and bowed his way out.

Sighing and rubbing my temples, I sat down in a chair and picked up the letter again. I knew exactly why Tamara did this. Mel was a threat for two reasons: Tamara had a hint that I had more than a political interest in the Countess (as the rest of the court had the same hint) and so it defeated her purpose of seducing me. As well, Russav, with whom she had an odd sort of courtship initiated, was flirting with Mel. Tamara couldn't see that it wasn't (what I considered) a true courtship, or that Russav's advances were no more than flattery.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the letter.

Dear Unknown,

The only foil – actually, fool – here is me, which isn't any pleasure to write. But I don't want to talk about my past mistakes, I just want to avoid making the same or like ones in the future. Your advice about the event of last year (an escape) I thought of already and have begun my investigation. As for the putative position of power, it's just that. I expect you're being confused by my proximity to power – my brother being friend to the possible king and my living here in the Residence. But believe me, no one could possibly be more ignorant or less influential than I.

What was she talking about? "No one could possibly be more ignorant or less influential than I." Mel, you are gravely mistaken. I would never dare to call her ignorant, and I would completely oppose her judgment of the degree of influence she had. Did she not realize most of the court was half in love with her?

But at the moment, that wasn't what I wanted to get across to her. When she woke tomorrow morning, (albeit with a raging headache) I knew without trying that she would somehow manage to turn everything – every possible blame – toward herself. Russav's letter and invitation would certainly help, but I couldn't avoid myself wanting to be a part of rebuilding her confidence. Because of this, well into the night, I sat down and penned a sort of response.

Meliara–

In keeping faith with your stated desire to have the truth of my observations, permit me to observe that you have a remarkable ability to win partisans. If you choose to dismiss this gift and believe yourself powerless, then of course you are powerless; but the potential is still there – you are merely pushing it away with both hands.

Ignorance, if you will honor me with permission to take issue with your words, is a matter of definition – or possibly degree. To be aware of one's lack of knowledge is to be merely untutored, a state that you seem to be aggressively attempting to change. A true ignorant is unaware of this lack.

To bring our discourse from the general to the specific, I offer my congratulation in the Affair Tamara. She intended to do you ill. You apparently didn't see it, or appeared not to see it. It was most effective – perhaps the only effective – means of scouting her plans for your undoing. Now her reputation is in your hands.

This is not evidence of lack of influence.

It took me quite a while to write all of my feelings – which were tied up like knots in the pit of my stomach. Because of this, promptly after folding, sealing and placing it on my table, I lay down on my bed and slept an exhausted, frustrated and distraught sleep.

_______

The next morning I penned a letter to Elenet, looked for a response letter from Mel and awaited anxiously any news or sign of Tamara. I strolled remote places of Athanarel restlessly in the early morning, before going back to my rooms and pacing there instead. I didn't know if news of the Affair Tamara would reach me by my servants, (who, I might add, have been determinedly trying to push Mel and me together) or by word of mouth.

Just then Sirkar walked in and handed me a letter. I dismissed him, slightly abashed at the sly smile on his face and opened it.

I'll tell you what conclusion I've reached after a morning's thought, and it's this: that people are not diamonds, and ought not to be imitating them.

I've been working hard at assuming Court polish, but the more I learn about what really goes on behind the pretty voices and waving fans and graceful bows, the more I comprehend that what is really said matter little, so long as the manner in which it is said pleases. I understand it, but I don't like it. Were I truly influential, then I would halt this foolishness that decrees that in Court one cannot be sick; that to admit you are sick is really to admit political or social or romantic defeat; that to admit any emotions usually means one really feels the opposite. It is a terrible kind of falsehood that people can only claim feelings as a kind of social weapon.

Apparently some people thought it took amazing courage to admit that I was drunk, when it was a mere unthinking truth. This is sad. But I'm not about to pride myself on telling the truth. Reacting without thinking – even if I spoke what I thought was true – has gotten me into some nasty situations during the recent year. This requires more thought. In the meantime, what think you?

I was unsure how to answer it, since I still did not know what she was going to do about Tamara. What if I offended her? So I took a deep breath and penned a short reply.

You ask what I think, and I will tell you that I admire without reservation your ability to solve your problems in a manner unforeseen by any, including those who consider themselves far more clever than you.

That was all I could manage to write at that moment. I sent it with Sirkar to courier it, and began pacing again.

Which was when I looked out the window, and there were Mel and Tamara, talking in a subdued matter, as if the night before had never happened.

 I stood there for a moment, my mouth wide, my mind floored, so that I did not have the state of mind or physical power (for I felt like water) to pull myself together.

As I retreated from the window, I shook it off as best as I could. This meant…this meant Mel had gone to her, forgiven her…and Tamara had been saved. I couldn't help the smile from breaking over my face. She could take care of herself. She had dealt with this situation in a way very few could truthfully admit likeness to.

And I was even more floored than before.

Suddenly, all my anger for Tamara dissolved in to one compact ball in my chest. If Mel could forgive her, couldn't I? Couldn't Russav? I was reminded of when we were children, being taught to be just what Tamara was. But behind that, weren't we all like Mel and Bran? Courtiers, high society, deceitful at times, but people nonetheless. Tamara was power hungry, but a grand portion of her intentions were out of jealously of love. She wasn't a model person (despite her rank at being a model courtier), but she was better than what I had made her out to be.

Well, Mel certainly was different than her brother. He is a dear friend…but I must admit, no one makes me think like that, and change opinions so rapidly. I was…awed. Touched. I was also finding it extremely hard to believe it.

Suddenly I wished I had waited one more minute to pen that letter.

______

When I received another letter from Mel that day, I eagerly opened it.

Today I have come to two realizations. Now, I well realize that every courtier in Athanarel probably saw all this by their tenth year. Nonetheless, I think I finally see the home-thrust of politics. Everyone who has an interest in such things seems to be waiting for me to make some sort of capital with respect to the situation with Tamara, and won't they be surprised when I do nothing at all!

Truth to say, I hold no grudge against Tamara. I'd have to be a might hypocrite to fault her for wishing to become queen, when I tried to do the same a year back – though I really think her heart lies elsewhere – and if I am right, I got in her way yet again.

Which brings me to my second insight: that Savona's flirtation is just that, and not a courtship. The way I define courtship is that one befriends the other, tried to become a companion and not just a lover. I can't see why he so exerted himself to seek me out, but I can't complain, for I am morally certain that his interest is a good part of what made me popular. (Though this all could end tomorrow.)

I smiled to myself. Her insights of courtship lay somewhere along the same line as mine- and for that reason, I intended to seek out her friendship through letters, instead of embarking upon the near impossible task (at the moment) of doing it in person.

Encouraged by this, I sat down and wrote yet another letter, just before I went to a gathering at the Marquise's (to which, gratefully, Mel was not invited. I hoped this meant that the Marquise had backed off.)

I can agree with your assessment of the ideal courtship, but I believe you err when you assume that everyone at Court has known the difference from age ten – or indeed, any age. There are those who will never perceive the difference, and then there are some who are aware to some degree of the difference but choose not to heed it. I need hardly ass that the motivation her is usually lust for money or power, more than for the individual's personal charm.

But I digress. To return to your subject, do you truly believe, then, that those who court must find themselves of one mind in all things? Must they study deeply and approve each other's views on important subjects before they can risk contemplating marriage?

I looked at the last line, thoroughly satisfied with the thought. For there were many things I did not agree with when it came to Mel…and yet that was what ardently made me half-mad in love with her.