Midwinter morning found Prince Roald cold, hungry, and deeply unhappy. Word had come in the night that the leader of the Bazhir in Persopolis had been assassinated--the Great Southern Desert was ripe for conquest, and Jasson didn't intend to waste a moment of his time. The Queen had prevailed upon her husband to observe Midwinter, out of respect for the Gods, but Jasson meant for his troops to leave the day after. Roald's life had been thrown into chaos yet again.

As the prince rose to bathe and dress himself for the celebrations of the day, he speculated on the turmoil that must be going on around the court, even at this early hour. When he was clean, he slipped on a plain tunic of dark wool, to protect against that cold, then trousers and boots, and went out in search of anything to salve his inner hurts.

"Roald!" Gary's alarmed voice grated in his ears. "Did you hear? I couldn't believe it."

"I heard," the prince said quietly, turning to face his friend. The brown-haired knight inhaled sharply. "It's true, then?"

"Yes."

They walked a short ways in silence, still reeling form the shock of their situation; they came out into one of the palace's many courtyards. As if to mark the changing times, the unseasonable warmth had broken, and frost now crunched under their feet. "What are we doing, Gary?" the prince asked heavily after a moment, voice raw with emotions too long held back.

"I--I don't know," his friend answered, unsettled by the bluntness and desperation of the question.

"I mean, are we to do this sort of thing all through our lives, without a moment of peace?" Gary was silent, still taken aback by this outburst. "I have nothing but love and respect for my father," Roald continued, "but this war-mongering, this greed for land and fame--it's nothing short of insane! Where will it ever end?"

His tirade was cut short by the sound of footsteps behind them. "Gary! Is it tr--your Highness!" Lianne came to an abrupt halt beside a bare bush, flushing crimson, and made an awkward curtsey while trying to conceal her body with her unbound tresses--she was wearing a nightgown which, while modest enough, was still only a nightgown. Roald froze as well, caught between the previous moment's passion, amusement at her discomfiture, and the unexpected sensation of real desire. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were with someone--I'll come back later."

"No, don't go," the brown-haired knight said, using his sister's faux pas to relieve the tension of the situation. "Please, sit down--we're all friends here." Lianne took a few hesitant forward, then slid onto the bench beside her brother. "Lianne," he said gently. "You're crying."

She made a small, shuddering sound, and turned her pink face away for a moment, wiping her tears. "I'm sorry, Gary," she rasped. "I know it's childish, I just--I wish--"

Her brother peered into her face, not understanding. "I've been a very inconsiderate brother, haven't I? Hang on, I'll get you a cloak so you don't catch cold." He was up and gone before she could speak. Roald shifted from foot to foot where he was standing--he couldn't remember ever being in a situation more awkward than this one. "I'm sorry to take your brother from you, lady," he said quietly; he couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow responsible for his father's orders.

"There is nothing you need to apologize for," she replied, wiping a few tears with the heel of her hand. Her dark eyes were bloodshot as she looked up at him, then away again. There seemed to be something she desperately wanted to say, but could not bring herself to say it to him--the prince of Tortall, the man who had been the boy she remembered. "I hope you won't think ill of me for coming apart like this," she said after a moment, collecting herself.

"I never shall," he said quietly. "I can see that you care for a brother a great deal--I only wish that I too had someone at home who cared so deeply for my well-being."

She frowned, not expecting what he had said; Roald could almost see her mind working to deduce the feeling behind his words. "I'm sorry," she said, surprising him with candor of her own. "I thought a prince, of all the people in this war, would have someone or something worth coming home for."

Roald smiled ironically, and shook his head. "No. Someday, though, perhaps I shall."

"I wish I could be of more help--somehow I don't think courtly dances will be of much use to anyone, though."

"They're good for comfort, though--it's good to forget about the war, at least for a little while." He glanced at her sidelong. "I hope I didn't annoy you the other night by dancing with you."

She turned her head to him, frowning slightly. "It's hardly my place to be annoyed, Highness." She paused, realizing he had wanted a serious answer. "No--I really did enjoy it, even if it seemed I didn't. I haven't had many partners as graceful as you are, or as considerate." She pulled back her black locks in silence, twisting them into a loose knot to keep them out of her face. "For what it's worth," she said at length, "I shall be sorry when you go."

He looked at her, mystified but pleased.

"I don't know what I'll do by myself--I don't seem to get along with the other noble daughters my age; I'm not very like them."

"I shouldn't like you half as well if you were," Roald said. Lianne looked at him wryly. "They'd be offended to no end if they heard you say that." She paused. "You do like me, though?"

He flushed slightly. "Yes, I do--why wouldn't I?"

"I couldn't tell what you were thinking during the feast that night, when you asked if I remembered you."

"Well, it seems like half a lifetime ago when I last saw you--I think I was 15, and you were about 10. We were looking over the parapets, and Gary threatened to dangle you over the edge, you were such a little thing..."

"...and you told him to stop it. Yes, I remember." She nodded, and sighed. "I don't think things will ever be quite that simple again."

"No."

"But the three of us are still here--you and Gary and me. Surely that's something."

He nodded, smiling gently. "It is."

"I hope my brother come back safely—and I hope you do too. If you don't, I really shall be alone here."

Roald felt a sort of fierce tenderness welling inside of him; involuntarily, he reached up and touched her face with his fingers--she was surprised, but did not pull away. "You're the first person who's wished me well in this," he observed. "All the soldiers seem to have their sweethearts to return to--I don't suppose...would it be to much to ask...?"

Lianne's dark eyes searched his own. Then she laughed a little. "It's an odd question--but yes, I'll be your sweetheart, as much as a noble can be, at least. I'll wait for you, and hope for you." She sighed. "We'd better keep it to ourselves, though. You know how word gets around." The prince nodded mutely, too overwhelmed with conflicting emotions to answer. Lianne rose from the bench and brushed the frost from her nightgown. "I'd better go, or I'll catch it from Lady Enris," she said, "but will I see you tonight at Midwinter?"

He took her hands. "Of course." She leaned forward awkwardly, and planted a light kiss high on his forehead. "Goodbye, until then."