A/N: Please don't hate me! I know I took absolutely forever to write this, but I had a major writing block. But here it is! At long last, chapter ten. And I promise the next chapter will be out a lot faster. Without further ado . . .

~Tari shakes her head, laughing. "It took you that long to kiss him? I'm surprised at you, Laeli."

"I didn't mean to," I blurt out, my face stained red. I see my red hair falling over my face in an attempt to hide. My gold eyes stare at the ground, examining the cracks in the gray stone.

"Didn't you?" Johen asks, regarding me gravely. I look up, unsurprised that he is there though he was not a moment before. "What about me?"

"I love you!" I tell him, but he looks unconvinced. "Tell him I love him," I say to Tari.

She's not Tari anymore; Kiyra stands in her place. Her chocolate eyes, so like her brother's, are sad. "What about my brother Aiven?"

"And what about me?" says Tari's brother Dein from behind me, but his voice is different, and when I examine him more carefully I see he is the Mage-Prince I dined with.

I shake my head. "I don't know." I tell him.

"Do you love me?" he asks.

I consider him. "That depends," I say.

He leaned closer and covered my mouth with his, and before I close my eyes his cerulean blue ones stare into my own. "Every hero in the history of the world has had cerulean blue eyes," I whisper against his warm lips.

"I don't," Aiven says as he draws back from our kiss, chocolate eyes filled with fiery passion ~

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"Oh gods!" I shrieked, bolting upward and breathing hard. I would just have to relive that kiss wouldn't I? Doomed. I was doomed. How in the seven hells was I supposed to face Aiven today? And why was the Mage-prince of Sontái in my dream? Then Johen had been there . . . beloved, dead Johen.

If he was dead, which would be a blessing. Because if he hadn't died, that meant . . .

I shook my head, refusing to think of what he must have gone through, and all because of that stupid noble. But it was my fault, for being so overconfident.

My door opened, and I gave a startled yelp as I pulled my blanket of higher over my overly bright purple night dress.

"My lady?" asked a girl about my age, curtsying low, eyes on the ground. "Are you quite all right?" She wore unfamiliar livery, a flowing silver gown with a strange crest in the center her chest. The gown looked more like the clothing of nobility then that of a maid; if she had not worn the white headband around her forehead proudly bearing her master's crest . . .

Was it Aiven's?

I realized I was scrutinizing her from her very blond head to the tips of her slipper-clad feet. She must be employed to Aiven - her sweeping silver gown was the color and style - if much less dramatic - of a Seer's clothing.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. I just had a . . . nightmare." Where I happened to kiss a guy that annoys me every chance he gets and a prince who had magical powers.

"The Lord Seer Aiven Caunlahsta wishes your presence as he breaks fast."

"Um . . . can't you just tell him I'm not hungry?"

Her eyes darted up to the wall behind me in startlement, then down to the floor. "I . . . I have never refused the lord Seer anything."

"I'll bet," I muttered, glaring at her, suddenly resenting her.

"He was most insistent," she said hesitantly. "Wants you to appear quickly and in an appropriate style."

I rolled my eyes. "For what? For rolling out of bed?"

"He has visitors," she said in a meek, kicked-puppy dog voice. "Their Royal Highnesses Prince Rogien and Prince Tullon, and Lady Kiebess and the young Duchess Landraia.

"Oh fun," I said, but less harshly. The girl acted like she had been abused! Aiven hadn't done anything, had he? He wouldn't. That just wasn't him.

"Fine," I said, pulling myself from my soft warm bed to drag on a dress from the ample supply. Dark pink silk with a V-neck and far too many ruffles - as soon as I put it on I wanted to take it off. Only it had been the closest in reach and God of Thunder strike me if I say I'm not lazy. And then there was the blond maid, who was staring at me slack jawed as I pulled a brush purposely designed to wound my head through my red hair.

"You're beautiful!" she exclaimed.

I ran a critical eye over my image in the gilt edged mirror. "Pink dresses and red hair clash."

"Oh no," she protested. "The shade of the gown is exactly the shade of your hair! It's lovely."

Lovely was stretching it. After all, how could anyone be lovely when the light of the rising sun was still coming in? It is my firm belief that no one can look or feel awake until the sun has risen. Still, I didn't look half-bad. I let the maid pull back the top layer of my hair and clip in with a lacy white rose, then entered the main room with the maid a few steps behind me.

For some reason it had never entered my mind that they might be eating in that room. But there they were, a Seer, two princes, and two incredibly lovely ladies - who obviously knew it.

One was blond, with her golden hair twisted back from her face and pulled into a knot at the back, making it look at if she wore a tiara. She had wide blue eyes enchanced by face paint, and her long silky eyelashes were unnaturally black. Her full red lips curved in a self-centered smile, and stood in sharp contrast to her ivory skin. I had an urge hit her and see if she broke like the porcelain doll she resembled, but I exercised my wonderful self-restraint and did not.

The second had dark brown hair and dark gray eyes. She had the air of a queen - probably hoped to become so - and imperialy examined me as I did the same. Her dress was a dark blue, embroidered with mystical looking silver runes.

I glanced at the other lady's dress. Damn. Why'd she have to be wearing pink also?

It was light and gauzy, and looked like one puff of air would blow it right off her. Thank the Lady the windows were closed; otherwise I would be scarred for life.

The three men stood when I entered, and I bit back a laugh, no one, excepting Lord Kieran and his father, had ever stood when I entered a room. And who would have guessed Aiven would be standing for me?

The table they sat at was round, so no one could be at the head. After all, who would have sat at the head? Aiven had said he was of the same rank as the mage-prince Tullon. Of course, I would assume the older twin would outrank the younger one, as he stood to inherit the kingdom, which would mean Prince Rogien outranked Prince Tullon which would mean he also outranked Aiven, except Aiven outranked the king and the king obviously outranked his sons . . . I shook my head. Thinking about this was giving me a headache.

I sat at the seat left open to me, between the two princes. Of Rogien's other side was the blond, and then Aiven. Between Aiven and Prince Tullon was the brunette. I looked across the table, eyes connecting with Aiven's. I was caught between glaring at him defiantly, and looking away with a blush.

The latter one.

Was there a reason he had kissed me? He certainly didn't act as if he liked me, most of the time at least, but sometimes I would catch him looking at me . . . I sighed. It seemed to be the best way to express myself these days.

"We're honored you could join us," Prince Tullon said, bringing my hand to his lips - cue for evil stares from the ladies.

"I don't believe you've been introduced to Lady Kiebess or Duchess Landraia," Aiven said, inclining his head first to the blond and then to the brunette. HE didn't act embarrassed. HE acted as if absolutely nothing had happened, as if he hadn't kissed me last night or anything. I wanted to flutter my eyelashes and murmer, "Why Aiven dear, I don't believe I have." Instead I mutely shook my head, attaching a look of superiority to my features.

The two girls glared at me. I wanted nothing more then to stick my tongue out at them.

"My lady Damslae," the mage-prince said to me, drawing my hand again, "You made an extraordinary exit last night."

I laughed, remembering what happened when his brother had taken my hand. "You are better at this then our brother I told him. "But that may be do to the fact that there's no sugar bowl around." The twins and I laughed. Aiven looked bored and superior. The two girls looked jealous.

"There is to be a ball soon," the heir said, smiling at me, blue eyes sparkling. "An annual one held by Lady Chantaviene. I would be honored if you would accompany me. That is," and he raised an eyebrow, casting a look at Aiven, "if no one else has asked you."

Kieran had. Kieran had asked me, but no one would care if I turned down his offer to go with the prince. No one, except for Kieran who I didn't even like.

"Unfortunetly, she's already going with me," Aiven said smoothly. I glared at him.

"How about we settle that and she goes with me?" Prince Tullon said with a laugh. "After all, I'm the best of all worlds. A prince like Rogien and a mage like Aiven."

I got the feeling the two ladies wanted nothing more then to pound the life out of me.

"Actually," I murmured demurely, "I already have an escort."

"Do you now," Prince Tullon said, raising an eyebrow exactly like his twin had done.

"Yes," I said, as a servant but my food down. I watched as his clenched hands dropped the plate in front of me, recognized the jewel imbedded in his wrist. I frowned. These stones were attached to people - only criminals, according to the law - and nasty rumors accompanied them. That their bearers could only do would the person who had imbedded it in their skin told them too. That an incredible agony could spread through the person bearing it with a single word. I had never seen anyone actually wear one.

I glanced up at the servant's face, curious in a morbid sort of way to see what someone with one of these jewels would look like. My eyes caught the servants; they were blue, very deep and filled with pain. His face was pale and white - blond hair hung to his chin, which was lifted in a proud, defiant manner. His lips were pressed into two straight lines.

I felt my heart stop in astonishment. HE WAS ALIVE. Mt heart wrenched. That meant he had to have undergone terrible agony, incredible suffering and pain. He probably wasn't even the same person anymore . . .

"Laeli?" he said, voice shaking like I had never heard before.

"Oh my god," I whispered, then through myself out of my chair, wrapping my arms around his neck. "You're alive," I sobbed. "Gods, Johen, you're alive."