I know, I know. I said I'd have this chapter up sooner. I deserve to be thrown in fan fiction jail. I'm terribly sorry. Not that you want an excuse, but I've been positively overrun with a research paper for English (how lost gospels actually support the bible, not that you care). I promise I'll have more chapters soon.

Chapter Eight

            Over the next few days, Jerrold was constantly with the king, talking and planning. I, of course, was left on my own. Jerrold was moved to apartments closer to the king's, and I hadn't seen him since, except for dinner when I'd avoid his eye. My closet was full of new dresses, accompanied with letters. I just threw them into the fire. I didn't want to read his excuses or apologies.

            One day, I was wandering through the gardens, without chaperone, listening to Ayorthaian girls chatter away about Jerrold. Luckily, they were talking in Kyrrian, and I eavesdropped on them.

            "Oh, I just think he's so good looking and unfinished! Almost like a commoner!" one said.

            "He'd been away from court for so long, you'd think he'd be so unkempt, like that girl he came with," another said.

            "I heard they shared a room before he moved closer to the king!" the last cried.

            I heard them giggle madly. "You're joking!" the first said.

            "What a wild woman!" shrieked the second.

            Just when I was about to jump over the bush and scare them with my wild presence, someone tapped my shoulder. I whirled around, angry, to find the mage-prince Orlando standing in front of me. I'd never really looked at him before, but as I studied him, I realized that he was a lot of girl's idea of a perfect man. He had a structured, chiseled face, with pool blue eyes like mine and dark hair that fell neatly around his face. He was very tall and muscular. He was also a mage. Mages are humans born with magical powers. Royal mages are especially rare, so Orlando was celebrated and fawned over frequently.

            "Good afternoon, Lady Daria," he said in a smooth, deep voice. He bowed.

            I curtsied, because I was getting quite good at it, and replied, "Good afternoon, Highness."

            He smiled. "Please, call me Orlando. Everyone else does. Highness sounds so, regal."

            I frowned reflexively. He laughed. "You think me forward?" he asked.

            "No, of course not," I protested. "Not at all, Orlando." Yes. Yes, you are.

            "Well," he said, "Since I'm already being forward, may I continue?"

            I laughed. "Of course!" I replied.

            "Lady Daria-"

            "Oh please," I said, "call me Daria. Everyone else does."

            Orlando laughed again. "Daria, I find you quite intriguing," he said.

            "Me?" I asked, honestly surprised. "Why?"

            He started to speak, but was interrupted by a strange bellow. A buxom girl trotted over to us. She was tall and had attractive, honey-colored, wavy hair, but her smile displayed two extremely large front teeth. She looked older than me by a few years, perhaps in her early twenties. She smelled mildly like sour milk.

            "Hello Highness," she said in a syrupy voice. "Who is your companion?"

            "Lady Olga, this is Lady Daria," Orlando said in a slightly exasperated voice. "Daria, this is Lady Olga. Her father is spending a year in the Ayorthaian court."

            She curtsied politely, but I could see hatred in her eyes. Girls like Olga, especially since they tend to be older than the typical maiden, are constantly on the prowl for husbands. She must have thought I was trying to woo Orlando. Because attracting men is what I always strive to do.

            "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Olga," I said, dipping graciously.

            She smiled a fake smile and tried to engage Orlando in conversation. "What are you doing today, Highness?" she asked.

            Orlando shrugged. "Nothing of interest," he said calmly. "I must be going. Until I see you again, Lady Olga." He bowed and grabbed my arm, pulling me away, leaving poor Olga in the garden alone.

            As soon as we were out of sight, Orlando began to run, laughing and looking behind him. I followed, hitching up my skirts and taking off behind him. It wasn't easy; running in all those skirts and petticoats, but I did my best. If only I had my boy clothes! When we finally stopped running, we were standing in front of a small, circular temple. It was only about eight feet in diameter, with simple white pillars on the white marble steps, supporting the white marble dome. It was pretty, set around all the green trees.

            I turned to Orlando. "What is this place?" I asked.

            He smiled. "My secret place. I come here to think," he replied.

            "It's beautiful," I replied.

            I watched Orlando close his eyes and make a face as if he was thinking really hard. Suddenly, I heard a small pop, and two large cushions appeared in the temple.

            "How did you do that?" I asked, shocked.

            "Daria," Orlando said seriously, "I'm a mage." He plopped down onto one of the cushions.

            "Oh, of course," I replied. "I forgot."

            "That's all right," he said. "Come sit, I want to learn more about you."

            I sat down on the other cushion as he began to engage me in an interesting conversation about the revolution. We talked about family, books, and privileged life, among other things. He was easy to talk to, like Iris. I began to enjoy his company.

            Over the next few days, I spend almost every waking hour with Orlando. He showed me around the castle, it's grounds, and gardens, the royal menagerie, and the stables. He was relatively normal for a prince, and a mage for that, although I didn't know any mages.

            "Daria! Have you heard the news?" he said excitedly one night after dinner.

            I shook my head. "What of?" I replied.

            "There's to be a ball!" he cried. "The first in Ayorthaian history!"

            "Really?" I replied.

            He nodded. "Yes! In five day's time! To announce the alliance and war!"

            "Oh…" I replied, becoming uninterested at the word 'war'.

            "Daria?" Orlando asked. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the ball?"

            I looked at him, so nonchalant and anxious at the same time, and smiled. "Of course I would," I replied.

            He grinned. His grin made me feel like someone kicked me in the stomach. Jerrold was the grinner. Jerrold's grin… No. Jerrold is over. I didn't care about him anymore. I don't care about him anymore.

Short… and sweet? Please review—I'll get the next one up as soon as possible!