Forced to remain composed in front of all of the nobles in the room, Kate could not leap to her feet and shout, 'Queen's Own!?' at Dante. Instead she looked at him incredulously, her eyes wide, and a confusing shade of green-silver that looked rather daunting. Why hadn't he said anything? Why did he hide it from her? Did he think Kate wouldn't be able to handle the news???

:Perhaps he thought you would think badly of him, if you knew what he was to the Queen?:

:But - why would he think that!?:

:You come from a royal line, and high rank appears to be something you loathe.:

:I don't loathe it! I hated the only people I knew who had the status at the time.:

:But you see, Dante cannot tell these things on his own. . . .:

She drummed her fingers on the table, the Queen smiled at her and leaned politely over. "How was your day, Kate?" The first course of the meal was placed before them on shining silver platters, and Kate eyed the food a moment before replying casually, "It was interesting, Majesty."

"Please, call me Selenae? I'd like to consider us friends, you and I."

Friends? Kate narrowed her gaze as though attempting to see what the woman was thinking. "Okay." she said slowly, helping herself to a spoonful of the soup that'd been ladled into her bowl before speaking to the Queen again. "Dante and I made our way out into the city, we bought this gown and," her hand automatically lifted to the necklace at her throat, "A bit of jewelry."

"And it does look smashing on you, Kate. Quite the eye-catching bit of silver!

:Tell her I happen to agree with her.: came the statement from Kalia, and Kate said almost instantaneously, "Kalia says she agrees with you."

"Oh? Well, she's a smart -- wait a moment. Kalia?"

Kate nodded.

"She told you that?"

Another nod.

"Kate - why didn't you tell me you'd been Chosen!?" She set her spoon down and turned in her chair, a smile on her face that nearly spanned from ear to ear. "This is wonderful! I had hoped you'd be Chosen. I half expected a Companion to rush up to you the instant you were within the city walls; I have to admit I was a little disappointed when none did!" But the look on Kate's face made her stop. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Kate lied, for in truth she was a little annoyed with this endless stream of words that seemed to be pouring out of Selenae's mouth. She wasn't about to interrupt the Queen, though. Not when her very lifecould be hanging by a thread in this foreign country.

:We're not like that, Kate.: This time the voice was masculine, and it was Dante's. :We don't kill people who get on our bad side, you know. We're all Heralds for a REASON.:

:I'll thank you to stop eavesdropping!:

:Sorry.:

"Kate, this is just so exciting! I'm sorry if I seem a little giddy, but this is the stuff that legends are made of! Mark my words, child, you're going to be in the history books, someday!" Then she returned to her soup with the careful motions of someone who was working hard to keep herself high in the public esteem. Kate didn't say what she'd wanted to say in response to Selenae's prediction - which was 'Yes - I'll be the only Herald who ever burned the entire city of Haven down in one go.' - and ate her soup instead.

:Burn down Haven? Certainly not!: Kalia seemed a little indignant at the thought, and Kate imagined she could feel the Companion huff and stomp a foot. :I would never allow such a thing. It's unthinkable.:

:You have a habit of butting in, don't you?: There was uneasy silence on Kalia's behalf before Kate continued, :When I'm thinking to myself, it's because I want the thought to be *to myself.*:

No, being Chosen, with all of it's benefits and luxuries, had not changed Kate one little bit. When the second course came around, and Kate was expected to speak with her other neighbor, she simply looked the little man over - with his squinty eyes, tiny glasses, and stubbled chin - then set herself into her food as though she was famished. The old man chattered quite blandly about anything and everything from the name of his favorite dog to the hour in which he last cleaned his glasses. "Made the frames myself!" he told her proudly, pulling them from his face and holding them out to her. Kate glanced at them and sniffed; the old man put them back on his long, knobby nose. "Silver, these are. Strong as iron, though. I made sure of THAT. No more bending!" Apparently he'd sat on his older pair one too many times, and the result was a pair of glasses that looked more like a twisted letter Z than what they were supposed to. And so it went, for another two marks. Kate talked to the Queen, then the little old man, and back again.

Then when - thankfully - the meal ended, Kate was one of the first people out of the doors and into her room. She flopped herself down onto her bed, heedless of the wrinkles she was putting in her gown, and stared at the ceiling.

:You were right,: she told Kalia, :I *am* too tired to go anywhere else tonight.:

:In the morning, Chosen, there will be time. I'll-: there was a pause, Kalia seemed to fade for a moment, and then she continued as though nothing had happened, :-see you in the morning, okay?:

There was a tap at the door. :Okay. Goodnight, Kalia.: Kate waited a moment more, hoping that perhaps the caller would go away, but when another knock - this time more forceful than the last - sounded against the door, Kate sighed and stood up. "Who is it?"

"Guess."

Kate leaned her head against the door and listened to the quiet on the other side. After a moment, she smiled to herself and said, "Gustavus? Or, no. That can't be you. You sound too feminine. Is it - oh! I know! Catherine! You've finally come to pay me a visit!" She threw open the door and made a very big show of disappointment at seeing Dante in her doorway. "Oh," she said unhappily, "It's you." She worked her face into a pout and folded her arms. "Well - come in, if you must."

:You are so cruel to that poor boy!:

:I am not. He knows I'm only kidding.:

:You never joke though, Kate. He may think you're being serious!:

:Oh. . . I forgot about that. Hm.:

She watched Dante for a moment. He seemed completely crestfallen and apprehensive at the same time. Kate felt sorry she'd put up that facade, and her eyes shifted from violet to a deeper shade of purple - one that was almost black. She walked to him - his back was to her and he was staring steadfast into the fire - and put her hand on his shoulder. "Dante?" she said, her voice quiet and solemn.

"You're that dissapointed at seeing me, Kate?" he asked, and for a moment Kate thought she could detect a hint of tears in his voice. He probably had a lump in his throat, and his eyes would be stinging. . . . Kate had held back tears often enough that she knew all of the sensations of fighting them.

"No," she said, took his hands and laced her fingers with his, "No, I'm not. I wasn't disappointed, Dante, it was all in jest!" Dante's face lightened a bit, or it might have. There was always a chance that the light of the fire was playing tricks on her eyes. She continued, "I was actually very glad to hear you at my door. So glad, in fact, that it put me in a joking mood." Her eyes pleaded with him, hoping that he'd understand her and lose the hurt that she'd placed there, despite the fact that she hadn't done it on purpose. "Don't be upset!" He turned away again, pulling his hands from Kate's and looking around the room as though he hadn't been in it before. "Kate," he said, "I came here because I could tell that you were mad at me at dinner tonight."

"Oh."

"And I think I know the reason why. Well, at least Deyan told me that Kalia had an idea of what had you so angry. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry, Kate."

"But you don't have to be s-"

"Yes, I do," he interrupted her with a finger to her lips, "Because I should have told you when I met you. It would have settled a great many things right away. Of course, hindsight is always perfect."

Kate nodded and looked at her feet for a moment, and it seemed that she'd forgotten that she was still in her evening gown, because it took a moment for her mind to realize that she was still in the thing. No wonder her feet were hidden. . . ! Kalia chuckled into the back of her Chosen's mind. "Look, Dante. I was mad, but I supposed you had your reasons, hey? I would have done the same thing, I think, if I were in your shoes. You're not so lucky to escape the hell they call nobility." To this, Dante chuckled and shook his head. "Will you forgive me if I forgive you, then?" Kate asked, lifting eyebrow and smirking at him.

"It's a deal." The Herald held out his hand for a shake, which Kate firmly grasped and tugged, much to Dante's surprise, quite roughly. He pulled his hand away and wriggled his fingers, as though checking for breaks or bruises.

"What's the matter, Dante? Was I a little too rough for you?" Smug, Kate folded her arms and grinned devilishly.

"On the contrary," Dante replied, returning the verbal joust with one of his own, "I was only making sure I hadn't any dishwater on my hands." Kate set her jaw. If he wanted to play this game, she'd match - if not beat - him, wit for wit!

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," she replied, "I'm sure you did a fine job of drying your hands when you were through in the kitchen!" And the next thing she knew, there was a pillow flying in her general direction. It landed with a 'plop' only inches behind Kate, a little off to the right, and Kate siezed the opportunity for another retort. "You throw like a toddler!" she exclaimed, apparently shocked at the notion of it. "And here I thought you were a well-trained Herald. . . ." Another pillow whizzed by, missing it's target only because Kate was ready this time around; the attack was skillfully dodged. "Oh, now you're going to pay!" Kate exclaimed, grabbed a nearby, previously-thrown pillow and jettesoned it toward Dante's head. She missed, but only by inches, and Dante cackled at her from the opposite side of the room. "Is that all you've got, Kate? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were no better at throwing than a Kyree is at writing!"

"What!?" Indignant, Kate stood up and stared at Dante, her eyes wide. Then she narrowed her gaze and darted at him, full speed. Dante, who was expecting nothing more than another flying pillow, was caught off-guard when Kate crashed into him. The pair fell to the floor in a hopeless tangle of arms, legs, and a stray pillow, landing in a reverberating 'thud.' Kate was the first to recover, and so snatched the pillow from beneath Dante's left foot, then beat him over the head with it quite forcefully. "Hey!" he called from beneath the feather-filled thing, "No fair!" He shoved her away with both arms and bolted upright, pulling the pillow from his face and aiming it back at Kate, who held her arms up to guard her face from the attack. With her eyes squeezed shut, Kate waited to be flogged over the head with the pillow, but nothing happened. Perplexed, she opened her eyes, still waiting, and tried to peer through the spaces between her forearms in hopes of glimpsing what Dante was doing. No doubt he was waiting for her to become curious enough to lower her arms, but she was no fool! More time passed, though, and still no pillow landed upon her head. Instead, a gentle weight set itself on one of her arms - Dante's hand lay there, warm, strong, still, and Kate lowered her arms - carefully - so that she could look questioningly at the Herald.

He was gazing at her oddly, still breathing heavily after their game of war, and uttered not a word. Kate, still in her gown, lifted her head from the floor and looked at him, her eyes studying his expression in an attempt to figure out what he was thinking. "Dante?" she said softly, and watched the man's hand move from the pillow on the floor to her other arm. Now he had both of them, one in each hand, laying on the floor at her sides. He didn't say anything, never bothering to answer the one-word question she'd put to him only seconds before, then leaned down toward Kate's face until she could feel his breath upon her cheek. "I never told you," he said quietly then, "How wonderful you look in that gown." The only thing Kate's rather muddled mind could think of in response to that statement was, 'And you're telling me this NOW?' But she held her tongue and said nothing of that sort.

"Thank you," was all she whispered back to him, still unsure as to why he'd pinned her there, on the floor. Her confusion was quickly laid to rest, however, when Dante leaned nearer still and kissed Kate, very gently. His hands found their way from Kate's arms to her face; they gently took her head and lifted it as both thumbs smoothed over the soft skin on her cheeks. She, in turn, let her hands do as they pleased, which happened to be occupying themselves with finding a place to rest on Dante's waist. In what seemed like an eternity, Dante proceeded to let his soft lips trail their way down Kate's mouth, onto her chin, then along her neck and shoulders. The low neck of the gown gave him all the room he needed, and he was glad that she'd decided to leave it as low-cut as she did. It occurred to him that perhaps she left it that way with this end in mind, and decided that it wouldn't surprise him if she had. Kate missed nothing, not even the way that he now nipped at and blew softly into her ear. He kissed the side of her head, smoothed his hand down the length of the Princess's braid, then paused. "May I?" he asked, his fingers tugging at the leather cord that tied the end of the braid. At Kate's slight nod, he tugged free the knot, let loose her long cascade of black hair, and combed his fingers through it.

Breathless all the while, Kate let Dante kiss his way along her neck, nape, and shoulders. She let him breathe into her ear, let chills course her whole body, let him free her hair. . . . She slowly sat up, both hands upon Dante's chest, and kissed him again, taking his roving hands and guiding them to the cord that held the dress to her body. He seemed a bit surprised at this action - perhaps he had been expecting rejection? - and carefully untied the bow, loosened the strings, and let the shoulders of the gown fall to reveal Kate's very sleek smallclothes. Then he stood up, offered Kate his hand, helped her to her feet. He guided her to the little bed in the corner of the room, paused just beside it. Kate glanced around at the candles, focused herself for a split second, and the room fell into darkness.