Chapter Three: The Balcony Scene

The heavy front doors of la Flaga's house were flung open. Light flowed down the stone steps like water, down onto the cobbled street below. In the distance an ancient cathedral's age-old bell tolled one o'clock in its hollow, booming voice. Guests from the party stumbled and slumped down the steps in various states of intoxication. At the bottom of the stairs, the mob split into two, going down opposite streets.

The young Coordinators were straggling behind the rest of the crowd. Nearly half of their troop had to lean on each other so that they would not pass out cold in the street. Rusty was practically being carried by Nicol, who had pushed his mask up on top of his head so that he could see where he was walking. Rusty was not making the green-haired boy's work any easier; he was singing a song of his own making, his words slurred together, waving his free arm about wildly. Dearka was silently meandering behind the two, his eyes following the line of the la Flaga mansion that could be seen over the high wall. Nicol looked over his shoulder at the blond boy, who promptly tripped over a protruding cobblestone.

Nicol laughed. "What's up with you?" he asked his cousin. Dearka blushed fiercely. He regretted pushing up his mask earlier, although his face was now much the same colour as the fake one. Dearka mumbled something under his breath.

"Rosalind wasn't even there," Nicol announced.

Rosalind. Dearka had forgotten about her. Dearka tried to recall what she looked like, but her face wouldn't come. Strange, Dearka thought. He knew that he should remember it, for it had haunted him for a fair few weeks.

A light suddenly flashed into life above them. Dearka looked up to the house, and saw, on the second storey above the wall, a tall window. The small panes of glass were suspended by a wooden lattice. Beyond it, Dearka saw her. Sitting in front of a mirror, her white dress still enshrouding her and her wings slung over her shoulders. She had taken off her mask and was brushing her hair. Dearka stopped dead in his tracks. A strange sensation engulfed him, like ocean waves sweeping over him and pulling him out to sea.

He wanted to see her again, up close. He wanted to touch her again, make sure she was real and not some apparition that could be there one minute and gone the next. Somewhere in his chest, Dearka felt a hook sink into his flesh and pull him forwards. He was at the corner of the high wall, and a tree stood a little in front of him. Much to the surprise of his cousin, Dearka sprang to life, dashing forward a few steps and hurling himself up the tall tree, through the foliage, and vaulting over the wall.

Nicol's knees nearly gave out beneath him, his mouth hanging open, eyes round as coins. Rusty, apparently, didn't notice a thing and kept singing and flailing.

Miriallia absently brushed her hair. Her blue eyes were dazed, and stared at a point just beyond the reflection of the mirror. She didn't know what to think. On its own accord, her mind kept drifting back to the blond haired boy. He had kissed her, right there on the dance floor in front of the entire world. She didn't even know his name (and she doubted if he knew hers). She blushed at the memory of his soft, warm lips against her skin.

The door at the far end of the room opened and slammed shut again, making the girl jump and drop her hair brush. She whirled around to see her nursemaid, Fllay, a middle aged woman with dark red hair, bustle into the room, a stack of clean sheets in her arms. She plopped them down on top of the big four-poster bed. She always moved as if she had a million things to do and never enough time to do them. She hurried over to Miriallia and picked up the fallen tool, and began to impatiently (but still gently) pull it through the brown locks.

"You'll never guess what I heard from the kitchen staff," Fllay began. Ever since Miriallia could remember, Fllay had always loved to gossip and never held anything back from her charge.

"Isn't it a little late for tall tales?" Miriallia asked tiredly.

"Heavens, no!" Fllay exclaimed, and then continued on with her information. "One of them overheard your cousin Sai talking to your father during the ball. Apparently there was a whole hoard of Coordinators there!" Fllay would have sounded outraged if there hadn't been a distinct note of pleasure in her voice. The nurse loved scandals.

Miriallia turned, causing the brush to get tangled in her hair. "Coordinators?" she asked incredulously.

Flllay worked the brush out of the tangled spot and proceeded to smooth it out. She had a smug look on her face, and she nodded gravely. "Yes," she proclaimed, "At least twelve, Master Sai reckoned, probably more. We live in dangerous times, don't forget missy. Why, imagine, twelve Coordinators, in this very house. It gives me the shivers."

Miriallia had stopped listening. Her brows were knit and a slight frown resided over her mouth. That boy, she didn't recognize him. Was he one of them?

Miriallia's breath caught in her throat. She blinked twice, trying to clear her head. She was seeing things. For a second, it looked like a streak of red had shot over the wall. It must have been the late hour, she told herself. But then, there it was again. Except it was running across the yard.

Fllay had put down the brush and started to change Miri's sheets, saying she didn't have time during the day because of the preparations for the ball. Miriallia's mind raced. There was a lattice with wisteria climbing up it all along the walls of the house. He would probably try to pull a Casanova and climb up it, to her window. If he was caught…

"Fllay," Miri interrupted her nurse mid-excuse, "Do you think you could bring me some orange juice? I feel a little dizzy from all of the dancing. I think I may be a little dehydrated." Miriallia had known her nurse all her life. Fllay may have acted like a contemptuous school girl at times, but she would never let anything happen to the girl she had brought up. Miriallia knew that Fllay would insist on squeezing orange juice herself to make sure it wasn't tampered with, and she would make sure she brought lots of it to ward off the "dehydration." Fllay exited with a quiet "Of course."

Miriallia stayed perched atop her vanity stool until the door clicked shut and she could no longer hear the quick steps down the hall. The girl nearly flew to the window. She unlatched it as quickly as she could and flung herself out onto the small balcony. At the same time that she came out, a devil's face poked above the concrete floor. Dearka pulled himself over the wrought iron railing. He stood before Miriallia, panting slightly.

"Hi," he spluttered.

Miri looked shocked. She slammed the window shut, looked to the other balconies to make sure no one was watching, and then pulled the boy down onto the hard, cold floor.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered fiercely, kneeling next to him.

Dearka winced as he hit the concrete. He looked up into the girl's pale face. That was a damn good question. His plan (which he formulated in a split second) only took him to the part when he got over the wall.

"I…uh," he began.

"You're a Coordinator, aren't you?" Miriallia asked. There was a strange note in her voice. It sounded a lot like pain, betrayal.

Dearka, having finally caught his breath, looked her straight in the eye. "Does it matter?" he asked defiantly.

Miriallia hadn't expected that response. "W-well," she stuttered.

"I have a name," Dearka said a little more softly, "It's Dearka."

"Miriallia," she answered, blushing slightly and looking down. But then she remembered. "Hey, you jerk, you stole my first kiss!"

Dearka was taken aback. "Oh," was all he could think to say, "Sorry." There was a long pause. "So," Dearka tried to muster up all of the courage he could, "Does the second kiss matter?"

Miriallia tried not to smile. She leaned in closer to Dearka so that he could feel her breath on his cheek. "It might," she half-whispered.

Their eyes met. Dearka reached out his hand and brushed his fingertips across Mir's warm cheek. He traced his finger along her jaw, and up over her lower lip. Miriallia closer her eyes lightly, and Dearka slowly moved his hand to the back of her neck, leaning in close. Quickly, he brushed his lips across hers and pulled away. Miriallia's eyes fluttered open.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

Dearka didn't say anything, but instead pulled Miriallia into his lap, catching her lips with his. Miri gasped as she fell forward. Dearka took advantage of her open mouth and deepened the kiss. It took a moment before Miriallia could respond. After her initial shock, she melted into Dearka's embrace and returned his kiss.

Far away, the cathedral bell softly tolled the quarter hour. It was Miriallia's turn to pull back.

"My nurse will be back soon," she explained urgently, looking back over her shoulder into the brightly lit bedroom. "You should leave. If some one catches you here…"

Miriallia went to stand up, but Dearka grabbed her wrist. She looked back at him, pain etched in his violet eyes.

"We won't be able to see each other, will we?" the boy asked quietly, his shoulders slumped.

Mir's heart sunk. She knew their parents would do anything within their powers to make sure that they did not see each other. They were enemies.

Dearka pulled Miriallia closer to him, tucking her head under his chin.

Inside the bedroom, the door swung open with a squeal and hit the wall. Miriallia nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Dearka, you have to go, now," Miriallia said quickly, crawling out of his lap and pushing him towards the railing.

Dearka pulled himself up and flung a leg over the wrought iron. He inched his way back over to the lattice.

"Miriallia," Dearka whispered.

Miriallia was halfway back to her window, but she turned around.

"What is it?" she whispered back, leaning over the railing. Dearka reached out his hand, and Miriallia laced her fingers between his.

"Meet me tomorrow," he said in a husky voice, "At the caves."

"When?"

"At sunset," Dearka leaned toward Mir and kissed her softly, before crawling down the wall. The two held hands until they were too far away. Dearka looked up into Miriallia's bright blue eyes, their fingertips barely touching. With a small smile, Dearka pulled his mask down over his face, and shot down the lattice, across the lawn, and back over the wall.

"Milly?" Fllay called from inside the room. Miriallia didn't respond, but kept her eyes locked on the spot where Dearka had disappeared.

"Milly? Where are you?" Fllay called again. She stuck her head out the window. "What do you think you are doing out here?" she demanded.

"Nothing," the girl murmured. She hitched her dress up a few inches of the ground and made her way back through the large window. The nurse held offered Miriallia a glass of orange juice, but she walked right passed it and snuggled under her covers, ball gown, high heels, angel wings and all.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long. I was working on my book and so this story got pushed to the side. Anyway, I really had fun writing this chapter and I hope you guys enjoyed it. Thanks for reading and reviewing, it is really uplifting to hear that people like what I do. I promise I'll try to post again as soon as possible!