There were days when Amarinda loved being a princess. She loved the ability to make a difference and take a stand, but also embrace old traditions. She enjoyed the fancy clothing, the food was always superb, and the people were generally wonderful. Truly, life could have been worse. But today was not one of those days.

Today she hated her station, hated her stiff dress, and hated having to deal with the worlds cleverest and most annoying king. When Imogen had told Amarinda what Kerwyn had asked of Jaron, she had understood his anger and confusion. When he had cut off all conversation with him, she had been a little pissed. And now? When he showed up at the door trying to talk Jaron, Jaron had been off playing street rat, trying to ignore his responsibilities, she utterly enraged at the king.

"Dear!" Tobias' voice rang into Amarinda's office where she sat hunched over a letter from Imogen, who was busy trying to fend off regents from Roden. "Dinners ready!" Although her dear husband Tobias had many talents, cooking was not one of them. But when he had picked up a book on the culinary arts, the young regent had decided to grace the small family with his poor gifts.

She signed. "Coming!" Despite sometimes hating the idiot, Amarinda understood Jaron's crave to be normal.

As Sage marched through the streets, looking for dinner, he found himself remembering the night Kerwyn and him had fought. Jaron was slowly creeping back into his mind. Now that he knew the street rats of Drylliad thought that they could brake into the high chamberlain's home, he realized how vulnerable he'd left Lord Kerwyn after that night.

He'd been in his office, surveying the plans for King Mellor's arrival from Gelyn when Kerwyn had knocked. "Come in."

"My king," Kerwyn had given a small customary bow, and sat down in the chair opposite Jaron's desk. "How is the planning going?"

Jaron had sighed, unaware of what Kerwyn was really here for. "Alright. If the cook could get me the details on the dinner, that would be wonderful. But, alas. How can I help you?"

"Well, I was wondering," Kerwyn said slowly, not daring to look Jaron in the eye. "If you knew of the war brewing between Gelyn and Regus."

Jaron laughed. "Of course, I know, Kerwyn. I make it my duty to know. Besides, that's why Mellor's coming isn't, to ask for our assistance?"

"Yes, well…" Kerwyn bit his lip. "There are rumors that Regus is trying to build an empire. It concurred the Western Isles last year, and that discussion Queen Uren had with a group of thieves on her border was implication of a treaty. And I was just thinking, if it takes Gelyn, then it might be coming for Carthya next."

Jaron's usual troublemaker smile disappeared. "But it won't take Gelyn, Kerwyn. Besides, those are just rumors. And it wouldn't come to Carthya. Lord knows we showed the surrounding countries last time what happens when they cross us."

"But…" Kerwyn exhaled. "Jaron, I've just been worried. If something happened to you or Imogen, we must preserve the throne. Your eighteen now, and I just… I think it's time we start thinking about little princes and princesses."

Jaron had exploded on him. "What?! That's what this is about? You want an heir? Well, I hate to break it to you, but we're not exactly ready for that yet. Tobias can barely handle taking care of me when I'm hurt, do you really think he'll be able to take my kids? And did you ever think that maybe we're still enjoying our own childhood? Huh?"

"My lord," Kerwyn's voice had grown shrill and firm. "You are a king. It's time to start acting like one. The people are expecting an heir to secure the throne."

And that's when the fireworks had gone off and everything had turned haywire for there relationship. Sage could barely think of it now without his hands curling into fists. As much as he wanted to just let the Yellow Cuts rob Kerwyn blind, Sage knew enough about being a peasant and a king to know it wouldn't go well for any of them. The Yellow Cuts would get caught, Kerwyn would get angry and confused, and King Jaron the Great would get the blame.

Sage was barely into the first stage's of making up a plan before a familiar face caught his eyes. A short, pudgy man was making his way down to the secret entrance of the Yellow Cuts. A bandage was wrapped around his middle protecting a sour spot in his back and several cuts marred his circular face. With a mop of blond hair and angry blue eyes, Sage knew who this was, though he could hardly believe it. Cregan was back from the dead.