PrismaPup7: Oh, Zane totally deserved that. I'm glad that you're enjoying Cole and Kai's interactions. Honestly, my favorite friendship. Except maybe Jay and Pixal, which, yes, I agree. It's not happening in TG- we're totally done with the whole Dark Island arc now, unfortunately- but I think maybe in the rewrite I'll let them be an item.

Thank you all for your reviews, and for your patience with me over the course of the past year! I'm so glad to know that people are still here. And there are some new faces as well! That's so encouraging, you have no idea.

The Diadem

The sun was shining across the carpet when Cole entered his bedroom, bottle of wine in hand, an hour after the meeting. He scowled, shielding his eyes as he crossed the room to throw the curtains closed.

The sun only just rose, and already it's been a long day. He sat on the edge of his bed and kicked off his boots, sighing as he popped the cork free. Reclining with some pain, he drank and closed his eyes. He quickly lost himself to the steady flow of air in his lungs and the gentle thumping of his heart under his breast. The fireplace offered a crackling accompaniment which wasn't entirely appreciated, but he resignedly accepted its efforts, swaying his foot with the subtle rhythm.

A sounded at his door. He took a sharp, startled breath, effectively throwing off the rhythm. Annoyed, he ignored the caller.

The latch clicked. Cole turned his head.

Kai walked in. He raised an eyebrow at the wine bottle and shut the door.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," Cole grumbled.

"And you're supposed to be sober. Didn't you promise Sage?"

"No."

Kai's eyebrow raised further.

Can't I just get a moment of peace? "I said I'd try. And this is the first time: I was dry during the entire journey on the Lord's Compass." A pause. "Also, I'm not drunk."

"And I applaud you for that, on both counts." Kai plucked the bottle from Cole's hand. He took a drink long swig, then handed it back with a grimace. "So, my question is: why break your marvelous streak now?"

Cole did not answer.

Kai skirted the bed, pulled off his boots, and hopped up next to Cole. He looked so...so regal with that gold-embroidered coat, not to mention those glass beads clicking faintly in his hair. It was no wonder that the country's leaders were a troupe of madmen: Cole would go crazy with that noise behind his head all day, too.

"You're in a mood, I see," Kai snorted, and reached behind his head with one hand and pulled free the beaded ribbon. He regarded it for a moment before tossing it beside his boots on the carpet. He unbuttoned his coat and exhaled, settling into the pillows. In his eyes, flecks of gold caught the light as he stared into the fire.

It seemed suddenly absurd to Cole that green determined the color of royalty: there was nothing spectacular about green eyes. If anything, Kai's eyes should be the sign of Blessed blood. So inhumanly deep, rich, and soft, framed by a face cut with sharp edges. Skin pale, and somehow without flaw, despite his trials on the Dark Island.

Kai, Cole thought, quite suddenly, is going to have the most beautiful children.

Kai chose that moment to notice that Cole was staring. He slid those dark hazel-gold eyes to Cole, and the latter felt his face redden. He took a hasty swig from the bottle and choked.

"You good?" Kai reached for the wine, probably to make sure it didn't spill, but Cole shook his head, moving it out of Kai's reach.

"I- fine," Cole spluttered. His injury and the brace only made it worse. He finally got himself under control and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I'm fine."

Kai didn't look convinced. Cole scowled, setting the bottle between his knees to rub his face with both hands. He groaned.

"How much have you had?" Kai asked.

"Not much!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, stop." Cole lowered his hands, still feeling hot.

Hosts, had he really just thought that?

"Are you positive?"

Cole shot Kai a lethal glare.

Kai snorted. "I see my mother's assumption has gotten to your head," he said. "I'm sorry. You have to admit, it's a little funny."

"What?"

"What my mother thought was happening between..." He gestured between himself and Cole. "You mean you didn't see?"

Cole shook his head.

"Really? The way she was looking at you! You didn't notice?"

"I've grown accustomed to people staring at the Dark Knight," Cole said dryly, taking another drink.

"This was different, though! The way she asked about Besai, and her words to me after the meeting…" At an impatient glare from Cole he rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure she thinks we're…eh, together."

Cole spat wine down the front of his shirt. He cursed, handing the bottle to Kai, and attempted to pat his collar dry with his sleeve.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Kai handed him his handkerchief. "My poor mother."

"That's it?" Cole demanded.

"What's it?"

"Are you just going to let her think that?"

Kai shrugged.

"What about the rest of the staff? Do they all think we're..." Cole hastily snatched back the bottle at the thought.

"I'm too tired to care."

He's too tired to- The Mena-cursed fool!

Cole managed to speak calmly. "Coming into my bedroom when we're supposed to be resting won't help matters any."

"Probably not," Kai agreed. "But I really can't care right now, with everything else that's going on. Let's just be ourselves, okay?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kai raised his hands in a vague gesture. "This," he said. "Just...this."

Silence reigned between them for a little while after that. Cole drank, but found his thirst diminishing.

"Your mother knows you're married, right?" Cole asked after a while.

"Not yet."

Cole exhaled, the motion seeming to push him deeper into the pillows. He believed in no god, but at that moment he wished one might smite him like in the legends of old and put him out of his misery. He turned his head to give Kai a piece of his mind, but a flicker of something metal at Kai's collar caught his attention. "What's that?" he asked.

"What?"

"That chain around your neck. I don't think I've seen that before."

Kai touched it. "Oh. It's, uh..." He pulled the chain, long and gold, from under his shirt and held it up for Cole to see. On the end dangled a bronze pendant etched with a wreath of roses. Petals, leaves, and thorns. "I had someone get this chain for me just a few minutes ago, actually. But the pendant is from Cyrus."

"Cyrus?"

"He gave it to me after we got off the boat. It's…" Kai shrugged, looking away. "It's a new idea of his, I guess. He's gonna start giving them to all the people who were…tattooed." He began to say something more, but seemed to think better of it. Pursing his lips, he lifted the chain over his head and held it out for Cole.

The warmth and heaviness of the pendant and its chain settled in Cole's palm. He ran his thumb over the delicate etching.

"It's kind of weird," Kai said. "I mean- for all I know, I might be the only male that'll ever have one of these."

"So it's a…symbol." Cole's mouth dried up. Even after all this time, it still seemed taboo to so much as think of what had happened to Kai.

Cole had witnessed firsthand the callous, inhuman brutality of the stone warriors in the brothel, and while he had no desire to downplay what the women had endured, he knew that to be at the mercy of the father of all evil in the West, Overlord himself, was a fate worse than death. That Kai had come out of Overlord's bed with his mind intact only heightened Cole's respect for him. Not many did.

"He calls it the diadem. I can explain what it is." With arms crossed, he shrugged. "I-if you want to hear. But like I said, it's weird for me, so…"

"I don't need to know." Cole set the pendant back in Kai's hand. "Not if you don't want to tell me."

"Well, I do, but…" Kai sighed. He looped the chain over his head and slid the pendant back under his shirt. "I don't know. At this point, I feel like there are more important things for us to talk about."

"Like what?"

"Like…" Kai thought for a moment. "What's your favorite color?"

"My favorite what?"

"Color. You know, pigments. For example, the sky is blue, and-"

"Yes, thank you. It's gray."

"Gray's not a color."

"Kai, I have very few pleasures in life. Let me have this."

"Fine. What shade of gray?"

"No."

"No?"

Cole gulped his wine and held up a finger in a cutting gesture.

Kai shrugged. He motioned to the wine inquiringly; Cole frowned, but handed it over. Kai drank.

"What's yours?" Cole asked.

Kai swallowed. "My what?"

"Favorite color. For example, the sky is blue-"

"Shut up." But he was smiling.

"Well, what is it?"

"It's not something that I think about often, if you can believe it," Kai said, shaking the bottle by the neck so the wine sloshed inside. "But…I'd have to say blue. Or maybe green. Like the ocean."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

"I would've pinned you as a lover of red, or orange."

"Well, you would've pinned me wrong." Kai raised a finger. "I'll admit, red is a lovely color. Just not as lovely as blue."

Kai passed the bottle back. Cole considered it, feeling a little dry in the mouth.

Kai was right. Sage would be upset if she knew he was drinking. He was far from drunk yet, but it was a slippery slope: if he let himself continue, would he ever stop again?

He shook his head. Kai looked surprised, but had the good sense not to say anything.

"How did the letter-writing go?" Cole asked. "I'm sorry for leaving halfway through; I was starting to get a headache from all of it."

Kai looked to the ceiling with a soft groan, as if beseeching a higher power to grant him strength. Perhaps he was. "I've sent the letters to the King and Regent Santi," he said. "Zane has another couple hours to write his portion of our speech before I review it."

"Why does he get more time?"

"Because his needs to be longer, for one. And also, we don't need to give the speech until later in the day. My letter needed to be sent out as soon as possible."

"And are you happy with how it turned out?" Cole asked. "Do you think..." He trailed off.

"Do I think it'll change the King's mind?" Kai took another swig. "I don't know. I really don't. I just hope that Lou can make good on his promise."

Cole's eyebrows pinched. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"We can't afford to think of my health right now," Kai said. "I'll do what needs to be done, and take care of the burnout when we're either safe or dead."

Hearing this from Kai only deepened Cole's concern. Not knowing what else to say, he took a different approach.

"You did really good at the meeting," he said. "I was impressed by how fast that went."

Kai's face, now pink from wine, turned sullen. What a lightweight. "All I did was yell at everyone," he said.

"That's the most important part of being a leader, though," Cole argued, only half serious. He tried to smile. "You can have all the good ideas in the world. But if you're not assertive enough to make people obey you, they'll never become anything more than that. Good, useless ideas."

Kai snorted. "When you say things like that, it makes me wonder why you're refusing to become King. You'd be good at it."

"Well, why aren't you a professional painter?" The question startled himself as much as Kai.

"I... You were just talking about colors. It made me wonder. You're so good at art. How did you find that talent?"

"Oh..." Kai shrugged, frowning as he tried to remember. "It was years ago. When Ny- my sister was still little, maybe eight or nine winters, and my father hired her a tutor. She complained to no end about how boring it was to spend her afternoons indoors learning the proper way to fold napkins, mix paint, sit with shoulders squared at the piano, the list goes on. I got sick of it. But more than that, I was sick of her strict tutor keeping her in that classroom all day. I had no one to play with!

"One evening, I snuck into the classroom and took all of her paints. I splattered them all over the walls, the carpet, her textbooks..."

"Kai!"

"I was a bad child, Cole." His gaze drifted beyond the walls, and he smiled. "That's when it clicked for me, I'm sorry to say. But my sister eventually came in and saw what I was doing, and being the ungrateful little prissy that she was, she immediately ran and told mother what I was doing."

"How rude."

"Right? She didn't even say thank you."

A moment of quiet passed between them. Then Kai spoke again.

"But I was able to drag her into plenty of other trouble. I feel sorry for my mother. Between the two of us, she had to put up with a lot of terrible behavior."

"Don't you dare speak in the past tense about your bad behavior. Not while you're letting your poor mother assume you're in love with a man."

"I guess I need get that sorted out today, huh?"

"Yes, please!"

"But which of us is gonna wear the dress?"

Kai was laughing too hard- a real laugh, tears of mirth in his eyes- to protest when Cole snatched away the bottle. Moons, it was half empty!

"You know what, Kai? I'm done with you. Go to your room."

"You can't make me leave."

"Yes, I can."

"What are you gonna do? Drag me out by my feet?"

"I know a hundred ways to kill a man, and you should not tempt me."

"All right, all right, fine. I'll stop." Kai combed his hair back from his flushed face, sighing. "In all seriousness, though, I really miss my girls. And I feel bad that I never had the chance to see Ahlie before we left the North."

"Well, you had to save the world," Cole said. "For a second time. Who has time for family in dark days such as these?"

"Which is a great irony, all things considered," Kai said. "Because why does a man save the world, if not for his family?"

Cole nodded slowly.

"Hey, speaking of," Kai said, "are you and Sage ever going to get married?"

"What do you mean?"

Kai tapped his own left ear. "You two are planning on having a ceremony after all this world-saving business is over, right?"

Cole spent a moment in careful thought, and was puzzled by his own outlook on the matter. "I don't know," he admitted. "I hadn't really thought about a ceremony. Or marriage, for that matter. That sounds so…strange."

"You had a baby with that woman, Cole."

"Well, yeah, but that just…we didn't do it because we wanted to start a…a…"

Kai considered him, looking as puzzled as Cole felt. He groaned with frustration. If only the feelings in his head could turn to words and fly from his mouth without so much effort. He envied people with powers like that.

"You know the sort of world that Sage and I lived in," Cole said finally. "Under Overlord, none of us belonged to ourselves. Sage and I didn't function with a long-term goal in our minds. We were just trying to live from day to day, not knowing if we'd survive until next week, let alone next year."

"So you didn't mean to have Chedva?"

"What? Of course we did! Sage wanted Chedva long before she was conceived, and her enthusiasm made me want her, too. But that's not the point."

"So what is the point?"

"Sage and I didn't even belong to ourselves," Cole repeated. "So how could we give ourselves to each other forever? No words, no vow, no earring could help us if Overlord decided to tear us apart, and we were both painfully aware of that possibility.

"I'd always braced myself and kept thoughts of the future far from me because I suspected that we were bound to be separated, sooner rather than later. It wasn't until after Overlord was gone that I began to realize that Chedva and Sage might actually be mine. For so long Sage and I, we just wanted the comfort, the…the companionship…" Cole faltered, recalling without warning or want all those moments on the Dark Island which were so deep-rooted in his soul, so formative in the moulding of the man that he was today.

Finding Vara after his first arrival on the Dark Island two winters ago; such a small, frail child, near-dead, forgotten on the floor of a dark cell. Taking her under his wing, protecting her with all he had to give, and then some.

Watching with a swelling, feral panic as Overlord, during those early days in Colvyr, mercilessly whipped his father, intending to kill him.

The heart-numbing coldness which spread like a disease in Cole that night, driving him to destroy Overlord's body.

The silence, the brokenness that settled over him as he was forced to look into his own father's eyes and realize that this man, whom he had once looked up to and loved in his own quiet way, was now the one threatening to destroy him and all he still dared hold dear. Being forced to associate that gentle, familiar face from his childhood with the face of a monster.

Then the comfort, the color, the sense of normalcy, however feeble it may be, that Sage brought into his life! She was so strong and so firm and ohhh, Cole hadn't realized how much he needed that until it was just within his reach. Despite their clashes, he gradually learned to cling to her, and the disparity she presented to him: an element of his life that he could not control, but desired nonetheless.

A need to protect his mate. A fear of death. Such base, primal concepts: the bare minimum required to survive Overlord's harsh world.

Branded, worked, beaten, and bred like cattle. That was the world in which Cole had found himself, and that was the world to which he returned so often in his dreams.

"Damn," Cole murmured. "Overlord turned me into an animal. Don't expect me to become human again overnight."

Kai watched Cole, carefully evaluating his expression. "So, what are you going to do?" he asked delicately.

What to do, indeed? His relationship with Sage these past couple winters was a hazy dream in which he clung to her simply because she was stable, and he was not.

And why did she cling to him? The question dared to peek into his mind, and he shut it out fearfully.

Fear, that terrible, primal feeling which now shaped his entire being. How he loathed it! But what was he without it?

"I don't know," Cole admitted. "I guess I'll need to talk to Sage." Then he added with that dry, humorless wit of which he was so fond: "If I survive."

"Did you two have a fight before we left?"

Cole blinked at Kai, startled. "No, why?"

"You and Sage have always seemed so tight," Kai answered vaguely, and sank deeper into the pillows. "I'm sure things'll work out fine."

Another timeless time passed between them. Cole watched a small patch of sunlight streak slowly across the carpet from between a slit in the curtains, heard the occasional soft patter of footsteps down the hall outside his door. The sweet, smoky aroma of the fireplace, and…something else, faint but sharp. Pine? Yes, and cinnamon. From a pair of candles lit on a table by the door.

"Hosts, I want to keep her, if she'll have me," Cole said, softly. "But that's just it. I'm not sure that she will. A life with the Dark Knight isn't exactly gonna be a life of comfort. I'll be a pariah for the rest of my life. I don't want Sage to be trapped in the role of the Dark Knight's wife. And Chedva…"

Cole realized then that Kai was asleep.

He hadn't noticed before now just how tense Kai's face had been: gone was the grim, straight line of his mouth. Gone also were the creases on his forehead. He breathed evenly, chest rising and falling as deep as his sore ribs would allow.

What a nuisance, Cole thought. He came in here just to drink himself to sleep, didn't he? This'll do wonders for our reputation.

But Cole, of all people, knew how difficult it was to sleep alone, and did not begrudge Kai this indulgence. Indeed, though he wouldn't admit it even to himself, he was relieved that Kai had come to bother him. Sleep was slow in coming since leaving Sage behind on the Dark Island, and it wasn't difficult to imagine that Kai was dealing with the same unease since parting with Besai.

Rest while you can, Cole thought, and set the bottle on his nightstand. When you wake up, life will give you no respite.

The keep was quiet in the days after Garmadon deployed his troops. The handful of Guards that stayed behind seemed, in Varasach's eyes, anxious about not being at the front with their fellow soldiers. But whenever she questioned them, they tactfully told her that to be entrusted with the responsibility of guarding the King's Keep during this dangerous time was a greater honor than fighting in Mena's Holy War.

Mena's Holy War. The name left a sinking feeling in Varasach's gut each time she heard it. Which was, unfortunately, quite often now.

"It's a terribly pretentious name," Lou confided to Varasach as they meandered down an empty hall on the keep's ground floor the morning after his arrival. "The Lord Rector started it, I think, in one his grandiose speeches before the Guards began their march. Mark my words, Vara! Nothing good ever comes from situations like this. I wish we could all be far, far away from here…" He sighed sadly, green eyes staring into the distance. "If only it were possible. How I'd love to escape from these godforsaken politics forever. But we can't always get what we want."

"Mmm," Varasach murmured, only half grasping what he'd said: her Ninjagian was getting better, but Lou used so many unfamiliar words...

In lieu of her restlessness and complete disobedience of the order to remain in bed, this morning her doctor had finally permitted her to leave her room, with the strict stipulation that she would not walk for longer than a quarter-hour between rests. Excited, and with only some reservation, she had invited Lou to join her. Better him than Garmadon or, Hosts forbid, Senai.

Last night Vara had Cole's letter read out loud to her. Though short, its message was heartfelt, expressing both gratitude that she had survived her illness and regret that Overlord had taken him from her at such a time. He explained that he had work to do in the South, but promised to see her as soon as he could manage. The letter also included firm assurances that his father was no longer under Overlord's influence.

Though Cole's letter went a long way in convincing Varasach to trust Lou, the deciding factor was her realization that this man was so much different from the monster who had hurt her, and Cole, and the entire West. Indeed, it was fascinating- comforting, even- how much Lou reminded her of his son: his pensive eyes of the same vibrant color. That rare, hesitant, but sincere smile that only lifted one side of his mouth. The boldness with which he shared his opinions, not holding back the punches when he felt a truth needed to be told.

But despite this, he was a compassionate, gentle man, and now that Deniel was gone Varasach found herself turning to him for companionship.

Thinking of Deniel made her throat tight with sadness. She hadn't seen him in two days, and all anyone told her when she asked was that he was being held for questioning. But what did that mean? And where was he being held? In the prison beneath the keep, or somewhere else? Varasach wished someone would give her a straight answer: she missed him.

Yes, she had Senai by her side most of the day, but the servant had become so reticent since Varasach's ill-fated escape with Zak that it was awkward to be around her. Varasach suspected, with no small amount of regret, that Senai was angry that she'd gotten the blame for that fiasco. While Senai had graciously accepted Varasach's apology, she suspected that her servant's forgiveness came more from her lips than her heart.

Since Kyle warned Varasach that her Guards might not be trustworthy, she was beginning to feel penned in: Deniel missing, Senai taciturn, and Garmadon…well, being his trying self. Varasach was comforted, at least, by the knowledge that Kyle was watching her, even if she only caught brief glances of him as he did his duties around the keep.

"Why do they want to be a part of this…'Mena's Holy War'?" Varasach asked.

Lou, who'd been quiet in his musings for a minute, blinked. "Pardon?"

"The Guards," Varasach said softly, eyes flicking back to the pair of men Kyle had warned her not to trust. She switched to the Dark Tongue, hoping fervently that Lou would understand the language. "Most of them seem to want to fight the South. But why? How can they look at another person- an innocent man, or a child!- and kill them with a sword?"

Lou quirked an eyebrow at her and spoke very quietly in the same language. "I realize you do not want your attendants hear what you have to say, but we should not use this language. It might make them nervous."

"Yes," Varasach said. Though relieved to find that he could speak her native tongue, she noticed his wording and frowned. Was he using lowspeak? "Yes," she said. "But it is nice to finally have some privacy."

"Welcome to the life of royalty, my dear. Blesseds are like exotic animals in a cushy cage. The sooner you accept that fact, the happier you will be."

So he is. "Please," Varasach said, uncomfortable. "You may use highspeak with me."

"May I?" Lou looked at her curiously. In the Dark Tongue, highspeak- specifically, the use of contractions- was the West's way of emphasizing the separation of classes. A mother used contractions over her child; a stone warrior used contractions over a woman; Overlord used contractions over all. When one of a lower social status dared use highspeak over a superior, it was a grave insult.

And, when Lou used lowspeak with Varasach, he was indicating that he submitted to her authority.

"Yes," Varasach said. "And I can use it too, if it would make you more comfortable. Just, please stop."

"Very well." Lou dipped his head. "Nevertheless, we shouldn't speak in this language. As I said, I'm trying to earn the favor of the keep's staff. Mena only knows what they'll think if they hear me speaking the language of the West with you!"

Varasach reluctantly switched, lowering her eyes. "Okay."

Lou sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, still in the Dark Tongue. "That's selfish of me. The Guards already know, now, so we can use this language if you want, and later I'll tell them not to spread it."

"Thank you," Varasach said, a little guiltily. She felt like she'd twisted his arm, though she had no idea how she might have done so.

As if realizing her discomfiture, Lou offered her that comforting, Cole-like smile. "To answer your question…hmm. I'd have to say that there are a number of reasons why they are willing to commit these crimes. One being, every Ninjagian, Guard or otherwise, has been trained to submit to the First King and, by extension, the Blessed currently wearing the crown. Their propensity to obey is so inborn, generation to generation, that they couldn't imagine doing anything but what they've been told- even to the point of genocide, as we are seeing today."

"That seems silly," Varasach said. "Each man can think for himself, regardless of what he's been told."

"Yes," Lou agreed. "But think of it like your inclination toward lowspeak. You grew up speaking it to your superiors. Using highspeak to anyone but your peers feels instinctively wrong, right?"

"Yes."

"In a way, that's what's going on in the minds of these Guards," Lou said. "You were raised with a certain mindset, within an isolated society where any other method of thinking or doing was frowned upon- or even penalized. Obedience is hammered first into man's skull first by fear of punishment, and then, as years pass, into his heart by habit.

"All their lives, and their parents' lives, and so on through the generations, the Ninjagians have been instructed to obey the King above all else, because the King's voice is the voice of God on earth. Mere thoughts that deviate from the King's Word are enough to risk damning one's soul to the Fallen Kingdom."

"You are comparing a tree to the dirt it grows from," Varasach said. "Speaking a certain way is very different from murdering children."

"Children of a people that have, according to the King, been infected by the immorality that brought the Third Age to its bitter end," Lou said. "You must understand, Vara, that the King's people are terrified. They hear of Borg in the North. They hear that he is amassing an army. An army for what? No one knows, but if the King thinks it's bad, then it is bad. And now Borg, who has supposedly been keeping the antidote to himself, has allied with the South! The Middle feels boxed in by two terrifying evils. Add to this the plague itself which has left no house- not even the King's- without at least one empty bed. If the King says that destroying the South will bring an end to these problems, then Mena help them, they will fight with everything they have, even against their own conscience, to bring peace back to their homeland."

Varasach opened her mouth to argue again. Then she caught herself.

I killed my own child, she thought. My own child, of my own blood, while he was innocent and vulnerable. Even Garmadon couldn't bring himself to do such a thing.

I have as much blood on my hands as those Guards will, once they reach the South. No, even more so! She shivered, pushing back memories of that terrible day. If only she could go back in time. If only she had knownwhat that crime would do to her soul.

If only she had known the loneliness that would darken her mind each time she looked at her hands and reflected that, had she not done what she did, she would have had a child to nurture; to sing to as he suckled at her breast; to encourage as he took his first steps, his tiny fists wrapped around just two of her fingers; to comfort when he skinned his knee… He would have been two winters, now, had he lived. He would have been learning to speak. She would have been able to hear his sweet little voice as he called her choia for the first time. Mother.

Of course, he would have eventually been taken from her, to be raised by a stranger until he was old enough to be Transformed. This, Varasach always told herself, is why she had done it: there was no way she could bear to raise children in the world in which she lived. Any daughters she bore would grow to be abused as she had, and any sons would grow to be the abusers.

This reasoning seems so sound when one is gripped by fear, Varasach realized, glancing back at her Guards. But afterward, when the curtain is lifted, one quickly realizes that he, not the object of his fear, was the monster.

"Humans are terrible creatures," Varasach whispered.

Lou nodded, regarding Varasach with a pinched brow. "Do you need to sit down?" he asked in the Eastern tongue. "You look unwell."

"Yes, please." Varasach turned her head, for the first time taking in her surroundings. They had left the hall and now stood in the center of the main reception room. Apparently during parties this doubled as the ballroom.

Lou led her to a couch, and they sat, Varasach stiffer than her companion: she suspected that she would be very sore when she woke up tomorrow from all this walking.

But she couldn't bring herself to care. At least she was allowed to move, and wouldn't have to sneak out anymore, as she had on her visit to Lloyd's grave.

The Guards stood at parade rest a respectable distance away. Varasach shivered, and touched the small lump of her mother's locket beneath her dress. Deniel had warned her not to wear it until she knew more about it, but she couldn't bear to be parted from this, the one piece of her mother that she could still hold. It had neither lit up nor spoken to her since that night in the garden, despite her many urgings, both mental and verbal. She might have thought she'd imagined the whole thing if Deniel had not seen its light, too.

"What is that?"

Varasach looked at Lou. "What?"

"Pardon me if this is too personal. I saw the chain earlier and assumed it was a mere trinket. But now it seems to be much more than that."

"Oh." Varasach pulled the locket from under her blouse. It felt warm against her ever-cold hands, and she held it for a moment before opening her fingers for Lou to see.

The Prince frowned. "May I…?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"Yes." Varasach clumsily unclasped the chain and set the whole thing in Lou's hand. He turned the locket over, examining it from all angles, paying special attention to the large, sparkling, reddish gemstone on its face.

"The Lord Rector gave it to me after I came to the keep," Varasach explained. "He said it was my mother's. A Guard found it under her bed after she was taken to the North."

Lou frowned, pressing a fingernail into the seam on the side. "Have you opened it?"

"It doesn't open."

"Have you ever exposed it to moonlight?"

"Moonlight?" Varasach pondered the odd question. Then she remembered, and she looked at Lou, puzzled. "Yes. Three nights ago, when I went to Lloyd's tree. The blizzard had just ended, and the sky was clear."

"Did it do anything…unusual?"

Varasach nodded. "Do you know what this is?"

"I think so," Lou said. He weighed the locket in his hand, as if considering something. "Though, I've never seen one in this form, or this color… How unusual. What did it to?"

"A red light," Varasach answered. "And it said my mother's name."

"When did it make the red light?"

Varasach blinked. It seemed an odd question at first, but, as she recalled details of the scene, she realized what he was getting at. Her skin paled.

"They think that Zak followed me through my window when I went to the garden that night," she said. "I never saw him, but there was a sound behind me. Like…a breaking branch. I turned to look, but then the locket made the light." She looked at Lou, alarmed. "What if he was right behind me? Did the light scare him off?"

"Perhaps," Lou said calmly, though there was an urgency in his face as he put the locket back around Varasach's neck. "Has the locket done anything else since then?"

Varasach considered this seriously. "When Deniel helped me back to my room, we saw Garmadon and the Lord Rector," she said. "We hid in the shadows, because the room Deniel tried to get into was locked. I don't know what happened. Maybe it wasn't the locket, but…" She trailed off.

"But what?" Lou pressed. "Vara, please! This is urgent."

"The Lord Rector hit into something right as they passed us," Varasach said. Lou's interest surprised her. "He hit it hard. It made his nose bleed. And…I don't think he or the King could see us."

"A shield," Lou said, thoughtful. "And possible invisibility. Defensive abilities? Praise the Hosts Overlord never had this Gem…"

"What are you talking about?"

Lou didn't seem to hear her question. "Listen to me, Vara. This is important. Tonight, I want you to leave the locket on your windowsill while you sleep. Make sure it's in a location that gets lots of moonlight. I'll be by early in the morning."

"What do you think will happen?" Varasach asked. "What does the moon have to do with anything?"

"Hosts! The moon has everything to do with this, Vara! You are in possession of a new Gem color and mount!"

"Mount?" Varasach tried to puzzle through his words. "You mean, like a Blade?"

"Yes, exactly like that! You see, Gems are the powerhouse of the device, but it's the Mount that gives the device sentience. Without specialized-"

Across the room, the foyer doors suddenly swung open, admitting a messenger in black uniform to the reception room. The woman, breathless, red-cheeked from cold, took in her surroundings with a quick glance. Then she ran, heavy boots pounding against the hardwood floor, straight past Lou and Varasach's couch. She stopped before Varasach's Guards.

"A- an urgent letter," the woman panted, taking an envelope from a padded pocket of her coat. "From the Southern Lord. Please escort me to the King immediately."

"The Southern Lord?" Lou said, standing. "My, what a surprise."

The way he said it, with a slight smile, made Varasach suspect that it was anything but a surprise to him.

"Yes, Blessed," the woman said, bowing to Lou.

"I thought that the border was closed," Varasach said. "How did they get a letter across?"

"One of their trained birds probably dropped it on the Middle side of the border," Lou said, and snatched the letter from the woman's unsuspecting hand. She cried out and attempted to take it back, but Lou simply stepped out of her way. He broke the wax seal, then removed and unfolded the sheet of paper inside.

As he read to himself, Varasach could not deny the familiarity- and the potential danger- of his steadily growing, mischievous, and unmistakably Cole-like grin. She moved to stand, but Lou raised a hand, gesturing for her to stay seated.

"Guards," he said, "go fetch everyone you can find. Fellow Guardsmen, servants. And the King and Lord Rector, of course. This is going to be fun."

When I wrapped up the Western arc, I didn't think Lou would ever want anything beyond a secluded cottage in the woods and a flower garden for the rest of his life. But "Where's the fun in that?" he told me with a look of disgust, and the rest is history. Or rather, history in the making. You guys are gonna love him and his role here.

Thank you all for your support, and for your reviews! I'll see you all in two weeks.