A/N: This chapter needs a little introduction. Down below you will encounter a new character; a character that is needed, because after Arranged Marriage is complete I will (hopefully) write a few short stories where one of them will be about Zofia's early life. The title of the story will be 'A Raw Jewel'.

Also, I'm participating in NaNoWriMo, where writers all over the world will try to achieve 50,000words and I plan to update Arranged Marriage as my writing progress :-)

! This chapter hasn't been proofread, so I apologize for any typos and grammar mistakes. !

Happy November!

Chapter 46

Leaving behind the room where the monarch had dismissed her, Zofia hurried down to the kitchen carrying a tray with tree empty bowls of stew. Quickly she ordered one of the lingering pages to bring new refreshments up to where Duke Gareth had started to argue with Lord Grayer again. It was something Zofia had hoped for as it gave her time to do what she did on a daily basis.

The brown-haired boy sprinkled with freckles that had been darkened by the summer, bowed to her, trying the best to hide that he pouted and took the filled tray. Zofia only crocked an eyebrow at Stel, who only shook her head, muttering something about the boy having some very bad days.

Zofia waited in the kitchen for a few seconds slightly grinning over the fact that Lenore was still lingering beside Peter, before following the page back all the way through the corridor to the door where loud voices could be clearly heard.

She didn't wait for the page to enter the chamber, but quickly made her way down the stairs to the ground floor. There she peaked outside, leaning against the door frame, making sure the path between her and her destination was clear. Outside the afternoon sun struggled to break through the soaking wet clouds that looked to be floating in over the palace. The moment she took a step outside she was immediately hit with a cold wind that crept inside her clothes with every opportunity.

Winter is coming quickly, Zofia thought, not for the first time that day. With quick light feet, she managed to cross the yard, without getting as wet as she had feared. Halfway where she was going to, the light rain that had been hitting her cheeks had turned into a downpour, transforming the damp underground underneath her boots into mud.

Zofia hurried forth, making sure to keep near buildings in hope to seek temporary shelter for the rain that was slowly soaked her clothes. Inside herself, she cursed over the fact that she hadn't had time to collect a cloak, but if she had to do this, there was no time to go back now. She needed to be fast as always.

Having no trouble to breath, she nodded to a few soldiers from the Tortallan Army she passed the inner wall quickly. There were no time to stop and explain why she was running. The soldiers knew enough to know that Zofia wasn't someone who was likely to stop and chitchat. For the most time, they looked to be scare of her or maybe they were scared of her being the Lioness' lady-in-waiting. Zofia almost smiled to herself, but didn't. The position had proven to be beneficial at countless times, because' as the Lioness lady-in-waiting no one questioned Zofia's coming and goings.

When she finally reached the area where the King's many blacksmith's was located, her lungs had begun to burn vaguely and the rain had stopped. Zofia continued to move in and out of small houses where hot air struck her with a metallic scent. She quickly passed openings where apprentices stood with their upper body naked, working the bellows. The muscled young men struggled to keep the fire going in the furnace as cold windy arms threatened to extinguish the fire. During that time, the smith swung the hammer high in the air above his head, only to have it land so hard on the glowing metal, that sparks flew everywhere.

As she passed the many buildings, her clothes was beginning to dry. Not far away, her destination stood tall and almost intimidating compared to the blacksmiths minimalistic functionality. The main building was two-stores and mainly build in stone with large wooden beams, that was strong enough to carry the top floor. The building was rectangular shaped and the second floor was as the same size as the first with a roof that was high and v-shaped. The black ceramic tiles lead the attention over to each end of the roof, where two large chimneys was located.

Even though she had been living in Corus for the last fifteen years, Zofia couldn't get used to massive buildings. Growing up, she had lived in large tepees, that could be moved, not the stationary buildings she had come to know.

It was a preferred style, that mixed with strong spells against fire, would survive any attack. Zofia eyed the building closely. The short, but wide windows that had been added to the building in a symmetric way, allowed enough light to enter the many small rooms behind.

At the ground floor, two large wooden door was being closed and opened regularly as soldiers went back and from. The soldiers living on the second floor, used two metal stairs that led up to two other doors. The building had been build to accommodate nearly one hundred and fifty soldiers, but only one hundred resided there currently, having the rest as workroom, study and bedchamber for Lord Grayer to use.

Zofia knew that this building was smaller than the six others that stood inside the first wall. Further down the hill she could glimpse the mess hall. The small building had been build far away, since it happened now and then that the building burned down and had to be rebuild again. It was from a narrow trodden path that soldiers strode back and forth in small teams, either laughing or tired depending on whether their bellies were filled or empty.

Looking at where she need to go, Zofia was extremely aware of the soldiers who was alert and ready to begin their shifts. The others, weary from standing guard all day, was no concern.

Taking a few steps back, so she couldn't be seen, Zofia roamed around in one of the small bags she had hanging at her belt. At last her fingertips felt was she had been looking for; a small vial, smaller then the one she had used previously. This, was something that was rare, and something not everybody could get their hands on, or even had the knowledge to make themselves.

For Zofia, making it was as easy as breathing. The hardest thing was harvesting the most important ingredient; black hair from a purring cat that had willingly donated them. Luckily the palace ground crawled with cats, but it was the time for the donation that was the hardest; collecting the hairs on the second day of the month and closest to the dark Moon. This didn't happen quite as often, meaning that Zofia had little time to collect the hair, before she had to wait several months for a new opportunity.

The content inside the vial was a black thick liquid. Uncorking it, Zofia allowed five small drops the liquid to land in her open palm. Hurriedly she sealed the vial and hide it again. The liquid, smeared on various parts of her body, hands, face, neck, hips and legs, would provide her with stealth. Making sure that she could move with extreme care and quietness.

Standing back, waiting for the right moment, Zofia breathed in deep and filled her lungs with autumn air that had a faint scent of foreboding. Standing, looking at the building she was about to enter, Zofia couldn't help to feel a sudden thrill of excitement as adrenaline rushed through her veins, making her more determined to seek the truth.

While Zofia kept looking at the flow of men, she suddenly noticed a brief moment where some of the more tired soldiers had begun to quarrel about something. In a spur of moment a man shoved another man so hard that he landed on his back, forcing the other men's high voices to stop.

Zofia found herself holding her breath as she recognized the man on the ground; Archie - Lenore's brother-in-law. Was it her imagination or did Archie all of a sudden glance in her direction for a few seconds? Zofia closed her eyes. No, he couldn't have, she decided and opened her eyes in time to see Archie being covered by big bodies as three soldiers jumped at him.

Without any warning the fight moved downhill and away from the large building. Zofia didn't dare to breath. Here was the opening she had been waiting for and with both soldiers and sergeant's attention solemnly on breaking up the broil, she sprinted over the ground and up the stairs to the first floor.

The first floor was one long corridor with doors facing each other on each side. She had one door in mind and it was located at the far end to the right, near the door that lead to Lord Grayer's workroom, study and then, private bedchamber.

Making sure that the door to the outside was firmly closed behind her, Zofia made her way to the door, where she knew Lord Grayer's manservant had his small quarters. She stood there for a few seconds, listening to the incipient rain and to the subsided noises that told her the soldiers had broken up their fight. As she took in the appearance of the dark oak door, she realized that she hadn't seen Fermin Bivins at his master's side today or the day before.

Normally the small and slight man in his late fifties, with hollow blue eyes set wickedly within their sockets, would be like a shadow and follow behind Lord Grayer. He would watch his master with something a kind to delight while his fingers slowly caressed a small scar on his right cheek.

Zofia had once followed the man for a few weeks, wanting to know everything about him. At one occasion she had followed him down into the lower part of the city, where he had disappeared. With the help of the Rogue, Zofia had tried to locate the man, but in vain. It was only when she had been back at the palace for a few days, annoyed and slightly irritated, that the man had reappeared with a black bear tattooed over his scar and a more observant look over him.

Back then Zofia had gathered information enough to know that Fermin Bivins was like a snake, sleek and not easy to catch. After that small disappearing-act, the man had never left his master's side and for that, Zofia had ordered others to keep an eye on him. Although she had expected them to give her something that could explain the man's odd behavior, none had been given.

Looking sideways, making sure that the corridor was indeed deserted, she reached for the three picks she had hidden underneath a small veil attached to her hair. When her fingers felt the slightly warm and damp metal located inside the small bun at the back of her head, she pulled them free.

It was an easy task to gain access to the room, and she quickly closed the door behind her. The room was smaller than expected; one small bed, a rickety chair that stood lonely beside an equally unstable table and something that looked like a washed up chest with rusty tin binding on it. It was an odd and spartan way to live, Zofia concluded and walked over to the bed.

Lifting up was seemed to be a thin mattress filled with straw, she looked down at the robes that made up the button of the bed. Like she expected, there was nothing to be found. Instead she moved over to where the table stood.

Looking down at the surface, it was clear that some sort of parchment - perhaps a letter - had been on the table for quite some time. A fine edge of dust marked the now empty space. Zofia didn't touch the table, as she wanted to make sure that she didn't leave any trace of her being inside the room. She did, however, kneel down to check underneath the table – nothing. Not that she had expected to find anything there; a person concealing important correspondence underneath a table would have to be awfully reckless.

Nevertheless, she moved over to where the chest stood. Kneeling down, Zofia sniffed the air and leaned back, waiting for her mind to recognize the scent; it was Hyssop oil. The plant had a powerful fragrance and one that couldn't be mistaken. The oil had been used for decades on tools that was to be used during any form for either spiritual or magical events. The oil worked best on things where tin was incorporated and had a quality that ranged from being used as antibacterial, to being used to protect property against burglars or trespassers.

It was quite smart, Zofia thought, as she roamed one of her two bags. Fermin Bivins had been sure that she at some point wanted to check him out again. As her fingers located what she sought, the sound of a door being slammed close brought her to a halt.

Listening carefully, Zofia breathed deeply, when she heard the sound of steps running down the stairs. With a small vial in her hand, she uncorked it and purred was seemed to be ordinary sawdust into her open palm. Blowing carefully at the dust, Zofia smiled. The sawdust from a Prickly Ash filled the air and effectively removed the spell that had been cast on the chest. Moving closer to it she lifted the lid and halted.

What she had expected to find was clothes, but it was almost empty. At the bottom however lay two small light wooden pieces. Zofia picked up them up and examined them.

For a while Zofia just stared at the two items, until she suddenly realized with horror that the item was the Queen from a chess game. The small piece had been neatly separated and fitted perfectly when she put the two pieces together. The discovery left only more questions than answers, which irritated Zofia immensely. What was the meaning and where was Lord Grayer's manservant? Glancing around the room, Zofia came to one simple conclusion. It was obvious that Fermin Bivins had left the palace, taking with him everything he owned.

Now she felt an extreme urge to find prove that Lord Grayer was indeed a traitor and the only place she would find it would be either in his study or in his private champers.

Sitting back, Zofia looked around Lord Grayer's private study. She had gone through the large workroom that had contained a large desk, several small chests which bore clear signs of wear from several trips. In the chests she had found nothing but newly polished armor, several spare swords, including knives and everything a commander needed on a battlefield.

Now she looked up at what seemed to be endless bookcases, which was an exaggeration as the small private study only contained five. It was the volume of the books that concerned her. There was no why that she had the time to go through all the books and not be discovered by Lord Grayer, when he came back from the meeting with the king and Duke Gareth.

No, it was necessary to resort to other absolutely not innocuous means, which unfortunately would leave traces of magic behind in the room. It was something she rarely did, but with time running out Zofia felt that she had no options.

Underneath the neckline of her tunic, Zofia produced a small puch. This contained the most toxic mixture she had ever done after leaving her Bazhir-tribe behind, but it was the most beneficial when needed to find something of extreme importance.

Once Zofia's mistress daughter, Aly, had wandered off at the age of almost three and disappeared in the large palace for several hours when Zofia's newest charge had been supposed to look after the girl. Instead the young woman had found herself a young servant of whom she stood flirting with, instead of looking after Aly's twin brother Alan and her older brother Thom.

Luckily enough, The Lioness hadn't been near the palace, but off on an assignment, otherwise Zofia wasn't sure that the now dismissed girl would still be alive. When twilight had descended over the every corner of the palace, the search for the girl had been in vain. It had been that time, that Zofia had finally been desperately enough to try something that could have resulted in the palace's walls crumbling down.

The mixture had both failed and succeed at the same time. Zofia had accidentally overturned a forgotten cup of water and the liquid had set of some kind of chain reaction in the mixture of dried mullein, coltsfoot, mugwurt, damiana and lavender. Instead of damaging the surroundings, Zofia had been hit by an intense cloud of steam, and had inhaled. The result had been an immense spiritual impact and she had been tossed into a dreamy state, where she could gain access to divine energy.

First she had felt like she had been standing inside a large cocoon having trouble to breath properly, after that something that could only have been a very large hand, had struck her in the middle of her ribcage, pushing her down into an endless hole. Here she had been standing in total darkness until a small dot of light expanded into a blurred image displaying a small child. A girl, Aly, sat crying with her legs pulled to her chest and her breeches full of holes. The image had only lasted for a few seconds, giving the girl's location to Zofia. Then as suddenly as she had been pushed into the hole, Zofia had been lifted and tossed back out.

It was the ultimate form of magic she could perform, but it also came with a disadvantage. After some months had passed since the incident, Zofia had realized with horror that she had paid the price with a large tuft of hair growing white. Not that she was vain or anything, but in this case it meant that she had paid the price with a few years of her life.

And now, she was about to do the same again. Looking around the study, she searched for anything that could contain or had contained water. She could reach out the window and use the rain to trigger the reaction, but that would not do. Rainwater leaked the mineral water brought up from a well contained. It took several of years for the water to soak down the many layers of soil, absorbing every mineral it had been in contact with.

So no, normal rainwater would do the trick. Finally Zofia's eyes landed on the desk where a single cup stood. Hoping that it didn't contain any traces of alcohol, she grabbed the cup and sniffed; tea - Yamani tea.

Zofia wrinkled her nose. Was this the first sign that Lord Grayer was a double agent? Zofia rinsed the cup with water from a pitcher nearby and uncorked the via with the dried herbs. Adding a little into the cup she waited for the reaction. She managed to blink three times, and then the room around her swirled. The next time she opened her eyes, she stood face to face with an old friend, someone she hadn't seen since leaving her tribe behind.

"Ndee?" Zofia asked shocked. She hadn't forgotten her only and best friend from the Sandrunners, even though she still haven't quite forgiven the young girl yet, for going behind her back only to end up betrothed to Chief Yul's son and heir to the tribe.

Ndee only smiled back, her brown-green eyes twinkling like stars on a cloudless night. "I'm sure that you wasn't prepared to meet me here?"

Zofia shook her head. Her friend looked like she did, when both of them had been twenty-five. "I wasn't," she answered, before she continued, "what are you doing here and what is this place?"

Ndee laughed, her voice hitting Zofia like a gentle breeze in the middle of the desert. Ndee looked at the darkness. "I believe this is what the undead would call 'the in-between…"

"You are dead?" Zofia gasped surprised.

Ndee grimaced. "Don't look so satisfied," which wasn't the expression Zofia wore, but Ndee did or had always had difficulties in reading other's facial expressions. Zofia tried not to be irritated again. "Yes, I'm dead. How else would I be able to be here and not in the Black God's Realm?"

"I don't know," Zofia replied, "but does that mean that you died recently?"

"Of course I did," Ndee retorted, before she continued with pride in her voice, "I just gave birth to Maklak's seventh son!" The Bazhir-woman almost glowed with happiness.

"And now you are here to help me, correct?" Zofia asked while something deep inside her broke, but she quickly pushed it away.

"Yes," Ndee laughed as she lifted her chin a little, "if help is what you really need? You were always the one who didn't need any help, also back home."

The last remark was something that had fallen Zofia's friend easily, being sassy. Anger flared inside Zofia, but she forced it back as her mind worked fast. Why was her old friend showing herself now? There had been no one to talk to when she wanted to find the Lioness' small girl. "Don't try to be jealous, Ndee," Zofia retorted back, "it didn't suit you back then and it doesn't suit you now."

Ndee's dark eyebrows rose significantly. "Someone has grown up and isn't a child any longer."

"I was never a child, my dear friend - you made sure of that, remember?" Zofia growled back. She hadn't been a child since the day her best friend betrayed her and forced the tribe to cast her out. Looking around in the dark, Zofia very much wanted to leave this place again, as fast as possible, but she had come here for a reason. "If you are really here to help me, then help!"

The last word suddenly echoed through the air, as if the two woman suddenly stood inside a large cave. "Fine," Ndee growled and turned around, walking away from Zofia, who hurried after her not knowing where they were going. "You should know," Ndee declared, "this little magic-thing-of-yours comes with a price."

"As they always do," Zofia whispered, "whatever it is this time, I'll pay."

Ndee stopped and picked a small package up from the floor. It was looked like one of the gifts Baron Cooper had bought for Zofia, once she began her training as aspy. Looking at it, it resembled the small wooden box where her three lock pics had lay in. It had been one of her first tools ever to master, second after a the small knives that was concealed at her wrist.

"You should ask what it is this time, the other price wasn't as valuable as what they want now." Ndee said and looked from the box to Zofia with something that resembled concern. "I know that last time you didn't have a choice in the manner, but you have one now."

Zofia almost screamed. "A choice? You, offering a choice? There wasn't a choice once you decided to get rid of me!"

"You could have married Tambo, when his family took pity of you." Ndee replied calmly. Zofia only starred at her, trying to decide if the soul of Ndee was being as ignorant as she had been while she had lived. Ndee continued, "He would have been a good husband for you, Zofia. His brothers was the most skilled hunters of the tribe, they even…"

"Hit their wives," Zofia finished the sentence for her. "No, thank you. I would rather have chewed my own tongue off, before that ever happened."

Zofia waited for some kind of nasty remark, or a an insult about her as a person, but nothing came.

Then Ndee asked. "Are you happy here?"

This surprised Zofia. "Of course I am, I left the tribe, didn't I?"

Ndee nodded. "Then I hope that this," she handed the small box to Zofia, who took it carefully, "will help you with whatever you are doing. My time here is over…" Ndee began to fade away.

Zofia looked up from the box, sensing how darkness was beginning to take over again. "Wait!" She shouted to Ndee's forever lost soul, "...you didn't tell me what the price was!"

Ndee's light voice echoed through the air, answering Zofia's question with yet another question, "Being of royal blood doesn't mean that you are safe, does it?"