A/N: Thank You so much to everyone who reviewed—I feel so wonderfully warm and fuzzy inside to have gotten so many on my very first fic! I apologize that this chapter took me so long to finish. I will refrain from making up any excuses for that, however—we're all busy, right? Anyway I hope you like this one. I tried to make it a bit longer to appease the imaginations of all of you, my lovely readers!

I have no guarantees on when the next chapter will be up, but I'm definitely planning on doing more of this story eventually. I'm going on an overseas program (to LONDON! does happy dance ) for the spring semester and I don't know yet whether I will have time to write, but I sure hope so. It's fun to work on!

Disclaimer: Not mine—never was, never will be. Sherwood Smith is the illustrious creator of the characters, places, and most of the plot. I'm just borrowing them for a little while.

Enjoy! (And I'm sure I don't need to say it, but REVIEWS are always appreciated! Tell me if you would like to hear from a different character or not...)

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Chapter One– Reunions

It was a full color change before the sleeping city to begin to wake, and by then it was nearly evening. Mel and I placed the sleepers in more comfortable positions when we could, but there was little more we could do for them until they awoke.

We decided to make a brief search of the Merindar house, remembering that there would still be loyal servants willing to destroy any condemning documents. Not that either of us felt we should need a piece of paper to prove our story. Some rather definitive proof was currently branching out through the ceiling of the throne room. But there could be no harm in having that same proof in words. There are skeptics in every government.

A swift perusal of Flauvic's quarters confirmed my suspicion that he had meticulously destroyed any physical evidence of his plot for the throne—if indeed there had ever been any such evidence. But we did find plenty to indicate without question his newly revealed talent in sorcery. Unsurprisingly, he had been absurdly proud of his successful training in Sles Adran, and his library, as well as a number of documents from his time as a page, established his magical occupation beyond doubt.

We returned to the palace as the bells for second-green sounded, and soon found that people were beginning to stir. The first person we saw revive was a footman near the doors of the library. We heard an exclamation of surprise and turned to find a very confused looking servant.

The footman stared at us, horrified at having been discovered sleeping. He opened his mouth to speak, choked, and fell into a fit of coughing and spluttering. I thumped his back until he regained his breath. He looked a bit taken aback at my helping him. I tried to give him what I thought was a reassuring smile, but I wasn't sure it worked, because he looked even more shocked.

I suppose it no more than I should expect for inheriting a kingdom after a tyrant's rule. It is simply a fact that the common folk are accustomed to being treated as inferiors. Especially the servants of the palace. But it does not follow that I should ever feel comfortable treating them as such.

At home in Renselaeus my parents taught me to treat every person with respect despite his rank. But generations of courtiers have been raised to treat servants not as individuals but as tools. Even my respect does not reach past the invisible boundary of class status to allow an interaction of equals between servant and noble. Class rank dictates the social custom.

And while Galdran ruled, no one wanted to attract his attention by changing that established custom, however much it was disliked. No one but Meliara, of course.

It always returns to Mel, does it not? Russav tells me I am a lovesick idiot, but I don't think he is one to talk. He and Tamara's squabbles and sappy reconciliations run the whole palace ragged. But I digress. I will come to that part of the story soon enough.

We quickly explained to the confused footman roughly what the events of the day had been. I told him to go find his family, and take the remainder of the day off duty. Looking relieved, he thanked us and hurried away. We met several more lost looking palace folk on our way through the halls, and soon found ourselves retelling the story so often that we decided to stop telling it altogether.

"We should give a formal account of what happened, don't you think?" Mel was helping a frightened looking maid to her feet. "Not tonight—we need to give people time with their families. But perhaps tomorrow morning."

"By the time they find that tree, everyone will be demanding to know what happened." I said wryly. "We'll have a hard time keeping it from them any longer than tomorrow."

Mel smiled. "Yes, they will be quite curious, won't they?" She sent the maid off with a word of reassurance that she would not be punished for neglecting her duties.

She turned to me with a sigh. "Let's see if Bran and Nee are awake yet."

I nodded. "I should like to find my parents as well, and Russav."

We headed for Bran's rooms in the guest wing, meeting only a few more palace folk awakening in the halls. When Meliara pulled aside the tapestry to Bran's lounge, we found him and his fiancé seated together looking as though sleep had not quite left them. But both exclaimed happily when they saw Mel and rose to greet her.

"Mel! Life, last I checked I was just about to go out for a morning ride, and suddenly I'm–" Bran broke off when he saw me, surprise written plainly on his features. I glanced at Nee in time to catch her smothering a knowing smile.

Of course he had noticed that the present company Mel was keeping meant that she and I were on rather better terms than usual. The usual being that she avoided me altogether.

I greeted them both, carefully keeping my face clear of signs that I had noticed anything unusual in their behavior. I was momentarily surprised at how difficult that suddenly was. I felt like grinning my face off, lovesick that I am. I guess Russav may be right after all, at least about my being lovesick; that I am an idiot is yet to be shown.

Mel gave Bran and Nee each a hug and continued as if nothing had happened, but I could have sworn her cheeks were slightly more tinged with pink.

"We'll explain everything later in more detail." She assured them, "But we've just defeated Flauvic. It turns out he wanted to sit on the golden throne of Remalna himself." She looked at me quickly, a crooked smile turning up one corner of her mouth. "I guess he got what he wanted, in a way." He was on the throne, after all– exactly on the spot where it had stood. But I don't think being a tree rooted there was quite what he had in mind.

Bran gave her a startled look. "What? I thought you said you defeated– or did he get away?"

Mel shook her head in answer to her befuddled brother, laughing softly. "No, he didn't escape. I told you, we'll explain later. Now we thought we'd try to find the Prince and Princess."

"I believe they are in their quarters," Nee said quietly. Her smile was faint, but she still had a gleam in her eye that made me inexplicably nervous. "I came here from visiting your mother, Vidanric, only just before we were—" She paused a moment, and shot a questioning glance at Mel, who only smiled. "...Well, I expect you know more than we do about what truly happened."

I bent my head to her in a small bow. "Apparently Flauvic did study magic during his time at the Nente court. All the people of Athanarel were enchanted into stone." Bran looked aghast at that, and I couldn't help but smile at his expression. "I assure you we will give you the full tale soon. Please excuse the meager explanation for now."

"We thought it would be easier to tell the whole court the story at once." Mel added. Nee nodded in understanding.

Bran finally seemed to gather his wits. "Why don't we come along with you to see the Prince and Princess?" We all agreed, and proceeded toward the Renselaus wing.

Despite the fact that we had declined telling the whole story yet, Bran and Nee could hardly be expected to talk of anything else, and many of their questions were answered as we made our way through the halls. I left Mel to answer most of them, only adding a comment here and there. My mind kept going back to the thought that only a short while ago I had been sick with fear, for Mel's life and for the fate of the country. And now I was strolling through the palace, the love of my life walking beside me and the country free of any immediate threat.

I suppose I was a little hysterical. I wanted to yell with relief and happiness. But I managed to control myself—just barely. I was therefore a touch preoccupied when Russav appeared from around a corner.

"Danric!" He swept us all a look and a smile that managed to greet everyone and question us all at once. I have always been rather proud of my skill in court subtlety, but my suave cousin never seems to have to practice these things– he was always naturally adept. His own court mask is not so emotionless as my own; one could say he uses instead a mask made up of new emotions.

I shook myself out of my uncharacteristically vagrant train of thought, mentally reprimanding myself. In spite of our skills in court concealment, we can each read the other like a book. That is the curse and blessing of relatives, I suppose.

"Russav." I clasped my cousin's hand in greeting, and smiled in return.

"What in the world happened around here? One minute I'm conversing with friends and the next I find myself waking up on the floor." He gave a theatrical wave of his arm to accompany his speech.

Bran laughed out loud. "Not to worry Russav, it isn't the result of last night's revelries!"

"Well, I should hope not. I pride myself on my ability to survive an evening of carousing with my wits about me." A skill which he actually achieved with great success, much to his flocking admirers' great chagrin.

"You shall be happy to know, cousin, that the cause of your lapse in consciousness was far from being such a travesty." I spoke in my best drawl to match Russav's flamboyant foppishness with my own. "Flauvic, it seems, took the Merindar plot into his own hands. He made a spirited attempt to replace Galdran's brainless tyrant with an indubitably nastier, cleverer, magically trained one."

"Blast! So you were right about thinking he was a sorcerer after all." I nodded assent. "Does this mean I missed all the excitement, then?"

"I'm afraid so, Russav." Nee patted his arm consolingly. "But I'm sure there is plenty of work left to do, if you are so anxious for your own share."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to cause Danric to have to sign papers for hours in order to assign me a task." He grinned rather impishly at me.

I raised an ironic brow at my wayward relation. "Leave it to you to escape work and make it sound like a favor, Russav."

He merely bowed, smiling serenely.

Mel had observed all this with a grin on her face. "Well, would you prefer instead to join us in our walk? We were on our way to see Vidanric's parents."

Russav's eyes widened for an instant at hearing Mel use my name, but his face immediately lit with a brilliant—if a trifle gleeful—smile. He bowed low over Mel's hand. "I should be delighted to join you." He eyed me askance, the same knowing look in his eyes as Nee had worn. I wondered how many times I would see that look before the day was over.

As we continued on our way, I realized belatedly that the rooms Russav had been exiting were none other than the Lady Tamara's. I resolved to ask him about that later.

We reached my parent's quarters at last. My father was seated at the parlor table, and my mother was speaking to a sleepy maid. The fresh smell of listerblossom rose from a tea tray. Both my parents smiled as we all entered.

"Vidanric!" My mother couldn't disguise the relief in her eyes, though all else about her was the familiar composure. "—It seems we will need some more tea, please, and then you are free to go." She turned from the retreating maid and surveyed the group. "Please sit down, all of you."

I stepped forward to kiss my mother's cheek, and clasp my father's hand. Though neither showed it in their faces, the look in both their eyes told me they guessed most of what had happened.

It was Mel who explained, as the tea was passed around. "Flauvic made a try for the throne on his own, and turned everyone to stone. The Hill Folk intervened, and broke the spell."

"So Flauvic did study magic in Nente." My father was as calm and collected as ever, but to my eyes he looked weary.

"Yes," Mel replied. "Though I'm guessing you know more about that than I do."

"Thankfully Flauvic didn't study anything the Hill Folk couldn't counter," I added.

My father raised an eyebrow slightly, glancing at me. "That must have been a delightful scene."

"Indeed." I took a sip of tea, noticing how tired I really was as the warmth rushed down my throat. "It was thanks to Lady Meliara that the Hill Folk were alive and well to help us." Mel looked across at me with those wide blue eyes, a smile playing on her lips. If anyone had asked me to remember my own name then I don't think I would have been able to answer.

"Why then, we owe you our gratitude." My mother said to Mel.

Mel shook her head. "I didn't do anything, except nearly get myself killed. Just thank the Hill Folk."

"I will every day." Said Nee, "but you're the one who brought them here to thank."

My father raised his teacup in salute. "Thanks indeed then to Lady Meliara. But I must admit I'd like to hear this story from the beginning."

I knew that my parents wouldn't let me leave until they got a full explanation. Though I thought wistfully of my bed in the royal wing, it was not until the middle of second-blue that all questions were answered, and we made our farewells for the night.

I walked with Mel, Nee and Bran back to the Residence, leaving Russav halfway—again suspiciously near Tamara's rooms, I thought with a smile. Bran and Nee said goodnight at Bran's quarters, leaving Mel and I alone once again. We began our way slowly toward her rooms.

Both of us said nothing as we walked, simply enjoying the silence after the busy conversation of the day. But too soon we arrived at her door. We stopped slowly, and she turned to face me. It was time for us to part for the night as well.

For a moment we simply stood gazing at one another, the newly risen moon shining through a long window in the hallway. The light gave Mel's hair an otherworldly glow—I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat.

But I'm sure it stopped altogether when next she moved close and reached up to press her lips to mine in a lingering kiss.

When we finally broke apart, she whispered, her breath warm on my face, "Goodnight, Vidanric." She smiled, then whirled and slipped away.

I couldn't have masked the grin I wore all the way back to my rooms, all my aches forgotten. I was still grinning as I went to sleep.