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Chapter 5

The door closed firmly as the last of the Madoushi left the conference room, followed by an unhappy snort from Van Fanel. "I don't trust them. They're not here because they want peace. The Madoushi never wanted peace."

"They want peace when it is convenient for them to have it." Dryden rose from his chair, smiling warmly at the pair of young men who sat on either side of him. "And for now, they want peace. They want funds and they want trade. It remains to be seen their intentions once Zaibach is stable once more." He crossed the room, pushing the door open and holding it so the others might pass ahead of him. "For now, we need not worry. They are in too dire a need to contemplate treachery." Dryden knew well enough that they wouldn't be reassured by simple words, but he made the effort in the hopes of easing their minds, even a little

"We will reconvene in a few hours. I won't keep you any longer." He didn't want to seem as if he was rushing them, but he needed a few hours to think without the distracting, often brooding presence that was Van Fanel. So when the door closed behind them, Dryden let out a long, dramatic sigh. Alone at last.

So often, he found it much easier to sort through complicated matters without the presence of others. He hated to call himself a loner, but there were times when he preferred books to people. Books were so much less complicated.

The early afternoon sunlight was streaming gently through the windows, bathing the formerly cool room with warmth. Soon it would become uncomfortably warm as the sun began to descend. For that reason talks had been postponed until evening. Nothing could be accomplished if all the parties involved were worried about the uncomfortable afternoon heat.

The conference room opened out onto a wide balcony sometimes used to host formal meals or more informal teas. At the moment, there were a few small tables and chairs set up for just such a purpose, though it was doubtful they would ever be used. Dryden was not about to treat the Madoushi to tea if it could be helped.

After a moment's thought, he pushed the curtains back from the door, opening it and stepping out onto the balcony. One of the chairs was pushed away, leaving him room to rest his forearms against the stone railing. The balcony offered a lovely view of the gardens below and at this time of the year, the flowers were all in bloom. It was something pleasant to look upon for a change. Something other than the inside of the palace walls.

He really needed to get out more often. When had he become used to living within four stationary walls?

Just below the balcony lay a patch of garden bordered by high hedge walls. This was one of the private gardens that lay scattered throughout the palace compound, a place for the royal family and their guests where they might enjoy nature undisturbed. Still, they were rarely frequented, as they were somewhat cramped. This was why Dryden was surprised when a flash of movement from within the high walls caught his eye.

His curiosity was piqued. Certainly it was wrong to spy on someone who was obviously seeking privacy for a reason, but then again, who would notice? He leaned forward over the railing, this time catching a glimpse of blonde curls. "Millerna?" The name was mumbled under his breath. Why was she out and about in the private gardens? He'd never known her to visit them before. She had always preferred the grandness of the main gardens.

Still, it was not such a suspicious act in and of itself. It was only when a second set of footsteps echoed up from the stone walkway that Dryden became concerned.

The princess turned quickly at the sound of the approaching boots, a smile brightening her face. It was nice to see her smile. She spent so much time as of late at her father's bedside, her brow creased with constant worry. Yet there was no hint of that worry in her eyes now. No hint of sadness or stress.

The source of Millerna's joy was kept secret only a moment more as the second party paused, just out of sight beneath the balcony. Then the figure came into view, taking a few hurried strides before scooping the princess into an affectionate embrace.

Allen Schezar.

It would have been a lie to say he was surprised. Who else but Allen could it really have been? Who else could make her shine like the jewel that she was if not her knight? Dryden certainly could not claim to. These days, he was hard pressed to make her smile, let alone glow. No, he wasn't the least bit surprised.

There had been the rumors, of course, and rumors were difficult to ignore, especially when they were true. The staff often whispered to one another where they thought he could not hear, telling stories of the princess and her knight and their romantic interludes. They thought he didn't know. The lovers had always been careful to hide their meetings from him as if they thought him dim enough not to suspect they occurred. Millerna would slip away in the early evenings or just before sunrise to take a walk or to get a breath of fresh air. Allen would be absent from his posts on occasion. He would come late to sword drills. But he was always allowed. He was a hero, after all. He could get away with such things.

It was one thing to know a thing occurred, but another entirely to see it with your own eyes. Dryden had thought himself long immune to the hurt. After all, he had been the one to walk away, pledging he would find a way to make her fall for him. He had failed and had only himself to blame. How could he begrudge her happiness, even if it came in the arms of another man, if he had not been able to provide it himself?

The lovers had long since ended their embrace by the time Dryden's mind cleared enough to allow him to observe them without succumbing to the dull ache in his chest. They had strolled to the far end of the garden hand in hand and the knight had just paused to gently pluck one of the newly bloomed roses from a bush, presenting it to the princess with a flourish that simply oozed charm. The gesture seemed to have its desired effect, causing the girl to blush and duck her head. Allen seemed amused by the sudden shyness and proceeded to raise her chin once more by ducking his own head in a gesture that would have looked terribly awkward on most men and capturing her lips for a brief, but still somehow passionate kiss.

Brief, only because it was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath and the sound of a chair toppling.

xxxx

Allen could be such the romantic and with so little effort. The rose, the kiss, all of it done with such perfection that a girl could hardly think of anything but the gallant, angelic knight at her side. It was so easy to become entranced by any kiss from Allen, any touch, any gesture. It was like being free from one's body, like floating, like flying, all within the span of a single breath.

A breath…

The sharp breath from above was nearly enough to draw Millerna out of Allen's arms, but the accompanying clatter was what did the trick. The princess drew back with a start, exchanging a brief, worried glance with her lover before searching franticly for the source of the interruption. If someone had seen them it would only mean more fuel for the already bustling rumor mill that existed within the community of palace servants. By nightfall the entire country would know she had been kissing Allen in the gardens.

Finding nothing in the garden itself, her eyes darted upwards towards the balcony above. The balcony should have been empty; after all she had taken great pains to be informed of the end of talks. There was nothing more scheduled for the room until evening. It should have been very much empty. But a quick glance to that balcony told her it most certainly was not.

"Dryden…" The name was accompanied by a sick, sinking feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. This was worse than a servant. Worse than any other disaster she could think of. It was futile to hope he had seen nothing. It was quite obvious that he had seen everything and in his haste to escape, had stumbled over one of the chairs that sat beside the rail.

Having been quite caught in the act of spying, the acting king made no attempt to flee. He simply stood, still as a statue, meeting her gaze with an amazing show of restraint. After a time, his lips twitched, forced into a smile that was only a shadow of its usual self, holding none of the good humor he was so renowned for. The smile did not last long, however, for he chose that moment to flee, pushing the chair aside as he made his way back within the cold stone walls of the palace.