Laughter and the clinking of goblets rang out through the dining hall. Sabriel was taking supper with Karstel and her guards. It might have seemed strange to an outsider that the Abhorsen would associate so closely with these rough soldiers, but to Sabriel nothing else would have made sense. These were her friends and closest allies. And though the food wasn't as fancy as what she could get at Abhorsen's House, the company was infinitely better.

"To the Abhorsen!" called out one soldier, holding up his glass, "For a brilliant rescue today."

There was a chorus of cheering and congratulations. When it died down, a young man in ill-fitting armor bounced a chunk of bread playfully off the helmet of the man who had started the toast. "I wouldn't have needed rescuing if you all had covered me the way you were supposed to," he insisted.

The boy's neighbor at the table grabbed him in a headlock. "No one told you to run off on your own, you little idiot. You were just lucky Abhorsen was there to save you," she said.

Sabriel held up her hand modestly. "We've almost finished clearing the Dead out of the city," she reminded them, "You all know how far we've come, and how many lives we've lost. I'll always do my best, just as I expect of you. But now is not the time to take risks." She gave the young man a pointed glance. "If we play this safe and smart, I think we have a chance of retaking the rest of the city without a single casualty."

A second, louder cheer rang out, and the meal resumed with renewed vigor. Insults and food were thrown back and forth freely.

"Alone? Is that what he's been telling you? He had the whole squad right there backing him up…"

"That's why you only ever get guard duty. Captain doesn't trust you with the real work."

"So she's got this club in one hand, see, and her own broken sword in the other, and she…"

"…you liar, you ain't never seen a Mordicant…"

"Hey, Abhorsen! Where's your sweetheart? I didn't see him out on patrol today."

Everything up until then had been said in good humor, but Sabriel's frosty gaze told the last man who had spoken that she wasn't in a joking mood. "You mean the King?" she said pointedly.

The man dipped his head, red-faced. "Of course, milady," he stammered, "Forgive me. I didn't mean anything by it." The collective shouted conversation went on.

Karstel leaned over to growl into Sabriel's ear, "Insubordinate little hooligan. I'll put him on midnight watch for a week."

"Thank you, Karstel," said Sabriel, sipping her water, "Although he's right. I haven't seen Tou-Torrigan all day. Do you know where he's been?"

Karstel shrugged. "Search me," she sighed, "I turned the castle upside down this afternoon and not a sign of him. Do you suppose we ought to start worrying?"

"Not yet," said Sabriel, though she was chewing her lip pensively, "He's no fool. He wouldn't put himself in danger at a time like this."

"If you'll forgive my saying so, milady," said Karstel, "He was foolish enough to go off on his own all day without telling either of us."

Karstel's words worked their way into Sabriel's mind, and by the time dinner was over she was beginning to get nervous. She went back to her rooms in a fog of apprehension.

Safe in her chambers was the only place she dared to take off her armor nowadays, and even then she always kept her bells and sword close at hand. As she stripped off her mail and replaced it with linen nightclothes, she kicked the small wicker basket at the foot of her bed lightly. "Mogget," she said, "Have you seen Touchstone today?"

Mogget stirred from the depths of the basket with a sleepy sigh. "I haven't even been awake today. Thanks so much for rectifying that," he said, his voice sharp with sarcasm. His eyes lit on Sabriel's desk, where envelopes were stacked high and spilling onto the floor. "You're a popular one, aren't you?" he added.

"Yes," Sabriel sighed, "One of the benefits of Abhorsen's House is that no one in their right mind would try to deliver mail there. Now that everyone knows I'm in Belisaere, they keep sending me requests." She sat down and opened one. It was from Qyrre, where they were being terrorized by a margrue. Another: there had been a plague in Ganel, and now all its victims were rising to attack the living. Another: in Callibe, people were being found flayed and drained of blood. All of them requested that Sabriel come solve their problems.

Sabriel pushed the letters aside with a heavy heart. Watching her, Mogget said, "Not what you were hoping for?"

"I don't know what I'm hoping for," Sabriel admitted, "But I know that I'm needed more here than anywhere else."

Mogget settled back into his basket with a yawn. "I'm sure you know best, Abhorsen," he said, and Sabriel couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Sabriel shut her desk, hiding the letters for now, and opened the door to find Touchstone standing there sheepishly. Her relief at seeing him lasted only until she noticed how slumped and pale he appeared. Still, he gave her a weak smile and a kiss as he let himself in.

"By the Nine!" she said, "What happened to you? Where have you been?"

"Sorry," he said, heading straight for the bed and flopping into it without even getting undressed, "I didn't think I would be gone so long. Karstel already gave me an earful for making you worry, so could we skip the lecture?"

"I'm not going to lecture you," said Sabriel, sitting on the bed next to him, "I just want to know what you've been up to." Her brow furrowed as she stroked his face lightly. He looked so tired.

Though he had looked like he was almost asleep, Touchstone's eyes fluttered open and his hand caught Sabriel's. "I'll tell you as soon as there's something to tell," he said earnestly but cryptically, "There's something I need to do, but I'm playing it close to the chest until I know more. All right?"

"Since when do you keep secrets from me?" Sabriel complained, but Touchstone had closed his eyes again and was asleep in an instant.

Without the heart to wake him, Sabriel waved her hand to dim the Charter mark that lit the room from the ceiling. The sudden darkness made her yawn, and in a moment her hard day of fighting caught up with her. She laid her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped itself around her waist, and they were both deeply asleep in minutes.

Neither of them heard Mogget mutter from his basket, "Humans. Useless."

The next morning, Sabriel awoke to find Touchstone already upright and changed into clean clothes. He was standing by Sabriel's desk, holding one of the letters that had fallen on the floor. The bulk of them remained hidden under the closed desktop, but Touchstone was reading this one with a dark expression on his face.

"What's this?" he asked when he saw that Sabriel was awake.

Sabriel hopped out of bed and snatched the letter away from him. "Private," she said curtly, "If you're allowed to have your secrets, then I'll at least expect you not to go through my things while I'm asleep."

"They want you to go to Ganel," he observed, ignoring her complaints, "Ganel is far away."

The expression on his face was enough to make Sabriel hurry to say, "I'm not going. They can take care of themselves, and there's still so much to do here…" A smile immediately returned to Touchstone's face, and it was almost enough to make Sabriel forget her guilt.

"That's right," he said, "We have to focus on protecting Belisaere before we worry about everywhere else." He threw on a coat and moved toward the door.

"Are you going to disappear all day again?" Sabriel demanded, her hands on her hips and her tone only half-joking.

Touchstone backtracked to tip her chin up for a kiss. "I won't be as long today as last time," he said, "I promise."

"And how long will it be until you can let me in on this little project?" Sabriel asked, but Touchstone was already out the door.

"Be safe, Sabriel!" he called over his shoulder.

Sabriel stuck her head out the door and shouted down the hallway after him, "It's Abhorsen!"

Once again, Touchstone only returned late at night and went straight to sleep without answering any of Sabriel's questions.

It became a pattern over the next few weeks. On some days things would be as they were, with Touchstone planning and helping as always. The Dead continued to retreat, repairs on the castle progressed slowly but surely, and envoys from cities all over the Kingdom arrived to refuse their cooperation with varying degrees of rudeness. But more and more, Touchstone would be absent for days at a time, returning in a worse state after each outing. It was driving Karstel, who considered herself responsible for her liege's safety, to distraction.

"We should follow him one of these days," she confided in Sabriel, "I'd feel better if I just knew where he was going."

Though she inwardly agreed, Sabriel forced herself to say, "No. He deserves not to be treated like a child, even if he's acting like one. Let him play his games."

The next layer of frustration began a week later, when Sabriel was wandering down a hallway that she thought was deserted. Suddenly, she heard voices behind a closed door. Her first thought was that bandits had somehow sneaked into the building, and her hand went to her sword hilt. Then she recognized Touchstone's voice.

For a moment she wondered if she shouldn't intrude on whatever was going on behind the door, but then she screwed up her resolve and reminded herself that this was just as much her home as Touchstone's. There was no room where she was not allowed. Without so much as knocking, she swung the door open and stepped inside.

"… should arrive within the week. We should be able to increase your forces by half. If you've done this much with this ragtag lot, we'll just see what you can do with real trained soldiers." The speaker was a tall, bearded man in red silk. He was shaking hands with Touchstone while Karstel stood in the back of the room like a statue. On a wooden table there stood two goblets and stacks of paper that Sabriel recognized as the plans she had drawn up with Touchstone. Karstel noticed her first, and gave a tiny, apprehensive grimace.

Touchstone was about to reply when Sabriel's entrance distracted him. "Sabriel!" he said guiltily. But he hid his surprise well. He gestured to the man in red, saying, "This is the ambassador from Orchyre. He's just promised us a squadron to add to our guard."

"A pleasure, sir," said Sabriel, nodding to the ambassador but keeping her eyes on Touchstone, "I am Abhorsen."

"Of course you are," said the ambassador as he bowed from the waist, "Your work over the last months has been astounding. Word has reached us in Orchyre. I only hope we can help."

"You already have helped," said Sabriel with real gratitude. After a few more words were exchanged, the ambassador left the room, and there was silence.

Touchstone was the first to speak. "Sabriel, don't take this the wrong way."

He fell silent under Sabriel's glare. "It's Abhorsen," she reminded him with as much patience as she could muster, "Karstel, give us a moment please." Karstel didn't need to be told twice. With a speed that was impressive for her large frame, she slipped past the pair and out the door, leaving Sabriel and Touchstone alone. Only then did Sabriel speak again, "What is this?"

Touchstone had gotten over the initial shock of getting caught, and now he was ready to defend himself. "You were busy," he said, "So I took this meeting on my own. It was at the spur of the moment, otherwise I would have…"

Sabriel shook her head. "Try again," she said, "You knew I wasn't doing anything important today. You didn't even try to include me. In fact, I talked to Karstel not an hour ago, so you must have ordered her not to tell me about this meeting. Are you keeping everything a secret from me now?"

"Don't get carried away," said Touchstone, "It was one meeting, and it went well for a change! We should be celebrating!"

Sabriel wanted to be happy at their change of fortune, but she couldn't let this go. Not yet. "I've been a part of every meeting since the beginning…" she protested.

"Yes, and look how that's gone so far," Touchstone muttered.

There was a pause as Touchstone realized exactly what he had said, and Sabriel felt her lips press so hard together that they disappeared. "Are you saying it's my fault that we haven't gotten the support we hoped for?" she said, her voice rising.

"Of course not," said Touchstone, trying to backpedal, "I just think it's a better move for me to handle these negotiations alone. It makes me seem less reliant on you."

"Maybe you're right. And maybe that's something you should have discussed with me." Sabriel was on the verge of shouting now, even though she knew that wouldn't do either of them any good.

Touchstone didn't give an inch. "I don't need your permission for everything I do," he said, "I made a decision."

"You made a decision to shut me out, just like you've been doing for the last month!" said Sabriel, and shouting now, "I'm sick of it!"

She stormed out, but that night Touchstone came to her full of apologies, and she had to forgive him. They celebrated their small victory that day with a bottle of wine, and fell asleep wrapped around each other. Sabriel wondered if that would be the end of their troubles, but the next day Touchstone was back to sneaking off and dodging her questions. Orchyre came through with their promised soldiers, but the ambassadors from Sindle visited only to dismiss Touchstone out of hand. Even though they were still making progress, the air was tenser than ever in the castle.

More arguments and shouting matches flared up between Sabriel and Touchstone, and though they always forgave each other, Sabriel could feel her resolve weakening with each new slight. "I love him," she sighed to Karstel one day on patrol, as they cleared the last of the Dead out of the city, "But I can't live like this."

Karstel hid her worry badly as she tried to reassure Sabriel. "Everyone goes through good and bad times. We're all just under a lot of stress right now. Stick it out. Things will get better."

Sabriel was prepared to take her friend's advice, but then everything came to a head the next day when Touchstone was about to meet with another envoy. "I wish I could be there," said Sabriel as she saw him off. They had long since decided, rationally and mutually this time, that Touchstone would conduct these meetings alone. To Sabriel's annoyance, the word of the Abhorsen seemed to carry more weight when it wasn't coming straight out of the mouth of a young girl. But she was resigned to it, and she was willing to swallow her pride if it would help their cause.

"It's only temporary," said Touchstone, "They only object to us because it seems improper. Once we're married, it won't matter as much anymore."

Sabriel's smile froze on her face and changed to consternation in a split second. "Wait," she interrupted, "Married? Did I miss something?"

He looked at her, genuinely confused. "Well, of course we're getting married, right?" he laughed nervously, "You love me, I love you; it makes sense."

Sabriel was too flabbergasted to be angry. "Did it ever occur to you that I might want a say in this?" she demanded.

"I didn't think you'd be so opposed to the idea of marrying me," he said, crossing his arms defensively, "I didn't realize it was such an unattractive prospect."

"That's not the point!" Sabriel said, unable to keep the displeasure out of her voice. She tried to control her temper. At this rate, this discussion would soon become a shouting match.

"No," said Touchstone, his voice rising to meet hers, "The point is that I'm trying to get these people – people whose great-grandparents couldn't even remember the last time there was a Royal in Belisaere - to take me seriously as their King. All our plans rest on that, and I'm already at a disadvantage being young, illegitimate, and about two hundred years late. I can't afford to seem like some foolish, love-struck teenager. I need a wife, not a girlfriend."

"Keep this up and you'll have neither!" Sabriel snapped. So much for keeping her temper. "I'm not a piece you can move around the chessboard. I'm the Abhorsen! And in case you had forgotten, I'm trying to get people to take me seriously too. I'm nineteen and raised in Ancelstierre; do you think this is easy for me? That everywhere I go people don't wish I were my father? I need to prove myself! I can't afford to be seen as the King's trophy!" Her blood boiled a little hotter with each word until she had backed Touchstone against a wall and was prodding his chest with her finger. She knew she had to deescalate this fight before it got out of hand, but she just couldn't see straight to do it.

"That's not what I want!" Touchstone protested, looking every bit as enraged as Sabriel felt, "I just want you to keep your promise to me. You said you'd help me reclaim the Kingdom…"

Sabriel interrupted, "And what is it you think I've been doing? I've been here, Torrigan, every day. You saw that letter from Ganel, right? I have a mountain of letters like that! People are begging the Abhorsen to come help them, and I've stayed here with you because you said you needed me. And what have I gotten for it? I'm supposed to be the one you trust, but you just keep getting more distant. I never know what you're up to anymore, or if you even care about me."

"Of course I care about you," said Touchstone through gritted teeth. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself of the fact too. "I love you, Sabriel."

"Abhorsen!" Sabriel shouted, "It's Abhorsen! That's who I am now! It's who I have to learn to be! And instead of doing my job, I'm here taking care of you while you take me for granted. And now you want me to sign up to do this forever? To stay here supporting you while my own duties lie forgotten?"

"Of course not!" said Touchstone, "Stop twisting my words! You can still be Abhorsen after we're married."

"Oh, thanks so much for giving me your permission!" Sabriel spat.

Touchstone slapped a hand to his forehead in exasperation. "You know that's not how I meant it," he said, "Look, if you think you should be out there fighting Dead, then you should go!"

The words hung between them like lead weights for a moment. Then Sabriel said, more quietly this time, "Are you asking me to leave?"

The gravity of the situation had shocked Touchstone out of his rage too. But they had come this far, and neither knew quite how to turn back. "I'd rather you stay," he said weakly.

"But only if I marry you," Sabriel guessed bitterly.

Touchstone grimaced. They both knew his answer, and they both knew what the outcome would be. "Yes," he said, his voice full of regret.

There was nothing left to say. Sabriel turned on her heel and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Author's Note: Man, was this difficult to write. Anyone looking for a challenge should try to break up their OTP in one chapter. It's harder than it looks. But don't worry, this is still a Sabriel/Touchstone fic. Thanks for reading, and please review.