Disclaimer: not mine
A/N: Don't kill me, I'm really sorry for the delay of about... one year, I had the first part all written out but only finished the second part today :) Plz accept this chapter as a peace offering...
The great doubles doors slammed behind them, cutting them off from the rest of the nobles. Kel stopped walking, knees beginning to tremble – would have fallen if not for Neal's arm around her. Once she caught her balance again, she quickly separated herself from him, trying not to think about how good it had felt. "I think we need to talk," she said quietly. "Not here," she added, as Neal opened his mouth, "But I know a place where we won't be interrupted."
As Kel led the way, it soon became apparent to Neal that they were not heading towards the residence wing of the palace, as he'd expected. "Where are we going?" he asked, puzzled.
"To the Northern gardens," she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Nobody goes there at night, especially when there's a party going on."
Neal stopped in his tracks. "Kel, there's a reason to that. The Northern gardens are dangerous at night – in fact, they shouldn't even be classified as 'gardens'. It's filled with poisonous plants, swamps, and various small, bad-tempered immortals."
The girl only shrugged. "It's not that bad," she tossed over her shoulder without even breaking stride. "You're not scared, are you?"
"No," Neal replied quickly, too quickly. From what he could see of her face, she was smirking in a manner that reminded him rather uncomfortably of Joren of Stone Mountain, and he realized that he'd been tricked. Now he could not refuse to go to the gardens or he would be immediately branded as a coward.
She was hurrying now, lifting her skirts off the ground so not to trip over them. Neal had to run to catch up with her, throwing up his arms in exasperation. Yep, same old Kel, as stubborn and fearless as that strawberry roan she used to have as a page. Same old sadistic, vegetable-obsessed Kel. All too soon, they arrived in front of the iron-barred gate leading into the Northern Gardens. The gate was a beautiful creation, really, if one did not know what lay beyond it.
Neal sighed, and grasped the bolt of the gate which felt cold against his palms. He had to reach up to do it, and even with both hands the block of iron slid painfully slowly, making a grating sound. And then she had moved his hands aside and placed her own on the bolt, and with no visible effort the gate was unlocked. She turns her head around to raise a brow at him in unconcealed amusement. For the first time, he's glad that it's dark, so the blush on his cheeks wouldn't be that noticeable.
She pushes the gate open, holds it for him as he steps into the gardens, then gives him a mock bow – like the ones they were taught when they were pages together all those lifetimes ago. He briefly wondered how much of that year she still remembered, he remembered every single moment of it. But then again, he'd been fifteen at the time, and she'd only been ten. That had been around four years ago. Does she have a new best friend now? he mused with a tinge of jealousy.
She lets the gate slam shut with a clang that broke through his thoughts. "So," she says awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, "what would you like to know?"
"I want to know why you never wrote. I want to know where you've been all this time," he replied suddenly consumed with an inexplicable anger, his tone sounding harsh even to his own ears. She flinched, and he regretted his words immediately, but was too irate in that moment to apologize.
She was staring at him, her head tilted to one side in that way she had, her hands on her hips. Although the intensity of the stare unnerved him, he couldn't help feeling smug satisfaction that she still had to look up at him. "I'm sorry," she said, cutting through his meddled thoughts. When he didn't react, she said it again, almost shouting this time.
Still, he did not answer, and frustrated, she strode up to him until they were only a few inches apart. "I know that 'sorry' does quite cut it, and I could say it a thousand times and it still wouldn't be enough, but couldn't we please just go back to the way were!"
Now he was the one who was staring at her, watching the tears well up and start to slide down her face. And then she reached out a hand and took a swing at him. Stunned, he jumped backwards to avoid it, and felt himself fall…
Well, it wasn't quite falling; it was more like plummeting in slow motion, or being eaten a bit at a time. First his feat sank into the mud, then his ankles were swallowed up with a gurgling sound. He wind-milled his arms for balance, he twisted and writhed, but nothing seemed to work. Within moments his knees had disappeared too, and in a few more he was up to his waist in slippery slimy goo. Distantly he heard a high-pitched voice cursing with a creatively that would have had left even the Lioness speechless.
"Neal! Neal!" someone was yelling and he felt something jab into his chest. He grabbed onto it automatically and felt himself being towed forward through the mud and back to the surface. When he was close enough to dry ground, a hand reached out dragged him to safety.
He landed on his knees, the palms of his hands flat against the ground, mouth open and panting. It was a while before he looked up and saw the girl bending over him. "Kel…"
She wasn't looking at him anymore, but seemed be examining the patch of clover beside her feet. "Are you alright?" she asked quietly.
He nodded, "Yes, but Kel –"
"Let's go," she whispered, walking up to the gate and holding it open for him like before, although there was no mock bow, no trace of humour in the situation. Not knowing what else to do, he passes through, wondering whether this was all a dream.
And then she was running as fast as she could, through the gate herself, past Neal, down the corridors, up and down flights of stairs, not exactly knowing where she was going, only wanting to forget the events of the night, wanting to forget what had almost happened to Neal, and wanting to forget her role in it.