He did not call out her name, he did not try to dissuade her from the unknown path she was taking, he could only follow her. She walked hurriedly through the streets to nowhere in particular, or so he thought. The houses and shops steadily dwindled around them as he pursued her into the city gardens. Prition was a wealthier city, known for its culture and public works, among other venues of entertainment. Though the garden they were in was by far smaller than the sprawling lushness that he had seen while in the Imperial City, it was still beautiful, with blooming blossoms on the trees. Avalyn had stopped in the middle of a grassy knoll with her back still turned on him. He cautiously approached her, taking a swallow before saying softly, "I apologize for upsetting you."

She took a shaky breath—her shoulders visibly trembling before she turned to face him, "Perhaps you should be told—its just that my mother—I have not spoken of her—" she shook her head, losing her thoughts in mid-sentence. Her emotions—once confined to show through her eyes only—had broken free and were apparent in her whole face. Pained.

He stepped forward and took her hand, "If it causes you pain, then I wish not to hear it, and promise not to bring it up again," she only looked at the grass beneath her feet, unconvinced, it seemed, "—but just know I am here to listen if you feel the need of unburdening yourself."

She had been looking at the ground but upon his words she slowly glanced up, something in her eyes flickered, considering him.

"I do want to, and up until this moment I don't think I could have ever found the words to do so."

She slowly sank to the grass and lay on her back, staring up at the sky—which was clear and sprinkled with stars. He took a seat across from her, patiently waiting for her to find the words to tell him about the peculiar mother, Alys.

"It has been hard for me to say what I feel for her. On one hand, she is my mother and I should give her the benefit of the doubt and seek her out for answers. On the other hand, she abandoned me with loathsome caretakers, so why should I care about her if she has stopped caring about me?"

He assumed her question was rhetorical, which it was as she paused with a sigh, "I fear that if I do find her, that she will confirm the latter."

"What was your childhood like with her?"

"I was very young when she left me, but before that day—she must have held an affection for me, no matter how small or great it was. It was only we two, for she once told me my father had died in a dragon attack before she even knew she was pregnant with me. She cared for me, made sure I had enough to eat. We played games. She read me stories and in turn taught me to read. She often said clever things. I thought she was the bravest lady in the world."

Avalyn rolled onto her side with her head lying on her arm and looked at the young lord, "But she was always troubled too. She never mentioned the reason or rhyme but even at four years old I could tell she was. We went many places, never staying for long—she had a wealth to start with but it diminished over our travels until finally, one day we found ourselves out of money and at the farmer's cottage near the Great Forest."

Jaythen leaned over and laid on the flat of his back, saddened by her tone—which had started her recollection with happy nostalgia—and turned to bitterness.

"She told me 'Avalyn, you behave yourself. I promise I shall return for you as soon as I have the chance.' Then she unclasped her amulet and gave it to me. I thought it was a promise but now it only seems made of false hopes. I've not seen or heard from her since then."

Her gaze turned to Jaythen suddenly, "I don't understand how someone can care for another and promise such a thing and then not keep it. What did I do to deserve such a fate? Perhaps she knew what I was to become, and did not want to deal with me when it happened."

"What if she is dead? What if that is the reason you haven't seen her after all this time?"

She paused briefly, as though she had never considered it but he knew she wasn't a fool, she had many years to consider the possibility. "That is what I aim to find out, if I cannot find her, I can at least find out what has happened to her."

From where his head lay, he was on level with her gaze. She was studying him in some way and he felt that if he stared in return for too long that he would be lost in her eyes forever. He blinked slowly, feeling the weight of the festivities hit him.

"Jaythen," he heard his name in a whisper.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember when you told me that you would—in return for my participation of your engagement charade—give me anything my heart desired?"

He opened his eyes to see her expression. Her thoughtfulness had changed to something else that made the hairs on his arms stand despite the temperate evening air. "Yes, and I still hold to my promise—"

"Kiss me."

His eyes widened, wondering what would compel her to request such a thing. He moved closer and brushed an obscuring, loose strand of gold away from her face, "May I ask why?"

"Because you are the only one that I can trust."

It wasn't much of an answer but nevertheless, he leaned over to oblige her request and keep to his promise. First he kissed her bottom lip, then the corners of her mouth—both in fairly quick but meaningful movements. Such privileged touch encouraged him to want more. He pulled her against him, as he laid back into the grass and gave her the kiss she deserved—slower, filled with his unspoken feelings of adoration. He had resisted falling into any romances because of what Nicolette had done to his heart—refused to—and now as he held the girl with green eyes in his arms, knew that even if he wanted a romance with such a girl as her it would be truly impossible.

Even though he had his eyes closed in that moment he was so suddenly aware of everything about her. The way her lips were even softer than her skin, and the way her eyelashes tickled his face as their tips brushed against his cheeks. The movement of her fingers through his hair, unintentionally mussing it sent a pleasurable tingling through his scalp. Most of all, he was aware the way her body was relaxed against his, when before it had only ever been held with tension when touched. She truly must have trusted him.

She pulled away slowly—reluctant to end such a moment. He still wanted more of her and leaned forward, wrapping his long arms around her and pulling her back to him with an unintentional possessiveness—though to claim her was an impossible act in itself.

Her hand stopped his lips from returning to her, so he ended up meeting them to her palm. He took in a dejected breath, letting his desires settle to calm, "What's wrong? Is it not what you expected?"

"No," she shook her head and didn't meet his stare. She removed her hand, "It was actually, very—wonderful."

"Then why—?"

She looked upon him then, troubled, though giving no clue to why, "I only asked for a kiss—one kiss. I won't abuse your promise."

He leaned forward to kiss her again. In his mind, he thought that she could abuse it as much as she wanted and he wouldn't mind. It was hard for him to believe that she was not consumed with as much bliss that he had felt while their lips were connected. Her hand covered his mouth from doing anything more.

"You love someone else anyhow—" she placed her other hand onto her forehead, trying to cool it of it's the heated flush. She blinked a few times, her breath coming short—seeming to still hold something in, "and they will surely want your kisses for themselves."

She stood abruptly but he was shocked at her assessment, and grabbed her hand to keep her from leaving. She looked down upon him in question—he could still see some sort of embarrassment flooded in her cheeks. "How would you know that I'm in love with someone else?"

She looked away and tugged her hand back, "There's a look you get about you sometimes—when your thoughts have focused inward and you are lost to the present."

He was puzzled at her response, and his face showed it. She sighed and continued, "It's a look of love."

"How would you even know?"

"My mother got that look about her often, because my father was gone. I asked her about it once, but then her face turned to that other look."

"What other look?"

"You also have it—directly after your look of love fades—when it seems as though a part of you has died."

He understood that she could see when he was thinking of Nicolette. He had no clue his face betrayed so much, or how carefully Avalyn had been studying him.

She was done explaining and so turned to go back to their room at the inn. She had taken a few steps before he said in a croaky voice, "Her name is Nicolette."

All his pent up rage and sadness slipped out of him then, as if saying her name out loud—to another being had unlocked that box of secrets within him. Avalyn stared dismayed as she saw him bury his face in his hands and give a prolonged, hurtful bellow.

To his own revulsion, he felt a wetness touch his eyes and hands. His chest felt so tight thinking of the recent past. It hurt him how he had something so wonderful and then could not have it anymore. The longer he had Nicolette, the more attached he had become and therefore was harder to part with. What infuriated his love the most, was knowing that some strange man, some prince who did not know her was also allowed to have the same love. Love was supposed to be unique and hers was supposed to be his, not that royal from the Evening Isles. He loved her better and in the end, he was punished for it. His thoughts were rolling heatedly through his head, blurring all his senses into a great but dark emotion.

He felt a cool softness touch his upper arm and peeked at events in reality through his fingers—Avalyn was standing close beside him with a sad but concerned expression. She tugged his hands away from his face and dabbed the wetness from his eyes with the tip of her dress, before sitting onto her knees next to him, "Tell me."

They sat in the grass until the moon was high. Slowly he untangled the emotions and his affairs with the princess into coherent words. To his surprise, Avalyn listened intently with a hard stare and wasn't exasperated by his woes or excessive praise of another female. He knew that a girl like Vitoria would have strangled him by then if she were in Avalyn's place. He sucked in a breath as he finished, "You're the only person in the world that knows."

Her legs were pulled under her, and she sat back on her heels with her arms wrapped around her knees. She was biting into her lower lip in thought, "Love causes so many problems."

Her answer wasn't one that he would have expected.

"But the fulfillment, pleasure, and bond you get from such a feeling, it seems worth it all," he admitted, recalling those feelings that he would never have again with the princess.

She raised a brow, not fully comprehending. They stared at each other in a most mystified way, until he realized something startling.

"Avalyn, have you ever been in love?"

She shook her head no.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, suddenly deeply saddened, "Has anyone ever loved you?"

It was a harsh question, and that time she didn't even say or do anything but look away—silently confirming that she hadn't known love, even in its smallest capacity.

He felt horrible for complaining to her about something she hadn't even experienced—there was no way for her to sympathize. Still, something didn't make sense to him about it.

"Why did you want me to kiss you?"

Her eyes flashed onto him instantly, showing that she was much more intelligent and less naïve of the world than she would seem to be, "You don't have to love someone to kiss them." She pulled herself upward, "I merely wanted one, to know what it was like—and—"

He drew nearer seeing an uncertainty reach her eyes.

"And—?"

She sighed, "I've never been able to bring myself to get close to anyone. I was abandoned, abused, and then I found I could be dragon—which I feared that if anyone should discover it, they would surely destroy me. The farmers and their children, and anyone else I have known, even my own mother—do not know me—to them I am just the girl with green eyes."

He was starting to understand her reasoning, noticing also how the wind had picked up and was tugging strands of her hair from it's loose bun, framing her sad eyes.

She actually stepped closer to him, concentrating more on her feet than the young lord in front of her, "But to you—Jaythen—I am Avalyn. You know more about me than any other person on this earth, and it is so because I trust you."

All at once he was grateful and moved at her admission. He grabbed her into a tight embrace— the desire to kiss her had diminished and was overcome with a desire to comfort her—realizing she also knew much more about him than anyone else. She buried her face into his shirt, with her eyes closed and finally, a peaceful look about her. In his glancing instance, something struck him so deep about her—a distant feeling from long ago but somehow seemed completely new.

As he embraced her, he tried to remember what it meant but ended up lost in his mind with one truth shining above all—they had to find her mother because Avalyn deserved to be loved.