The dawn's light was creeping through the window of the small room, engulfing Jaythen's sleeping form. He grumbled and turned over to avoid the sunlight, wishing for a few moments of more rest. He found himself rolling to the other side of the bed to escape the brightness but noticed something was amiss. He should have rolled into Avalyn—but no one was there. He opened his eyes quickly and sat up, seeing he really was the only one in the bed. He yawned and began to don his clothes and hurried downstairs whilst still doing so. He shouldn't have been worried about the girl, but felt though their conversation last night had ended on a bad note. Marv was sweeping the entrance of the bookshop, whistling to himself.

"Ah, good morning lad. I have a breakfast plate made up for you—eggs, bacon, and potato shavings."

"Thank you," Jaythen replied. He was still tying the strings of his shirt, "Where is Avalyn?"

"She went out, I think she wanted to see the rest of the city—for memories—before you depart and continue forth."

"Did she say where she was going?"

"All she mentioned was out."

Jaythen sat himself at the table in the lower room and heartily ate the breakfast that was prepared for him. He noticed that Marv lived alone, and took care of the place well enough.

"Have you ever had a wife?"

Marv paused from his sweeping and peered down the shallow stairs, "No, never found myself a lass I favored."

It was obvious that Marv had favored a girl—Alys—but she was untouchable. He gave Marv a look of sympathy.

"I suppose I'm happy the way I am, besides I hear wives nag often," Marv said to lift Jaythen's sudden melancholy expression on his behalf.

It had worked. Jaythen smirked, but still felt bad for the man. Going to bed with a warm body was almost worth the nagging that could ensue after marriage.

He finished up his meal and bid Marv a temporary farewell as he set off into the city. Of course he wanted to find Avalyn and make sure she was not getting set upon by thieves, but he had the feeling she could take care of herself for the time being.

His main purpose was to visit the palace—to hear news of Nicolette—and to warn the King of Halden's offense.

He ambled along the street, seeing familiar structures that brought a pained nostalgia for anything that reminded him of his previous stay, also reminding him of the princess that had loved him. When he arrived at the King's palace, he tried entering the grand hall through the noble's entrance but was halted by castle guards.

"You must see a palace herald to gain entrance to the hall," the guard pointed away, denying Jaythen.

"But I am the son—the Count of Wendbury!" he objected, remembering he was in theory, the count—though he had not been properly bestowed the title yet in a traditional ceremony.

The guard raised his hand to Jaythen, as if he were dealing with a conniving commoner, "Watch your tongue! Your claim is null if you expect to gain entrance with such paltry clothes that look so beneath that station of prestige. Be gone or else see a palace herald to cry your woes."

Jaythen bit his tongue from cursing the guard, never in his life having being so mistreated or disrespected by someone of lower order. He whirled around and stomped off to find the common room, a place right before the grand hall general palace entrance, usually filled with peasants or artisans wanting access into the court.

As he figured, it was busy, filled with a small crowd, shouting and scrambling to gain the attentions of any palace heralds behind the stands.

Waiting by politely for his turn would not help his intentions either. He wiggled his way through two portly merchants and a widow holding a piece of parchment to the front. The widow smacked him on the top of his head with her rolled up parchment and merely glowered at his rudeness.

"Oi, herald!" he whistled through his teeth to the nearest one. The man behind the stand regarded Jaythen as inferior but moved away from his former business with a peasant to aid Jaythen.

"What do you require?"

"I need to see the King."

The Herald's lips slid over his teeth in a grin of mockery, "None of your kind gets to meet with the King. Are you mad?"

"I am the Count of Wendbury!" Jaythen balled his fist and struck the top of the stand, causing a quiet to spread through the room.

The herald looked stricken at the young lord's outburst but then knotted his eyebrows, "You are not Felixan Calonsis."

Jaythen sighed, "Felixan was my father, and he has passed away very recently. I'm Jaythen Calonsis. I beg of you to check the posted treasury count, for the King received the compensation from his will if you do not believe me."

The Herald listened intently and nodded, "Then why are you here, dressed so beneath your class?"

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, "There was an act of betrayal, of treachery. I must inform the King that the count's nephew had tried to assassinate me and has run me out of Wendbury, has taken my place as count and has led all others to believe I am deceased."

After a moment of considering silence the herald sighed rather doubtfully, "That is a fascinating story but I'm afraid without any proof of this occurrence you cannot gain entrance to the grand hall."

He then handed Jaythen a piece of parchment and an inked quill, "If you write these grievances, I can assure they will eventually be taken to the King."

Eventually, Jaythen thought with sarcasm. He angrily wrote of his situation, of Halden's betrayal, and his father's death. He did not forget to sing the King's praises, playing on the King's pride for order—which Halden, being unprepared for countship, ruined. When he was finished, the herald folded the parchment and stamped it with wax, handing it off to a messenger boy. The herald raised a brow at the young lord, "Are you quite finished here?"

Jaythen gave a hard nod and turned his back to leave but then suddenly whirled around, placing his hands on the stand, "What news of her highness, Princess Nicolette?"

The herald seemed surprised he would inquire about such a thing, but he cleared his throat, "She is not a princess anymore."

Jaythen knotted his brows in confusion, needing for the man to elaborate.

"She is Queen of the Evening Isles. She departed here in January and was wed later in the month there. I suppose you would have already known this as being privy to court matters—"

There was something very insulting about his tone, so Jaythen left the common room for good.

His heart felt sluggish after hearing it said by another—that she was wed, she was gone—it was final. He slumped to a crude wooden bench against a building to collect his thoughts.

He didn't know how much time passed while he brooded with his head in his hands, recalling all his memories with the former princess. The hue in the sky might have changed from morning to afternoon—the sun felt higher as the heat was above his head more so than any other place.

"Pardon me, Sir," a gentle voice broke his thoughts. He dragged his hands over his face before looking at the speaker—a lady dressed in a white gown. She was a lovely, raven-haired damsel, she seemed regal, and she was smiling at him, coaxing him to reply.

"Yes?"

"I am new to the city and was trying to find my way to the gardens. I was wondering if you knew the way or direction I should take and kindly point me there?"

Jaythen knew the way very well, he stood and tried to explain the path she should take but couldn't find the words to describe it clearly. He stood with his hands held out, trying to think of a better way to explain—but he was not in the mood to think coherently.

She merely smiled at his idiocy and looped her arm through his. It caught him off guard—what a very Nicolette-like thing to do.

"Since words fail you, you may show me the way," she purred charmingly. He nodded, wondering why she was taking such an interest in him. He did not look noble at the moment and he was behaving like a fool. Perhaps she only found him amusing, nothing more.

He navigated them through the plaza and around a series of housing structures for the well-off citizens of the city. She stared forward with a pleased expression all the while. He only studied her, noting the tight grip on his arm did not match the curve of her placid smile or the way her pretty face seemed to have a hidden scorn.

"What business do you have in the gardens?" he wondered.

"I am searching for someone," was all the reply she gave.

He shrugged and suddenly his ears perked at a familiar sound. They neared the open gates of the gardens and he recognized Avalyn's voice, singing. He quickened his pace forward, taking the woman in white with him. She voiced no objections and followed along. He looked through the hedges and the blooming bushes of roses and halted as he spotted the girl with green eyes, sitting on the ledge of the Aquarius Fountain, leaning over and running her hand through the water as she sang.

"Oh, what a pretty song!" the woman in white gushed, causing Avalyn to gasp and stop singing immediately, turning around to face them. She was struck surprised and unaware at their approach. Jaythen caught a glimpse of crimson in her face as she pulled herself upward and made a nervous, trivial curtsy.

"Good day."

He wished the woman would have not interrupted the song, it was rare to hear Avalyn sing, and when she did—it was beautiful.

"How did you find me?" Avalyn narrowed her eyes, causing the woman to look taken aback.

"I was escorting this lady, to help her find her way to the gardens. Finding you here is a coincidence although this would be the first place I would have looked if I had made the effort," Jaythen let the woman off his arm and she looked at them curiously.

"You two know each other?"

"Avalyn is my fiancée," Jaythen explained out of recent habit, but Avalyn was staring at the woman and too caught up in her own thoughts to object to the lie.

"Ah," the woman nodded with a hint of knowing but did not comment how he was careless to have let his fiancée wander off, unescorted in the Imperial City. He was a careless husband-to-be—even though it was all a pretend.

Avalyn stood abruptly and grabbed his upper arm, "Let us go back."

"But—"

"Please?"

He looked down upon her and was startled at the urgency in her voice, he had never seen her so anxious. He bowed to the woman in white, "Good day, I do hope you find whoever you were searching for."

The woman in white only smiled slyly, "Thank you, I guarantee you I will."

Avalyn was pulling on his arm rather roughly and she seemed upset. She stared forward, only seeming to want to be back at the bookshop.

"What's wrong? I'm sorry if I startled you—you can go back if you wanted to spend more time there—"

She flipped herself around, causing him to nearly stumble over her, her eyes were wide, suspicious "Where did you meet her?"

"Who?"

"The woman in white."

He stared at her hard, trying to discern her tone of inquiry, "Why?"

"Never mind," she huffed and continued in the direction of the bookshop.

He caught her arm, "What are you on about? You can't be jealous of her. I merely was helping a lost woman!"

Avalyn glared at him fiercely, "I am not jealous."

He rolled his eyes at the way she nearly whined her previous retort.

She quickly left him, trying all her might to return to Marv's comforting residence. He hurried along to keep up with her.

Marv was helping a set of customers in finding a book to purchase when Avalyn nearly flew through the front door followed by the young lord. She ran upstairs and threw herself across the bed they had slept in, the sheets still turned down from when Jaythen awoke. He entered reluctantly, bewildered at her sudden behavior. With a sigh, he sat next to her.

"I know it is hard for you to stay in human shape. We shall leave tomorrow and then you can change and the anger will leave you—" he placed a hand on her back, feeling her heart beat violently, thrashing her whole body.

"It's not that," she spoke quietly after she took in few breaths.

"Then what has caused you to act so strangely?"

"Her."

"Avalyn, I hardly even know her—" he nearly chuckled at her ridiculousness in thinking he would be so quickly taken with a strange lady.

"I do."

His smile faded, bewildered once more. He titled his head in curiosity, waiting for her to elaborate.

"When I was younger and still with my mother, I had nightmares—silly really—of a white witch."

He shook his head, indicating that he still was not getting what she was trying to explain to him.

"A woman in white."

"This was a coincidence, and besides those were only your childhood night frights—"

"No, because that woman you entered the garden with, she was the one in my nightmares."

He opened his mouth to reason that it still was unlikely the woman posed them any harm but she stopped him.

"I saw her when we were in Prition too—when I was out at market buying undergarments. I only saw her for a second, which made me believe my eyes were playing tricks on me, so I dismissed it but now I know she is real."

She sat up from her laying position and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, "She is following me."

Her suspicions and fears about the woman in white seemed preposterous to Jaythen. Avalyn had never seen her before Prition, Jaythen not at all—so how could she have found Avalyn if it wasn't all just coincidence? Then again, there seemed to be a great many secrets within Avalyn, being revealed little by little—he supposed this to be one of them. He smiled slightly—recalling how he used to wonder what she often dreamed about, finding he had an answer, though odd as it was.

Despite her unsound fear, he took her in his arms and embraced her to make her feel safe—to let her know that he wouldn't leave her. She accepted it gladly, still looking like she was in a far off place—blank to the reality around them.

After a moment, he ended his embrace, and held her by her shoulders to look at her. He didn't want to sound patronizing but he was still curious— "Supposing this isn't a coincidence, what do you believe this 'woman in white' wants from you?"

Life entered her eyes once more, returning from its journey elsewhere within. She looked up to him, and held his gaze.

"My mother."

A/N: Whew, this story is a tangle of mystery.