The strangest thing was, that because of the iron in Avalyn's system—it had subdued her need to transform. The fey part of her was wounded, and remained dormant as she recovered. She moved slowly but steadily. Jaythen held onto her arm while she walked around the ship just in case she should feel light-headed and fall. He had returned to his regular sleeping hours for she had returned to trusting him fully after what he had done for her in her darkest hour. They shared the tight bed but she slept close, seeming to draw comfort from him and because of that, she didn't have need to steal the covers away. He had to admit he was relieved at her change of heart, and that she had forgiven him. Every time he looked at her he was reminded how thankful he was that she was alive.

Two more days had passed while they traveled by the ship. During the second day, Jaythen emerged on deck to find a thick fog surrounding them.

"Oi, will this delay us?" he called up the deck to the sailor at the helm. He didn't know how long Avalyn's inner-beast would remain within and knew getting to the isles quickly was the most important thing of all.

"Nay, 'tis normal for the isles. There always be fog around the ports—just how it's always been." The man answered. So the sailors knew how to navigate through it? Jaythen rubbed the end of his chin and let that fact settle. A permanent fog—it appeared to look quite eerie.

"When did we arrive in fog?" he heard from behind him and twisted around to see Avalyn looking around the ship.

"What are you doing out here? You should be in bed—" Jaythen chided sternly for he wasn't convinced she was entirely healed. She only smiled pathetically at his concern but did not make a move to go back to bed.

"I wanted some fresh air—I'm not tired in the least," she tried to convince him otherwise.

"I know, but I just don't want you to—I mean the way you were—" he stumbled over his words as she looked upon him. She understood that her accident had shaken him, as was evident by his constant watch over her—but there was something changed within him toward her. Not fear, not respect but an unexplainable feeling she couldn't describe and he didn't even recognize that he had.

The light around them seemed to dull and take on a magenta-colored hue through the fog—it was growing to be evening. Jaythen inwardly smirked and turned to her, "We enter the Evening Isles at evening."

She stared at him. His smirk vanished and was replaced with embarrassment, "I was trying to play on words. I was trying to be clever."

She did smile then, with only an upward twist of one side of her mouth. She nodded, "Yes, I suppose you tried."

The ship passed through two narrow pillars that protruded from the sea.

"Land ahead!" called a sailor from the rigging. Jaythen doubted he could have seen anything through the fog and then realized those pillars must have been an indicator. The crew began to tie sails around them to slow the momentum of their vessel.

"I suppose we should pack up?" Avalyn said; it wasn't really asked as a question but more stated just to say it and have a reason to depart to the belly of the ship. The Captain was out on deck, overseeing the work of his men and spotted Jaythen, then indicated for the young lord to join him on the bridge.

"Lad, I trust you've had a good stay aboard the Atlantian?"

"As well as could be had," Jaythen replied, thinking of the small space and tight bed he had to sleep on.

"Good. When we dock I suppose you and your lady will want to find suitable lodgings. I myself trust the Jeweled Inn in the Evening Garden District. 'Tis a fine place for a young couple and not as expensive as it sounds."

Jaythen nodded, thankful for such a suggestion—after all they were in an entirely different realm that he knew next to nothing about.

The ship slid into the harbor port, a bay area with rocky cliffs before reaching the waterfront docks which were thrice the size of Tierbo's. Jaythen then realized the King's city was on the sea, it was the port and the place of the monarchy's residence.

"Ready?" Avalyn appeared by his side carrying the knapsack over her shoulder and his sword at her side.

He nodded and they stood at the edge, watching the bow slice through the water below. They emerged from the fog and saw a clear view of the city—drenched in a romantic evening light. Perhaps that was the reason it was called the Evening Isles, for Jaythen had never witnessed an evening so beautiful in his entire life.

The ship successfully docked and the two youths bid farewell to the Captain and crew before setting off down the connecting plank and into the port.

The people of the isles didn't look much different from the people of Jaythen's realm. Their skin tones were slightly swarthier, and their hair was darker. Avalyn's golden hair turned a few heads, but most people looked at the ground as they traveled about the city. The crowds were dwindling however, because it was dusk and most were headed home for supper. Jaythen boldly asked a passing stranger how to reach the Garden district. They eyed him suspiciously but gave quick directions and Jaythen did note that there was a native accent to be had on the Isles.

They twisted through the streets until they found a definite, official walkway that led around to the different districts. Through the giant arch of a structure they emerged in what had to be the Garden District for there was more greenery than shelter. A three-story, stone structure that had a sign that depicted a jewel with surrounding stars, was the hint they had made it to their first destination.

They trudged in and Jaythen paid the price for lodgings, which was a good amount but still not as much as it could have been for such a place. They were in time to eat the complimentary meal served in the main smoking room. Jaythen welcomed the taste of home cooking that wasn't biscuit, oatmeal, or unidentified slop from the ship galley. The rooms were nice, decently furnished and the bed looked luxurious compared to the narrow dingy one they had slept on for a week.

"So, how do we find Alys?" he wondered as he pulled off his boots.

Avalyn gave an honest shrug, "I suppose we can ask around."

"We can't take too long though, we're in the middle of a city—" he gave her an urging look to which she regarded with bewilderment. "You can't change to dragon here."

"Oh," she sighed, "Well, I haven't had the angry, nagging feeling inside of me since that night."

"It's not as though we can inject you with iron to subdue it again when it does rise. It was a miracle we had that that potion to heal you in the first place. You should go out tonight and transform—hunt—and then return by dawn."

She furrowed her brow, "Refrain from bossing me around if you will. I will do what I think best and right now, I think it best that I sleep."

She wore an irritated frown but he knew it was because he was right. She was not tired in the least; she had been resting the past two days and was probably itching to hunt something. He knew she was, he had come to know her mannerisms well. She just felt too proud to let him win—after all he had been particularly bossy toward her since that night, but it was for her own well-being. He just didn't want to see her hurt again.

He unbuckled his vest and slipped off his shirt, crawling under the covers, "I'll leave door unlatched for your return."

He caught a glimpse of her huff and then smile slightly, thinking he wouldn't catch it. She did leave and she took his sword with her just in case there was anything to trifle with her on the streets before she made it outside the city walls.

The night was quiet, there was no wind—just the calm of the season. There were not crickets either, or if there were they were not in the city for none of their chirps could be heard. Jaythen slept soundly but awoke slightly upon Avalyn's return. She had returned and he could make out her silhouette in the slight moonlight through his cracked eyelids. She laid his sword to the ground and then removed her dress, though all her details were shadowed and unseen. Then, she curled herself into the sheets on the other side of the bed. Jaythen closed his eyes, thinking it were just a wishful dream.

In the dawn he was the one to wake first. He yawned and rubbed his face groggily while running his hand through his hair and peered over at the girl with green eyes. She had stolen the blankets, yet again—but as he saw the bare flesh of her shoulder and arm peeking over them—he knew why she had. She had lain with him while naked, and it sent a shiver of something through him. It had been real—she had undressed before sleeping. What did it mean?

He coughed a few times and prodded her shoulder, trying not to imagine what he knew to be under the covers but failing. Her eyes fluttered open and she turned her head, sleepy but curious as to why he was bothering her so early.

He coughed again, his attention on her face again, "You're naked."

She looked at herself, "Yes."

"Why?"

"You try wearing that itchy peasant dress for weeks without a washing. I'd rather not contaminate this lovely bed with whatever it carries. Besides, now you have incentive to buy me some proper undergarments."

"Only if you don't destroy them this time," he remembered she had done so to her last pair after they had departed from the Imperial City.

"I'll try not to," she gave a yawn and turned her back to him and fell back asleep. She had must have been out very late after all. He took that as a hint that he had to go out into the market and shop for ladies under-coverings by himself. He sighed and took a breath of morning air, got up, got dressed, and emptied out the knapsack so he could use it to carry back any goods he should buy.

He found his way to the market district and began to look for clothes. He could use an extra set for all he had was his breeches, linen shirt, and his buckled vest from Scharberlutes. He was used to wearing a different outfit every day but for the past month had been wearing the same clothes. Sometimes they were washed, but usually he could feel the sweat and dirt beneath them on his skin—it felt quite uncomfortable. Although, he noted that his threshold for discomfort had risen significantly, what with his sleeping in hard places and bathing infrequently.

A cathedral's bells began to ring loudly, signifying the end of a mass. He strolled toward the sounds, reminded of home when the bells of the church rang every Sunday. He hadn't heard bells for what seemed a lifetime. A mass of peasants were gathered at the entrance, on their knees and begging.

"What is that all about?" he asked to a person that was standing nearby, gawking.

"On the Sunday Dawn, her Majesty gives gold to the poor. They start gathering in the dark just to get a chance to receive a piece of wealth."

He nodded, the beggars were opportunists—they had to be with so little.

The crowd grew and more of the poor gathered over each other, trying to scramble for the prize.

Out of the doors emerged her Majesty, and Jaythen's heart stopped beating as he remembered that his beloved Nicolette was exactly that, to the Evening Isles. That was why he was looking straight at her so suddenly. She was gorgeous, regal, as she walked along the rows of bowed poor, giving them pieces of Gold. She had many attendants following her. He couldn't believe he was actually looking upon her again.

His feet moved forward and he reached the end of the line. Knowing he couldn't embrace her in public as she was now a figure to be respected. She would probably run out of gold coin by the time she passed the place he stood but he didn't want the gold coin, he wanted to let her know that he was there. Every part of him was bustling with tension, at anticipating her reaction to him.

He bowed slightly, but not as low as the beggars—showing their humbleness toward royalty.

"Your majesty, 'tis a pleasure to see you again," he said as she passed him without a second glance. He looked to the ground the whole while, waiting for her to recognize him. She halted her steps, seeming to know his voice and turned to stare at him. Only for a few seconds though, for she returned on her path. His heart sort of sank in disappointment.

The crowd dissipated and he watched her go, onward towards the palace as she exchanged words with an attendant. Words he could not hear as she was so far away. What would he have to do to get her attention? He saw a stand of fruits and vegetables and momentarily thought of throwing one at her to get her to notice him but figured pelting the Queen with a tomato would cause him some serious trouble.

He could try gaining an audience with her but no doubt would be directed to another palace herald like he was in the Imperial City. He never realized how useful his status was as a noble until it was taken away due to his false death and lack of highbred threads. He continued to look for clothes and undergarments through the market—for that was the reason he was there, though Nicolette was fresh on his mind, constantly distracting his thoughts. He ended up finding undergarments for Avalyn, and buying them despite odd looks from the seller—they probably wondering why a man was buying ladies' underwear. He also found a new shirt and a pair of breeches for himself. Since Avalyn had complained about her dress, he also purchased a new one that was spun of less rough material for her to wear. He was satisfied to know that the purse of gold the Saint Toby's Lad had given them was hardly empty after his purchases.

He folded the garments as best as he could and somehow managed to put them in the knapsack—hoping they wouldn't wrinkle too quickly.

He turned to head back to the inn but a hand grabbed his arm, and he faced a rough looking man—rough but official as seen by his garments.

"You will come with me, sir."

"What is the meaning of—?"

"Silence!"

The man pulled him forward and Jaythen was suddenly very frightened. He hadn't done anything wrong! Why was he being taken? Who was this man? He was pulled along the street but refrained from shouting for help, not that the citizens of the city could help. He saw a long sword sheathed at the man's waist, and that was what kept him quiet, for the man looked like he knew how to handle it. He wished he had his own sword, but he left it at the inn—thinking it unlikely he would be hauled off in the middle of the day by a brute of authority. They finally stopped at a door underneath an over-passing, walkway. The man knocked roughly and the door opened into a corridor. He followed the man, his mind in a whirl—wondering if he was only a few minutes from his own death. Funny, he never expected it this way. He thought for sure it would be by a dragon, a bandit, his own cousin but never by the hand of a foreigner and for an unexplained reason no less. It wasn't fair to not know of his crime.

Avalyn would probably think he had abandoned her, and she would still be without her undergarments—would she find Alys? He hoped so. At least she was far away from the woman in white.

They stopped in front of another door, and Jaythen had to shake away his thoughts to concentrate on what was happening. What was happening anyway? The man was not murdering him yet. He only knocked on the door and they waited.

Jaythen bit the inside of his cheek with burning curiosity and impatience, hating this man for dragging it out, torturing his mind with questions. The door was opened and they emerged into a grandly decorated room. It was a modest sized space but overbearing He blinked a few times from the bright light of the chandelier above his head, and looked around at the murals and the white gold floor beneath his feet. There was the pleasant smell of incense—of apple spice, which calmed his nerves. This was no place to murder a man. The man in question hastily left through the same door, closing it behind him and he could barely tell it was even a door for it was disguised as part of the wall of the room.

"Jaythen Calonsis," he heard his name and whipped his head around, wide-eyed, finally noticing the lady that occupied the space as well. She was sitting, stretched out on a lounge bed, looking quite comfortable. Her dress was lavish and long, a royal purple color that contrasted against the lovely cream color of her skin and also caused her auburn hair to stand out. Her voice held a sort of purr that he had known only one girl to ever use when she spoke his name.

"Nicolette."

A/N: Sorry, but this probably makes me evil again :/