Estora had come to the gardens to get some fresh air. They were so lovely at this time of year, with all the birds singing in the sun and the bees humming lazily from one stand of sweetly scented flowers to the next. It was practically perfect. It had in fact been somewhere here that King Zachary had formally proposed to her, his voice its usual steady calm and his hazel eyes gazing levelly at her as he murmured the words. But there had been no ardent passion behind his speech.

Estora sighed. She had come here to get away from talks of weddings and engagements and Zachary. Out here, in the sunshine, she felt normal – minus her Weapon shadow, of course – and she could almost pretend that she wasn't the queen-to-be of Sacoridia, and that she was back in the past before when her beloved F'ryan was still alive. Ladies-in-waiting and fussing cousins could become such a bore so easily, especially now so close to The Big Day, as her mother liked to call it. Estora could hear her perfectly inside her mind, positively glowing about the prestige her daughter was going to bring to clan Coutre. Just imagine, royal heirs bearing Coutre blood! That was, after all, the reason Zachary was marrying her. He needed an heir, and favour with her father.

A small sparrow hopped insignificantly a few feet from where Estora was standing, and she watched it enviously as it pecked among the leaf litter, unconcerned by her. If only she could be so free, so plain, she might have been able to bypass being so obvious a political pawn. Had she not grown up with the knowledge that she would one day be marrying for alliance with her family, she might have revolted against the idea.

A sound startled the sparrow away. It sounded to Estora like sobbing. Ever sympathetic to the needs of others, she started forward, motioning to Fastion.

"I think there's somebody in there," she muttered to her guard. She took a step forward. "Hello?"

"Wait here, My Lady," Fastion instructed, blocking her path, and the path of any hostile intention towards his charge. Without another sound he swept up the path and round the corner until he was lost behind a large rose bush. Estora waited nervously.

"Your concern is unfounded, My Lady," he informed her upon his return. "There is nobody there."

"I could have sworn –" right at that moment, something brushed roughly past her shoulder, almost knocking her aside. When she looked, nothing could be seen, except maybe a swish of green which may have just been a reflection of the myriad plants surrounding her. Fastion wore a look of slight grievance, but seemed not to have noticed whatever it was that had knocked her, which struck Estora as unusual for a Weapon.

Dismissing it as unimportant, Estora sat on the marble bench that had recently been unoccupied, once again alone with her thoughts. She sat like that for an interminable length of time, just soaking up the sun and the scents on the breeze. They calmed her. Absently, she wondered how Fastion, in his black uniform, could stand the heat, but then she supposed standing in the shade would help somewhat.

Her reflective mood was interrupted by somebody whistling up the path. She could hear boots crunching crisply on the gravel, pausing every now and then, and she imagined their owner stopping to sniff a particularly fragrant bloom or gaze upon a rare specimen of bumblebee.

By and by, around the corner came Lord Amberhill, strolling along as if he had no care in the world, and obviously in a better frame of mind than Estora. His blissful ignorance was punctuated a moment later, however, when Fastion detached himself from his shadow and blocked Amberhill's path. The lord simply smiled at the Weapon.

"Good day to you, Weapon… er… Farris, isn't it?"

"Fastion, My Lord," the Weapon corrected, not showing the slightest hint of annoyance that Lord Amberhill had got his name wrong.

"Well, Fastion, and who are we guarding today?" the roguish noble inquired, trying to peer round Fastion's shoulder.

"He's guarding me, My Lord," Estora smiled from her seat, hiding a small chuckle. "Forgive Fastion, he gets rather zealous occasionally."

Taking this as confirmation that Lord Amberhill was not in fact an intruder, Fastion settled back into his shadow, murmuring a brief apology for disturbing the noble's stroll.

"Not at all, not at all." Lord Amberhill waved him away. "But perhaps next time you would care to remember that most assassins do not whistle. It tends to give the game away," he added, with a wink in Estora's direction. She couldn't help but stifle a laugh and he beamed at her.

"If I may, My Lady?" he checked, gesturing to the seat beside her.

"Of course."

With another smile, he sat down a respectful distance from the queen-to-be, and turned to her attentively. Estora brushed off the sudden urge for him to be closer, and gave him a small smile instead.

"Now, My Lady, may I ask what's wrong?" Lord Amberhill said after a short pause.

Estora was shocked that he had discovered her mood so easily. "What makes you think anything is wrong?" she asked cautiously.

"My dear Lady," Lord Amberhill replied. "When one is at court, one must learn to observe those around one, and to read the emotions of one's fellows." She got the strangest idea that he was mocking her. "I mean no disrespect, of course," he added.

"Of course not." She looked away bashfully, twisting a crease in her dress between her fingers, something her mother would never approve of. Should she tell him what was on her mind?

"In truth, My Lord, I just came for a walk to get away from the closeness of being indoors." It was true enough. "My mother –"

"Ah yes," nodded Lord Amberhill wisely. "The female relatives. I suppose they are all 'in a tizz', as my father used to say, about the Royal Nuptials?" There was that mockery again.

"Indeed, My Lord. And a few I overheard in a most excited state – they were apparently visited by the Raven Mask last night, and had their most priceless family jewels stolen from their very bedchambers." Estora allowed herself a smirk at the silliness of young girls. Then it saddened, remembering how F'ryan had once used to sneak into her chambers in the same fashion.

"So the Raven Mask strikes again?" Lord Amberhill inquired with amusement, an amusement Estora couldn't place. "He gets around a bit, doesn't he?" And already he was planning his next raid, even as he sat there with the innocent queen-to-be.

"It seems so, My Lord," came Estora's laughing reply. He always managed to make her laugh.

He turned to her, his face now serious. "If I may be so bold, My Lady," he began, "Could I trouble you to call me by my first name? We have met so often on walks and talked that I think we are practically friends. And friends often call each other by name."

Estora blushed. The request was innocent enough, but there was something else in his eyes, something more earnest, that made her think that he thought of her in a way completely different to that of a friend.

And suddenly a sense of daring rose up in her heart. Her wedding may be only three days away, but until then, she was free to flirt with whomsoever she chose. Taking a breath, feeling more like a young girl than she had since F'ryan's death, she beamed at Amberhill.

"Very well," she said. "I will do as you ask – on one condition."

"Anything, My Lady," Amberhill assured her, the playful spark back in his voice.

"Come closer, I need to whisper it," was the coy instruction. Amberhill did as her was told, and she held in a giggle as she whispered in his ear, "Call me Estora."

"That is a bold request," he said with mock seriousness. "Is it wise to be speaking in that way with certain shadows around?" He motioned to Fastion behind him, standing anonymously out of the way.

"Weapons have no eyes or ears for an innocent request," Estora replied. "After all, you said we were friends."

Amberhill laughed. "In that case, Estora, I grant you your request."

"And I yours, Xandis." She hadn't expected the small thrill that went up her spine when his name came from her lips. Amberhill must have seen it, for he grinned wickedly.

"I must be off now," he said, abruptly standing. "I'm afraid I have important business to attend to. Be assured though, I enjoyed our little chat immensely." And with a graceful sweep of his arm, he bowed, and took her hand to brush it briefly against his lips. "Until next time, Estora."

Then he was gone, with only the light in his grey eyes lingering. Estora looked after him, with a wistfulness she had thought she never would feel again. As well, of course, as her anger at being left so abruptly. How dare he! Even so, as she gently touched her fingers to the echo Xandis had left on her skin, and resisted the urge to press the back of her hand to her own lips, she realised just how much trouble she was in. Finding love three days before being wed to somebody else was not the smartest of ideas.

With a sigh that now encompassed more melancholy than it had when she had started on her walk, the queen-to-be beckoned to her Weapon to slowly trail up the garden path and back to her anxious family.

From the window above, Zachary had seen everything, including the way that Lord Xandis Amberhill had doubled back to watch Lady Estora as she glided away, her head bowed in mournful contemplation. So, his future bride had formed an attachment, that was clear enough to see. The look on her face as he had left was the same as the one he sometimes let slip when Karigan was running away from him.

Zachary Hillander looked from one to the other, a plan forming in his mind. He needed to make sure of everything, however, before he acted upon it. There was such a small chance, but it was kindling the hope within him higher every second. Had he not been King, he might even have broken out into a broad grin. As it was, he almost ran back to his rooms. There was so little time! He needed to act fast.