Fun fact: Like Hanso, I didn't know my mom's name either, going with her nickname instead. Then I saw her passport. After that, I began getting paranoid and even asked some of my aunts: "So what's your real name?" :P

Anyway, I think you guys have pretty much caught on to what Charlie's (and Hanso's) family 'theme' is, right? Basically, the British royal family. Probably inspired by me obsessively watching the Royal Wedding last year. Anyone catch the 'William and Catherine' thing? Though that's definitely NOT how I picture how the official couple acts like. I just wanted to use their names. :D

Also, I'm sorry to say that regular updates won't be ensured for awhile. I have about five projects that are due soon. In fact, I can only start guaranteeing regular updates starting March 16 (I'll try to update before that, though).

The Month of Swimming (July) Age 10

Week 1

Liz.

Lizzie.

Elizabeth.

How could I not have caught that? Okay, I'll cut myself a bit of slack. Mom being a rich kid….well, it's a bit hard to believe. She's not like any of the girls I've seen so far here. But there were so many hints, and to be honest, it cleared a few things up: Why she always made me be polite to other people; how she didn't talk a lot other thieves besides Dad, Marie, and a few select friends; why she was fond of Charlie in the first place.

And why she ran away.

But let's back up here. I didn't have time to finish last week's entry—I'll write down the reason for that here, too. Where was I? Oh, yeah….

"Hello, little brother," Mom said finally. "Long time no see."

There was quiet again. Charlie and I stared at her, trying to digest what she just had said. Did she call William, Charlie's dad, little brother? But that's impossible. It would mean that…that she was a rich kid. And that we were cousins. I nearly choked on the word. Cousins. Charlie's awesome and all, but...well, he's a rich kid. To thieves, that's like a synonym for helpless.

"Little brother?" Catherine cried, making us all jump. The Aisha lady glowered at Mom. "How dare you? My husband has no sister. Like I said, you're but a tramp begging for scraps."

"Kate," William started, "I-"

"Don't call me by that ridiculous nickname!" his wife snapped. "And don't say anything either. You've done quite enough for today. I thought you hired extra security. What about those extra monitors that you were so enthusiastic about? We should have them sacked, with all the good they do. Allowing some…some peasant to come in here and claim that she was your sister. Stupid!"

Mom's face flushed. "You're right, it is stupid. That's why I left this awful place; and don't worry, I'll soon be going again. All I ask, Will," she said sternly, "Is for you to look after your son properly. After all the things we suffered, I can't believe you'd actually do this."

"Hey," William said, his voice lying again, "You don't have any right to talk to me like that. You left. And he's my son-"

"And my nephew. So you'll excuse me if-"

As they continued bickering, I saw Catherine slip away, muttering something like, "I'll prove this isn't true." I didn't think she was a threat, so I stayed. But seriously, if she wanted to know the truth, she should've asked me. Mom was being honest—and I felt awful about it.

Charlie was just about as stunned as I was. "Did you by any chance know anything about…this?" he said, gesturing at our fighting parents. I shook my head no. "I thought so," he sighed. "What luck, eh?"

"Not so bad," I told him, trying to cheer us both up. "We're like family anyway, right?"

He frowned. "It's not that I mind being related to you or your mother, Hanso. It's just that…don't you know what it means?" I blinked. What was the kid talking about? Before I could ask, the doors of the sitting room burst open a second time. It was Catherine again, along with the Charlie's grandmother. To my horror, I realized she was my grandmother as well.

"Elizabeth?"

Mom turned around and froze. Her eyes widened. I've seen her face down the entire Thieves' Guild, a throng of Assassins, and Masila herself; and yet she never seemed as scared as she was now. She looked like…well, she looked like Violet did when she was arguing with her dad. As far as I knew, those conversations never go well. "M-Mother? What are you doing here?"

"That's not a very good greeting."

"You're right. It's a farewell. Come on, Hanso," she said, grabbing my wrist. "It was a mistake to go here anyway." She began walking to the door.

"Elizabeth!" Grandmother exclaimed.

Mom kept walking.

"Elizabeth, get back here or you'll be sorry!"

No answer. It was a stupid threat anyway; Mom was highly skilled in combat.

"Elizabeth Anne Windsor! Get back here!"

Mom whirled around. "You have no right to talk to me like that anymore," she told them coldly. "And that's not my name anymore, either. I'm married."

Grandmother's only response to that was glaring at me, as if it was my fault I existed. "You're not glad to see me," she said, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "I suppose I should've expected that. You do know you're legally dead, right?"

Mom glared at the floor. "Exactly as I wanted it."

"As you wanted it?" William sneered, with the lying voice again. Oh, if only he'd stand up to his wife like that. "You left us! You never sent a word of your survival. We've given up—I got married, and—" As he kept blathering on, the pain in my ears hurt. Sometimes truth-speaking can be really annoying.

Apparently, Mom saw me. She glared at her brother.

"And on top of that-" William was continuing.

"Will, if you have to complain, cut it out with that stupid accent," Mom snapped. "You're hurting my son's ears."

Both William and Grandmother turned red. "Oh, hurting your precious son's ears, are we?" Will snarled, but there was no 'lying' thing this time. I nearly sighed with relief. "I'm sorry, I forgot that you care about him more than us."

"Oh, it isn't that," Mom said. "He has the same talent as you."

For a moment, William raised his eyebrows. "He can't tell lies either?"

"And he can tell when someone is," Mom finished. She gave him a quick smile, but it vanished almost instantly. "Anyway," she said, collecting herself again, "It's time for us to go. I just wanted to give you notice about Charlie."

"But you can't leave," Grandmother said. She had a sly smile on your face. "You'll see the way, my dear. And when you do, I'll be here waiting. Catherine, dear, I'm afraid I'll have to intrude on your hospitality a bit more. That is, until my daughter can finally see sense.

"I doubt it," Mom muttered. She nodded at the gaping Catherine. "That's right; I am your sister-in-law. Your revered mother-in-law proved that right now."

"You….you…" Catherine couldn't even begin to find words.

With that, Mom swept out of the building, dragging me behind with her. I only had enough time to look back at Charlie. He had a sad expression on his face, but he gave me a smile and wave before he turned back to his bewildered family. I felt a pang of guilt. We meant to make things better for him, not worse.

Mom had been avoiding the topic all throughout the week. It got seriously annoying, especially when she said I couldn't visit Charlie anymore. If it weren't for 'Grandmother, Uncle, and Auntie' I'd be there no matter what I said. It wasn't a very happy few days for me—I got really moody. Can you blame me? Dad's dead, I realized that my mom was a rich kid, I'm related to evil psychopaths…Oh, Fyora. I just realized another thing. If I'm related to Charlie, that means I'm related to Harry as well.

Everything sucked.

I walked in the classroom all day with a grumpy expression on my face. Juliet sat down next to me pretty quickly. "You're getting awfully angry lately," she noticed. "Anything the matter?"

Anything the matter? ANYTHING THE MATTER? I was prepared to give her my whole list of complaints—then stopped. This was Juliet; she didn't deserve me getting angry with her. She was just concerned, like always. "Yeah," I admitted. "But I don't think you can help."

"Why not?"

"It's kinda complicated," I told her.

"Hanso," a voice in the doorway said. Kanrik was there with his arms crossed. "I need to see you. Now."

"He didn't do anything!" Juliet said quickly.

"What?" Kanrik asked.

"Um, nothing," she said sheepishly. "I just thought he might be in trouble."

I smiled at her before I went talked to Kanrik. "What?"

He frowned at me. "You know."

"Know what-?" And then it hit me. "That my mom was a rich kid? Yeah, I know-"

"Don't say it here!" he cried, too late. A burst of thieves, seemingly out of nowhere, came on top of us.

"See? The little brat does know! Corrupted inside out!" someone snarled.

"Yeah. Him pretending he's important and all that. But what do we expect, eh? Blue blood and traitor's skin on him!"

"Remember what his mother said in the trial? 'No child would betray his family.' What's the proof that she never betrayed hers?" another demanded.

I bit my lip. So this was what my parents were trying to protect me from. I guess I can't really blame them anymore—it stung, to think that people had been making assumptions about me before they saw my face. I mean, it's bad enough for normal citizens to do that. They have a reason: We might steal from them. But to get those looks from other thieves, too?

"ENOUGH!" a voice yelled, and I realized it was Marie. Or, it seemed to be. A hood covered her entire face, leaving a shadow cast. She had the same disposition, though that didn't tell me much.

Mom was next to her, deathly pale but shaking with anger. "We resolved this years ago," she said angrily. "And you voted to keep me in the Guild."

"Only because Peter influenced us," someone jeered. "He's not here to save you now, is he?" Mom slapped him, right across the face. Immediately there were loud complaints, but Kanrik shut them up with a look.

"Come on," he said, gesturing for me, Mom, and Marie to follow.

I fell in step with the hooded lady. "Are you really Marie?" I asked her.

A chuckle came from beneath the hood. "Yes, dear. But I never, ever reveal my face in the presence of the Guild. They think that I'd end up a traitor, just like my sister."

We went to Kanrik's office. As soon as the door was closed, he told us, "I think we all need to talk. This has gone far beyond our control."

"And they're right," Mom said bitterly. "Peter's not here to charm the crowd anymore—if it comes to voting again, I'm sure I'll get kicked out."

"Not if I have anything to say about it. Anyway, Liz, it isn't your fault," said Kanrik. "A lot of it attributes to the spy, Sasha or Susan or whatever her name is, coming from the rich kid neighborhood. And that Hanso has been spending quite a lot of time there."

"They're my friends," I muttered.

"I know," Marie said kindly. "Please understand. I have no prejudice against rich kids, as you might have guessed when we visited Lady Hazel—I was just concerned about your safety." She looked at Mom. "Lizzie, I really think he should know the whole story now."

Mom glared at her, and then turned to me. "There's nothing much to tell other than the basic things I told you when you were eight. I told you that I loved my mother. That's true—then she became so controlling." She breathed out. "That's an understatement. My family, though it might not seem like it, is one of the more merciful ones. Their age limit for both boys and girls for the Tradition is twenty-one; or technically, the day someone turns twenty-two-and-one-day. But I hated it. I couldn't stand being forced to marry somebody. I got rid of my suitors by…uh, interesting methods." She smiled slightly, and then frowned again. "Then….then I decided I couldn't take it anymore. So I ran away."

"Wow," I commented.

"I made my way to Brightvale from Meridell. Your dad found me, Kanrik took me in, and long story short, I got accepted."

"That isn't what happened!" Marie protested.

"That's what happened in a nutshell," Mom said dryly. "He doesn't need to know the full story." Marie frowned at her. I knew she didn't agree.

"We have a problem," Kanrik said, shaking his head. "And the biggest one, I think, is the request for you to spy on them for us."

"What?" Mom snapped. "That's exactly why Peter left for Terror Mountain! To ensure I would never step foot in that awful life again!"

"Yet you did," Kanrik pointed out. "Without provocation." He hesitated. "Look, Liz, your family knows you're alive now. From what you told me, they're practically waiting for you to go and apologize, so you've given us an entry point. Might as well use it." Mom buried her face in her hands.

"That's not our biggest problem right now," Marie pointed out severely. "It's just part of it. You two, besides Master Serpent, are our most trusted and competent thieves."

"I'm ten!" I cried.

Kanrik shook his head. "You're the one who's always saying I shouldn't underestimate children." I hate it when my own words come back to haunt me.

"Anyway," Marie continued, "We have to find a way to beat Masila once and for all. The Guild was nearly crushed last time. Even if we survive this encounter, we have to ensure that she will never, ever come back." There was silence, and we all knew that there was just one solution. We'd have to kill her. "We already have an opportunity," she said. "At least, one that Masila herself proposed. A duel—either she wins the Guild, or she dies. And this should not involve our Guild leader. Sorry, Kanrik. You two have about the same skill, but I don't think that you can kill her. I can't either."

There was a pause. "Anyone have any ideas?" Kanrik said weakly. "Or anything they'd want to discuss?"

I shrugged. "Other than the creepy Yurble lady who framed me last month, no." I was only joking. But Marie gasped and stood up.

"This lady didn't have a pink handbag, did she? Or a cane?"

"Uh, yeah, she did," I told her.

"Sweet mother of Fyora," Marie said, pacing the floor. "This is wrong. All wrong! If they're working together we're finished."

"Nice take of optimism," Kanrik said sarcastically. "Who is she?"

Marie hesitated. "Even when you guys were friends, Kanrik, there were some things that Masila never told you. And one of them was her." She glowered at the floor. "Look, I don't think I should tell you exactly who she is. It's just…she's the closest thing that Masila had to a trainer. And the lady always favored her over me."

"Still, she's not much of a threat," I reasoned. "I mean, she's just an old lady!"

Marie bit her lip. "She has….powers. Eerie, strange powers that can be of great use, as well as a persuasive tongue-"

"What?" I shrieked.

"Yes," Marie told me. "She was a persuader, too." She looked at me desperately. "If you can, please get her notebook. It's usually stored in her pink handbag—and it can contain vital information for our survival."

"Okay," I said, a little frightened.

"Anything else?" Kanrik said weakly. "Good news. Please. Anyone?"

There was silence. Hannah had visited breifly last month and earlier this week, but all she had time to do was say "Wow! You're a rich kid!" and pat my head. I don't think she'd be much of help this time, although she reminded be I'm there whenever I need her. I tried to relax and let my mind do the work, just like I did when I was captured by Masila. Get everything out of your head—check. Focus on one thing only—yep, the problem pretty much got that covered. Then think. And think. And think….

Blood is thicker than water, Kayley once said to me.

"I have a bit of an idea, if anyone's interested," I said conversationally.

"What is it, Hanso?" Kanrik asked.

"Well," I said. "The stuff about my family got me thinking. Family itself is important for everyone, right? So, if Masila battles someone from her family-"

"She won't care," Marie told me. "I've faced her a million times. She doesn't hesitate taking what she thinks his hers, even for me." Darn. I was stumped.

"Then not you," Kanrik said suddenly. "How about Sam?"

"What?" Marie said, standing up. "You want me to risk my only son to fight some mad witch-"

"Who is your sister," Kanrik noted. "Out of everyone she's met, I think she holds the most personal attachment to him. If we picked him as champion, she might even refuse to fight. That would make them forfeit, and she would be forced to leave us alone."

"And if she doesn't refuse?" Marie said hysterically. "What then? She'll slaughter him!"

"Sam would be more capable than even me," he said. "I trained him once, albeit a few days. He showed some exceptional talent." Was it just me, or did Marie's gaze look guilty? Kanrik didn't notice. "Besides that, he knows how to use the guard styles. If he somehow manages to pull those two types of fighting together…he might be able to defeat Masila."

"But can he kill her?" I asked him. "That's what I want to know." To be honest, I was feeling a little left out.

"If he has to," Marie admitted. "He can sometimes be…as ruthless as his aunt. He just doesn't want to show it."

"Then ask him!" Kanrik said. "He's just about our only hope, Marie. You have to face that."

Marie let that sink in for a few moments. Her eyes filled with tears. "They're the only family I have left," she whispered. "No matter what, I love them. To think of them trying to fight each other…" she shuddered. "All right. I'll ask him. But that's all I can promise you—I don't think he'll say yes."

"Then convince him," Kanrik said. "Just this once, we need Sam. And might I add, we need him pretty desperately."

"All right," she said again.

Mom was silent for the whole time. Kanrik turned to her again. "Lizzie, I think you're going to have to-"

"I'll do it," she said.

We stared at her. "Really?" he said.

She looked at the floor. "I've…really made a mess of things, haven't I? Allowing Peter to go. Bursting straight into the neighborhood he'd been trying to keep me from in the first place. Allowing Charlie to come over a lot." She sighed. "Uptown is where everything started, and that's where I have to fix everything again." A sad little laugh came from her. "It's just…I don't know how."

"Don't worry, Mom," I said. "I'll be there with you this time." I tried to adopt Charlie's cheerfulness. "You'll see. It'll make all the difference."

Week 2

Of course, we couldn't go right away. Mom was really reluctant to swallow her pride and face her family again. It wasn't like we were going to live there, of course—more like hang out a lot and get some information. Part of me wondered if maybe that was wrong. Charlie's been my friend for years, now. I didn't have to spy on him, right? He's trust-worthy.

The rest of his neighborhood, on the other hand…I don't know. But I think I'll tell him the real reason why we're there. Hopefully that makes me feel less guilty. I had enough negative feelings; besides anger, fear, grief, bereavement…

"Hanso! You're getting distracted," Kayley snapped in one of our field trips. For once, we were partners again. I tried not to think about the last time that happened. Still, we've both become a lot nicer over the years. At least she wasn't scanning for guards to attack again. "Let's go to the wheat stall."

I stared. "But it's completely deserted, and the sacks of flour are way to heavy for us to carry anyway."

"I know," she said through gritted teeth, like she was insulted I doubted her. "But someone is tailing us." I tried to look behind me, but she squeezed my arm. "Nuh-uh. Sh'll know that we're aware of her following us. From the looks of her, she's a Master thief-"

"Not Masila?"

"No. Some old Yurble lady with a pink hand-bag—Hanso, are you okay?"

"Oh, Fyora," I groaned.

"Who is she?" Kayley said urgently. We twisted along the path. "Is she dangerous? Stupid question; she's a Master Thief, of course she's dangerous. But why? She's an old lady."

"I don't know," I admitted. "But Marie sure is afraid of her. She and Kanrik thinks she's a spy. I have to get her handbag."

Kayley raised her eyebrows. "You're going to steal a pink handbag? Do you know how ridiculous you, as a guy, would look carrying that?"

"Is that an offer on stealing it for me?" I said hopefully.

"Fyora, no," said Kayley, smirking. "It means I'll stay out of the way. I just have to watch this!"

"But-but people will think I'm attacking an innocent old woman." She shrugged, not having an answer for that one. "You're no help."

"Your assignment, Hanso," she said sweetly.

"You could cut me a little bit of slack," I muttered.

"And why would I do that?"

'Because my dad just died' would be a good answer, but I didn't want to use it. None of my friends knew about that yet, least of all her. And since I knew that she recognized the signs of 'bereavement,' I've been trying to act as normally as possible. "You know what, forget it. I'll do this myself."

I sneaked near the old lady, concentrating on the handbag. It was confusing. I just couldn't ignore the fact that she was elderly—and for me, stealing from the elderly is a big no-no. It's just plain cruel, and they can't defend themselves. Plus, she kept moving around. I frowned, ran up to her, and grabbed it.

There was nothing. She didn't do anything. I just snatched the handbag and went. I couldn't believe my luck when suddenly-

A hand grabbed my arm in a tight grip. "Hanso," Brynn said, in a frustrated voice. Oh, no. I blinked, realizing something. The old lady kept moving, leading me to Brynn. She planned this! But what for? I wondered.

Brynn was still glaring at me, so I grinned at her. "I'm trying a new look."

She rolled her eyes. "Hanso, I really don't think it's your color." Well, she doesn't have to tell me that! I've had enough of pink ever since the whole camouflage incident. "Who did you steal it from?"

"Oh, so you're automatically assuming I'm stealing now?" I said, trying to sound hurt. I failed utterly.

"You are a thief," her annoying friend pointed out. "That's generally what thieves do."

Speaking of thieves…I turned around, wondering if Kayley was going to swoop in and save me. Apparently not. She was sitting on a sack of flour, looking at me smugly as if gloating that Brynn stopped my plan. I really hate her sometimes. I glanced at Brynn and sighed. She had a bit of disappointment in her face, as if she couldn't believe what I just did. The best way to get out of this, I thought, was to explain. "The old lady has something in the bag I need."

Brynn frowned. "What and why?"

"I can't say. It's strictly confidential." I was slightly fibbing about the last part—I know it'd probably a secret, but I didn't know what the secret itself was, besides that it had something to do with a notebook. To be honest, I was half-hoping that if I managed to bring the bag to Marie she would be able to tell me more about it.

"Hanso!" Brynn said impatiently.

I sighed, giving up. "It involves Kanrik, a lady called Marie, and the fact that those two think the woman I stole this from could be…" I looked around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. "A spy."

Violet snorted, and I glared at her. "Thief!" I heard someone call behind us, and we all turned around to see the old lady. She trotted up to us, heavily using her cane as support. But something wasn't right. She was practically running when she was leading me here. She…she was faking it. That crazy old lady was faking it!

"Yeah, she sooooo looks like a spy," Violet said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

"Believe what you will," I snapped, "But I am taking this handbag to Kanrik."

Violet laughed again in a mean way. "I don't think Kanrik, being the tough and masculine leader that he is, would appreciate a pink handbag."

I struggled to get freed from Brynn's grip – it was obvious there was no hope in convincing them to believe me – but she held on tight. She was frowning at me, too. It'd been a long time since I'd really, really tried to escape. She did one nice thing, though. She took the bag and opened it up, checking its contents. "It all looks fine to me," she said. But that's because she didn't know what she needed to look for. Before I could say anything, she gave the handbag to the old lady.

That did it. I struggled even harder, trying to get to her. "You don't understand!"

"Thank you, guards," she said to the girls. While they weren't looking, the old lady winked at me. Winked. At. Me.

"Okay, off to the dungeons," Brynn said sternly.

"Brynn, she's a spy!" I yelled, even though I knew it was of no use. She didn't believe me.

And it stung.

"She looked like it," Brynn said sarcastically as she locked me up. She even took away my lock picking materials.

So there I was, locked in jail for no good reason. I sighed disgustedly. If I waited here long enough, Kayley would bust me out—but she'd mock me a lot. I was so not looking forward to that. Not at all. And I still couldn't get over the fact that Brynn didn't believe me. I mean, I put my entire trust on her – and the entire Thieves' Guild's trust on me – when I told her where Kanrik's office was. Then this random old lady just marched in and trod on all of that.

Plus, I hated sitting still. It gave me time to think, and thinking meant remembering Dad. I took a few calming breaths and tried to think a way out of this one; but to be honest, I've sort of slacked off in my escape training since Brynn never seriously tried to lock me up. Kayley will never let me hear the end of it.

Then a voice called me. "Hanso?"

For a moment, I hoped that it was Brynn—that she came down like she did, once upon a time, and I'd explain everything to her from start to finish. I wondered how she'd react. Then I realized that the voice was a lot deeper than hers, and had a more playful but melodious quality in it. "Sam?"

"What did you do?" he asked me, shaking his head. "I saw Brynn go back to her patrol route with an unusually irritated expression on her face, and I figured that you had something to do with it. You disappointed her."

I shrugged. "I tried to steal from an old lady."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Really? Honestly, Hanso, I never thought you'd do that sort of thing."

"She's mean!" I protested. He looked disbelievingly at me. "Are you here just to tell me that?"

"Your friend – that black Acara girl – is coming in to save you soon," he informed me. "I just wanted to know what was happening. Mum came to me last week with an urgent request, and I wanted to talk to someone who couldn't lie." He bit his lip. "So is it true? Has auntie…er, Masila escaped?"

"Yeah," I said. "She's offering to hold a duel-"

"Mom told me the details," he interrupted. He sat down on the floor. "I guess I should've expected Masila to try something like this. Something's a bit off, though." He frowned thoughtfully. "Mum said she was after her necklace; now, her motive seems to have changed completely."

"Maybe she's getting desperate," I said hopefully.

He snorted. "Desperation is sometimes as powerful an inspirer as genius."

I blinked. "What?"

"A quote from Benjamin Disraeli," he said simply. "Though I first heard it when auntie told me-" He shut up, realizing what he just said.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," he lied sleekly. I would've believed him, if I wasn't a truth-speaker. After seeing that I wasn't buying it, he sighed. "You do know she stayed with my family for a few weeks, right? It was an awfully long time ago. I was…eleven, ten I think? It was near when my dad died." His face darkened slightly, but he quickly continued, "Anyway, Hanso, something doesn't add up. Masila always has hidden motives. Does she really want to fight Kanrik in a duel? Or is she after something else? We can't underestimate her-"

"Of course we can't," said a sharp, matter-of-fact voice. It was the old Yurble lady. Sam and I both stared at her. How the heck did she get in here? "I thought you would've known that by now, boy," she continued. "One does not underestimate the Mistress-of-Double-cross. She always has a plan, and I doubt that-"

"Excuse me, ma'am?" said Sam hesitantly. "You're kind of violating the rules. Civilians aren't allowed in the dungeons unless they are visiting relatives, in which case you'd need an appointment-"

"To Moltara with the rules!" the old lady snapped. Sam's jaw dropped. I think he finally began believing the part when I said that she was mean. "As I was saying before you rudely interrupted, you can't underestimate Masila because she always has a plan. It is not in her nature to fling desperate schemes at us."

"And you know this…how?" I asked.

"I thought her everything she knew," the old lady informed me in a calm voice. My eyes widened. Who the heck was this woman? "You don't know who I am, do you?" she snapped at Sam. He shook his head confusedly. "Bah. You should know more about your family history, boy. I am Morgana: Masila's aunt—your great aunt, though don't you ever call me that."

"That's it," Sam murmured to himself. "My family is completely messed up. And yes," he said, glaring at the old lady, "I do know you. I just didn't know what you looked like."

"Then a lot of good use all that you'd learned about me would've done if I had actually decided to attack you, yes? But I should've expected that. Your mother was always a soft-hearted ninny, always so very trusting."

"Hey!" Sam snarled. "Don't you dare talk about my mother like that."

Morgana clucked disapprovingly. "You're just like her, I fear. You aren't even using your persuasive voice. I had hoped you would be more like my other niece; but no matter. I shall take care of that afterwards."

"Afterwards? After what?" he asked, puzzled.

She rolled her eyes. "After we defeat Masila, of course. My little niece was always good at her mind games, but not good enough to beat me. Trust me, darling, I know all of her weaknesses. And I suppose your mother has told you about my gifts?" Sam nodded curtly. She smiled and held up a faded leather notebook. "The Ixi thief foolishly tried to steal it from me. As if a novice could actually manage that. Now, as foolish as this sounds, free him and take me to your leader." Then she shook her head. "Or rather, his leader. You've stupidly decided you want to be a guard, haven't you? There are so many things I must work on."

"Why would we do that?" I snapped.

She laughed; a cold, cruel one. "Dear, you're in hot water and you know it. Trust me: You can't beat Masila without my help. And I'm telling the truth." Darn. She was being honest.

"And why would you help?" Sam said suspiciously. "Mum always said that you favored Masila, not her."

Morgana pursed her lips. "I have my reasons. She is still my niece, and would've been great if it weren't for a fatal mistake on her part. She still could be. I am hoping to…rehabilitate her."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I said, shaking my head. "I doubt anyone could convince her that she shouldn't have betrayed Kanrik."

"Nevertheless, I still want to see her. Now, Samuel, be a dear and unlock the Ixi from his cage. Hanso, is it? Take me to your leader afterwards. We have much to discuss."

As soon as Marie caught sight of her aunt, she stood up and accidentally brought a vase crumbling down. She winced. "You certainly haven't changed much," said Morgana dryly. Marie flushed.

"Hanso, please tell me you haven't let someone else in that could damage the Guild's trust?" Kanrik pleaded. Morgana looked at me curiously, but quickly proceeded to tell the guild leader exactly who she was. Kanrik's expression turned from suspicion to shock. "You're Masila's aunt?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever visited her in the Mountain?"

"Dozens of times each year; until she left, of course."

"But….I don't know you. She never told me about you." He was frowning, and then aimed an accusatory glance at Marie. "Neither did you, until last week."

"For Marie, I believe my niece found it uncomfortable talking about me," Morgana said with a smirk. "As for Masila…well, she has her reasons. Anyway, I'm here to offer my services."

"And what would those be?"

She smiled. "I have a bit of a talent," she told us. "Know this little notebook? It's the book of prophecies. Only I can read it; and so basically, I can tell the future." All our jaws dropped except for Marie's, who stood glaring at it.

"We already have Flynn and Caylis for that," I pointed out after a bit.

She laughed cruelly again. "Flynn? The little bird I see from time to time? I admit, he has a flair for prediction, but it's entirely philosophical. He does it to teach you a lesson, not to give you information. I assure you, there is no use coaxing anything from him. As for that poor little mergirl, well, all she really does is mope around. She can't control her predictions, either. For all she knows, at night she would be dreaming of a robbery at some ridiculous kelp restaurant. Only I can give you something worthwhile."

"Prove it," I challenged.

"I'll read you one, which concerns you and which is only partly finished," she told me sweetly. "And it ought to be interesting for you, dear. Here you are:

Middle, she is in, but balancing never,

Forever more, she will sway and waver,

With friendships withering, gone, and dead,

Jealousy angered, fired, fed,

But she must choose in this weary dance;

Selecting, giving but one second chance."

A chill crept up my spine, and I just knew that prophecy would be important. In the same way, I knew it was about my mom. "Okay," I said. "So you can tell prophecies."

"I'm also a master strategist," she said, smirking. "Though I do believe you have finally gotten something right. Time to start playing dirty, eh?" she commented approvingly. "Messing with Masila's emotions. You've certainly picked the right person to fight her."

"I didn't mean-" Kanrik began, then paused. We did mean to kill her—it's not like we're trying to do her any favors or anything.

"It could be better, though," she announced. She had a slightly crooked smile on her face. "And I believe I have an idea. Ask Masila to meet you next month."

"What?" Kanrik said in disbelief. "But we've never done that. I refuse to put my Thieves' Guild members in danger."

"Send that Master Serpent guy. She's still rather attached to him, I can tell. But know this: You can't be afraid to sacrifice lives."

"I don't want to sacrifice them needlessly," he snapped. "But fine, have it your way. What are we going to do with Masila once we get her? Tell her our choice, I presume."

"That," Morgana said, nodding. "And scaring her out of her wits."

Week 3

"Has anyone seen Flynn?" Master Jacques asked. He had a worried expression on his face. Even though most of the time he acted annoyed with the bird, I'm pretty sure he liked it. After all, he was feeding Flynn crackers while Razors almost beat himself up with a magical stick.

Juliet slouched a little in her seat, as if wishing to hide. That didn't go unnoticed. "Yes, Miss Juliet? Do you know what happened to that wretched Pawkeet?"

"Well, uh…" she stammered, twirling a lock of her hair."He was bored. And he kept chirping at me and looking with those sad cute eyes. He asked me to, um, loosen the cage door a little…and…I…" she gulped. "Let him out?" Julius face-palmed.

"What?" he shrieked. She fidgeted nervously in her seat. "Do you know what could have happened to him? For all we know, he could be someone else's fried meal now."

"He's a smart bird," she murmured. "I think he knows what he's doing."

"You missed the key word," Jacques snapped. "He's a bird. He's completely crazy!"

"So you're saying that Petris are crazy?" I questioned, redirecting his attention. Juliet smiled at me gratefully. "Maybe I should tell Master Funders that." Master Funders was a huge Petri, and one of our fastest thieves.

Jacques glared. "Now look here, Hanso-"

There was a knock on the door, and a hooded lady came in. At first we all panicked and thought it was Masila- then we realized that the cloak was a sky blue. It was Marie. "I never take off my cloak in the Thieves' Guild," she explained again. "I need to talk to Hanso."

"What has he done now?" Jacques said, exasperated.

"He didn't do it," Juliet said quickly. "I, um, I did! What did I do again?" Julius frowned at her. I smiled slightly. She was willing to take the blame of anything I did, not minding the cost.

Marie laughed. "He didn't do anything. I just have a…an interesting piece to show him."

"Oh." Juliet looked relieved.

"Is it something to do with…?" Jacques asked her, and then trailed off. He was wondering if it was something to do with my dad.

He knew about what happened, of course, and I think he felt guilty about it. Kanrik told him he could go on the mission if he wanted to, but it had to do with the sea and for some reason Jacques refused to go near water unless he had to. I had half-heartedly told him it wasn't his fault, and then begged him not to tell anyone from class. I was especially worried about what he might tell Kayley. But he kept his promise.

Marie shook her head, crushing my hopes. Then she nodded. Then she shook her head again. "Well, it depends on how you look at it," she said. "Anyway, may he be excused?"

Jacques sighed. "I suppose so. Keep a look out for Flynn, will you?"

I sat on her living room couch. "What do you want to show me?" I asked, curious. This was the first time an adult ever did that before. I guess I wasn't enthusiastic as I could have been – I'd rather have news of my dad more than anything – but I was definitely fascinated.

Marie ran her fingers through her hair, finally putting the cloak down. "Things are getting desperate," she admitted. "More so, now that I realize I'm teaming up with my aunt."

"What's so bad about her, anyway?" I asked.

Marie shook her head. "To be honest, I don't actually know. Oh, her comments are hurtful, but there's more to it than that. She knows the future, and she really can use it against you. The one thing you should remember, Hanso, is that though her prophecies come true, they don't always go the way you expect them to." She smiled slightly. "Once, she predicted I'd be kicked out of the Thieves' Guild for breaking the rules. I became very obedient to her after that. Well, it did come true…" Marie said that wistfully, looking at the picture of Sam's dad. "I broke the rules, and I never regretted it."

"Yeah, not that I'm not interested, but where is this leading to?"

"I think I know my aunt's plan. This kind of shock, especially about family, can be…traumatizing, to say the least. I know you feel awful because of your dad, but in a way, you probably feel worse about your mom being a rich kid." She gave me a sad smile. "I've noticed."

I looked down. "It's not that I have anything against rich kids. You know that. It's just…my mom kept this secret from me. I know she did it to save me and stuff, but…do I really know her at all? I didn't even know her real name!"

She shook her head. "We can't afford to let you think like that, Hanso. We need all of our best thieves focused and ready for everything. That's why I disagreed with your mother's choice about not telling you what really happened."

"There was more to it than her running away, right?" I asked. She nodded. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

She shook her head regretfully. "I promised her I wouldn't." I sighed. "But I never told her I couldn't show you…" she continued, producing her crystal ball. My eyes lit up. "I suggest you start from the beginning. I can't take you myself, or she'll get suspicious. Just think about your mother, and the crystal will offer you choices on where, or when, you should go."

"Okay," I said, taking the glass ball from her. I grinned nervously. "I guess it's time for me to meet my mom."

It felt a little weird, going into the crystal ball without Marie guiding me. At first all I could comprehend in the world was this swirling, thick cloud of thoughts, threatening to suffocate me. Then I focused, picturing my mom. It wasn't hard; I saw her every day, after all. I concentrated on her long, brown hair, her honey-colored eyes; how fierce she was in battle; the way she took care of me and sang me to sleep sometimes; and how sad she's been lately, even though she tried not to show it. That's always how I pictured her.

For a second, the crystal orb seemed to laugh at me. And then the fog lightened, and I was standing in a courtyard in Meridell. A seven year old girl was grinning at her new present, a skipping rope. Then I blinked. The seven year old girl was Mom! Oh, that was so wrong. I couldn't call a seven year old girl 'mom,' even though it was all in my head. I decided to call her Lizzie until the part when she really did become my mom.

Lizzie smiled at her skipping rope. "New birthday present, Liz?" the four year old Kacheek asked. I guessed it was William. He looked a little wistful. "Mind if I give it a try?"

She laughed lightly. "You can have the first go, Will." She handed him the toy.

His eyes lit up. "Thanks!" He began counting, rapidly counting up to sixty-five in just the first minute. I raised my eyebrows, slightly surprised. I couldn't believe this athletic little rich kid could be my chubby, spoiled uncle now.

Lizzie grinned. "Betcha you can't move while skipping!"

"Can too!" William protested. He began hopping forwards, right into the garden. Just before he was about to count to a thousand-

"William Arthur Philip Louis Windsor!" a voice yelled. "What in Neopia do you think you're doing?" William stumbled, and then fell into the mud. My grandmother, younger-looking but still every bit as scary, went right up to him. "And you got mud on your clothes, too."

"It's not his fault, Mom," Lizzie protested. "I encouraged him. And he didn't fall until you talked to him. And-" She got slapped on the mouth.

My jaw dropped. I watched as Lizzie's lips turned slightly red. She didn't cry, but her eyes were glistening. "Don't speak unless you're spoken to, young lady," grandmother scolded. "As for you, William, you're staying in your room for a week."

"No," Lizzie shrieked. "I made him trip! It's all my fault!"

"Really? William, did Elizabeth really trip you?"

William obviously didn't want to, but his sister gave him pleading looks. He looked uncomfortable. "Uh…yes?"

He got slapped in the mouth as well. "No lying. And as we all know, William, you can't lie to save your life."

"It's not fair!" Lizzie burst out. "Why can't-"

Grandmother held up her hand threateningly again, silencing Lizzie. When she was satisfied Liz wouldn't talk anymore, Grandmother replied, "That's just the way our world works." She grabbed William by the collar and dragged him back in the house, leaving Lizzie to stand alone in the garden.

She stared hard at the ground. A tear dropped in the grass. "Then maybe I don't want to be a part of it," she muttered.

I flashed around eleven years later, when Lizzie was nineteen. She and Grandmother were in front of this huge place I didn't recognize, but it had the name "Madame Belldame's Academy for Proper Young Ladies." William stood with them, though a little away, too. Lizzie looked disgusted. "Mother, I don't want to go there!"

"You're behaving like a child," Grandmother snarled. "You have to go there, Elizabeth. You have driven every single suitor you had away. The last one was crying!" Briefly, I wondered how she did that.

"He was a jerk," Lizzie protested.

"So? You still need to get married! This academy comes in highly recommended, and we'll find you a husband in no time by the end of the year. You'll even meet some charming young gentlemen when they invite a few over to dance; and it doesn't hurt that the academy will keep you with proper folk." My jaw dropped when I realized they were talking about the Tradition.

Stupid of me not to piece it together before, really. I just…I never thought that Mom would be affected by the Tradition. She wouldn't have stood it. But then I remembered the person I was watching currently wasn't Mom. It wasn't even technically Lizzie, yet. It was Elizabeth, and I had to wait a while before I see what really happened.

"I don't want to get married," Lizzie muttered.

"Don't be ridiculous. You'll get sent to a hard labor community if you don't."

"Ladies, please come to the dining hall for the official welcoming ceremony!" a voice rang out. Lizzie groaned.

"Better run off now, Elizabeth," my grandmother said awkwardly. "Do your best, now. And….good luck." She patted her daughter on the shoulder, and then headed back to her carriage. Lizzie looked back at her mother with surprise, and then shrugged and turned to William. He had been watching them silently. "Will…"

"I know, I know. You'll come back soon."

"I'm getting the jitters."

"Really? Fearless older sister is getting the jitters?" They both chuckled. Then William grabbed Lizzie's hand, and did something weird with it. It was like he was pressing certain parts of her arm. Lizzie began to relax. "I wish I had told you how to do this before."

"Nah. You're better at it than me." Lizzie grinned. "And I heard you have to be real careful or the person you do it to could be forever paralyzed. Let's face it, I'm not exactly the most careful person you know, am I?"

"No," he admitted. "But I'll miss you." He hugged her.

"Hey, it's only for one year. Then we can go back to scaring suitors!"

"And after that?" William prompted. He frowned at her. "That's always where your story ends."

"I'll do something," Lizzie assured him. "I can't just spend my whole life with Mother and Father looking after me. I'll be all right." She gave him a sad smile. "Good-bye, little brother. Till next time?"

"Till next time," he agreed. Then he went towards his mother in the carriage.

Lizzie still looked about the same age, and we were definitely still in the academy, but it was the middle of the night. She treaded silently through the school halls. I was slightly impressed. Even when Mom hadn't had any training yet, she was still pretty stealthy. Then she gently pushed a few double-doors that led out to the balcony.

The moonlight was pretty, shining like a silver orb. Lizzie breathed in, and then exhaled deeply. I wondered how long she had to stay cooped up in the academy without a glimpse of any moon or sunlight. A long time, I thought, if she had been enjoying the silver glow this much.

"Couldn't take it anymore either, could you?" said a voice. Lizzie jumped and took out a knife she had been carrying. "Oh, wow. I knife. Real classy. I wonder how you snuck in with that thing?"

"It was disguised as a make-up kit," Lizzie snapped. "I guess you're going to tell right now."

"Nah, 'Sokay. It's the same with me. I won't tell if you won't."

For a moment, Lizzie relaxed. "Who are you? Where are you?"

"Up here." Lizzie looked up to find an Usul girl sitting on a branch. She had dark hair tied in a bun with most of the strands falling out. Her eyes were the color of honey. For a second, I thought she looked kinda familiar. Weirdly, she was holding a frying pan. "This is my choice weapon," she said airily, holding it up. "Oh, I'm Grace, by the way. Your name?"

"Lizzie," she replied.

"No way! That's way too cool a name to be a rich kid's."

"Well, it's actually a nickname. My real name is Elizabeth. But I liked to be called Lizzie."

"Lizzie it is, then," Grace said in a final way. Then her eyes widened. She grabbed Lizzie's arm and yanked her down. A security guard went out to the balcony, scanning for people. His expression was so scary I was relieved that I was invisible. Luckily, Lizzie and Grace were hiding in the trees. He looked around when more time, and went away. "You've gotta watch out for them," Grace explained when they could breathe again. "Their worse than…well, anything. I know the schedule."

"Whoa," Lizzie said. For a while, they sat in a comfortable silence.

Grace said finally, "So? When's your due-date?"

"The day I turn twenty-one," Lizzie said, groaning. "March first. Two more years. When's yours?"

"Eighteen," she said. "I'm seventeen right now. So I'm guessing you're nineteen?"

"Two years older," Lizzie confirmed. "Yeah. But I don't want to be married. Ever feel like you're-"

"-Trapped in a world where people don't understand you, think of you as some sort of freak? Yeah." Grace smiled. "Sometimes I think about giving in. You know, being on of those real proper ladies. But I know if I do, I'll always be screaming in the inside. At least I'll have my family to help me; and I'll get betrothed to someone nice."

"Really?" Lizzie looked doubtful.

Grace sensed the suspicion in Lizzie's voice and straightened up. For a moment she looks slightly angry. "My parents love me," she said simply. "Even if I have to go through this stupid Tradition…even if they try to change me…they do. I know it."

"Mm," said Lizzie. She didn't have that much to say to a remark like that, but I had a feeling she thought what I was thinking right then: If they loved her, why did they try to change her? Why give her a suitor at all? "You sleepy?" she asked.

"Nope." Grace sighed. "I've always been a late sleeper. But I'm exhausted—and I guess you would be too." There was silence, and then she said hopefully, "Ya know, you do have nice hair. Do you know how relaxing it is to have it braided? Or bobbed? Or different styles…"

Lizzie laughed. "You didn't strike me as a hairdresser."

"Trust me," Grace said with a grin. "There's a lot I can do with those long locks of yours."

Lizzie is still nineteen, though she looks a little older. Her hair is in a braid. She, Grace, and a few other girls were in a ballroom, all dressed up. Grace and her look uncomfortable. "All right, ladies," said the headmistress. She was a Uni with full, red lips and a threatening cane. "Let's see how you can dance with the young gentlemen. As you know, they can be a bit…rowdy. Remember the rules on what a young lady should always be. Respectful. Obedient."

"Bored," Grace muttered.

"So, if you please, match up with the boys here." Lizzie and Grace are immediately separated. I think by this time, everyone knows how much trouble they can cause together. Grace gets this brown-haired, handsome-ish person. He had a suggestive smirk on his face. Grace rolled her eyes.

Lizzie, though, got this shy-looking Nimmo with black hair. He holds out his hands awkwardly, and it's pretty clear that 1. He's nervous 2. He did NOT want to be here. Lizzie smiled—she liked him. The music started, and they twirled and waltzed around. She's a pretty good dancer. He's decent, when she's leading.

"So, what's your name?" she asked. He looked startled at being addressed. She laughed. "It's common courtesy to talk while dancing."

He stepped on her foot. "Sorry," he apologized. "I concentrate on one thing at a time…and dancing…er…."

"You're not very good at it, are you?"

"I'm not good at a lot of things."

"How about picking girls?" she asked him. "You're expiry date is coming up, huh? That's why they sent you here?" She did her best to make him feel comfortable and gave him a small smile. He relaxed and nodded. "I don't know why. You're pretty cute."

"Too quiet," he said. "They think I'm mute." He smirked. "And what do girls want than a husband that gushes over them?"

"A kind one," Lizzie said. "Like you."

The dance ended, and they both bowed to each other. "Pleasure meeting you…what's your name again?"

"Simon Banks," he said. "It was a pleasure in meeting you, too…"

"Elizabeth Windsor, but I want to be called-"

"Lizzie." He smiled. "I know." He kissed her hand and left.

"This is crazy," Grace said.

"Shh!"

"I mean it, Liz. We are sneaking out the day before graduation. I mean, what's the point?"

"The point is that we won't get betrothed. Instead of giving us our diplomas, the academy will expel us. They wouldn't want to admit that two girls actually succeeded in getting out when no one's ever done it before."

"Have you seen the security?" Grace accused.

"No, but you have. Come on. I need you to help me. We can go through this—together. And you'll see your family a whole lot sooner, won't you?" Grace sighed, knowing that she was beaten. "Let's go."

Grace was right. The security was scary—I doubt even Brightvale castle had that kind of line-up. Every few seconds the girls had to duck under a couch, or pretend to be statues. But they kept going. They were getting closer to the exit, to the huge entrance hall that let to freedom.

They were there.

I crossed my fingers hopefully. Lizzie slowly turned the knob-

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! It was locked. The stupid door was locked, and I couldn't believe how Lizzie miscalculated that there would be no alarms on the thing. Immediately, guards began pouring at all sides, but they haven't seen Lizzie and Grace yet. They shrieked and began running down a hall.

Then Lizzie saw some sort of alcove and slammed Grace against it; for a bit they were hidden from sight. The guards ran past, thinking that they had sped up to the other side of the hallway. "Crazy," Grace muttered. "It won't distract them for long. Now what do we do?"

"What, you're asking me?"

"You are the one who thought about the plan."

Lizzie looked around the hall, desperately trying to find something she could use. Then she saw it. Tapestries. She pulled them down from the wall. "What the heck are you doing?" Grace said in disbelief.

"Knot them! Braid them! Just like you do with hair."

"What? But-"

"We need to make these into rope. Quick!" Without a word, Grace began lacing the tapestries together. I can't believe how fast she did it. It was instinct, and within a few seconds she was done, a coiled rope at her feet. "I think this will hold. Now all we have to do is-"

"There she is!" It seemed like hundreds of them were trying to find them now. Then it hit me. There she is. They thought only one of them tried to escape.

Lizzie must've realized this too, because she told Grace, "Go on. I'll hold them off and-"

"You can't, Liz," Grace interrupted. "You're fast, but not that fast. They'll capture you for sure. I'll do it." Before Lizzie could protest, Grace had slung the rope on a branch near a window and pushed Lizzie out. She barely clung on.

"Why?" Lizzie pleaded.

Grace rolled her eyes. "Look, it's just for one day. I doubt that would make much of a difference. And besides, I have a better reputation than you. They'll go easy on me. Need I remind you, Lizzie, that you made the plan." She grinned. "I'm not going to make it easy for them, though." She held up a frying pan that she had been concealing. "I'll let them see just how good I've gotten with Home Economics." With that, she ran.

Liz took a deep breath and slipped down the rope.

"W-What? You can't possibly…No! I refuse!"

"It's not your choice to make, Elizabeth," her father, my grandfather, said. It was the first time I've ever seen him. He was a brown Kyrii with a tired expression on his face.

"But how? Why?" She looked desperately from her parents to her brother…to Simon. She looked at him pointedly. "You can say no, right? You haven't used up your choices yet?"

He shook his head. "I still have all of my three choices intact."

"So use them! You can say no three times, neither your parents nor mine can force you to-"

"We didn't force him," grandmother said. Her arms were crossed. "He said he was a friend of yours, and that he met you in the academy. He asked for your hand. We thought that marrying someone nice would appease you, Elizabeth."

"I don't want to get married at all!"

"Don't be ridiculous. Do you want to get sent off in a hard labor community?"

"No!" she yelled. "I'm tired of being controlled. Why do we have to suffer like this? Why does the stupid king even make this law?"

Everyone gasped. "Elizabeth," grandfather said warningly. "The king does not like to be called stupid."

"He isn't even here!"

"Walls have ears, my dear," grandmother snapped. "You've just turned twenty years old today. It would have all been fixed and done after your graduation if you haven't come a day early. You're expelled, you know."

William chuckled until grandmother shot him a glare. He shut up.

"In any case, it doesn't matter anymore. Our goal in sending you to the academy was to find you a suitor, and here we have one that you can't scare away because he truly knows you."

Lizzie glared at her, and then looked at Simon pleadingly. "Please. Please say no."

He looked down. "I don't want to."

That was the last straw. "You're…despicable. All of you!" She whirled away and ran to her room. She threw herself on her bed.

Judging by Lizzie's clothes, it was still the same day. But it was night; nearly midnight, actually. Slowly, Lizzie eased herself off of bed. Her hand was on her forehead, as if she'd been thinking about something. She grabbed a worn leather bag and put a few clothes and coins in it, and then went over to her desk and wrote a note.

She grabbed her blankets and began weaving. Not as skillful as Grace, but sturdy enough. She tied it to her balcony, and once again, slipped downwards.

I jerked away from the crystal ball. "Is that it?" I asked Marie, dazed.

She chuckled. "Oh, no, darling. That wasn't even half of it. Unfortunately, we are out of time…come sometime next month. Did you see what you needed so far?"

"So far," I agreed. "I haven't seen Dad or you yet. Just her old rich kid life." I hesitated. "What happened to Simon? And Grace?"

Marie pursed her lips. "I'm afraid I don't know. Your mother had completely cut ties with her old life when she married Peter. But perhaps you can mend a few when you go to Uptown next week, right?"

Week 4

Mom was nervous the whole way to Uptown. She kept fidgeting, looking up, looking down, looking anywhere but straight ahead. I understood, now, why Dad wanted to keep her from this. She wasn't angry anymore, not so much as to barge in and yell at her old family. She was simply lost. I grabbed her hand like I used to do when I was a little kid, and she smiled faintly.

Charlie was the first one to see us. He ran out of his mansion. "Hanso! You came back."

"Of course I would," I said, giving Charlie a playful shove. "What, you thought I would've run away?"

"No, no. But things are getting a lot more…complicated." He smiled nervously at Mom. "Hi…er, Aunt Elizabeth."

"Lizzie," she corrected. "Aunt Lizzie."

He grinned. "Nice to meet you, Aunt Lizzie. Um, Grandmother, Father, and Mother are expecting you."

She winced. "Oh, Fyora…"

"Mom, it's okay. Just go up to them and say-"

"I'm sorry?" She shook her head in disgust. "No, I can't tell them that. I'm not sorry. If I couldn't have run away, I would've killed myself."

Charlie and I turned pale. She was scaring me. "Mom, please," I begged.

She looked at me, her eyes glistening. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I just…" She shuddered. "I suppose I will have to say something, though I'll just improvise. Come on." With that, she strode confidently back to Charlie's house.

He stared at her, and then me. "I've never had cool relatives before."

"You have a whole branch of them now," I told him. "My dad has family too. They're gypsies. If they ever come here, I'll tell them you're family and welcome you with open arms."

"Would they really?"

"Heck, they'd welcome you even if you weren't family. And of course there's my mom, who already has."

"I still can't believe that she really is the Elizabeth."

I blinked. "Wait. There are stories going on about her?'

"Well, yes. Going on for years, actually, though I always thought it was just a rumor when they said there was one rich kid who didn't follow the Tradition. It seemed impossible, but now…Firecracker would like to meet her, I think." He had a sly grin on his face, but I had a feeling he wouldn't tell me why. We followed my mom.

Immediately, I knew there was something wrong. "Hold up," Mom snapped. "I just came here to see you guys. I didn't—I don't want anything!"

"Still, if it happened the way you told us last time, then really, it's all yours," said Grandmother with a smirk. "You got married on your birthday, you said—the last day that the Tradition would be valid. And you got your father's blessing-"

"Where is Father, anyway?" she said, looking around.

"Dead," William snapped. She looked as if she had been slapped, and for once my uncle knew he had gone too far. "Sorry. One of the last things he said was that he loved you."

"He did, didn't he?" said Mom shakily.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Grandmother glowered at me again. "I was just explaining. Your mother married on the day of her birthday; apparently, she talked to her father before then. And besides that, she did the Ribbon Ceremony 'just for fun,' although it is still binding. Therefore, she did complete the Tradition." She smiled at Mom in a sickly sweet way. "And therefore, the family fortune is yours."

So, yeah…I got a bit obsessed with the lines in Week 3. Hopefully it didn't confuse you. :) And yeah, maybe the flashback part was a little long. Sorry about that. The flashbacks were actually meant to go in a different fic so it wouldn't interfere with HJ, but then you'd be required to read that to make any sense of the story.

This turned out a whole lot longer than I planned. I did have something to emphasize, though. :P