Responses to Reviews:

Moonlight and Ashes: Thank you, it is an honour to have my chapter compared to hers. The dinner with the three of them will be in two chapters. :)

gabreader: That would be sweet, wouldn't it! Fingers crossed. ;)

Jem didn't protest when Clara linked her arm with his, practically dragging him down the hallway, since he knew it would be useless.

"Could you at least tell me where we're going?" Jem asked mildly, raising an eyebrow at her eagerness.

"Well, since it's your day off," Clara started, in an unusually cheerful tone, "I thought we could go and get your outfit fitted for tomorrow night."

"Day off?" Jem repeated, surprised, to which Clara rolled her eyes.

"Of course. You didn't think you'd be working every day, did you?" she said, smirking. "The King knows you need a break. Well, Walter does, anyway. And the King listens to him."

"I already have a great many clothes in my closet," Jem said, instinctively glancing down at what he was currently wearing. He already had clothes of the finest materials, and he didn't see what was wrong with them.

"But this is dinner with the King," Clara said, emphasising the last word. "You need to be looking your absolute best. Not just any old thing will do."

As if the clothes that had been left for him were old. Jem sighed, but didn't argue. He hardly saw the point, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt. He didn't have much else to do, anyway.

They soon reached a room with the words, The Royal Tailor, carved into the wood above the door with a flourish. Clara immediately walked over to the wall with the different materials, and she ran her hand over them thoughtfully. She pointed out the silk, leather, perse, wool, fur, scarlet, satin, and other assorted materials that he had never heard of. When she felt the velvet, she pulled away, wrinkling her nose.

"I've never liked the feel of velvet," she said, making a face. "It's strange."

Jem reached out and felt the material, before shrugging. "I don't mind it."

"Of course you don't," she responded, rolling her eyes. "Goodness, Jem, it seems like you could never hate anything."

He opened his mouth to reply, but paused when the tailor came over to join them.

"Can I help you?" she said, looking Jem up and down with a questioning expression. Her keen eyes seemed to already be analysing what colours would suit him.

Clara turned to face her, her smile widening. "Jem here needs a nice outfit for a very special dinner. I know you're just the person for the job."

Jem glanced around the room as they chattered, losing track of the conversation when they started talking about colours, embroidery and weaving looms. The tailor took his measurements with the tape, and he waited patiently as she did this, suppressing a sigh when he was accidently poked with a pin in the side.

Finally, it seemed the tailor had finished, as she and Clara had decided on what he should wear. Thanking the tailor again, Jem followed Clara out of the room.

She glanced back at him. "You're lucky. Normally something like this would take at least a week to be made, but they're speeding it up just for you. At the King's expense, of course."

He nodded. "I do hope the tailor knows how grateful I am."

"You only thanked her five times," Clara laughed, turning towards a door leading outside. "Come on, it's a lovely day. We should go for a walk in the gardens, don't you think?"

Her tone was more of a demand than a question, so he followed obligingly. "I suppose it would be nice to see a bit more of the castle."

"The gardens are my favourite," she grinned. "And most of the flowers are starting to bloom again, now that it's the start of spring."

As they walked among the scythe-cut grass, neatly trimmed hedges, and rows upon rows of flowers, Jem couldn't help but notice a group of nobles casting glances at them, every so often.

"Are they staring at me or you?" Jem asked, nodding his head towards them, subtly.

"It could be either," Clara shrugged, casually. It seemed she wouldn't let anything get in the way of her good mood. "Let's see," she pondered aloud, tapping her finger against her chin. "Either they're talking about Mortmain's bastard daughter, and whether she'll inherit the throne, or they're talking about the mysterious young man working in the infirmary, who has the prized gift of 'healing.' We make quite the pair to talk about," she remarked, her grin full of teeth, as she glanced over at them. Although it wasn't one of amusement; more like a predator watching its prey.

"And what do you think?" Jem asked, clasping his hands behind his back. "About inheriting the throne, I mean."

Her expression darkened, only slightly. "Who knows? I should have been named his successor by now. I thought maybe he was just waiting to see whether his wife would have a child, but it's obvious she can't, by now. All these people scorn me, because I'm his bastard, but they worry that if he changes his mind, then they need to be in my good graces. It's funny, really. They don't like me very much, and I don't like them either. They only care about who has the most power."

Jem watched her for a moment, sympathy in his expression. "Is it possible he could change his mind?"

"Sometimes he loves me, and he seems almost pleased. Other times he doesn't, and he says I'm not fit to rule," she replied, her voice flat, emotionless. "That I would never be as good as him. He toys with me. Yet he knows my desires. He knows how much I want it."

"I think you would be a much better ruler than him." Jem said, unable to help feeling a bit sorry for her. He guessed she had probably had a harder life than they realised.

"Of course you'd say that," she laughed bitterly, bending down to smell a rose.

He shook his head, pausing to wait for her. "I mean it. I do value honesty, you know."

When she didn't reply, and started walking at a brisk pace down the path, he hurried to catch up. "Can you tell me anything about the Queen, before I see her? Do you know why she hid in her room for months?"

"I don't know," she answered, although he felt like that wasn't entirely true. "She was… sick or something," she said nonchalantly.

"Surely you visited her? Did she seem ill?"

Clara's glare stopped him. "The King took full responsibility for her, and tended to her needs. I was not involved. Use your brain, Jem. Do you really think she'd want to see me? The King's bastard daughter? A reminder of everything she couldn't have? I doubt she likes me, and the feeling is mutual."

Looking down at the ground, he winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. It's been a while since I've been at Court, so it's easy to forget the significance of these things."

He looked up when Clara curled her fingers around his wrist. "It's alright Jem," she cooed. "I know you never mean any harm. It's just how you are."

As if casting off her previous thoughts, Clara smiled again, the dark expression gone. She pulled him by the wrist, over to a group of flowers. "Aren't they beautiful?" she said, almost reverently, as she gazed down at them. "My father knew of my love for flowers, and had these imported from all over the kingdoms. It's the best gift he's ever given me."

Jem was still surprised that Clara had called him her father. Normally when she called him 'the King,' she always seemed so far removed from him.

"Yes, they are," he agreed truthfully. The scent alone was lovely, the flowers and herbs heralding the season. "The range of colours are lovely too."

"Do you know the meanings of them?" she asked, glancing over at him, from under lowered lashes. "I learnt them from a visiting poet."

When he shook his head, she pointed out some of the flowers and their meanings. "There's Chamomile for patience, Chrysanthemum for cheerfulness – over there by the arches. Daisies are for innocence, or hope. Forget-me-not for well… forget-me-not," she said, with a small smile. "Ivy for friendship, Jasmine for sweet love. And willow, for sadness."

As she continued, he glanced at the flowers, as well as her expression, watching the way it lit up. Not the way it did when she pretended, but it truly brightened her features, making her look younger. Jem also pointed out some of the herbs, and their medicinal uses. Even petals could be useful – some could be used as an emetic or purgative, and the oil could scent a bath or soothe the skin. Clara actually seemed intrigued as he talked, and he tried to hide his surprise. She was like a whole different person sometimes.

"So, now I've told you what they mean, let's play a game. You can pick one that represents me, and I'll do the same for you," she said, glancing over at him with a secretive smile. "Hmm, let's see." Walking along the rows, she stopped and stooped down to pick a flower. "Yours can be the violet."

Returning to him, she handed him the purple flower, which had a sweet scent, and said, "Humility, virtue, loyalty, faithfulness. I feel like that suits you."

"Thank you," he replied, blushing slightly at the compliment. He spun the stem between his fingers. "For you…" Thinking for a moment, he then turned and picked up a small delicate flower, a light blue colour with a yellow centre. Walking back to her, and placing it behind her ear. "Forget-me-not. Because I think it would be hard to forget someone like you."

Now it was Clara's time to look surprised, as she tilted her head to the side, as if watching to see whether he meant it. "Good choice," she said finally, turning away.

After that, Clara seemed more distant, as if she were distracted. "We should return back inside," she said, after they had sat down and watched the flowers for a little while. "It's starting to get dark, and you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

Jem agreed, watching her for that spark of happiness, but it was gone as she looked back at the castle. He wished that he could understand her better. Then he could help her. But he didn't know how to help someone who wouldn't let anyone in.

A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. The next one will be from Will's point of view, and the one after that will be the long-awaited dinner, from Tessa's POV.

~SilverJem5