AN - I hope the lengthy chapter makes it up for the delay.

"Love you too, Bailey," Callie laughed at her friend's scolding. She lunged in and gave the small woman a hug, then ducked and spun away as Bailey half-heartedly swatted at her again. The brunette girl grabbed up a leftover heel of bread, shoved it into her mouth, and wished Bailey a mumbled good evening before slipping away from the palace kitchens.

It bordered on ridiculous that Bailey of all people should lecture her on being too outspoken; the woman was as blunt and subtle as a hammer between the eyes. Callie often imagined that Bailey saw too much of her own brash, outspoken ways in her, thus prompting the outbursts of reasonable advice. Callie smiled at the thought as she chewed her pilfered bit of bread. Bailey's advice was sound and reasonable, she knew. She also knew that she would no more follow it than Bailey herself.

Bailey was doing a better job of biting her tongue, but Callie knew the woman felt the same way. Everyone did, she was certain, even if no one had the courage to admit to it. The new caretaker of the palace, Robert Stark was a fool, a craven, a leech, and a bully beside. The Palace's deterioration since Stark came into control of the estate was appalling. Callie did not even understand how the little man had undone so much good and prosperity in a matter of months. He'd neglected the upkeep of the noble house, ground the servants under heel, and stole every bit of wealth and power he could get his hands on. Their estate was doomed, no matter what.

Even as she began to take ill, Queen Addison had seen that her palace and its services were in proper order. She had been a wise woman, and kind in a curt, no-nonsense sort of way. She had a nobility and proudness of bearing that made her servants and ministers proud to serve her, and Callie had been no exception. The Queen had always been fair, and seemed to have genuine care for the lot of her pupils, a passing rare trait in a Queen. She would never have stood for the neglect to her palace, the sullying of her family's name, the squandering of her hard earned wealth and the mistreatment of the servants and ministers that worked so hard in her name.

And then there was the sister….Crown Princess, now Queen, Arizona Robbins. Callie had nothing but contempt for her Queen's successor and heir. Five months had passed since Queen Addison's death and her sister was returning to her holdings just yesterday. Oh, many argued, the young Queen was busy away at battle. She was occupied with the war effort. Callie didn't care. Yes, the war was important, fine and sure. But she didn't see how the woman could possibly leave her own palace unattended for so long. It smacked of the behaviour of an irresponsible, spoiled and uncaring girl to her, that she could leave her inheritance to crumble to nothing and the people who had served her line faithfully to suffer under a would-be tyrant. The sister was little more than a shadow of the Queen, as far as Callie was concerned.

She disliked Arizona Robbins.

She never imagined that the first time she will see Arizona in months, she would be spreading her legs wide for her, in a stable no less, but that was only about their bodily needs. No one has ever satisfied her the way Arizona has.

She still dislikes her though and she wished she could go back in time and un-meet this spoiled woman.

The brunette woman stopped mid stride, standing in the hall, clenching her jaw tight. Her floor length skirt lashed the air behind her in agitation as she struggled to swallow her feelings. Sadness, anger, and despair welled up from deep inside, bubbling and seething and ugly. For a moment they rushed up, overwhelming, trying so desperately to get out. Callie fought them down, swallowed them, beat them back and buried them deep once more. With a shaky breath she began walking once more, she missed Queen Addison, so dearly.


Deciding she wasn't going to be getting any rest while in such a black mood, Callie turned down a turn in the corridor and padded off with purpose in her stride. Though it had only been full dark an hour ago, the Palace halls were empty, for which she was grateful. Light radiated gently from the candles glowing behind wall sconces of glass as she made her way to the servant's entrance to the gardens at the back of the Palace. She went to the same well she visited this morning and once more vigorously worked the pump until her bucket was full, breath puffing in steamy clouds in the silvery light of a half moon.

Callie had been willing to clean up in freezing well water this morning, but after a full day spent sweating in the kitchen she was having none of it. She slipped into the kitchen on her way back down the halls to find it empty and Bailey already retired for the night. Callie was in luck; the cooking fires had burned down to little more than heated embers, just hot enough to warm the water without catching her wooden bucket afire. She hung the bucket by its handle on the hook arm they used to hold the heavy kettles up over the fires, and swung it over one of the slowly dying kitchen fires.

While she waited for the water to heat, the brunette woman sat on the still warm stones before the fire. She let out a long sigh as she willed herself to relax, then had a long, luxurious stretch before curling up with her legs tucked under her dress while she laid on her side. Her dancing dark eyes gazed into the orange glow of the embers in the firepit, letting her thoughts fall away as the fire held her half mesmerised. She could almost feel herself sway to the subtle, undulating dance of the flame. Fire fascinated her, and frightened her. And she had ever been pulled to its warmth. Her lips twitched into a smile as she considered what she must look like, curled into a neat little ball before the fire. She let out a contended sigh but soon her thoughts went dark again.

The sex last night was mind-blowing and she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she craved more. She was over Arizona in these past months but last night, seeing her for the first time in months, broke her resolve. One moment Arizona was tying her horse in the stable and the next, Callie was all over her. But she had been delusional, because all Arizona will ever be interested in, is sex, unlike Callie, who's been battling loneliness and longing ever since she lost her virginity to Arizona.

She wanted more.

But she will never get more. Not at least with Arizona.

Satisfied that the water was warm enough, she grabbed up a thick woollen cloth and pulled the hook off the flames. She kept the cloth in her hands to grab the bucket and hauled it out the kitchen. After the kitchen's warmth, the smooth stones underfoot in the halls were cruelly cold. She stopped suddenly, her keen ears twitching atop her head as she made out the muffled sound of conversation. A few more steps carried her to a bisecting hallway, and she saw two shadows dancing in the candle light cast from the wall sconce down the hall to her left. In no mood to be spotted, Callie slinked forward on sure, light feet past the intersecting halls. Carefully silent and avoiding spilling the water in her bucket, the girl made her way to the washroom and closed the door behind her, praying all the while the hinges wouldn't squeak and draw some passerby. The door was mercifully silent.

The wash room was small and cramped but always clean, little more than a cell with a rack with much used towels hanging to dry and be reused and a shelf with a basin for washing. There was a pricey brass mirror hanging on the wall above the basin, a rare courtesy extended to the house's women. It was past its prime and in bad need of replacement, but Callie could still see her reflection in it, sort of, and so it was one of the few luxuries the servant had left. The water was just hot enough to put off a bit of steam when she poured it from the bucket to the basin. She slipped back out into the hall just long enough to swipe a candle from a nearby wall sconce, and set it in the candle holder inside the washroom. The lone candle was plenty enough light for her sensitive night eyes to see by. She slipped out of her dress and hung it on a peg set in the wall.

"Sweet mercy," Callie groaned aloud as she dipped her hands and forearms into the warm basin water. "If I'd just gotten to do this in the first place, it would have been a much finer day all around. Damn you, Bailey."

The brunette woman snatched the cleanest looking towel from the rack and wet it thoroughly, then grabbed a grubby sliver of hard soap from beside the basin and began to wash. She took her time, thoroughly working over each part of her body, scrubbing suds into her short pelt. She washed until she had the smell of sweat and cooking fire scoured away, then rinsed, and then because the water hadn't gone to ice yet, she even washed her hair. It was a peasant's bath, a standing scrub down at a basin with water that was just over lukewarm at best. Callie didn't care; after a day's labour, it felt divine.

After washing, Callie took one of the woollen towels hanging from a peg. She stared at it dubiously for a moment, feeling certain that it would leave her dirtier than she was after the bath, if not before. But she would have to dry her hair, or she'd freeze solid during the night. Looking in the nearby drawers, she finally found a clean towel and thanked the heavens for her luck.

As she towelled herself dry slowly and thoroughly, Callie stared at herself in the mirror. She was not in the habit of reflecting on her appearance. Maybe it was tonight's melancholy, but she found herself in an odd enough frame of mind to really linger and watch herself.

She was a beautiful woman, she knew. She could admit that without vanity. Her wide eyes were a striking, rich brown, made all the more eye-catching by her exotic deep pupils. Her nose was small and cutely rounded at the end. Her face was delicate and heart shaped, with softly defined cheeks and full, pouting lips with her upper lip forming a neat, graceful cupid's bow.

Callie's hair was thick and heavy, a mass of dark tumbling curls that tended to fall in dense coils of black silk across one side of her face if she left it unbound. It hung in waves and curls, spilling down to the just above the small of her back. Where it should have appeared unkempt and messy and tangled, Callie's hair looked untamed, wild, and sensually alluring.

As her eyes slid along the mirror's reflection, Callie let her hand follow her eye's path. She was built for physical activity and sensuality. Her limbs were long and lean, supplely made and strong. Her belly was flat and taut, and her legs were powerful, made for leaping and springing and running, smooth and soft to the touch and firmly muscled.

Her hips had the shapely rounding of a woman who could entice anyone. Her breasts were generously heavy and alluring, perfect twin teardrops still firm with youth and well made, with dusky mocha nipples stiff and thick from the cool air. Despite Bailey's insistence of narrowness, her ass was deliciously generous and rounded, firm and inviting to the touch and softly, smoothly muscled much as her thighs were.

Hands following eyes, Callie cupped one generously rounded breast, feeling the warmth and weight in her palm. She shivered softly, thumb and forefinger knowingly finding the thick, aching nub of her nipple and giving it a firm pinch. She bit back a gasp as pleasure exploded through her body, a direct line racing from her pink nipple, down her flat, taut belly, directly into her pussy. Her eyes staring at her reflection, smudged and warped in the brass mirror, flickering in the weak candle light, as mesmerizing as the flames in the kitchen fire had been. She pinched her nipple again, harder this time, and fire burned in her veins as the slight edge of stinging pain only served to stoke her arousal higher. Her fingers slinked slowly down, brushing over her smooth stomach.

With an abruptness that left her literally shaking, her arousal came over her. It was beyond a want, beyond an ache. Her cunt burned. She throbbed intensely in time with the beating of her pulse. The desperate, maddening hunger was like a hole in her heart, a need to be filled and fucked until she felt some semblance of normalcy again. Every time the heat overtook her it was like a slap in the face, sudden and sharp and impossible to ignore. And it only grew worse as the years went by. She dreaded to think how it would be when she came into her 30s.

She wasn't ashamed that she enjoyed sex…even craved it. If men can crave it, so can she. She just wished she had more control over her urges.

Callie's fingers unerringly found her cunt. Her palm cupped her mound, soft and pillowy and supplely thick. Her fingers toyed with her outer lips. Her inner folds were pink and thick and slick already with her arousal. The brunette girl bit her full lower lip as she stroked her slit, her fingers gliding along her swollen, slippery folds. Her sex ached from last night still. Only a night ago...the memories were vivid and heady. Hands gripping her graceful hips. The fullness of Arizona's length inside her, her sex split and stretched. The thrusts from behind becoming more and more urgent as Arizona grunted into her ear and Callie eagerly pushed back into her, gyrating her ass desperately, taking Arizona deeper and deeper still...

Callie was practically panting now. She was so very hot. Her sticky pussy juice was flowing, dripping from her and coating her fingers as she ran them up and down her slit. She wetted her lips with her tongue and gasped as she ran her fingers over the hard swell of her clit, rubbing the aching bundle of nerves in slow, tight circles. She leaned against the wall, the stone cool against her bare back. The young servant was trembling and her core throbbed, milking at nothing in her desperate hunger. Her free hand toyed with the aching tips of her breasts and she once again pinched and pulled at her nipples, the intensity of her firm, aggressive touch so good, so very good, but oh, if only it were of Arizona's, a woman with rough and capable and cruel hands who would grip her flesh tight as she took her...

The brunette bit her full lower lip, groaning out her pleasure. She then tensed suddenly her body going still and her soft ears perked attentively as she heard the murmur of conversation and the scuff of soft footfalls coming down the hall.

Driven more by surprise than shame Callie almost panicked, yanking her fingers from the warmth of her loins and reaching for her dress. Then she calmed and a curious sort of anticipating crept over her. She thought about the possibilities. The two men making their way down the hall would likely be more than glad to provide some relief from the overwhelming ache Callie was feeling tonight...though she normally tried her best to practise some measure of selectiveness and discretion in her night encounters, sometimes the arousal was simply too intense, too difficult to bear, and she became all too willing and desperate.…..

But she also knew none of those men can satisfy her. Arizona has ruined her for anyone else. She had tried so many partners in the past months, yet no one came close to what Arizona can stir within her.

As quickly as her hopes blossomed, they crumbled. It was, in fact, not two men, but a man and a woman. Not that that was a deterrent, per-se...but this particular woman happened to be Lexie Grey, a vehemently devout follower of the Highest Holy, the pure and chaste god followed by virgins and frightened maids and old spinsters who had no taste of wine or adventure or sex and certainly not any combination of the three.

Lexie was one of the most outspoken champions of bigotry and hypocritical judgement Callie knew, in addition to being a liar and having an unreasonable conviction that Callie was trying desperately to sleep with her husband Mark Sloan. Even though she was half tempted to do so just to spite Lexie, Callie wouldn't fuck the man based on one simple point. At some point, likely long ago when he was a much less miserable, down beaten sod than he was today, Mark had probably actually fucked Lexie before their marriage.

That was enough to keep Callie away, even in her most extreme needs.


By the time the voices faded and the pair was cleared away from the hall Callie's arousal fled, gone as suddenly as it had come. It wouldn't be long before it began again, she knew, and maybe she should get some relief. But she was in no mood to hunt for it. She quickly shimmied back into her dress, dumped the now dirty basin water into her bucket, and put it at the door to be taken out in the morning. After blowing out the candle, she quietly slipped across the hall and into the Palace to check for the locks and bolts.

Callie had been working long hours and she was truly exhausted, but she knew she needed to see Arizona before she went to sleep.

She needed release and she was determined to make Arizona give it to her.


As Callie walked through the palace halls, she spotted the crown princess, now queen, Arizona in a secluded corner. As soon as Callie saw Arizona, her arousal struck her again like a bolt of lightning. She tried to ignore it, but it was impossible. Arizona was simply too beautiful, too regal, too...sexy.

Her heart raced as she approached the regal woman, who seemed dressed to go to sleep.

Arizona looked up, surprised to see Callie, but her eyes lit up with desire as the raven-haired beauty immediately dropped to her knees before her.

"Callie….what are you doing here at this hour of the night?" Arizona asked and took a step back as she saw the all too knowing look on Callie's face.

Without bothering with an answer, Callie reached up and began to undo the ties of Arizona's sleep gown, exposing her ample bosom and the hard bulge between her legs, hidden neatly behind a sexy set of undergarments. As she pulled down Arizona's underwear, Callie couldn't help but admire the beauty of her Arizona's cock. It was thick and long, with a perfectly shaped head that glistened in the candlelight. Despite her exhaustion, Callie felt a surge of energy coursing through her veins.

Callie licked her lips in anticipation as she gently lowered Arizona's briefs and pulled out and took Arizona's cock into her mouth, savouring the salty taste of pre-cum that leaked from the tip.

She bobbed her head up and down, taking as much of Arizona's length as she could. She stroked the base of her shaft with one hand, while the other reached up to fondle Arizona's full breasts. Arizona moaned with pleasure, as she thrust her hips forward.

Callie took it all, deepthroating Arizona's cock until it hit the back of her throat. She massaged the base of her shaft with her hand, feeling it pulse with desire as Arizona approached the edge. "Oh, god, Callie," she moaned, her hips bucking against Callie's face.

But Arizona didn't wanted to come so soon.

Arizona's moans filled the room, and Callie could feel the blonde's hands running through her hair. But instead of gentle caresses, Arizona's grip tightened, pulling Callie's head closer to her cock.

"Come on, Callie," Arizona growled, her voice low and commanding. "I know you can do better than this."

Callie was taken aback by the sudden change in Arizona's demeanour, but she didn't want to disappoint her, she needed something and pissing the princess off would mean an empty night. She took a deep breath and began to suck harder, taking more and more of Arizona's cock into her mouth with each passing moment.

"You like that, don't you?" Arizona said, her voice thick with desire. "You like being my little plaything, don't you?."

Callie moaned in response, her own arousal building with every passing moment. She could feel Arizona's cock swelling in her mouth, and she knew that her lover was close to coming.

But instead of letting her finish, Arizona pulled away from Callie's mouth, leaving her feeling empty and frustrated.

"You haven't earned it yet," Arizona said, her voice cold and distant as she gently stroked her cock. "Get up."

Callie stood up, feeling confused and a little hurt. This bitch.

"Strip," Arizona commanded, and Callie knew that she had no choice but to obey. She quickly removed her clothes, standing naked before the blonde.

"Good," Arizona said, her eyes taking in every inch of Callie's body as she continued stroking her dick. "Now jiggle those breasts for me"

Callie did as she was told, feeling vulnerable and exposed. She softly jiggled the upper half of her body which made her heavy, aching breasts sway a little.

Arizona's eyes grew dark in hunger as she leaned in and took one swaying breast in her mouth.

"Ummm….you taste,,,,ummm…delicious" Arizona said between sucking as she brought their bodies closer and rubbed her hard dick on Callie's slick folds

As Arizona grew rougher with her sucking of boobs, Callie began to lose herself in the sensation. The pain was mixed with pleasure, and she could feel her arousal building higher.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Arizona lifted her head up close and kissed Callie deeply.

"That's what I wanted," Arizona said at Callie's lips, her voice commanding yet soothing. "This thing that we are doing…..it can't be just about you"

Callie didn't fucking cared. She needed release and she knew Arizona can give it to her. Arizona's words were as empty as the woman herself. All Callie knew was that

with those words, she had earned her reward. She got on her knees again and took Arizona's cock back into her mouth, slurping on the erect meat voraciously.

As she picked up the pace, she could feel Arizona's cock growing harder and harder in her mouth, and she knew she was doing a good job. She began to suck harder, taking more and more of Arizona's cock into her mouth until Arizona's balls were slapping at her chin.

Arizona's moans grew louder and she could feel Arizona's cock pulsing in her mouth, she knew it wouldn't be long before she was rewarded with a mouthful of hot, sticky cum.

Finally, with a loud cry, Arizona came. Callie swallowed as much of the cum as she could, but some of it spilled out of her mouth and onto her chin. She didn't care - she was too lost in the moment.

As Arizona came down from her orgasm, Callie pulled away from the blonde's cock and looked up at her. Arizona was smiling down at her, her eyes filled with unbridled desire.

"Thank you….after the kind of night I just had….,I needed that," Arizona whispered, as she lifted Callie up.

Callie wasn't done though and she didn't neede Arizona's curtesy. She pulled away Arizona and turned around, presenting her tight little ass to the crown princess. "Fuck me, Your Highness," she purred, wiggling her hips invitingly.

Arizona needed no further encouragement. She stepped closer to Callie and thrust her cock into her dripping wet pussy, groaning with pleasure at the tightness and warmth that surrounded her. She pounded into Callie with abandon, gripping her hips tightly as she fucked her hard and fast.

Callie moaned with pleasure, and reached down to stroke herself, feeling the pleasure build to an explosive climax. "Oh, fuck, I'm gonna come," she groaned, as Arizona's thrusts grew harder and more urgent.

With a final, deep thrust, Arizona buried her cock deep inside Callie's pussy, filling her with hot, sticky cum. Callie came at the same time, shooting her release down her thighs. They both collapsed against the wall in a heap, panting and sweating with the intensity of their orgasms.

"That was incredible, Your Highness," Callie gasped, as Arizona pulled out of her and stood up straight, and quickly got dressed. She can't believe that they did this in the palace hallways of all places. Arizona smirked, before striding off to her chambers, leaving Callie to collect herself and head for a satisfying sleep.


Callie quickly made her way to her quarters that she shared with some of the other servant women.

The girls were already abed by the time she slipped in and the candles snubbed out. Bodies were rolled under thin, tattered blankets in their bed rolls and flat, uncomfortable pallets. None of them had wondered at her absence, though tonight it wasn't for the reasons they likely assumed.

Stepping lightly over her room mates, Callie found her pallet and sank down onto it. Upon discovering her blanket had been stolen again, she heaved a quiet sigh, drew her legs up under her dress, and huddled into herself for warmth. Cold was already seeping through the cracks in the great stone walls and the floor was so frigid the chill was radiating up straight through her pallet.

It hit her all of a sudden like a fist in her gut; this was her life. Living in service to a woman she hated for her thoughtless neglect and greed, who was himself nothing but a stand-in for another woman she lived in service to, whom she hated for not being there in the first place. Every day her rations grew slimmer and her work grew longer, and for naught. The only home she'd ever really known wasn't even her home at all, but someone else's. The most decent, honorable, good hearted woman she'd ever known was gone, dead before her time. Her only comfort in life was to share a bed or a stolen moment of pleasure with men she had no interest in beyond the attention her wretchedly out of control libido demanded. And that attention was the very reason her roommates would rather spit on her than say a word to her.

And now, someone had stolen her blanket, again, just because she had stupidly taken a few moments to wash up and get her release.

On another night she would have jumped on every one of them, spitting fire and curses until someone gave her blanket back, consequences be damned. But tonight, right now...

Callie was tired.

So tired and warm that she won't be needing a blanket to fall asleep. She was satisfied.


"If ye can spare a moment, Milord, I'm ready to report."

Arizona looked up from a map covering the huge pinewood table in her chamber. A variety of similar maps and charts were arrayed on the table and rolled into tubes propped against the desk. There were writing supplies and a sheaf of fresh paper at the crown princess's elbow. Her tryst with Callie had put her in good mood and she wanted to check-up on the reports from the war as soon as possible .

Richard Webber was standing at the door of Arizona's chamber. The old man looked like many of his brothers; dark and tall, wise and concise. He was one of Arizona's trusted minister, a little heavy drinker but too good with strategies and medicine.

His hands were far more familiar with blades designed for surgical medicine than ones made for killing, which is why Arizona have him on-board.

"Have a seat," Arizona motioned to a wicker chair on the other side of his table.

Richard Webber settled awkwardly into the chair, too big and too broad to sit comfortably. He reached up with one heavy hand to adjust the thick lensed bifocals perched on the great knob of his nose.

Arizona's blue gaze took the black physician in critically for a long moment. "Have you eaten today?"

Richard Webber gave a noncommittal grunt.

Arizona shook her head and smiled wryly to herself as she rose and walked across the chamber to a small stand beside her large four-poster bed. A decanter of spiced wine, a pair of brass cups, and a platter of food sat atop it. Pears and grapes, small roasted potatoes and white onions, and some thick slices of salted pork sat on the platter. All of the food was fresh and well flavoured, but Arizona was in no-mood to eat, having already eaten heavy in the evening. Arizona poured a cup full of wine and grabbed some of the pork, and set them on the table in front of Richard Webber. The black man gave the princess a look but offered no argument.

Arizona returned to her chair, folded her hands together, and waited patiently as Richard Webber ate his meal.

The physician wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Arizona had known the Doctor long enough to know it pained him to do so, but she knew he won't adjourn this meeting for some napkins.

"Seven dead, thirteen wounded," Richard Webber said at last. "One Knight, Sir Charles passed. Three Knights, Madam Reed, Sir Finn, and Madam Sadie are wounded. Sir Charles took an axe to the chest. Already got a fever that'd lay a hale man low. I don't think he'll be makin' it. Rest of our dead and wounded were foot soldiers. I'll have their names on yer desk on the morn."

"Well done, Richard. I'll arrange for word to be sent to the families of the deceased, and burial arrangements made according to the men's stations and beliefs. Tell the wounded I will make rounds to their soldier chambers to see them in the morning, we have been back for a day now, I don't want any more casualties." Arizona added.

Webber took the news stoically, which was not to say that he took it without pain or grief. On the contrary, the deaths made his chest tight with emotion, and he had to force calm words past the lump in his throat. But war was a long suffering thing, and this one more than most. Men died every day. Good, true men. And more would die tomorrow if they don't recover properly, and more still if Arizona didn't keep her wits and a head clear for command.

A leader didn't have the luxury of dwelling on loss.

"There's more, Milord," Richard Webber said in a heavy tone. The Physician's face, which had always been dour and rough, was especially care-lined and weary tonight. "Andrew fell, Milord."

"I know," Arizona said, and even to her ears, her voice was hollow and hard. The surge of emotion was harder to quell, now. Andrew DeLuca had been a good lad, loyal and hardworking and earnest. He'd held his position as squire to the Crown Princess with utmost seriousness. He had been a fast learner and knew his Arizona and her habits well. The boy had also been enthusiastically and single-mindedly working on his swordsmanship and other martial disciplines, and though he would never be more than the son of a minor noble with hardly a spit of land to his name, Arizona had no doubt that one day his squire would make a fine warrior in his own right.

And now he was dead.

The Physician reached down beside his chair. Arizona hadn't noticed when he entered, but the Physician had carried something in with him. He placed a single arrow quietly on Arizona's desk and sat back in the uncomfortable wicker chair, waiting.

Arizona took up the arrow, held it before her, studied it. The arrow was uniquely made, a slender black shaft and a fine head of steel. The arrow head was so wickedly barbed that if the initial shot itself didn't kill its target, attempting to remove the head would rip so much flesh away that death would be a mercy. Feathers of a vivid azure blue fletched the arrow and strange runes were scrawled along the obsidian shaft. It was like nothing the Princess had ever seen before.

"What do you make of it?" Arizona mused as she turned the arrow slowly in her hand, feeling the weight of it.

"It's not a simple arrow" Richard Webber replied.

Arizona had known that immediately. Yorkville Warriors preferred engaging their enemy in melee, face to face with their foes, but what bowmen they had were skilled archers. Their arrows tended to be on the thick side, driven by powerful bows crafted from the trees of the GhostWood to the west of the Johake grasslands. The arrows were a rich red; common rumour held each of their arrows were painted with the blood of their enemies. Most Yorkville Warriors arrows either had a sharpened wood point or at most a simple iron head. As far different from the arrow in her hand as could be.

"It was meant for me," Arizona said at last, shaking her head slowly with a grim set to her jaw. "Andrew...you fool boy. He shouldn't have been there. He'd begged me, time and again, to join the battle. And like always, I said no. But there he was, flinging himself in front of me and taking the arrow. He shouldn't have been there."

"Didn't see the archer, eh?" Richard Webber asked, and adjusted his bifocals.

"No."

"Well. Yer lucky the boy was there. Arrow would have killed you, even if you had bothered to wear a plate. Near tore through Andrew's plate. Only stopped because it lodged in his spine. More besides...somethin's fowl 'bout that arrow. The wound was near putrid with decay. Yet the body was...I can't explain it. But the boy's body seemed almost to be growin' 'round the arrow, even as it decayed inside. Like the lad's body was tryin' to trap the arrow and its rot inside so there was no way it could be stopped or healed. Wasn't any poison. Some kind o'..."

"Magic," Arizona finished for him, one pale finger tracing over the strangely scrawling runes along the arrows shaft.

"And a kind I've never seen a'fore."

"Nor I," Arizona leaned back in her chair and passed a hand over her face. "What are your thoughts?"

"My thoughts is, I'm no mage," Richard Webber grumbled. "But fer certain whatever this magic is, it's somethin' dark and unnatural."

Arizona placed the arrow down on her desk quietly and met the Physician healer's eyes with her intense, gleaming azure gaze. "Richard...has anyone seen this?"

"No, MiLord," the physician replied.

"And no one has been told?"

"No, MiLord," Richard Webber repeated.

"Good. It would best for it to stay that way. Understand?" Arizona said softly.

"Aye, MiLord. I follow."

"Very good," Arizona nodded. The Crown Princess leaned back in her seat. "Thank you for your report, and your discretion. That will be all."

Later Arizona sat on the edge of her bed, absently spinning the strange arrow between her fingers, deep in thought. A dark arrow, and dark magic. Shot in the heat of battle with her as the intended target. Who could the shooter have been? This attack spoke of deception and subtle, sinister warfare from the shadows. Though the Yorkville Warriors were capable of guerilla tactics and cunning, Arizona simply didn't feel their hand in this.

Which left her with...what? Arizona didn't know. The Yorkville Warriors weren't the only possibility, of course. As a crown princess, and sworn to be sworn as queen, there was a pretty lengthy list of people who might profit from her death. The Yorkville Warriors were not the only foreign power the Robbinsland had known to conflict with. As far as he knew Robbins Land was on good terms with its other neighbours currently, but it wouldn't be the first time an assassination was planned during peacetime.

Then there was the Court. She had never been active in Court, and in the past few months she had hardly been away from the warfront for more than a moment. Of course, that didn't mean some Noble with more ambition and money than honour or sense wouldn't make a reach for power without provocation. When it came down to it, the attack could have come from anywhere. Under different circumstances, Arizona would have simply let it go at the unfortunate risk that comes with rank and title.

Only the attack was so passing strange. And serious, too. Someone had gone to great and unusual lengths to try to put her in the ground. If not for the bravery of an incredibly foolish and loyal boy, it would have worked. The arrow was strange, and the magic tied to it stranger still. Whatever dark spell had been enchanted on the arrow, it was nothing she had ever heard of before but she was certain it did not come cheaply.

Arizona carefully tucked the arrow under her pillow and removed her boots and her regal attire, that she had slipped on before meeting Webber and slipped into her satin nightgown gown again. It smelled a little like Callie and somehow that calmed her down. She dimmed the chandelier lights in her chamber and left a single candle burning on the short stand beside her bed. She watched the candle light flicker against the roof. She had to force herself not to see threats in the interplaying shadows swaying across the canvas. Her hand found the hilt of the dagger under her pillow and took small comfort from it.

This would not be an isolated incident. The attack had been blatant, with no real effort made at disguising it. Arizona might have called it an incompetent attempt, only the measures used were not the tools and means of an amateur.

No, Arizona did not believe her assassin was incompetent, but instead was arrogant. Whoever he was, the man probably had not imagined his attack would fail. That it had would not stop him. And Arizona was in a precarious position; she was surrounded by guards and soldiers and security, true, but she was also stuck to a fixed location, followed a predictable routine, and regularly found herself vulnerable and exposed during battles. The assassin would strike again, and this time he would be careful and sure of the kill.

And he could do it at any time, at his leisure; where was Arizona going to go?

Arizona clenched her jaw and fought for control as a wave of anger washed over her. She warred with the desire to race out of the palace in a rage, to turn the camp and surrounding countryside upside down until she found her would be killer and spit the man on his sword. It was difficult to cool the righteous fire surging in her veins. But she counselled herself to calm. Anger wouldn't solve this problem. A level head and sharp mind would.

It took some moments, but finally her emotions settled, and clarity filled her.

She would go where there was information, Arizona decided. She would find this assassin, and through him, whoever had put a contract on her head. As she lacked any other clue or link to the assassin, the crown princess's mind went to the arrow. And the spell attached to it.

She briefly considered asking the camp's mage, Mark, about the spell. But she quickly rejected the notion. She didn't trust the battle mage; Arizona didn't trust mages in general actually, but Mark even less than most. They only have Mark in their court because he was a dear friend of Addison. The man was craven and reminded her of a weasel, his eyes fluttering and his mannerisms nervous and twitchy. Mark Sloan was always too eager for scraps of information and coveted secrets as if he were hoarding them. His eyes saw much, his lips spoke little, and though he obeyed orders and served his duties enough to keep up the pretence of loyalty, Arizona felt sure it was not their Crown the mage served.

No, Arizona would have to begin her search elsewhere. She had no doubt the information she needed would require some digging, which meant she needed to start somewhere with a wealth of knowledge collected, or people who specialised in finding specific, unusual bits of lore...

Dark fell in her chamber as the candle at last guttered, spent. Arizona let out a long sigh and did her best to still her darting mind. She had to snatch a few hours of rest, at least; she would be on the move all too soon, and she would need her wits about her to find a way to extract herself from her position with as little attention drawn her way as possible.

Doubtless there were eyes on her, eyes that would follow when she withdrew from the front. But with some luck and a bit of finesse, no one would know she realised her life was being targeted. If she could move quickly she might manage to stay one step ahead of those marking her, at least until she has discovered who and what she was dealing with.

As she began to drift, she almost imagined she could feel the arrow tucked under her pillow thrumming with dark magic.

She would find her answers. And she knew where she would begin her search.