Three thousand years later

Prince Astir stood out on his balcony, taking the night air. The day had been hot, but the temperature had dropped when the sun set, and now it was the perfect temperature. Even the slight breeze felt as comfortable as bath water.

Although it was approaching midnight, there were many lights in the courtyard below and people were darting to and fro, as busy as if it was the middle of the day. The next day was Prince Astir's eighteenth birthday and everyone was still busy preparing for it. He would finally come into his majority and the Council which had been ruling Hyrule in his name since he had been an infant would step back and be his advisors only. Tomorrow, he would become king.

But the title would be unofficial, since he wasn't having his coronation just yet. He was a romantic at heart—having grown up on stories of Link and Zelda—and he wanted to have a wedding and joint coronation. The thought of ruling the kingdom alone didn't bother him—he was willing to do it for as long as it took to find the right bride—but he felt that something would be missing if he didn't have a queen. He held Link and Zelda's example to be ideal: two people with different ideas and temperaments nonetheless working in unison. It created a balance so that weaknesses were negated and strengths tempered just enough to keep the country from steering too strongly in one direction.

A knock at the bedroom door took him away from his appreciation of the night. He hobbled back into his room on his crippled left foot. "Enter," he called out.

Addison, the Lord High Chancellor, entered and bobbed his head a little in a gesture of respect. For as long as Prince Astir could remember, Addison had been doing that. Even when the prince was only a little boy, Addison had always dipped his head before addressing him—even if he was about to scold him or tell him "no."

"Highness, everything is on schedule for tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"Is there anything you else you need tonight?"

"I can't think of anything. Go to bed."

"Thank you, sire. I think I will," he said, rubbing his temple. Astir knew Addison wasn't feeling well if he agreed to go to bed without protest when there was still work to be done. Addison was one of those anxious people who always seemed to be worried about something and felt it necessary to personally supervise every little detail to make sure nothing went wrong. It seemed to contribute to him having frequent headaches and upset stomach, though.

After Addison left, Astir limped back to the balcony and resumed his place overlooking the busy courtyard. Despite the Lord High Chancellor's absence, everything seemed to still be moving efficiently.

Astir wondered if he should offer to demote Addison. He didn't want to insult the older man, but there was really no need for him to have a Lord High Chancellor once he was king; despite the club foot he had been born with, he was perfectly capable of governing the kingdom with just his advisors; he need not have a right-hand man.

Poor Addison. Eighteen years ago, he had been a young man—the younger son of a minor noble—fresh out of school and anxious to please. The former king and queen had apprenticed him to their aging Master of Protocol, and his job had been to advise them in matters of court etiquette and make sure that everyone at formal occasions processed in the correct order and that all of their proper titles were announced.

Then, when Astir was not yet a year old, word came of a horrible plague striking Shi-Ha and killing large numbers of people. Everyone waited nervously for news every day, praying that the plague would stop before it spread. Then came a warning a couple of weeks later: it was in Meridor.

The king and queen hurried to try to seal off Hyrule's borders and stop all trade outside the kingdom in hopes of keeping the plague out. They and their advisors worked day and night passing edicts and personally overseeing the building of protective fences around many of the villages—especially to the east—to try and keep out strangers who might be carrying the disease.

Out of an overabundance of caution, they bundled up their infant son—whom they already worried about because of his deformed foot—and gave him to his nurse to take into the safety of exile. Addison was chosen to accompany them because he was the least-needed person at court in a time of crisis.

Addison and Marim had travelled north to a small fishing village on the border of Hyrule and Erenrue. There, Addison assumed control of the village, under the authority of the king and queen, and he had the villagers construct a stockade around the small cluster of houses. And there they hunkered down and waited.

Three months later, Addison, Marim, and Prince Astir emerged into a much emptier world. The plague had been especially virulent among adults, leaving few behind to take care of thousands of orphaned children. Some of the villages, which had managed to maintain their isolation, survived intact, but almost none of the older nobles had survived. When Addison and Marim had crept back into the castle, they found it empty and dusty. The king and queen and all their advisors were dead.

Addison, barely twenty years old and with little experience even in his chosen field, suddenly found himself one of the highest-ranking nobles and the most-senior advisor in Hyrule. He was also the guardian of the sole heir of Hyrule. He had become the Lord High Chancellor by default and had to juggle running a kingdom suddenly devoid of most of its adult population but still full of helpless children, while being father and tutor both to the orphaned prince.

It was definitely more than he bargained for when he had first accepted a position at the castle. And, perhaps, it was time for him to be relieved of the burden that he had carried for too long. But Astir would have to ask delicately, because the last thing he wanted was for his foster-father to feel unappreciated, shunted aside, and forgotten. He had displayed the very greatest traits of nobility and self-sacrifice for the kingdom and Astir didn't want to do anything to insult him. But, at the same time, he wanted Addison to be able to slow down and enjoy life without being so overburdened that it caused him frequent headaches and stomach ulcers.

He decided that he would speak to Addison about it sometime after his birthday party. Even if he was coming into his majority the next day and would be king in all but name, he would still need Addison's counsel while he assumed the reins of government.

Because his party wasn't just a birthday party; it was his "coming out" party. The young prince had been secreted inside the castle for eighteen years, his health jealously guarded. He had grown up without any playmates and he had never met any of his nobles. Even the fact that he was crippled in one foot wasn't known outside the castle.

But tomorrow night, all the nobles would attend his birthday party and they would finally see their prince for the first time and he would get to know the other young people in his kingdom who—like him—either recently came into their inheritances, or would soon.

The other purpose—in Astir's mind, the purpose—of the party was for him to meet all the eligible young women in the kingdom and see if any looked like potential wife/queen material. Although he was willing to go without a coronation until he could find someone to be his queen, that didn't mean he wanted to wait for years to find the right girl.


The next day was terribly long; it seemed to Prince Astir that the time would never pass. He was so eager for his party, he could hardly sit still. He would no more sit down to do something than he'd jump up and pace around.

"Nervous?" Addison asked while he watched the Grooms of the Wardrobe dress Astir for the party. The prince was fussing with the sleeves of his doublet, making sure that the ruffled cuffs of his undershirt peeked out from under the doublet sleeves just so.

"Not on your life!" Astir exclaimed, still fiddling with his sleeve.

"Excited?" Addison guessed.

"Very much so," Astir said, looking up at his foster-father with shining eyes. "This is the first party I've ever had. This is the first time I've ever met my people. And maybe tonight will be the first time I meet my future wife. What's not to be excited about?"

Addison smiled a little. "I'm glad that it pleases you, my prince."

"I am very pleased indeed," Astir said, turning to look at himself in the full-length mirror nearby. He smoothed his hands over the dark blue velvet doublet—its silver buttons shining in the candlelight. "I am pleased," he repeated, admiring his reflection.

He was a handsome young man who smiled easily. He couldn't quite be classified as tall, but he was a little taller than average. His shoulders were wide and built for muscle, but because his club foot kept him from being very active or pursuing knighthood, his actual body was slender. His hair, which had been blond in infancy and early childhood, had settled into a very light brown and it hung in loose curls. His nurse, Marim, had always remarked that his eyes were as blue as a cloudless summer day and it was true; they were so perfectly blue, it was startling.

One of the grooms brought over a coronet and started to reach up to put it on Astir's head, but he waved him off. "Not yet."

"Why not?" Addison asked, looking confused.

"I've been thinking about it," Astir said, "and I think I would like to go incognito—at least at the start."

Addison was silent for a moment—maybe from shock, or maybe just from confusion. "Incognito? How can you go to your own party secretly? People expect the host to be there."

"And I will be," Astir said, turning to the older man. "I just want to take the opportunity—while no one knows who I am—to mingle. You know, see what people think about me."

"Highness, this is not a good idea . . ."

Astir perked a brow. "Why? Do you think that they will say something bad about me?"

"I doubt it, because they don't know you. But it feels like a trick, and people don't like to be tricked."

"It's not a trick," Astir argued. "I just feel that people will be more genuine if they don't know they're talking to their king. And I think women will be that way, too." He turned back to the mirror for one last look. "I don't want to marry a woman who is only interested in my crown. I want one who likes me—who would marry me, even if I hadn't been born a prince."

Addison sighed the weary sigh of a man hard put-upon. Before, he would have tried harder to convince Astir that this wasn't a very good idea, but now that his ward was of age, he was trying to back off and let Astir make more choices for himself—even if they weren't terribly wise.

"So we will not announce you when you go into the hall?" Addison asked.

"No. I will enter just like everyone else. But you must announce that I've been detained by business and that everyone should begin without me. Start the music and let people dance. I'll tell you when I'm ready to be revealed."

"Very good, sire."

A short time later, Astir walked into the throne room, which had been converted to a ballroom. He was late to arrive, so the room was already full of people. Astir paused just inside the doorway, looking at the spectacle. He had never seen so many people gathered together at once. Their clothing was a riot of color, and gems and metal embroidery threads glittered and sparkled under the light of the massive chandeliers. Everywhere there was noise—pleasant noise, full of laughter and happy voices.

Astir took a long moment to drink it all in, then he glanced at Addison, who had discreetly followed him in. He gave the older man a small nod, then he began walking towards the nearest cluster of people. Addison took a different route through the crowd, making a beeline for the dais at the other end of the hall.

A couple of minutes later, Addison climbed the stairs, then stopped on the next-to-top step. The crowd began to grow quiet as people noticed him. It fell silent a moment later when he raised his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests, I regret to inform you that His Highness has been detained on a matter of state and will be arriving later than anticipated. He sends his deepest apologies and will join you as soon as he can. In the meantime, he bade me invite you to begin without him. So, please, feel free to help yourself to refreshments," Addison said, gesturing to the tables of foods and delicacies lining the wall, "and enjoy yourselves. Thank you."

He gave everyone a slight bow, then descended the stairs and disappeared into the crowd.

"We've waited all this time to see the prince, and he's late to his own party!" exclaimed one of the young men in the crowd that Astir had joined.

"I guess they're not going to wait for him to be crowned before they load him up with affairs of state," a woman said.

"You think it could wait," the young man said, still sounding personally affronted.

"Well, I don't care if he's here or not," another woman said over the music that was just starting. "I want to dance."

Astir was quick to hold his hand out to her. "May I have the first dance?" he asked.

She smiled and put her hand in his. "Certainly."

Astir led her through the milling crowd, closer to the orchestra and the dance floor. It was only then that she noticed his limp and, looking down, she spied his left foot, twisted in at almost a ninety degree angle.

"Ca-can you dance?" she stuttered, looking at his club foot in something approaching horror.

"Yes," he said confidently. He had been tutored in dancing for years. He couldn't dance the faster country dances and reels, but he could do them if they were slow, and he could waltz with a partner.

They took the floor and Astir put his right arm around her, his hand firmly in the center of her back, between her shoulder blades, and he took her right hand in his left and proceeded to confidently—albeit slowly—waltz with her.

"What's your name, m'lady?" he asked.

"I am Justine, Duchess of the Lands of the Southern Sea."

"Ah, you're a cousin to the prince."

"A second cousin, yes." She smiled a little. "Does that impress you?"

He laughed. "Maybe," he said evasively. "But, really, I was just hoping you might know what's detaining him."

She shook her head—her dangling diamond earrings flashing in the candlelight. "I have no clue. I've never even met him before."

"Really? You've never met your own cousin?"

"No. And, as far as I know, no one else has, either."

"I wonder why?"

"They said it was to keep him safe. But I wonder. . ."

"Wonder what?" he asked when she didn't finish her question.

"I wonder if he even really exists."

Astir threw his head back and laughed. "Seriously?"

She frowned, looking a little put-out that he was laughing at her. "Well, how would you know if he does or doesn't when no one's seen him before?"

"I'm sure there are plenty of people here at the castle who have seen him."

"Maybe. Or maybe they just say they have because they're under orders to."

He looked at her, feeling a little concerned; he could see that she was serious. "That sounds like a conspiracy, Your Grace," he said with a hint of warning in his voice. "A conspiracy at the highest levels of government."

She shrugged a little, dismissing his warning. "It's what everyone says."

That shocked Prince Astir. "Oh, really?" he said, almost breathlessly.

"Yes."

That concerned him even more and he began to regret coming to the party unannounced. Now his absence would fuel the rumors that he didn't really exist and the kingdom was being run by a usurping oligarchy.

He was so perturbed, he forgot to pay attention to what he was doing. He accidently stepped on the hem of Justine's dress with his left foot. When she started to take the next step, her dress jerked under his weak foot and he became unbalanced. The next thing he knew, there was the sound of material ripping and he was falling sideways.

He had fallen so many times in his life, he stopped noticing the impact. In fact, he had learned to go limp when he fell, which reduced the chance of him injuring himself. So, when he ended up on the dance floor, he was a little startled, but unhurt.

The music stopped abruptly, as the court musicians noticed that their prince had fallen. People began to turn to see what had happened and a hush fell over the crowd.

Astir found himself looking up at Justine—and the tear in her dress where the skirt had pulled out of the seam where the bodice joined with it. It wasn't a large tear and one that was fairly simple to mend, but he felt bad that he had ruined her ball gown.

But before he could make his apologies and offer to have her dress repaired, laughter broke out around them and rippled through the crowd.

Astir was even more stunned than when he fell. No one had ever laughed at him before. There were always people around to help him get up again, but no one ever remarked on it, much less laughed. They put him back on his feet with no more emotion than if they had been straightening his wrinkled clothes or correcting a wrong answer on his lessons. It was just something that happened and something that was fixed.

But as people laughed at him, he felt his cheeks burn with shame for the first time. He knew that he was not like other people, and that some things were harder for him than others, but he had never been made to feel ashamed of his handicap.

Justine's face became red with embarrassment, too. "I . . . um . . . need to see to my dress," she mumbled lamely, then she turned and fled, leaving Astir still lying on the floor.

He had never felt more alone in his life.

But, regardless of how he felt, he knew he couldn't stay on the floor. So, before Addison or someone else could rush in to save him, he started to push himself up. And then there was a hand on his arm, helping him up.

He looked up and was surprised to see a young woman pulling him to his feet with a strength that seemed out of place in a pretty girl wearing a soft pink ball gown. The dark look on her face also seemed quite out of place.

"For shame!" she hissed at one man, who was doubled-over with laughter. "Shame on all of you!" she said, rounding on all the other guests who stood idly by and laughed.

Their laughter died away and they did have the grace to look ashamed of themselves.

The girl turned a cold shoulder towards them, then took Astir by the arm and forcibly escorted him to a settee on one side of the room.

Astir glanced up and noticed Addison standing nearby, looking at him worriedly. Please restart the music, Astir told him. Addison nodded, then turned around and signaled the orchestra. They immediately began a new song and, after a few moments, everyone began to dance again.

The young woman helped Astir take a seat, then she stood by him, like a sentinel, blocking him from the view of any remaining curious stares. "Are you alright, my lord?" she asked him.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Are you sure?"

He waved away her concern. "Unfortunately, I'm accustomed to falling; it doesn't hurt me."

She looked down at his foot. "Has it always been that way?" she asked softly.

"Yes. I was born this way."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me; it's just the way I am. I suppose the gods have their reasons for making me this way."

He held out his hand to her. She looked a little surprised, then shyly put her hand in his. He leaned forward, kissing it. "May I know the name of my rescuer?" he asked.

She smiled a little. "Ysabel, my lord."

"That's a very pretty name," he said honestly. "A pretty name for a pretty face."

She blushed even more, her cheeks become as pink as the woolen gown that she wore. It was well-made and fitted her figure like a second skin, but even Astir could see that it was rather plain compared to the velvets and silks and satins that everyone else was wearing. She wore a single strand of white pearls around her neck, but no other jewelry. But, despite the fact that she wasn't richly dressed, her features more than made up for it. She was tall and slender, but her dress emphasized that she was also shapely. Her hair was a rich, chocolate brown that hung in thick curls to her waist. She had large, dark brown eyes and fair skin that was set off perfectly by the soft pink of her dress.

"You flatter me, my lord," Ysabel said, still looking a bit flustered by his praise.

"Do I? I would have thought a girl like you would be accustomed to hearing such things."

Her face slipped from pink to red. "Not from men like you, my lord."

He was momentarily surprised. Did she know who he was? "Like me?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir."

"Who am I?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know, my lord, but I can tell from your clothes that you must be one of the great lords," she said as her eyes took in his silk velvet doublet and matching slops, the dozens of silver ball buttons, and the silver embroidery patterning his pants and the edges of his doublet.

"Well, all I can say is if 'men like me' don't notice you and pay you compliments, then they must be blind. Luckily, that's not one of my handicaps."

She smiled, looking radiant. "It would seem that charm is one of your qualities, though."

"Is it? To be honest, this is the first time I've really had an opportunity to speak to a woman my own age, so I'm making this up as I go."

"Truly?"

He nodded.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, this is my first party, too."

"Is it?"

She nodded. "My father is just a knight, so I don't get invited to balls like this," she said, glancing behind her at the people who were dancing or mingling around the edges.

Knights were an oddity in Hyrule, because—unlike in other kingdoms—knights could come from the common class. Knighthood wasn't a title that was passed down, but an honor earned by each individual. So, among the knights, there were men and women who had titles or would inherit them, those who were born noble but, because they were a younger son or daughter, would have no title of their own, and those who were not noble and never would be. Knighthood conferred a certain amount of status on anyone who had it—to the point that all knights were treated as if they were nobles—but the children of knights inherited no status.

Ysabel was obviously of the latter class—the daughter of a non-noble knight. While some of the wealthier knights might host parties and include the families of all the other knights, Ysabel would be left off most noblemen's guest lists.

"But His Highness, the Prince, invited all of his knights and their families, so I was able to come," Ysabel added. Then she looked back at Astir. "Wasn't that nice of him?"

"I'm sure he was happy to do so," he replied, mentally thanking Addison for being generous with the invitations.

"I wish he would hurry up and come, though," she said, looking around the room again. "I would like to see him."

"Do you think that he really exists?"

She looked back at him, her face shocked. "Of course he exists. Why would you even suggest that he doesn't?"

"Apparently there are people that don't think he really exists."

"That's nonsense," she said firmly. "My father is the Captain of the Guard and he would know if the prince was real or not."

How could he have never met the daughter of the Captain of the Guard before or even seen her around the castle?

"Your father is the Captain here, but you've never seen the prince?" he asked.

She shook her head reluctantly. "His advisors are very protective of him, Father says. They're afraid of something happening to him or someone bringing in plague or something like that. So they don't allow many people to have contact with him. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't exist," she added.

Astir gestured to the space beside him. "Would you care to stay and tell me more about the castle? I'm interested in hearing how it functions."

Ysabel sat down next to him and proceeded to tell him everything she knew about how the castle worked. Unlike the children of the rest of the castle servants, who went to a school on the castle grounds specifically for them, her father had sent her to the Academy. That, coupled with the fact that her family lived in a house in town and not in apartments at the castle, explained why Astir had never seen her before.

"I think my Father hoped that I would become a knight," she admitted. "He has four girls, but no boys. I'm the oldest and I've always been tall for my age and . . . well, he always said I had a lot of courage. So I think, maybe, he hoped I would follow in his footsteps. I tried sword training a couple of times, but I didn't like it. And I didn't like the idea of having to camp out and hunt and all of that stuff. So I just studied."

"What did you study?"

"History, mostly. That's my favorite subject." Her dark eyes were shining. "Father says there's an archivist here in the castle and his job is just to record the history of the kingdom and maintain the library."

"There is," Astir confirmed, momentarily forgetting that he wasn't supposed to be privy to the workings of the castle. But Ysabel didn't notice.

"I think that would be a wonderful job to have," she said eagerly, still enthralled by the idea of being a full-time historian. "I'll be finished with my studies in a year and I'm hoping my father might get an apprenticeship for me with the archivist. Or maybe even with the genealogist. That wouldn't be a bad job, either. But I'd rather be the archivist."

"What's your favorite time period?" he asked.

"The Dark Days."

That began an in-depth conversation of what they knew about Link and Zelda and their adventures. Before Astir knew it, they had been talking for over an hour.

Sire? Addison interrupted. Are you planning on revealing yourself at all? People are beginning to ask and I think they're worried you're not coming at all.

That brought Astir back to the present. He had completely forgotten about the rumors that he didn't exist; he had been too engrossed by his conversation with Ysabel to pay attention to anyone else.

And, to be honest, he wasn't interested in anyone else at this point; they could all go home for all he cared. I'll get to it, he told Addison dismissively. Then he turned back to Ysabel. "I'm sorry, I've been remiss. Can I get you some refreshments? Something to drink, perhaps?"

She chuckled a little. "I could use something to drink," she said. "My throat is dry—probably because I've been talking too much. Father says I do that."

"Nonsense," Astir said. "When you have important things to say, there's no such thing as talking too much."

She laughed again. "Most people don't consider history to be something important."

"I'm not most people," he said, before excusing himself and going to one of the food tables. He came back a moment later with two glasses of white wine. He handed Ysabel one, then retook his seat. He watched her over his glass as she appreciatively sipped on her wine.

Suddenly he set his glass aside and took her hand. "Ysabel, would you marry me?"

She sputtered, dribbling wine on herself. She hastily put her glass down and tried to blot the wine off her chest with her free hand. A servant standing nearby saw her distress and hurriedly brought her a napkin.

"Thank you," she said, taking the napkin from him and dabbing the wet spots. Astir waited patiently for her answer.

She finally turned to look at him again. "I'm sorry. I misheard you and it startled me."

"You didn't mishear me. I asked you to marry me."

She continued to stare at him, her brown eyes wide. "I . . . don't know what to say," she stuttered.

"I'm hoping you'll say yes."

She laughed. "My lord, you just met me!"

"I'm a good judge of character."

"I don't even know your name."

"Does it matter?"

"Well, I think I ought to know the name of the man I'm marrying."

"Is that a 'yes?'" he asked eagerly.

"No, it's not." She looked at him, half-confused, half-curious. "You are a strange man."

"Is that a bad thing?"

". . . Not necessarily," she said carefully. "But just because I like you after spending a little time talking to you doesn't mean that we'd make a good marriage."

"But you do like me?"

She laughed again. "Yes. You are a silly man—if you'll forgive me for saying so—but I do like you. But that doesn't mean I want to marry you," she hastily added.

"But does it mean that you'll never want to marry me?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you might say 'yes?'"

"Maybe. Some day."

"What if I could get you an apprenticeship with the Archivist?" he offered.

She looked at him cautiously. "Are you trying to bribe me?"

"That depends on if it will work or not," he said with a smile.

She studied him warily, then laughed. "You're just having me on!" she declared.

"Not at all."

"You're a tease," she insisted. "You don't really know anything about the castle or how it works," she said, reminding him of their earlier conversation when he was playing dumb.

"That doesn't mean I don't have connections. If you want the job, I can get it for you," he said seriously.

She looked at him warily. "But only if I agree to marry you?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, I'll give you the job with no strings attached—just to prove myself to you."

"But if I were to say 'no' to you at a later date. . ?"

He spread his hands. "Then you will still have a job with the Archivist. I wouldn't do anything to take that away from you. It is a gift."

She continued to look at him as if sizing him up. "Are you really serious? Can you really get me a job with the Archivist?" she said, sounding tempted.

"You can start tomorrow."

"What about school?"

"You'll learn what you need on the job, I'm sure."

"And . . . you don't expect me to marry you in exchange for the position?" she asked again, still sounding hesitant, as if she kept expecting the offer to be too good to be true. But even though Astir had flippantly mentioned getting her the job she wanted, it quickly occurred to him that he really ought to do so, both because it was the nice thing to do for someone who had been so nice to him, and because it would allow him to see her every day. He was pretty convinced that she was the girl for him, but he could understand why she would be reluctant to commit herself so quickly; hopefully, if they could spend time together, he would be able to woo her.

"As I said, the job is a gift—no strings attached," he replied. "But I do hope it will prove to you that I'm serious."

"But I can still say 'no,' right?"

"Yes. I want you to say 'yes' because you want to say yes—not because you feel like you have to pay me back. If you were to marry me against your will . . . well, I don't think you'd be the woman I want after all. I want the girl who wasn't afraid to shame an entire group of her social betters—a girl who knows her mind and speaks it, no matter what."

Ysabel's face turned pink. "I . . . I wasn't thinking when I said that," she whispered, sounding embarrassed.

"You were thinking," he contradicted. "You were thinking about what was right and wrong, not about meaningless things like rank. That's what's more important."

She looked down at her lap. "I must admit, you've given me a lot to think about."

He grinned. "Has this been a good first party?"

She looked up again. "Definitely." Then she laughed. "Who would have thought I would be proposed to at my very first ball?"

He picked up her hand and kissed it. "And by the prince, no less," he said with a grin.

She was still puzzling out what he said when he stood up and nodded to Addison. Addison signaled the orchestra and they stopped playing immediately. The dancers stumbled to a stop, looking around in confusion. But a moment later, a herald's voice boomed over the murmuring room. "Presenting his Royal Highness, Prince Astir, sole heir to the throne of Hyrule, on this, his eighteenth birthday and the day of his ascension to the throne of Hyrule. Do you now pay him homage!"

There was dead silence in the room as Astir walked purposefully towards the dais. People scrambled to make a walkway for him and hastily bowed or dipped curtseys. Behind him, though, was a trail of hushed whispers as everyone tried to confirm with their neighbor that he was the person who had fallen on the dance floor earlier and that he was really the prince.

Astir slowly climbed the stairs—stairs were hard for him, but he was careful not to fall again—and took a seat on the large golden throne at the center of the dais.

"It has come to my attention that some people think I do not exist—that my Council has been ruling on their own and hiding the fact that there is no heir. I wish to present myself before you all now so that you may know that I do exist. And if anyone would like to publicly argue that I am not real, then please step forward so that I may give you my proofs."

No one so much as breathed. Astir could have heard a pin drop.

He waited for several long moments, letting the tension build as people who had believed the rumors began to sweat that their monarch would punish them for it. Then, he finally spoke. "Since there are no doubts as to my existence, then please let us continue the festivities." He turned to the orchestra and waved his hand. They struck up another song. It took a minute before the shock wore off and people began to dance again.

Astir looked back to the couch where he had left Ysabel, but it was empty. He glanced around and, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a flash of pink as she hastily disappeared through a doorway.

It suddenly occurred to Astir that maybe Ysabel had not been amused that he had kept his identity hidden. Maybe Addison had been right that people wouldn't like feeling like they had been tricked.

He spent the rest of the evening looking for her return—intending to apologize to her—but she never returned.