Before the month was out, Astir found himself attending another ball. This time, however, he came in wearing his coronet and the heralds announced him with all due pomp and circumstance.

As soon as the announcement was finished, he wandered towards a table, intent on seeking out a drink. A servant hurried to hand him a glass of red wine, but it was no more in his hand than he was surrounded by people who were all too eager to talk to him and gush over the lovely party.

How different from the group he had been with at the first party who could do nothing but complain about his absence!

He quickly recognized one of the women in the gaggle of sycophants. "Cousin," he said with a nod of his head to Duchess Justine. She beamed, obviously pleased that he recognized her and acknowledged their family bond.

"Good evening, Your Highness," she said, dipping a very low curtsey. She seemed to be aware of the fact that her dress was rather low-cut and she bent forward to show that off to great effect. He considered asking her how long she had to practice bowing to show off her bosom like that without spilling out of her bodice, but he decided that wouldn't be very chivalrous. But he couldn't resist needling her a little bit after she left him on the floor the last time.

"That's a new dress," he remarked.

She smiled, looking even more pleased that he was giving her his attention. "Yes, Your Highness."

"I'm sorry I ripped your previous one."

She waved his concern away with a gloved hand. "Oh, that was easily repaired, Your Highness. It wasn't but a little tear in the seam. You could hardly see it."

"Well it certainly seemed like a grave concern to you at the time, as you left me to attend to it immediately. Left me on the floor, as I recall."

She flushed a little. "My apologies, Highness. I didn't know who you were at the time."

"So, if you had known it was me, you would have stayed to see that I was alright?"

"Certainly, sire."

"But when I meant nothing to you, I was not worth your effort?"

She grew quite red in the face and gaped, speechless. The others in the group stared at her, waiting to see how she could climb out of the hole she had just dug for herself.

"I . . . didn't mean that, Your Highness. It's just that—"

"Spare me," Astir said, cutting her off. He really didn't want to listen while she twisted herself into a pretzel trying to explain away her gaffe. If she had been any part honorable, she would have just owned up to what she did and apologize immediately.

Besides, he had just seen a pink figure enter the room and walk towards the crowd surrounding the dance floor.

He knocked back his glass of wine, then shoved the glass in the nearest available hand. "If you'll excuse me . . ." Then, before anyone could say anything or even bow, he was limping across the floor towards Ysabel.

He noticed that she was wearing the same dress and string of pearls that she had worn before. No doubt it was the only party dress she owned; she couldn't afford to wear something new to every party during the year. He immediately thought that he should have a new dress or two made for her, but then he stopped himself. Even if her pride would allow her to accept them—which it probably wouldn't—he wasn't sure if he wanted to see her in a new gown every day like the other glittering jays at court. He kind of liked the fact that she was more sensible and constant.

"Good evening," he said with a bow.

Ysabel—who had been looking the other way—startled and turned to him. She gave him a deep curtsey. She kept her back straight and did not lean over so that he could look down the top of her dress.

"Highness," she said properly.

"You know, I was thinking, I never got to dance with you before," he said. "And that made me sad. So I thought we could remedy that this go around. If you will permit me . . ?" he asked, holding out a hopeful hand.

She smiled—almost shyly—and put her gloved hand in his. "Of course. I wouldn't want you to be sad," she said, almost teasing.

"That would be a great tragedy, to be sure," he joked back.

He wished he could whisk her to the dance floor and whirl her from one end to the other, making her breathless. Instead, he had to settle for limping to the dance floor and dancing a rather sedate waltz. But he made himself feel a little better by holding her so close, their bodies almost touched.

He was very careful to pay attention to what he was doing so he didn't have a repeat of the last incident. He liked having his arm around her, her other hand lightly resting in his, but by the time the song finished, he was done with dancing. He preferred talking to her, and he couldn't do both at the same time.

"Will you step out with me?" he asked as everyone politely applauded the orchestra.

Her eyes went a little wider. "Where to?"

"I think I can find a place," he said with an enigmatic smile. He offered his hand and she took it, letting him lead her out of the hall.

That was something he liked about her: she went along with whatever he wanted to do and went wherever he wanted to go. He had the feeling she didn't do that because he was her prince but because she trusted him.

He took her through the well-lit hallways and then down the back corridors that were dimly lit. He finally opened a side door and went out into a small courtyard that had been almost completely surrounded by the castle as it had been added onto over the years.

The edge of the garden, next to the stone walls, was full of flowers. In the daytime, they were a riot of color, but at night they seemed all the more fragrant. In a few places, moon flower vines overspilled their beds and tried to creep across the brick pathway, their huge white blooms open to the night.

Astir took Ysabel to a small stone bench at the center of the garden and sat down.

"This is pretty," she said, looking around at the pale stone walls glowing softly under the light of a nearly-full moon and the beds full of dark and light flowers. "It smells so sweet."

"It does. This is the best garden to be in for summer. I especially like how small it is. It's . . . cozy. You feel hidden away. I used to steal away here for hours when I was younger. I felt like I was really doing something secret and sneaky." He laughed at himself. "I'm sure Addison always knew where I was, though. But he always fussed when I returned and said everyone had been looking for me, so I felt that I had gotten away with something.

"You know, for someone who never had any friends or playmates growing up, I spent a lot of time around other people. It was nice to come out here sometimes and lie on the bench and read a book and just be alone and quiet."

"I used to do that at the Academy," Ysabel said. "Sometimes—especially in the spring—I just couldn't stand to be inside anymore and I'd take a book and go up into the bell tower and spend my afternoon reading and taking the air."

"Didn't you get in trouble skipping class?"

"Yes, they made me do lines when I came back. But some days, when the weather was perfect, it was worth it."

"You know, I don't think either of us has a proper respect for authority."

She laughed. "I wouldn't say that. But . . . maybe we need to be free to be alone every once in a while."

"You know, when I had my birthday party, I was so excited about it. I came into the hall and . . . it was just so exciting to see so many new people—and all of them my own age.

"But I've found I really prefer to just spend time with you, talking like this. When Addison proposed having another party, I really couldn't care less if we had one or not; I much prefer having lunch with you every day." He laughed. "I swear I can't remember why I was so excited to have a party in the first place."

"Why did Lord Addison want a party?" Ysabel asked, looking confused.

"He wants me to meet more people."

She laughed. "Well, you won't do it out here."

"No. And I like it that way."

"Do you not want to be social?"

"I just prefer your company to that of others'. Is that bad?"

"No. In fact, it's rather flattering."

He looked down. "Ysabel . . . are we friends?"

"Yes, of course," she said confidently. Then she hesitated. "Aren't we?"

"I thought we were, yes."

"But?"

He looked up again. "But nothing. I just wanted to make sure."

She smiled. "Yes, I consider you a friend."

"Is that all you want me to be?"

She looked confused. "What do you mean?"

He looked down at his hands, which he twisted anxiously. "You know how I feel about you. Every day I wake up excited to see you—expect for the days when you don't work, of course. I don't like those days. I feel lonely and out of sorts on those days. But the other days—I so look forward to seeing you at lunch."

He continued to wring his hands, not daring to look up at her. "But I don't want to be a pest. If you only want to be friends—and nothing more—I can accept that. I would rather have your friendship than nothing at all.

"I guess what I'm asking," he said slowly, "is if you had made a decision about my proposal? I mean, if you want more time to think about it, that's alright. Or if you want to just be friends . . . that will be alright, too. I just want to know what to do, because I don't want you to feel like I'm being pushy."

He smiled a little, ruefully. "He says as he demands an answer."

It was Ysabel's turn to not make eye contact. "I . . . don't know, to be honest," she confessed. "My father was asking a few weeks ago what was going on between us because he was hearing rumors around the castle."

"Oh?" Astir asked. He wondered if Addison had heard those same rumors—which led to him deciding that Astir needed another party.

Ysabel nodded. "Father and I talked about it—more than we usually talk about anything."

"And . . ?" Astir asked, feeling equal parts anxious and hopeful.

"He said the decision was mine and he trusted me to do the right thing."

Astir felt himself breathe a tiny bit easier; at least Ysabel's father didn't object. "But you haven't made a decision yet?" he asked.

She looked up at him, her eyes appearing black in the moonlight. "Astir . . . do you want me to be honest?"

She had never called him by his name before, without title. He didn't think that sounded good.

He took a deep breath, trying to brace himself for the pain that was going to be coming. "Yes," he said, sounding more confident than he felt.

"If you weren't a king, I would say 'yes.'"

"But . . . you don't want me because of that?" he asked, completely surprised. He could have understood if she had said she didn't want him because he wasn't a knight, or because of his lame foot, or because she thought of him as a friend and nothing more—or a hundred other reasons. He never thought that she might not like him because he was the ruler of Hyrule. He had always been under the impression that was a considered a selling feature, not a flaw.

"I . . . don't know," she said hesitantly. "I really do like you. And we get on so well and like all the same things. And you're very honorable, and I like that. I think it would be easy to love you.

"But, as I was saying to Father, I'm not a noble woman and we're not a noble family. I don't think I would like being a queen." She waved towards the castle. "I don't think I would like being part of a court—always on display. Always being talked about. All I ever wanted was to work in a library, in the quiet, by myself, or maybe with one or two other people. I'm not cut out to be a public figure."

Astir felt tears welling up in his eyes. This wasn't at all what he expected. He had always expected that, even if Ysabel felt she only wanted to be friends right now, one day she would come to the realization that friendship was the very best basis for a marriage.

But this was completely different. There was no way things could ever change; he would never not be the king.

He had no hope.

He took her hand in his. "Ysabel, I have never wanted to be king less than I do right now."

She looked away, but not before he saw tears sparkling on her cheeks.

He squeezed her hand. "But I can't give up my throne." He put his other hand against her cheek and turned her face back to him. "If there was only you to consider, I would give it up in a heartbeat and never look back," he swore. "But too many people have risked too much—given up too much of themselves—to get me to this day. And I would be betraying every one of them if I walked away."

"I know," she whispered. "I would never presume to ask you to give up your throne for me. I just wanted you to know—"

He cut her off with a kiss.

She felt so soft and warm and tasted just a little sweet. And it made a desire burn in him stronger than anything he had ever felt before. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him so tightly, he knew that he must be squeezing the breath from her. But he couldn't stop; he wanted to melt into her.

He knew she was his destiny. Without a doubt, they were meant to be together. But something must have happened to interrupt the gods' plans. Maybe the plague wasn't supposed to have come. Maybe he should have had a brother—a brother who was sound of body and capable of being a knight—and maybe the throne should have gone to him and Astir would have been free to marry Ysabel.

All he knew was that something was very right as he kissed her and something was terribly, terribly wrong in that he would never do it again.

At last he broke away. She looked shocked and breathless and as she stared at him, she could find nothing to say.

But then, neither could he.

He rose and limped across the garden. He hoped that she would call out to him—call him back. If she did . . . he didn't know what would happen. He would run back to her, for certain. But gods only knew what he would throw away in the process.

And he didn't care. If she called to him at that moment, he would have thrown everything and everyone away, honor and responsibility and debts be damned.

But she never made a sound.

He disappeared into the castle and mindlessly moved through the hallways, not paying any attention to where he was going. And then he turned a corner and nearly ran into Addison.

"Oh, there you are, Highness," Addison said, once he recovered from his surprise. "Where have you been? Everyone's asking for you. You should really spend more time with your guests."

"I don't care," Astir said, pushing past him, heading for the stairs. He had no desire to go back to the party—which he hadn't wanted in the first place. He just wanted to go to his room and be alone.

"Highness!" Addison gasped, scandalized. "You simply must—"

Astir rounded on him. "Don't tell me what I must!" he said, practically shouting. Even the guards in the hallway were so surprised, they broke protocol and turned to look at him.

"I know what I must do! I know all too well. And I've sacrificed as much tonight as I possibly can. So, if you'll excuse me, my duty's all used up for the evening."

He turned on his heel and stomped to the stairs, leaving Addison staring after him, open-mouthed.