One Year Later

It was a crisp, sunny day late in the fall. The few trees in Linnens still had some fiery leaves clinging tenaciously to their branches. More—mostly brown—littered the streets and clattered along the stone roads when the cool wind blew.
It was early in the morning, not long after sunrise; there was still a dampness in the air. In the wide, green fields outside of town, a low-level mist hovered over the ground, trying valiantly to defy the burning power of the morning sun. Dew glittered on every grass stem, and children playing outside hunted for spider webs in the dark nooks along the city walls, marveling at their transformation into a fine lace set with sparkling diamonds. But one touch of the finger on a study support thread and the web vibrated, shaking loose its dewdrops and fading back into obscurity.
The merchants were still unpacking their merchandise in their stalls, which lined all the major thoroughfares in Linnens, when a shriek pierced high into the air. All eyes went up as the first firework exploded above the castle.
"The baby! The baby's been born!" everyone shouted, wanting to be the first to tell their neighbor. Speculation as to the gender of the baby ran high, and a few enterprising business men started taking bets.
People—still rubbing the sleep from their eyes, wiping breakfast from their mouths, and pulling on clothes and shoes—rushed outside to gaze up into the sky as rocket after rocket was set off in blue, green, red, and white fizzing bursts.
The pyrotechnic display continued for several minutes, then suddenly fell silent. Every breath was held in anticipation for a long moment, then…
BOOM!
One of the great canons along the wall of the castle exploded, discharging a golden-orange spray of burning wadding.
BOOM!
The next cannon in line went off a moment later.
BOOM!
The people in town counted under their breath.
BOOM!
Four. Five. Six. Seven.
BOOM!
Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.
BOOM!
Nineteen. Twenty.
Everyone froze, tense—waiting to see if there would be one more boom or not. But the timing of the cannonade was off; the twenty-first should have already exploded. Maybe there was a problem with it?
Just when the anticipation felt like it was too much to bear, a lone firework whistled up into the sky and exploded in an orangey-pink burst, signaling the end of the cannon salute.
Twenty cannons. A princess!
The bells in the town peeled wildly, without any sense of rhythm. People cheered. Men threw their hats into the air. Women hugged each other, crying, then laughing because they didn't know why they were crying. Children screamed and jumped just because they could, and dogs hopped alongside them, barking because they didn't know what was going on, but they liked it. Only the cats slunk away and hid from all the ruckus.
The major of Linnens was quick to run up to the third-floor balcony of his mansion, which overlooked the fountain in the center of the city, and he had one of his servants blow a brass trumpet to call the people to order.
Those in the fountain square paused in their revelry to listen to the mayor. In a loud voice, he shouted out to everyone who could hear him.
"Gods be praised for our new princess and heir to the throne of Nevara In honor of this momentous occasion, I'm declaring a three-day holiday!"
The people erupted in cheering as loud as ever. The town's volunteer band struck up the national anthem of Nevara and men doffed their caps—those who had managed to recover theirs, that is—and everyone stood up proudly and sang with tears in their eyes.
"When the gods made the world,
They made the kingdoms three:
The north, and the east, and the land by the sea.
Nevara, Nevara, kingdom by the sea,
Fairest of the fair and greatest of the three!
What I wouldn't give for the keeping of thee!"
Then the women and servants hurried to snatch up the best produce and meat and fish so their families could celebrate with a holiday dinner. The merchants were so overwhelmed by the demand, they sold whole crates of food still unpacked, and bidding for the last few items reached a fever-pitch. Meanwhile, many of the men in town headed for the pubs, where it was standing-room only and it took a good ten minutes to get a drink. The bar-boys were having to run their legs off fetching kegs of ale up from the cellar; almost as soon as a keg was tapped, it was emptied.
That night, there was a full fireworks display over town, and everyone crowded into the streets and craned their necks up to see it. The fountain was dyed pink in honor of the new princess, and the mayor announced that the Royal Family had a goodwill-gift to share with the revelers.
One of the lesser palace gates was thrown open and carts, pulled by teams of draft horses, rolled down the street and into the fountain square. On each flat-bed cart was a massive barrel of ale—each wider than three men could ring. The people cheered as the palace servants tapped the giant barrels and each man could help himself, free of charge. The pubs might have resented the presence of all that free ale, except that every last one of them had run out hours before and they had all shut down and their staff joined the people in the streets.
People invited each other over for meals and it could be a delicate dance to not offend anyone by refusing an invitation, even though no one could possibly accept all of them, plus host one.
So it was quite a shock when, two days into the three-day-holiday, a canon suddenly exploded.
BOOM!
The noise in the street died down. Dinner guests and hosts eating their fourth meal of the day looked at each in confusion.
BOOM!
People went to their windows and looked out. They called down to the people below, but they didn't know anymore than the people inside.
BOOM!
All conversation died away as the people anxious listened to the continuing canon fire.
BOOM!
It continued on and on and on. Only a few people seemed to be keeping count, and after several minutes, their neighbors turned to them to check the number. Then the information was passed through the assembly like fire through a field of dead grass.
Twenty-five. Thirty. Thirty-five.
BOOM!
Forty.
Then a great silence fell over the city. The booming of the canon had been so loud, people at first thought the ringing was just in their ears but… wait… no, it was the great bell in the clock tower ringing.
Then the bells of the sanctuary on the west side of town started somberly tolling. A moment later, the people could hear the faint chiming of the bells in the monastery which was outside the town's east wall.
The people were in shock. They had no words for what they felt. One moment they were celebrating the birth of the heir to the throne, and the next their queen was dead.
The mayor quietly announced three days of mourning. The next day, the palace gates were thrown open once again, but this time to allow the funeral cortege of the queen to pass through. People stood silently in massive crowds and hung out upper-story windows to catch a glimpse of the queen lying in state as her funeral coach slowly passed through the town and out the east gate to the monastery. There, dignitaries from all the major cities of the world—down to the mayors of the tiniest hamlets in Nevara—and visiting royalty who had come to celebrate the presentation of the princess of Nevara, witnessed together the funeral and burial of the Queen of Nevara.
So great was the people's grief over the tragic loss of their queen, hardly any of them noticed the announcement—lovingly and elaborately decorated with gilded scrollwork—which was placed outside the main gate of the palace, announcing the name of the newest member of the royal family: Annabel.

The people might have temporarily forgotten the newborn princess, but the Grand Vizier, Ryu, had not. He had scarcely grieved over the queen's passing. He had foreseen it and forewarned her: to give an heir to the kingdom would be the death of her. She understood the risk, but took it anyways. A star chart had been made when she had been born, and she knew it was her destiny to bear not just the heir of Nevara, but one of the greatest rulers to have ever governed it. To shirk that responsibility might have preserved her own life, but spelled the end of Nevara, and maybe even her own beloved home-kingdom of Erenrue.
The only thing that hadn't been known was the time and manner of her death. But, from the time of her conception, she had prepared for it the best she could, knowing her time might be up in nine months or fifty years.
She had not told the king, though. She was the solid, dependable one in the relationship. She kept her cool and was careful of what she said during tricky political negotiations. She was thoughtful of everyone—from the nobility of Nevara down to the scullery maids who worked in the castle. It was she who had arranged the extra fireworks display and free ale long before the baby was born—not as a tribute to the birth, but as a way of thanking the people for supporting the royal family.
Yes, her death came as a blow to everyone, especially the king. He locked himself in his room after the funeral and refused to come out. For two days he did not open the door-not to even accept food-and the palace was rife with rumors that he had lost his mind from grief. A few of the more unsavory characters even whispered that he had killed himself, but no one would know it until the body began to stink.
All of this was going on right under the Grand Vizier's nose, but he took no notice of it. He had been up all night while the queen was in labor, constantly consulting star charts and making complicated mathematical figures so he would know the child's destiny the instant she was born. The destinies had continued to grow larger and darker and more complicated until, just when it seemed impossible that such a star chart could exist, a breathless maid came running into his study and announced the birth of the princess.
Ryu had gripped her tightly by the shoulders. Was she sure? Had the child been born that minute, or had the news to him been delayed?
No, the princess had been born less than a minute before. The maid had run straight up from the lying-in chamber as soon as the baby drew its first breath.
Ryu sent the maid away, then sat down at his desk again, double- and triple-checking his figures, making slight changes in the calculations to allow for the birth of a female child. But that hardly helped. In fact, as a female, the child seemed to have an even weightier destiny than she would have had as a male.
He met with the queen as soon as her doctors would allow, but when he saw her ashen face, he feared her death would come sooner rather than later.
He told her what he had seen in the child's star charts, but rather than be alarmed, the queen had only nodded solemnly.
"I knew I was to bear a child of destiny," she told him. "I didn't know if it would be my firstborn or not, but I am not surprised."
"Have you told the king?" Ryu asked her.
"No. I've never told him anything. He's not strong enough."
"But… he will need to know this if he is to guide the young princess properly," Ryu said delicately.
"It would be better if you guided her instead," the queen replied.
"Your Majesty, I fear I might overstep my bounds."
"You mustn't be afraid," she told him kindly. "His Majesty prefers that things work smoothly without his knowledge. Too many details only agitate him."
But Ryu had not listened to his queen's wise words.
While she lay dying, and then as the country mourned, and then even as the king locked himself away, Ryu had charted and read the heavens like he had never done before. The princess's chart became more and more complicated as he attempted to ascertain every small detail of her life. Where different choices might lead her on a slightly different path, he charted those contingencies out to the tenth decree.
Late one night—well after everyone else in the palace had gone to bed—Ryu wrote on his last piece of parchment.
He was in the middle of a complicated alignment of stars with the planet Iso—which seemed to doom Her Highness's sixth birthday party to disaster and possibly set up the beginning of an international incident—when he reached the end of the paper without reaching a conclusion. He reached behind him automatically, but his hand found nothing but bare wood.
He turned around and looked, but there was no paper left out of the stacks he normally kept on his worktable.
He began to hunt around his study, but every paper he found was important—mostly the princess's star charts, but occasionally notes he had taken from books in the Great Library that helped him delve deeper into the stars.
He began rummaging through drawers and at last found a couple of sheets of paper that looked like old correspondence.
Triumphant, he returned to his desk and turned the parchment over so he could write on the blank back.
Then the candlelight caught on black letters which had bled through the skin.
sthginK
There was something about that word that looked familiar. He leaned a little closer.
araveN fo sthginK
Suddenly his brain made the connection with the backwards words: Knights of Nevara.
Curious, he flipped the paper over. There was a simple, one-page star chart that did not belong to the princess. The smaller piece of paper with it proved to be a letter from one of his former apprentices—now the best astrologer in Linnens, aside from himself (and he didn't really count, since he didn't do star charts for profit anymore).
As his eyes skimmed over the letter, he suddenly remembered why he had saved it. The letter spoke of a boy born the previous year in the village of Marlin. The story of the boy's birth intrigued Ryu for two reasons: he had been born in that same village many years before, and, like him, the boy had been born a Nevrek. He had planned to study the situation more carefully—perhaps travel to Marlin Village and interview the people there and make up a genealogy for everyone to see if there was a stronger strain of Nevrek blood there than elsewhere—but the impending birth of the first heir of the kingdom had made him put the information aside and forget about it.
Ryu studied the star chart carefully. His former apprentice had calculated that the boy was a descendant of the Knights of Nevara—a noble line of warriors that would have put both the palace guard and the current so-called nobility of Nevara to utter shame—and that he would one day go on a great quest, so the astrologer was recommending a course of basic study, followed by swordplay and military training.
But as Ryu gazed at the chart, he noticed that the planets and stars at the moment of the boy's birth aligned to make the same sacred shapes that the princess had in her star chart.
Startled, Ryu began laying out on the floor the dozens of pieces of parchment that made up the princess's star chart. He put them in order, so that they flowed from birth to as far as he had gotten, and then he stood back and took a look, comparing her destiny with that of the boy's.
The more he looked, though, the more disturbed he became. Soon he was rousting up his assistant to find him more parchment while he started consulting the stars all over again.
On the third day after the Queen's funeral, he finally sat back on his stool with a heavy sigh. He now understood the pairing of their destinies.
He hurried from his room and went immediately to the king's chamber. He was surprised to find the door locked; he had been too closeted from the rest of the goings-on in the palace to know that the king had been refusing all comers.
But Ryu didn't hesitate. As the second-most powerful man in the kingdom, he had a key to every door of importance (and keys to most of the ones that weren't so important)—including the key to the king's own chamber.
He pulled his key ring from his belt and promptly opened the door to the darkened room.
Never a man of tact—he had too many important things on his mind to worry about silly things like feelings—Ryu launched into his speech without even asking the king how he felt or if he would grant an audience. He didn't even check to see if he was still alive.
"Your Majesty, I have completed the Princess's star chart and must speak with you about it immediately."
He went around the room, lighting oil lamps on the walls and standing candelabras. When he had everything in the room lit, he turned to see a lump in the middle of the giant canopy bed.
The king wasn't listening to him at all.
He sighed the wearied sigh of the neglected genius and went to the bed. He began laying out pieces of charts in two parallel rows along the edge of the bed.
"You Majesty, please, I need you to look at these for the sake of your daughter."
The king reluctantly pulled the covers away from his face, looking at Ryu as if he didn't quite recognize him. It was only then that Ryu came to the realization that the king was mired in grief.
He tried to soften his tone to sound compassionate. "Come, Your Majesty. We must get on with the business of living. The last time I spoke to the Queen, she bade me to watch over the Princess, and that's what I've been trying to do—in my own way. Come, we must do what's best for her; that is what your beloved wife would have wanted."
Slowly, the king nodded. Ryu gently pulled the covers back, then wrinkled his nose. It had been several days since the king had had a bath.
Ryu quickly called for the chamber servants-who rushed in, relieved that the king was alive and at least mostly sane again.
In no time at all, they had him in the royal bathtub—a massive gilded affair which set in one corner of the royal apartments. Large windows ran from the vaulted ceiling to the floor and afforded spectacular views of the large, grassy plains and mountains which ringed the northern-end of the massive Nevaraian Plain—of which Linnens sat in the center. But now it was dark, and the light in the bedchamber turned the glass windows into mirrors and they darkly reflected the glow of the lights and the shine of the gilded tub.
The king was soaking in the tub, being induced to eat some food by servants with silver platters full of dainties, when Ryu continued what he had been saying before.
"Your Majesty, about Princess Annabel's star chart…."
"Yes, yes, get on with it," the king said impatiently, already sounding weary. He was not an unintelligent man, but, as a boy, his tutors had had to fight with him constantly to get him to sit down, pay attention, and do his lessons. He constantly wanted to be up and doing things rather than sitting quietly and thinking. Over the years, Ryu, like the queen, had learned to distill his lengthy discourses into the bare facts. But it wasn't easy for the scholar.
Ryu put a pair of charts on the floor near the tub, where the king could lean over and look at them. Ryu knew the king wouldn't be able to understand any of it—no one but a trained astrologer and the person whose destiny it was could ever make heads or tails of it—but he liked to point at them as confirmation of what he was saying.
"I have been looking at the course of the Princess's life for many days now," he began, unable to avoid a bit of a preamble. "And, it just so happens, I took a look at her past lives as well."
The people of Nevara believed in reincarnation. Just as the three goddesses who protected their kingdom renewed the plants every year after winter, so the people of Nevara believed that after spending time in the Other World, they too would be reborn like the buds of the spring flowers.
"A former apprentice of mine," Ryu continued, "sent me the chart of a young boy born just a year before our Princess. He thought it might interest me, since the boy is a Nevrek, like myself, and we were born in the same village.
"But, when I looked at the boy's chart while I was working on the Princess's, I noticed something quite extraordinary: their stars and planets align to form the same sacred shapes." He pointed to the drawings on each chart to illustrate his point. They had circles with star-shapes inside them, and complicated-looking geometric patterns that looked like a triangle within a circle, within a square, within an octahedron.
"What does that mean?" the king asked, already getting impatient with Ryu's long wind-up.
"That means that they have overlapping destinies. That's not uncommon; you and the late queen also shared some star patterns because your destinies intersected. What is unusual is the fact that they have shared destinies over…" he put down another two pieces of paper which had different patterns than the first two, but which matched each other, "and over…" he put down another matching pair of charts, "and over again."
He laid out a total of seventeen pairs of charts.
"These are only the ones I've had time to look for," he admitted. "There may be more."
"So, this boy and my daughter have reincarnated together?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. And always at times of great trouble. Cataclysmic trouble."
The king looked more concerned. "So… is this a warning to us?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"What do we need to do to prepare?"
That sounded more like the king Ryu knew. Despite his impatience and moments of inattention, the king could always be counted on to attend to the most important matters of state and do what was in the best interests of his people. Like Ryu, he didn't know how to account for their feelings—niceties had always been Her Majesty's job—but he did take care of them.
"That's just it," Ryu said dejectedly, "I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? How can you not know?" the king demanded.
"Such major actions, which affect the destinies of many people, are never revealed ahead of time. In such times, each person is responsible for following his own destiny. If everyone stays the proper course—more or less—then things work out. But if someone goes against their destiny, then it can bring disaster down on everyone, like removing a single piece from the bottom of a house of cards."
He waved his hand over the numerous charts. "All I can see is the past, and in the past, bad things happened when these two reincarnate."
"Then we must endeavor to keep them apart," the king said with authority. "I can have him sent far away and I can send my daughter to live with her mother's family in Erenrue."
"But that's just it, Your Majesty," Ryu hurried to interject. "Despite the fact that these two always have overlapping destinies, they never intersect."
"Speak plainly, man," the king demanded, growing more impatient.
Ryu spread his hands. "Your Majesty, I think they continue to reincarnate because their destinies never intersect."
The king continued to look at him blankly, clearly not comprehending.
"In all these lifetimes," Ryu said, pointing to the charts, "through trials and tribulations, when the entire world rested on their shoulders, they never once married and had children; they never once intersected their destinies.
"That is a very strange thing. How can two people who have fates so intertwined—to the point that one can not survive without the other—not marry, at least once?"
Ryu looked up at the king in all seriousness. "I think we should see to it that they marry in this lifetime. I think that perhaps the cycle of cataclysmic events that surround them can be broken without anyone having to suffer in this lifetime. In fact, it's possible that these horrendous events happen in an effort to drive them together, but for whatever reason, they never marry. Although the stars aren't clear, I think their destinies lie in being together; by not marrying, they are defying their destinies, even if they don't know they're doing so, and it the cycle begins again when they reincarnate. But, given the increasingly dangerous nature of the events that surround them, we can't afford to allow them to remain apart."
"But you said that horrible things happen when they're together."
"Together, but not as one. That, I think, is the key."
"You think. You think! The lives of hundreds of thousands of people depend on this decision and you can only think about it. You're my Grand Vizier; you're supposed to give me direction, not supposition!"
"Well, look at it this way," Ryu argued, "something bad is going to happen; something always does when these two are born. You can't keep them apart because their destinies are so interconnected, they will come together no matter what. If you put them together on purpose—betroth them—then there's a slight chance that nothing bad will happen and the cycle will be broken. If I'm wrong, then we'll get what's coming anyways; it won't be any worse for trying."
"I don't like the sound of this at all," the king said, clearly unhappy. "And I can't fathom your logic. You said that the bad things happen because they're together—"
"But they're not really together, Your Majesty," Ryu interrupted. "They're side-by-side, yes, but they are not married. They do not have children. They never intersect their destinies."
"Who is this boy, anyways?"
"The son of a fisherman in the village of Marlin. I myself was born there—"
"A fisherman's whelp?!" the king thundered, sending his bath attendants scurrying for cover. The king's temper was legendary; he often threw things.
"You want my daughter, heir to the throne of the greatest kingdom of the world—descendant of kings innumerable from all three corners of the world—you want her to marry a fisherman?!"
"But, Your Majesty, he is not without bloodline. He is a descendant of the Knights of Nevara."
"The Knights of Nevara? They died out ages and ages ago," he said dismissively. "Arguing this fisherman's brat is a knight is like arguing we're all gods because once, in the recesses of time, the gods created people and intermarried with them.
"My daughter is a princess," he continued, full of righteous indignation. "And one day she will sit upon the throne as this kingdom's queen. I will not put a common fisherman on the throne as her king."
"But this is their destiny. They must fulfill it—or else this same pattern will continue over and over again, every time plunging this world closer to total destruction."
"You think," the king spat. "You said a moment ago that you weren't sure; you were just guessing. Well, here is my guess: bad things will happen if the two of them are put together, so I'm going to make sure this son of nobody never has the opportunity to even lay eyes on my daughter."
The king got out of the bath, splashing water all over the silk carpets. His attendants rushed back in to begin drying him off, but he hardly noticed. He was already calling for his secretary to send in the captain of the guards for a special mission.
Ryu bowed to his king's wishes and slowly slunk out of the room without notice. His feet were heavy as he walked the long corridors and spiraling staircases back to his tower study.
He had tried his best, but now things were worse. He should have listened to the queen and said nothing to the king. He could have quietly guided the destinies of both of the children himself and seen that something happened to bring them together. Now, the king would do everything in his power to stop them from coming together. The stars would rebel at such interference and the situation would only become worse. If they were kept apart on purpose, they might not be able to fulfill their destinies and the entire world would be completely lost.
Why had they never married? They had always survived every encounter. Were they stuck in the same pattern: princess and commoner? Was that what kept them apart lifetime after lifetime?
If they knew they were destined to be together, would that change things? If they knew they needed to intersect their destinies, instead of merely overlapping them, then maybe it wouldn't matter if another horror was unleashed; they would survive it again, but with foreknowledge of their destiny, they would retire together, not separately.
He was a descendant of the old Knights of Nevara—a group that had gone extinct, save for one precarious line of descendants. She was a descendant of the ancient royal family of Nevara. More telling of all, they had both been born Nevreks.
And surely it wasn't a fluke that Ryu himself had been born a Nevrek, too. Pure Nevreks were known to live for a very long time—three times as long as humans. But even though all modern Nevreks were of mixed blood, they still lived decades longer than the average human. …Time enough to set things right.
A fierce storm raged outside the cottage on the cliff above the sea. Rain dashed against the window panes so hard, it sounded as if sand was being thrown at them. The curtains—recycled from worn out clothing and bed linens—were pulled closed across the windows, shutting out the drafts of cold air that were driven in around the gaps in the wooden frame.
Inside, however, everything was snug. Maverick sat cross-legged on the floor, mending his net in front of the warm, crackling fire—which glowed green and shades of blue due to the salt which had soaked into the driftwood. Shaun sat in the floor beside him, fascinated with the cording and playing with it with a baby's curiosity. Susan sat on the other side of the hearth in the rocking chair that Maverick had made for her as a present when Shaun was born; she was humming happily while she made Shaun a new tunic. He was growing rapidly and had to have new clothes every few months.
They were startled out of their peaceful labors by a sudden, heavy banging on the door.
"Who on earth is out in this weather?" Susan wondered aloud.
"It must be something urgent," Maverick said, pushing his net aside and rising to his feet.
He opened the door, and a dark figure was blown in along with the rain.
"Can I help you?" Maverick asked cautiously. He didn't recognize the figure.
The man threw back his hood, and Maverick and Susan both gasped in surprise: the elderly man had long ears, just like their son.
"I am Ryu, Grand Vizier of Nevara," the man said breathlessly.
Maverick started to bow to him, but Ryu put his hand out, stopping him. "We have no time. Where is your child?"
"Here," Susan said, picking Shaun up and rising to her feet. "Why?"
"He is in grave danger. You must give him to me."
"What?" she gasped, shrinking back from him and turning her body to hide her child.
Maverick put his hand on Ryu's arm. "Here now, what kind of talk is that?" he said sternly.
Ryu turned back to him. "You don't understand. The king has sent soldiers here to look for this child. He is afraid that if this child and Princess Annabel ever meet, something horrible will befall this kingdom—and quite possibly the entire world.
"I tried to tell him, though, that they will meet regardless, and this evil will come regardless. But, if your son and the Princess were to marry, then everything might be avoided."
"What are you talking about?" Maverick asked in utter bewilderment.
Ryu tried to appeal to the boy's mother instead. "Listen, my former apprentice was the astrologer who did this boy's star chart. He sent a copy to me because he knew I was a Nevrek and had been born in this same village years ago.
"I had put the chart away without giving it much study, but I came across it when I was working on Princess Annabel's. That's when I noticed that they have overlapping destinies. And not just in this lifetime; they have been together at least seventeen times in the past, too.
"I think they keep reincarnating into the same harrowing situation over and over again because they never marry and rejoin the line of the Knights of Nevara with that of the royal house."
"I… don't understand," Susan said hesitantly. She looked at her husband, but he was just as confused as she.
"If you understand nothing else, understand this: soldiers are looking for this boy as we speak. They are in Marlin Village right now. Luckily for all of us, I knew exactly where to find you, so I was able to beat them here. But it won't take them long to find out where the fisherman with the Nevrek son lives. They will come here and they will take your son from you."
"But that's what you're trying to do," Maverick interjected.
"Yes, but I will take him and keep him safe and raise him to his destiny. If the soldiers get him, the king will exile him. Or worse, kill him. That would be the only possible way to keep him and the Princess from ever meeting. But I fear that if he does so, a great evil will befall us and this child will not be here to save us.
"Please, I beg of you—for the sake of your son and all of Nevara—let me have the child."
Susan and Maverick looked at one another for a long moment. Finally, Maverick nodded.
With tears in her eyes, Susan reluctantly handed Shaun to Ryu.
"Will I ever see him again?" she whispered.
Ryu wrapped the boy up in his cloak, so he couldn't be seen. "It won't be often, and must be in secret, but I will make sure that you see him from time to time."
Susan hurried to her chair where she had dropped the gray tunic she had been making for Shaun. She offered it to Ryu.
"I just finished this for him…." Her voice cracked and she was unable to continue.
Ryu took it from her. "I will see that he wears it."
Suddenly, he perked up, his ears alert. "They're coming. I must get away."
He looked at them one last time. "You must be in mourning when they come. Tell them that somehow your child toddled out of the house and fell off the cliff and into the ocean below and is lost. You must grieve for him as if he is truly dead. No one must know that he is alive and I have him. The king must think him dead. Understand?"
"Yes," Maverick whispered.
"Good." And with that, he was gone.

Sixteen Years Later
Princess Annabel leaned out her tower window, idly watching the large, yellow moon rising in the east, waiting for a little more time to pass. She had an appointment to keep. With herself.
From the moment her chambermaids woke her in the morning—cheerfully greeting her and throwing open the curtains to let in the early sunlight—her time was not her own. Even her person was really not her own. She was a princess, and that meant everyone had a claim on her.
She spent all of her mornings studying under her tutor, Master Ryu. He was patient and kind and sometimes he looked at her almost as if he pitied her. It was said that he was the best astrologer in the kingdom and that he could foretell men's deaths. Annabel wondered if he knew when and how she would die—if that's why he looked at her the way he did—but she was never brave enough to ask. Certainly the star chart she had been given years ago didn't say anything about her death. It only said that she would be one of the greatest rulers Nevara had ever known and that she would marry a noble man.
She still remembered the day Ryu gave her the star chart.
"This is for you," he said. "You won't understand all of it now, but in time it will make sense to you. But you must keep it secret. Let no one see it—least of all your father."
She wasn't sure why her father wasn't allowed to see it—especially since he undoubtedly had it commissioned when she was born—but maybe Ryu was afraid her father would be offended by the prediction that his daughter would be a greater ruler than him.
Regardless of Ryu's motives, she kept the chart secret, as he asked. It was rolled up tightly and hidden in a hollow chamber in her hunting bow. She thought herself rather clever for coming up with the hiding place; no one would ever think to look inside a bow for something. And she derived a certain sense of satisfaction knowing that every time she gripped her bow in practice, she was holding her destiny in her hands.
Which—as was previously mentioned—was more than she could say for her time.
Her classes ended at noon. If there were any visiting royals or emissaries or representatives present, she was expected to join her father in one of the small, intimate banquet rooms where they could all pretend to pleasantly chat while secretly sizing one another up. Her father liked to call those seemingly-endless luncheons a lesson in "statecraft."
They were only slightly worse than the alternative, which, when there was no one of importance around to entertain or impress, was to eat lunch alone in her room, attended only by her chambermaids. And while they were in a hurry to wake her up with their chatter first thing in the morning, they stood silent at meal times, as if they were nothing more than pieces of furniture. They only came alive when she asked for something or finished her meal, and even then they said no more than was necessary.
After her solitary lunch, she was expected to spend her afternoon being diplomatic via correspondence. Her father never had much tact for such things, and as soon as she was old enough to write legibly, her father insisted that Ryu teach her how to write letters of sympathy and congratulations, in addition to a steady stream of correspondence to the various royals of the world. She had to be polite and pleasant and make conversation about nothing important, lest she give away some secret. That, her father said, was true statecraft: to speak and be entertaining, but never say anything at all.
She knew her mother had held the position before her, and she tried to brace her spirits with the knowledge that she was following in her mother's footsteps and that her mother might be proud of her, but in truth, Annabel had her father's impatience with trivial things. But her impatience stemmed from a different reason: highly intelligent and quick to understand, she was easily bored.
But despite being bored by the endless letter writing, she was smart enough to know that someone had to do it, and it certainly wouldn't be (and shouldn't be) her father. So she sighed and dipped her quill into her bottle of ink and continued to write.
At least she had one pen-friend that she could be a little more honest with: her cousin, Rayliss. Rayliss lived in Erenrue and was the eldest daughter of the heir-apparent, Prince Zayde. Prince Zayde and Annabel's mother had been siblings.
Rayliss, like Annabel, was an heir to the throne of her kingdom (although she was third in line; their grandfather, King Ranis, was still alive), and she too was being raised to one day be a queen. But, because she was further removed from the throne, she wasn't pushed as much as Annabel; the advisers in the court of Erenrue thought she had plenty of time yet to learn to be queen.
Annabel could pour her heart out to Rayliss and speak honestly about how much she hated state luncheons and writing letters to everyone (except Rayliss) and being alone with no other young people her age to be with. And she could complain about having to have an escort every time she went into the city and how she never had a moment's private time.
Rayliss always wrote sympathetic letters in return, having experienced most of the same things herself (she did have two younger brothers, but she assured Annabel that being around them was worse than being alone). And Ryaliss felt comfortable complaining in return about her lessons and how she despaired of ever understanding anything (Annabel had figured out some years before that Rayliss was not the keenest knife in the drawer), and how she had made her flute tutor cry, she was so terrible. Annabel was always soothing and sympathetic in return and tried to give her what tips she could to help with the lessons.
But Annabel never told Rayliss about what she did at night. She didn't dare write it down, lest someone other than Rayliss read the letter. And even if she could talk Rayliss in person, she didn't think she could trust the other girl with her secret. Rayliss wasn't smart enough to know that such a thing had to be kept secret at all costs; she would only understand that what Annabel was doing was dangerous and that she should stop.
But Annabel was never going to stop. Even if she was locked in her room, she would find a way to escape and flee to the plains that surrounded the city where she could run free and be alone and have nothing at all to do for hours at a time.
She giggled, thinking about Ryu and how he always fussed about her being so drowsy most mornings when she was at her lessons. If he only knew why….
Annabel checked the moon again and decided it was late enough. She slipped out of her white silk dress and pulled out the shirt and breeches she kept hidden behind some heavy old books on the highest, most inaccessible shelf in her bookcase. She got into the clothes quickly, then took her boots out of a chest beneath one window and sat down to put them on. She was allowed to wear boots while she was riding, so she didn't have to hide them.
She slung her quiver across her back, then strapped a small sword across her hips. She took her bow and arrows to play with, if she felt like it, but she took her sword for protection. Even she was not so stupid as to go unarmed at night; there were still large predators roaming the wild places, even if they were not nearly as numerous as they had been generations ago.
She fastened her plainest dark cloak around her shoulders, covering everything up. She pulled up the hood, so her face was hidden in the shadows, then grabbed her bow and headed for the door.
She listened with her sensitive ears close to the door, but she heard nothing outside. Dear old Horace; he had been her guard ever since she had been an infant in the cradle. But he wasn't so young anymore, and he could always be counted on to be asleep at his post.
Annabel carefully opened the door—she made sure that the staff kept it well-oiled and silent—and quietly slipped out of her room. Horace, as always, was leaning against the right-hand wall, his head drooping down to his chest. There was no one else in sight.
She was making like a cat down the hallway—the deep-pile wool carpet making no noise under her feet—when suddenly the guard moved, causing her to jump with fright.
"Going somewhere, Your Highness?"
The voice behind the helmet's visor didn't belong to Horace at all. It was young and rather mocking.
She drew herself up taller. "That is no concern of yours," she said in her best imitation of her father. She had been caught roaming the palace in the dead of night a couple of times before, but always by young guards who were easily intimidated. She was always gone before they realized that she had never actually said why she had been out at such a god-forsaken hour.
"Oh, but it is my concern," the young guard replied. "You see, you are my concern."
"Where is Horace?" she demanded. "I don't know you."
"No, we've never been introduced, but I know you. I have watched you for a long time."
Annabel felt a chill go down her spine. Nothing good came of being secretly watched.
She unsheathed her sword. "Who are you and what have you done with Horace?"
The man laughed. "I have done nothing with him, Princess."
"I demand to know where he is."
"He is at home with his wife and family."
His answer brought Annabel up short. But she quickly dismissed her uncertainty; if the man posing as a guard was an assassin, as she suspected, then he would tell her any lie to gain her trust.
"I don't believe you," she said, going on guard again.
"But it's true," the man replied casually, as if he was not the least bit disturbed by Annabel's ready sword. "A certain someone knows that Horace has been sleeping on the job for quite some time and that you've been taking advantage of this and sneaking out of the palace at night. So, I am here to replace him. If I can prove myself, then Horace will be retired by a grateful royal family and given a generous pension that will keep him the rest of his days."
Annabel felt unsure again. What he said didn't sound like a lie—it was too detailed and smooth to have been made up on the spot—but maybe he had rehearsed it? But then, how had he known that Horace slept at his post and that she had been sneaking out?
The next thing she knew, his sword was crossed on top of hers, pinning it to the floor. "Please, Your Highness, go back to bed. This is my first real job and I would hate to lose it on my first day."
There was something arrogant and conceited in his voice; he thought she was beneath him. Beneath him!
It made her blood hot and her father's famous temper boiled to the surface.
She spun around, freeing her sword from him, and facing him again with her sword held at the ready. "You're going to have to earn your job," she hissed at him.
"I don't want to play this game," he said, a note of actual worry in his voice. "I don't want you to get hurt by accident."
By the gods! He really was an arrogant beast!
She gave him her answer with a quick thrust of her sword tip to the poorly-protected area where his arm harness didn't quite meet up with his body armor.
"Ow!" he said, reeling back.
She threw back the hood of her cloak and sneered at him. "You won't find me easy to wound."
"Very well, Your Highness," he said, slowly moving back into position. "As it pleases you…." And the next moment he was on the attack, thrusting and slicing.
Annabel was surprised; he was holding nothing back. It was everything she could do to keep up her defense. She feared that if she slipped for just a moment, he might really harm her.
That wasn't at all the way the other men of the guard fought with her; they were so careful of her, she was able to defeat them rather easily.
She had never been in a real sword fight with someone before. And even while it frightened her, it exhilarated her like nothing ever had before. This was far more dangerous than sneaking out of the palace at night. This was truly life or death.
She quickly realized that the young man's aggressive forward movements were driving her back toward her bedroom door. No doubt he thought to get her back inside and then lock her in. But it was everything she could do to defend herself; she wasn't in a position to be offensive.
That called for something drastic.
She blocked a high blow from him and then dropped like a lead weight, rolling forward and past him. She was on her feet again in an instant, and she swung at his head, but he just barely managed to duck.
Her sword grazed the top of his helmet and struck the socket where a red, decorative horsehair plume plugged into place. The force of her blow broke his chinstrap and the helmet went tumbling wildly across the carpet runner and then onto the stone floor. It clanged noisily against the wall before coming to a stop.
It was so unexpected, it stunned her for a moment. And that was all the time the guard needed. The next thing Annabel knew, she was pinned up against the wall, the guard's sword across her neck. She could feel the cold, sharp edge against her throat, and she gasped. Maybe he was an assassin after all.
She looked up at him, though, and her eyes widened.
He was quite handsome; somehow, she thought that someone who was so arrogant must be ugly, or at least have his face marred by a permanent scowl. But the boy's face was smooth and fair, and his blue eyes were actually kind and intelligent. His sandy-blond hair fell in disarray nearly to his shoulders. And, like her, he bore the long, pointed ears of a Nevrek.
He noticed her looking at him. "It would seem that we both have our secrets, Your Highness," he panted; even if she had lost the fight, she had clearly made him work for his victory. "No one here knows what I am," he added.
"What are you?" she whispered, her breathing as heavy and ragged as his.
"I'm a Nevrek… like yourself. That's something I've taken great pains to conceal. In fact, there is only one person outside of my family who knows."
"Why do you conceal it?"
"It… would be dangerous for me if it was known," he replied enigmatically.
"Why?" she pressed. "Is there someone who doesn't like Nevreks?"
"No, just someone who doesn't like me. And, you must admit, the ears do make me rather recognizable."
She couldn't help herself; she smiled a little.
"I'll keep your secret if you keep mine," he said quietly, lowering his sword.
"Are you wanted for something? For some crime?"
"No. I was just born with a destiny that someone didn't find acceptable, so he attempted to rewrite it for me."
"Who?" she asked, dying of curiosity about the strange young man.
"I… don't think I should say."
"I can command you to do it," she said, but there was no threat in her voice.
"There's a difference between telling me to do something and actually making me do it," he replied with a smirk. "You may command me all day long, but I will only obey when I feel like it."
"How did you come to be a guard here?" she demanded, feeling a bit cross again. "You don't seem to understand that my will is to be obeyed, not yours."
"And you don't seem to understand that you don't have to demand anything of me; I would willingly give you anything you want on bended knee, if you just ask the right way."
He was leaning in closer to her. She found it hard to breathe. She thought he might kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her. And yet, she had no idea why she wanted such a thing; she couldn't even figure out if she liked him or hated him.
"And what's the right way to ask?" she said breathlessly, wanting to kick herself for sounding so enraptured by him.
"It's not that simple," he whispered, leaning ever closer. "You have to figure it out for yourself."
She held her breath, waiting for his lips to touch hers.
Suddenly, she heard the distant sound of armor clanking.
"Someone's coming," she and the boy said at the same time. Then they glanced at one another and shared a knowing smile. No one could hear like Nevreks.
The boy stepped away and bent down to retrieve his helmet. "Back to your room, Your Highness," he said urgently. "We will have to practice our swordplay some other time."
Annabel picked up her bow, which she had discarded early in the confrontation, and hurried back into her room, closing the door behind her. But she knelt at the keyhole, trying to look out. She couldn't see the young man, or hear him retake his place. A moment later, a small unit of six guards came trotting up the stairs and down the hallway.
"What was that noise?" the lead soldier asked.
"What noise?" the boy replied. Annabel moved a little, trying to see him, but the angle wasn't good; he must have gone back to his position near the door. He could apparently move as quietly as Annabel, despite his bulky, rattling armor.
"The loud noise that came from up here," the soldier replied, sounding aggravated. "It sounded like fighting and things being thrown. And I heard voices."
"I'm sorry," the boy replied, genuinely sounding confused, "but I didn't hear a thing. And I have pretty good hearing."
Annabel stifled a giggle.
"Hmpf," the soldier replied. He glanced around, but apparently didn't see anything out of the ordinary. "How is the princess?" he demanded.
"Fine," the boy said smoothly. "She's sound asleep. …At least I assume she is. Do you want to check?"
Annabel caught her breath, afraid she was going to have to make a run and dive into bed, but the soldier didn't budge.
"No, that's fine; I wouldn't want to risk disturbing her."
"Understood."
The soldier squinted behind his helmet. "You're new here, aren't you?"
"New to this position, sir. I've been working and training here since I was eleven."
Since he was eleven! How had she failed to notice him? But, if he had been keeping his ears covered—and he was right, they really were the most conspicuous thing about him—then she would have never had any real cause to notice him; there were pages and errand boys and stable boys by the dozens constantly scurrying around the palace.
"This is a very important position for someone who is new," the old soldier replied warily.
"I'm just filling in for Horace while he takes a vacation."
"Well… just see to it that nothing happens on your watch."
"No, sir."
"It wouldn't do for you to let someone get into the Princess's room… or to let her get out," he added as an afterthought.
"Oh, I'm sure the Princess wouldn't ever try to sneak out of her room. She would know she couldn't ever get past one of us. She would have to go out the window to have any chance of escaping unnoticed." He laughed as if this idea was ridiculous.
Annabel, on the other hand, gasped in surprise. It had never occurred to her to go out the window. It was more dangerous than sneaking past a sleeping Horace, but it was certainly doable; most of the tower was covered with old ivy that was deeply embedded in the mortar around the stonework. When she was younger, she had been known to climb on it when no one was looking, but she always climbed from the bottom up, never from the top down.
"Is that blood on your arm?" the soldier asked, leaning closer to look at the guard.
Annabel's eyes widened; she hadn't realized she had actually wounded him. He had never said a thing about it.
"Oh, I think it is," the boy replied, sounding completely unconcerned. "My armor gave me a hard pinch earlier, when I was putting it on; I didn't realize it had actually cut me."
"Do you need to get it taken care of?"
"No, it's nothing. I'll clean it up later."
The soldier and his investigative party were soon satisfied that everything was as it ought to be, and they went back from wherever they came.
Annabel hurried to the large window that faced due-east, and opened it, looking down to make sure the coast was clear.
Drat it! The same group of meddlesome guards was marching through the courtyard, heading straight for her position. Did they take the boy's words as a warning to guard the outside of the tower? And here she thought the boy had dropped the hint for her benefit.
"We were slow to respond to a potential threat and sloppy in our execution," the lead guard said, speaking loudly to the group who was with him. "We need to drill tonight."
There were groans and a general chorus of bellyaching.
"Shut your traps!" the old soldier snarled. "Let's get a move on it!"
Annabel pulled back inside, shutting the window and locking it again. Apparently they weren't outside on her account. Which meant she could still get out by the window some other night.
She took off her breeches and shirt—carefully returning them to their hiding place—then she slipped into her nightgown and got into bed.
It was only as she was starting to fall asleep that she realized she had never asked the boy's name. The boy who had almost kissed her….

Annabel tried to make her escape again the following night.

She got dressed as before, but strung her bow and put it across her back. She opened her window and climbed up onto the sill—it was deep enough to sit in—but when she looked down, she felt a quiver of fear in the pit of her stomach. She was three stories up; what if the vine wasn't strong enough to bear her weight?
She began to have second thoughts about the enterprise. If the young guard was going to keep her secret, then why couldn't he just let her walk out past him? Why had he suggested she had to climb out of the window?
Maybe it was a test. He seemed like the type who would mock her courage if she came to him begging to be allowed to sneak out the regular way. And she certainly wasn't one to beg for anything. Pride ran deep in her ancient family line.
She took a deep breath, turned around, and slowly backed out of the window, her feet feeling cautiously for a foothold in the vines.
She found a step easily enough, and she slowly put her weight on it until she was confident it would hold. Then she put the other foot down. She pushed the open window almost closed, so it wouldn't attract attention if anyone happened to look up at it, then she finally let go of the ledge and clung precariously to nothing but the vines.
Slowly, and with more caution than she normally possessed, she climbed down the ivy. When she at last set foot on terra firma again, she wasn't sure whether she felt proud at having accomplished the climb or just relieved that it was over.
"You certainly don't lack for courage," came a quiet voice from the shadows near the tower.
Annabel wheeled around and watched in surprise as the guard from the night before approached her. But he wasn't dressed in armor; instead, he was wearing a gray, thigh-length tunic of a strange cut and unusual embroidery patterns; it was unlike anything Annabel had seen before. It had short sleeves, but he was wearing a white, lightweight shirt underneath it. He was also wearing a hood, which hung halfway down his back. He had it pulled down so that it covered the points of his ears.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, keeping her voice low so they wouldn't be overheard. "Aren't you supposed to be guarding my room?"
"No, I'm supposed to be guarding you. And since I suspected you would be here…." He smiled his conceited smile.
"Do you plan on stopping me again?"
"No, but I do plan on going with you."
"I don't think so."
"It seems like a fair compromise to me: you get to get out, but you remain protected."
"You obviously don't understand why I want to get out in the first place."
He perked a brow arrogantly. "Are you meeting someone in secret? A boy perhaps?"
Her cheeks reddened. "No, that's not it at all."
"Pray enlighten me."
"I want to get away from other people. And I think you most of all!" She turned on her heel and stormed off to a nondescript door hidden in the shadows of an open arcade.
But just as she was reaching for the handle, a hand came from nowhere and blocked her. "Really, Princess, I must insist that I go with you," the boy said, sounding concerned. "Just letting you go out like this is enough to lose me my employment. If something were to happen to you, though, I could lose my head."
"Maybe you would be less infuriating if you were headless," she retorted hotly.
"Maybe you would be less headstrong if you spent a few more years alone in your room," he replied without missing a beat. "You seem to forget that all I have to do is report you. I assure you, measures would be taken to ensure that you never got out again."
She narrowed her eyes. "And you seem to have forgotten that we had a deal: you keep my secret and I keep yours. You report me, and I'll let everyone in the castle know that you're a Nevrek."
"Yes, you could do that and force me to flee into exile," he replied simply. "And then where would we be? You would be locked in your room until you grew too old to care about leaving it, and I would be living in the wilds somewhere, half-starved and more beast than man. Wouldn't that just show us both?"
Annabel frowned, seeing the logic in his words.
"Wouldn't it be better if we kept our secrets together?" he offered.
She hesitated, then finally sighed wearily. "Very well," she said grudgingly, feeling that his offer was the best she was going to get.
"Don't sound so enthusiastic about my company," he said dryly. "I might not live up to your expectations."
"That wouldn't be hard to do, since I never know what to expect from you."
"Oh, I think you'll come to find that I'm pretty easy to read, once you get to know me." He opened the door for her and gave her a small bow, but there was something mocking about it.
"Who says I'll spend that much time with you?" she said haughtily, before flouncing past him and into a dimly lit corridor.
"Who says I'm that complicated?" he retorted.
Annabel fumed. She didn't plan it consciously, but ever since she had met the young guard, she had been trying to humble him—to get him to admit, by some word or gesture, that he was her inferior.
Normally she wasn't that egotistical, but then she had never met anyone like the boy before. He took liberties that no one else had ever dared take. He acted like he knew her—like they were old friends who could be casual with one another.
And that appealed to her, even as it infuriated her. She had never had a friend before, unless you counted Rayliss, and the two girls had only ever met once when they were about six years old and the royal family of Erenrue had come for a visit. When it came to someone she could really talk to and do things with, she had always been alone.
The corridor they were in was near the kitchens, but they were all deserted at that time of night, so Annabel wasn't really worried about running into anyone. She knew all of the passageways in the castle like the back of her hand. From an early age she had a habit of slipping away from her nanny or teacher or maids and going exploring.
Snooping and poking her nose (and fingers) into everything was how she learned about the secret passageway in the throne room. She didn't know if anyone else knew about it—and she couldn't very well ask, since that would mean exposing her own ill-gotten knowledge of it—but she liked to think that all knowledge of it had been lost over time and she alone had rediscovered it.
With one brief exception, she and the boy didn't see any guards on their trek through the castle, and they were able to slip into the throne room without getting caught.
The boy had not said anything to her since they had entered the castle proper, and if it weren't for glancing back at him every now and again, she would have never known he was there; he was absolutely silent. And that was saying something, considering she had much better than average hearing.
She walked up the stairs of the raised dais to the large gilded throne her father sat on during formal occasions. As the only royal woman at court, she always sat beside him in the smaller chair, which had once belonged to her mother.
She started to open the secret passage when she noticed the boy hesitating at the foot of the stairs.
"Are you staying here?" she asked, equally hoping that he would and wouldn't.
"No," he replied, slowly mounting the stairs. He almost acted like he was afraid to approach the throne. Might he have some underlying respect and humility after all?
"My job is to stay with you," he added.
"Who gave you that task, by the way?"
He smiled and Annabel finally figured out what it was about his smile that annoyed her: he smiled like he knew something she didn't. And she hated being kept in the dark more than anything.
"I think I better not say," he replied.
She scowled at him, but his smile only grew wider. "I'll tell you one day," was all he would say.
She was halfway tempted to go back to her room, just to keep him from enjoying her company—and he did seem to like being around her, despite the fact that she didn't particularly like him back—but after a moment's hesitation, she finally decided she preferred to be out. Besides, she might yet be able to give him the slip.
She leaned against the back of the large throne and pushed against it with all her might.
"Here, let me do that," the boy said, quickly stepping forward.
The chair tipped forward, opening a hidden panel in the floor and revealing steps that lead down into a black hole.
"I can do it myself," she replied, before walking down into the darkness.
He followed her more slowly.
"Afraid?" she taunted him, her feet sure on the well-traveled path.
"Not with you in front," he replied with his usual ready wit. "If there's a monster down here, it will get you first."
He really was most infuriating!
At the bottom of the stairs, she knelt down and felt for the lantern and flint and steel that she had stashed there. With practiced hands, she had it lit in a few seconds.
The boy glanced around, but there was nothing to see but a narrow corridor lined with old, damp-looking rocks.
He looked up the stairs, towards the dim light that came through the secret opening under the throne.
"Should we leave it open like that?" he asked. "Might someone come in the throne room and see it?"
Annabel grabbed a lever on the wall and, using all her strength, she pushed up on it. Slowly, the door closed, snuffing out the dim light. Now there was nothing but the lantern.
"This isn't my first time in this passageway," she said.
"So it would seem." He gestured down the dark corridor. "Lead on, Your Highness."
"Why—so the monsters can eat me first?"
"Because ladies and royalty always go first. And since you're both, I shall have to walk an extra step behind."
She frowned at him because she was almost positive that he was teasing her, but since she knew there was nothing to fear in the old corridor—just the occasional sticky spider web—she led on.
She glanced back after a minute; it did seem like he was walking a respectful distance behind her. But she knew he was doing it to mock her, not honor her.
Maybe he was right: maybe he was easy to understand.
"I never asked your name," she said, breaking the silence after several minutes.
"No, you didn't."
The silence descended on them again.
He was going to actually make her ask, wasn't he? What a tiresome boy!
"So, what is your name?" she asked, speaking as she might to a not-particularly-intelligent child.
"Shaun."
She laughed. "What sort of name is that?"
"What sort of name is 'Annabel'?"
"Annabel happens to be the name of many famous queens," she said superiorly. "It's an ancient name."
"I'm aware of that; I was just speaking rhetorically. My name isn't any sillier or less meaningful than yours."
She glanced back at him, looking dubious. He didn't speak like a common soldier. "What do you know of the history of Nevara?" she asked.
"A great deal. I made it a point to give it extra study."
Annabel was surprised. "You studied history?" Few people learned more than basic reading, writing, and arithmetic.
"Yes."
"Where?"
"At a monastery in the East."
Annabel was even more surprised—and, despite herself, impressed. A monastic education was the best any child could get—save private tutors. Even Master Ryu had himself studied in a monastery.
"Where are you from?" she asked, her curiosity replacing her irritation—for the time being.
"Marlin Village. Well, actually, my family doesn't live in the village proper, but it's not too far away.
"Do you have brothers and sisters?" Annabel, being an only child, had always found the idea of having a sibling appealing.
"Yes, I have a younger sister and brother."
"Are both of your parents still alive?
"No, my father was lost at sea when I was five. I don't remember him very well because I was sent away from home when I was only one, and I didn't get to see my family much when I was growing up. But my mother's still alive, and my uncle Alfon, and my cousin, Sasha."
"What was your father doing out on the ocean?"
"He was a fisherman."
Annabel sighed wistfully. "I've never seen the ocean."
"Have you ever been outside the castle walls?"
"Yes, but never out of sight of them."
"I can see why you feel the need to escape."
They walked in silence for a long while before the boy spoke again. "Where does this passage lead? It's been going on forever."
"It goes to the monastery outside the city. We're almost to the end."
No sooner had she spoken, than the corridor dead-ended at a stone wall. But she didn't hesitate to push on one side of the wall. It pivoted on a hinge set in the middle of the floor and opened onto huge room with a low, vaulted ceiling.
Shaun looked around as they walked past rows of large stone boxes on the floor. There were smaller wooden boxes set in niches along the walls.
"Is this a crypt?" he asked.
"Yes," Annabel replied, weaving her way quickly through the stone sarcophagi. While she wasn't afraid of being in the crypt, her own mother was buried in it and that knowledge bothered her a bit. She didn't know what tomb the queen was in; she never wanted to stop and look.
She came to a heavy wooden door and she blew out the lantern—setting it aside—before she opened the door with a squeak of rusty hinges. But she didn't worry about the noise; the abbot knew about her comings and goings. He had caught her the very first night she came out the door, unsure of where she was.
He had been startled to see the young princess creeping out of his crypt, but she had poured her heart out to him half the night, and he quickly came to sympathize with her plight. He agreed that she could use the secret passage to come and go as she pleased, but he was careful to emphasize that if she left the monastery's grounds, he would be helpless to protect her in any way.
When she had been younger, she had been content to stay inside the monastery's walls and admire the gardens and talk with the abbot. She didn't feel like she was being constantly watched, so that felt like freedom to her. But she eventually grew bolder and wanted to see more of the world, so she ventured out.
Annabel took Shaun through the sanctuary and out a side door that lead into the brothers' vegetable and herb garden. Annabel always loved the smell of tangy herbs and green growing things that greeted her when she pushed open the door. To her, it smelled like freedom. Like happiness.
No one was out and about so late at night. Annabel only occasionally saw the abbot; he seemed to know intuitively when she was interested in speaking to him and when she was only passing through. But every time Annabel went to retrieve her lantern, she found it full of oil; he took care of her as much as he could.
There was a door set in the outer wall on the opposite side of the garden, and Annabel headed for it. At long last—and after what felt like a long time and a particularly trying ordeal—she opened the door onto complete and total freedom.
There was nothing outside the wall of the monastery but the plain and the mountains beyond.
The grass on the plain was thigh-high, but not so dense that it was hard to walk through. In the early summer it smelled sweet and green, but it was now late summer and it had all dried out. It rustled softly as she pushed through it.
Annabel walked along the wall of the monastery until she was clear of it, then she headed due north. Above, the gibbous moon was waxing and the stars were spread like a glittering blanket across the sky. It was a beautiful night to be out.
"Where do you go when you're out?" Shaun asked, as they continued to walk northward. "Or what do you do?"
"There's an oak tree a little ways ahead; I like to go to it. Sometimes I practice my archery. Sometimes I just lie back and look at the stars."
She hesitated to tell him the other thing she did. It was the most secret of secret things; she knew people would judge her for it. But, at the same time, she was dying to know if he, being a Nevrek, could also do it.
For the moment, she decided against telling him.
They continued to walk in silence until the huge old oak tree materialized in the moonlight.
"That's a nice tree," Shaun admired.
"I do enjoy it," she admitted. When she finally came to it, she gave it an affectionate pat like it was a favorite pet.
She settled down in a spot in the roots, which formed a natural chair. She usually started her evening off with a bit of thinking. Sometimes she thought about philosophical questions Master Ryu had proposed to her during her lessons—she much preferred that kind of learning to memorization or doing figures—and sometimes she just reflected on her day—whether it had been good or bad or just boring. And sometimes she daydreamed about her future and what she might do when she was queen. She still hadn't decided if she would have less freedom as queen, or if she could have more freedom simply by making things the way she wanted them.
"Do you think…?" she started to ask Shaun, then she noticed that he was nowhere to be seen.
"Shaun?" she asked, getting up to look around the tree.
"Up here."
She looked up, startled. At first she couldn't see anything, but at last she made him out between the leaves. He was quite high up.
"What on earth are you doing up there?"
"You looked like you needed to be alone, so I thought I would give you as much privacy as I can. I can see a long way from here, so I can see anything approaching."
She suddenly began to question her previous judgment of him; maybe he wasn't a bad sort after all.
"The city is quite pretty from up here," he added, looking back to the south.
Annabel was curious; of all the things she had done and explored, she had never thought to climb the old tree.
She grabbed a low-hanging branch and pulled herself up.
Shaun smiled at her, and when she climbed closer, he leaned down and offered her his hand.
She forgot to be prideful for a moment, and she reached up to take it.
There was a flash of golden-white light in her vision and she gasped as she tingled all over. She felt like she couldn't move her body—in fact, she wasn't entirely sure where her body was. She had the strange feeling that she was floating far above the ground—maybe even in a place, which had no dimension at all.
Princess! Shaun called out to her.
I'm here, she replied.
And then everything was gone and she was plunged back down into her body and the darkness.
She gasped in shock again. Her return was so abrupt, she was disoriented and she nearly lost her footing on the branch where she was perched.
A hand tightened on hers, holding her steady. "Princess, are you alright?" Shaun asked, sounding a little scared.
"I… I think so."
She let him help her up the rest of the way up, and when she finally managed to sit on the branch beside him, she felt exhausted, as if she had run a long way.
He put his arm around her, but instead of being offended, she felt comforted and secure. And she desperately needed to feel both.
"I'm sorry," she said once she felt herself returning to normal. "I just suddenly…." She couldn't describe it. It hadn't been faintness—everything would have gone dark, not light, if she had been on the verge of fainting. It wasn't vertigo. It… wasn't like anything she had ever experienced before.
"I know. I felt it, too," he confessed.
She looked up at him in surprise. "Did you really?" she whispered.
"Yes."
Suddenly he startled and withdrew his arm from around her. She was about to tell him that it was okay—she didn't mind—when he held out his hand for her to see.
"Look at that," he said, sounding awed and a little frightened.
She looked and her eyes grew wider. On the back of his left hand was a skull surrounded by flowers with a heart in it’s head—the Nemeck. The symbol was gently pulsating with a deep golden glow, as if it was embedded in his hand and shining through.
She reached out to touch it, expecting that she might have an out-of-body experience again, but nothing happened. She pressed the symbol a few times, but she couldn't feel anything beneath Shaun's skin. It was as if it was a ghost-image.
"What do you think it means?" she asked, looking up at him.
"I don't know," he said honestly. Then he pointed at her left hand. "Look," he whispered.
She quickly looked at it and, surprisingly, found she had the exact same symbol on the back of her hand.
She couldn't help but poke at her own symbol, but her hand felt like a hand and her finger felt like her finger; the symbol didn't exist in any physical form.
"Do you think this is because we're Nevreks?" she asked, still looking at it curiously.
"Possibly."
"What does it mean, though? I mean, why the Nemeck?"
"I don't know."
She frowned, thinking about the problem. "I'd ask Master Ryu about it, but I obviously can't tell him about you."
"That's okay; he knows about me already."
She looked at him in surprise. "He does?"
"Yes. I told you that one other person knows about me."
Suddenly everything clicked into place. "He's the one who told you to guard me," she realized.
He smiled. "I knew you'd figure it out without me telling you."
"But why? I mean, why did he tell you to guard me?"
"Like I said, he was aware that Horace has been sleeping on the job and you were sneaking out. I think he was afraid for you, but didn't have anyone he could both trust with you and who would indulge you in your midnight walks."
"Did he tell you that I could go out if you went with me?" she asked in surprise.
"Well, not really," he said, suddenly looking sheepish. "But he didn't tell me you couldn't, either. He just told me to keep you in my sight at all times and take care of you. I figured if those were my orders, I could obey them just as well outside the castle walls as in."
They stayed in the tree for a long time, talking. Annabel completely forgot what she had found so annoying about Shaun as they shared their stories of growing up. Shaun had traveled a good bit, and Annabel loved to hear his descriptions of faraway places. And he was clever enough and educated enough that, when she told him about what really went on at state luncheons, he was able to grasp the subtleties of the politics. In fact, in that regard, he was rather better to talk to than her cousin Rayliss, who, despite being raised in a royal house, too, didn't understand politics at all.
After a while, Shaun glanced at the city through the leaves. It had been a twinkling orange glow on the plain earlier, but now it was mostly dark.
"It must be getting late," he said. "Most of the lights are out in the city."
Annabel glanced that direction, too. "Oh, I hadn't noticed." For the city to be so dark, it must be quite late indeed.
"We better get you back home," Link said, beginning to climb down. "I'm sure you have to be up in the morning for lessons."
"Yes," she replied sullenly, as she too began to climb down. She was having a good time and really didn't want to go back. "My harp lesson is in the morning."
"I like to listen to you when you play your harp," he said.
She stopped her descent and looked down at him in surprise. "You listen to me?"
"Yes. Well, most of the time," he corrected. "Sometimes I don't have the time to stop, and sometimes you have your windows closed, so I can't hear you very well. But I listen when I can. It's very lovely. You're better than your teacher, actually, but he'd never acknowledge that."
"You think I'm better than my teacher?" she asked hopefully. Her teacher always seemed to find fault with something she did.
"Oh, definitely. I've met him before; he's rather full of himself; he'd never acknowledge that his student has surpassed him."
She smiled, pleased, and continued to climb down.
When Shaun was still many feet above the group, he hopped out of the tree and landed on his feet as lightly as a cat.
"Showoff," she muttered.
He grinned up at her. "I bet you could do the same."
Annabel knew a dare when she heard one. She made it to the branch Shaun had been on and looked down. She thought it was much too far to jump, but he held up his hands, beckoning her to do it.
She jumped before she could think about it—because if she had thought about it, she would have changed her mind. The ground seemed to rush up to meet her, but Shaun was there, too, and he half-caught her so she didn't hit the ground too hard. It was a bit of a jolt, but not as bad as she expected.
"You have to learn to bend your knees as you land," he instructed her. "Let them absorb the impact. And, if you jump from very high up, land on the balls of your feet with your knees bent and immediately roll forward. Landing isn't the problem; it's the sudden stop that hurts. If you don't really stop moving, then the landing doesn't hurt too much."
"Did they teach you that as part of you guard training?" Annabel asked, impressed.
Shaun laughed as they began to walk across the field back to the monastery. "No offense, Your Highness, but I was a better swordsman than most of your soldiers when I first came here at the age of eleven. About the only thing I've learned since I've been here is how to fight in a unit, and after working with some of these guys, I'd rather take my chances fighting alone."
"I thought you went to school before you came here?" she asked, feeling confused. "Where did you learn your swordsmanship?"
"It wasn't your average sort of school."
She looked at him questioningly.
"In the East," he explained, "there is a sect of monks who are the keepers of the lost arts of the Knights of Nevara. I not only learned reading and writing and mathematics and philosophy and history from them, but also those lost arts."
"But… why would a school in the East have knowledge of Nevara?"
"Many ages ago, the Knights of Nevara had their own school and training facility and library devoted to the military arts; it was the best such facility in the world, and not only did all of the knights of Nevara train there, but other kingdoms across the world sent their best warriors there as well.
"When the Knights were all but wiped out in a great war, a group of monks feared that all the knowledge would be lost and Nevara would be left undefended. There were also legends of a hero who would be a descendant of those Knights and who would come to the kingdom's aid in its darkest hour. So they took all of the books and went far to the East, where they hid in the mountains. There they hoped that evil would not be able to find them and destroy the last hope of all our people. And they studied the manuals and learned the techniques and waited."
Annabel felt excited. "Can anyone go to this school?"
"Yes, and no. One, it's a very long and difficult journey to get there. And two, they don't accept everyone who applies. They consider their knowledge sacred and they will only teach it to people they believe worthy."
"How do they know you're worthy?"
"I don't know; I was never around when they were interviewing candidates."
"But… how did they find you worthy?"
"I don't know. I was only about a year old when Master Ryu took me to them."
"Master Ryu took you to the East when you were a baby? Personally?"
"Yes. I was already being hunted, and he intervened to keep me safe. He delivered me to the monks and they raised me and trained me. I don't know exactly what he said to convince them that they should train me, but I do know I'm a descendant of the Knights of Nevara, so that probably had something to do with it."
"Are you really?" Annabel asked in amazement.
"Yes."
The Knights of Nevara had once been the defenders of both the country and the royal family. They were the only nobility that ancient Nevara had and they had married into the royal family over many generations. If Annabel's ancestry and Shaun's could be traced back far enough—over a few thousand years—they would probably find they had a common ancestor.
All of the Knights had been wiped out in a great war and most of their families had been hunted down and exterminated. Nevara had been left defenseless and unstable as both its defenders and its ruling class had been stripped out.
Over time, however, a new noble class had emerged, rising from the ranks of wealthy businessmen. And men had been found and trained to be guards of the palace and royal family. But both the nobility and the soldiers were pale imitations of the Knights of Nevara.
Shaun and Annabel were at the monastery's door before Annabel knew it. She was quiet and thoughtful on their trek back through the crypt and the long passageway to the throne room.
Shaun's attitude made sense, now that she knew who he truly was. However humble his origins in this life, his bloodline was noble—more, noble than the so-called nobility who had replaced his ancestors. And, in fact, he probably had royal blood in his distant past. That would explain why he acted so familiarly with her, as if they were more equals than a princess and a fisherman's son.
When they reached the end of the passage, Annabel stopped and listened carefully, but she could hear nothing. "It's clear," she said.
Shaun threw the lever that opened the secret door, and Annabel extinguished the lantern, and they both went up.
Shaun carefully tipped the throne back into place and it settled back to the floor with hardly a sound. They crept back through the castle without incident.
At the foot of Annabel's tower, Shaun stopped. "Home again, safe and sound." He glanced at her. "I hope I haven't totally ruined your evening by tagging along."
"No, I…" she hesitated, but finally swallowed her pride, "I enjoyed your company."
He smiled brightly, looking genuinely happy. "I hope I may accompany you again," he said.
"Well, you'll come with me whether I invite you or not, won't you?"
He looked uncomfortable. Scuffing his foot and studying the ground, he replied to her hesitantly. "I have orders to protect you and… and I want to do so. It's my destiny to do so. But… I understand why it makes you unhappy to be followed and… I want you to be happy." He looked up at her, his blue eyes sincere. "I feel it's my duty to make you happy, just as it's my duty to protect you. I don't know what to do when those things conflict."
Annabel looked at him for a long moment. "Maybe… maybe they're not in conflict."
His gaze was so intense, she suddenly felt shy and turned away. She felt the same strange, fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had felt the previous night when he seemed poised to kiss her.
She turned to the ivy and began to climb up. Her mind was such a messy jumble of thoughts about Shaun that she didn't even think to be scared of the climb.
When she reached the top, she opened her window and, with a little difficulty—as there were few good handholds on the stone—she pulled herself up and crawled back into her room.
She turned and looked out. Shaun was still standing at the foot of the tower, obviously watching to make sure she returned to her room safely. He waved up at her, and she returned it.
"Tomorrow?" he whispered so quietly, only her ears could possibly hear him.
"Yes," she whispered in reply.
He waved goodnight again, then headed across the courtyard and disappeared into a dark arcade.
Annabel closed her widow, feeling nervous and excited, and quickly changed her clothes and hopped into bed. She was so busy thinking about Shaun and what they might do and talk about the next night, she completely forgot about the strange incident when they touched hands.

Shaun was happy—happier than he could ever remember being. He hummed a merry tune to himself as he walked back to the barracks on the far side of the castle. But, before long, he switched to a romantic tune, hearing the lyrics in his mind as he hummed.
Six years before, Master Ryu had brought him to the castle. Shaun's mouth had been open in awe as he rode behind Master Ryu through the bustling streets of Linnens; it was larger and busier than anything he had ever seen before. But his astonishment only grew as the huge castle at the heart of the town loomed above them. The next thing he knew, they were riding through a gate, past soldiers with spears.
Master Ryu had dismounted, then helped eleven-year-old Shaun off the horse. And while Shaun was looking around, thinking that nothing could be more spectacular, he saw her: Annabel.
She was dressed in white—her silvery-blonde hair almost indistinguishable from her dress. There was a small gaggle of people with her: maids and a couple of guards. She had a large kite in her hand and she was running across the courtyard, occasionally hopping, trying to get the kite into the air.
Shaun stared at her for a long time. When she stopped and tucked a wind-blown strand of hair behind one ear, he noticed she had pointed ears like his, and he felt an instant connection with her. They had something in common. There was something special about both of them.
When a guard stepped up to help her with the kite, Shaun finally tore his gaze from her and looked up at Master Ryu. The older man was looking at him very carefully, as if judging his reaction.
"Is she a fairy?" Shaun asked innocently. He knew fairies were supposed to be the most beautiful creatures on earth, and he knew he had seen no one as beautiful as the girl with the silvery-blonde hair.
Ryu smiled faintly. "No, Shaun, she is not a fairy. She is the Princess Annabel."
Shaun turned back to watch her. The guard—looking completely ridiculous—ran around the courtyard, trying to get up enough speed to throw the kite up and get it clear of the castle walls, so the wind could take it. Annabel—watching the man—clasped her hands tightly in anticipation.
"Mark her well," Ryu told Link in a low voice. "She is your destiny."
Shaun looked back at him. "What do you mean, sir?"
"I mean that the two of you are meant for one another."
"Really?" Shaun asked, his heart rising with hope.
"Yes. You are a descendant of the Knights of Nevara. She is a member of the royal family. If there was nothing else written in your stars, it would be your destiny to protect her. Defending the royal family and Nevara is what the Knights do.
"But you and she are meant to be together—meant to marry. And one day you shall. But you are not worthy of her yet. Only a Knight of Nevara could ever be worthy of marrying a princess, and you are far from being a knight."
Shaun turned on him, his fists clenched in eagerness. "What must I do to become a knight?"
"You must work hard. Even though you will not have any more formal education, you must read and study on your own; I will provide you with books that are appropriate. And you must learn to dance and play an instrument. You must be as educated and cultured and civilized as any courtier in the palace, else she will think you laughable.
"And you must learn from the other men here—the other soldiers. You must practice your swordplay and shooting daily. You must learn to be brave and be willing to put your life at risk for her safety.
"Finally, you must learn to serve. That will be your first chore here—as a page. You must learn to be humble, to serve your betters, to give and ask nothing in return.
"Once you have learned all those things then, and only then, may you be worthy of Princess Annabel."
Although Ryu's list was long and daunting, Shaun didn't have a moment's hesitation in agreeing to do everything he said. And he had worked hard. He had fetched and toted and delivered messages and trinkets and food from one end of the castle to the other. When he had a moment's rest—sitting in a corridor, waiting to be called—he would read whatever book Master Ryu gave him. In the evenings, when the other boys gathered to play, Shaun would find a quiet corner of a corridor or the courtyard and he would study. And every time he finished a book, Master Ryu would quiz him on it and challenge him so that he learned to think critically and form an opinion and defend it.
When he was fourteen, he was initiated into the guards' training program, where he did fetching and toting mainly for the guards, although he also learned about armor—how to put it on and repair it—and all the different weapons. At fifteen, he began training in earnest, where it was quickly discovered that he was already a finer swordsman than most of the much older guards. Shaun had studied swordplay from a very young age, and he had spent his years in the castle practicing regularly and studying moves from some of Master Ryu's books. But he did learn how to drill, and how to march, and how to fight in a unit. He also gained strength and agility through regular practice with weights and an obstacle course.
And now, at last, at the age of seventeen (going on eighteen), Master Ryu had pulled him aside for a special assignment: guarding the truant princess. He didn't have to be told that this was his opportunity to prove himself. If he could take care of her and prove to her that he was not a lowly commoner, but someone of refinement and intelligence, then perhaps she would come to love him. His love for her was already sealed—and had been, since that day in the courtyard when he was just eleven years old.
The scrape of leather on the stone sidewalk of the arcade brought him out of his reminiscing. He became quiet and turned to see who was coming up behind him.
A moment later, a figure in long, heavy robes began to materialize from the gloom. When he stepped into the light of a wall-torch, Shaun relaxed, seeing that it was Master Ryu.
"I should have expected you," Shaun said with a smile.
"I should have expected I couldn't catch you by surprise." Ryu gestured to a nearby door. "I would like a word."
Shaun dutifully followed Ryu through the door and up a rather narrow set of steps to the third floor. Ryu walked to the end of the corridor, then entered a tower, climbing another set of stairs. At the top was a landing and a door. He unlocked it, going inside.
Shaun was familiar with Master Ryu's tower room. A bed and clothes closet were crammed to one side of the room; the rest of it was overflowing with cases of books and tables full of parchment papers. There were orbs and brass and gold instruments of strange design hanging from the ceiling and sitting atop bookcases. There was even an entire chest full of nothing but maps.
A narrow staircase led up the side of the wall to the top, where a trapdoor opened onto the roof. Master Ryu could be found there many nights, studying the stars with his strange instruments and charting them on sheets of parchment.
But sixteen years earlier, Master Ryu had had a great suite of rooms on the second floor of the main part of the castle—near the royal family. He had not always been relegated to a cramped, far-away tower in a forgotten portion of the building. He had not always been the princess's tutor.
Shaun knew that Master Ryu had once been the Grand Vizier, but he had fallen out of favor with the king over Shaun.
The king never believed the story that Shaun's parents told the soldiers who came to call minutes after Ryu left their house that cold, blustery night. Maverick and Susan had done their best to convince the soldiers that Shaun had escaped their sight and had fallen off the cliff and into the ocean—and Susan's tears over having to give Shaun up were quite real—but the king found that all too convenient a death. It didn't help that Ryu had disappeared for nearly a month.
When Ryu reappeared, he told the king that a comet had appeared in the sky, and it had thrown off all the start charts he had made. He had gone to the mountains in the east, where the air was more rarefied and many more stars could be seen. There, he had seen that Shaun's death had changed everything, and he had spent nearly a month re-working Annabel's star charts completely.
The king never believed him or trusted him again. He continued to hold the title of Grand Vizier for a time, but the king stopped confiding in him or asking his opinion. And, increasingly, the king did things himself or delegated someone else to do them—things Ryu had once done for His Majesty.
A few years later, when a young magician began turning heads with his magical power and ability to play politics, it was only a matter of time before the king decided he need a new Grand Vizier, and Ryu was offered the post as tutor to the Princess.
The king had smiled benevolently as he offered Ryu the job, touting it as the most prestigious of positions, since he would be responsible for shaping the princess's education and influencing her decision-making for years to come.
A lesser man than Ryu might have been insulted by the demotion—from being the second most powerful man in the kingdom to being the tutor of a five-year-old—but Ryu merely shrugged and accepted. This shocked everyone—including the king, who thought, for sure, that he would turn the offer down cold—but Ryu had plans that involved the princess, and they were actually better served when he was her tutor, rather than the Grand Vizier. Besides, he knew the best way he could serve the kingdom was to ensure that Shaun and Annabel got together. If that happened, then the coming apocalypse might very well be avoided.
So he had educated Annabel and guided her future, even while he secretly guided Shaun's. And, when he perceived that the time was right, he had put them together.
Ryu lowered himself into an armchair by the fire. He wasn't young anymore—in fact, he was older than almost any other man alive—and his joints ached, especially at night.
He gestured to Shaun to sit in the chair opposite him.
"What happened tonight?" Ryu asked.
"The Princess climbed out of her window, as I expected she would."
"That's very dangerous; she might fall."
"She's tougher than you think," Shaun retorted. Ryu noticed his self-confident attitude. He wasn't sure yet if it was an asset or a liability. If Shaun knew his strengths and limitations—as well as those of the Princess's—then he would be a very great man indeed. If, however, he was arrogant to the point of foolishness, his life, and that of the Princess's, would be in grave danger.
"And once she was out of her room, then what?" Ryu prompted.
"Then we went out."
"Out where?" he asked.
"Outside the city," Shaun said. Although he had a strong suspicion that Master Ryu had set him up with Annabel and actually wanted him to go with her, he was loathe to reveal too many details. He felt a sense of loyalty to the princess, and he wanted to keep as many of her secrets as he could.
"You went out onto the plains?" Ryu asked, perking a brow.
"Yes."
"There are many wild animals out there. You should be very careful."
"I'm tougher than I look," Shaun said with a wry smile.
"Be careful, Link," Ryu chastised. "Pride goes before a fall. And you need to make doubly sure that you don't cause the Princess to fall with you."
"Of course not," Link said, sounding slightly offended. "I would never do anything to put the Princess in danger."
"And yet you encouraged her to climb out of a three-story window? And you took her out onto the plains alone?" Ryu pressed.
"If she had fallen, I would have caught her—even if it broke me in the process. And if something tried to attack her, I would have killed it."
He looked at Ryu. "I don't think you understand how much it means to her to be free—free of responsibility and other people's expectations."
"Oh, I think I have some idea of her need for it. After all, I've been her tutor since she was five," Ryu pointed out.
"Yes, but there's still a difference between who she is when she's here, versus who she is when she's outside. When she's outside, she's… she is who she truly is. She is not what other people want her to be, but who she wants to be."
Ryu was impressed; he felt Shaun understood Annabel quite well—maybe even better than he did himself. It was good that he felt so bonded with her.
"If she wants to be out," Shaun continued, "then I will do whatever is necessary to make sure she gets out. It makes her so happy, and I would not deny her that for anything."
"Very well," Ryu said. "I will defer to your judgment on this for the time being. I am satisfied that you will keep her safe."
"On my life," Shaun swore fervently.
Ryu waved him away. "Go to sleep. Just because you've been up half the night doesn't mean you're excused from your work tomorrow. No one can know about you and Annabel."
"I understand," Shaun said, rising.
He was just opening the door to leave, when he suddenly remembered what had happened that night.
"Master Ryu?" he asked, turning to the old man.
"Yes, Shaun?"
Shaun shut the door and crossed back to him. "Something strange happened tonight and I wanted to ask you about it."
Ryu sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Strange? What happened?"
"At one point, I offered my hand to the Princess—to help her up—but when she touched it, I felt as if I was somewhere else—somewhere warm and quiet and full of golden light. I was just floating there. And then, suddenly, I was back in my body. Annabel had the same experience at the same instant.
"And not only that, but we both had a mark in our hands that glowed." He showed him the back of his left hand. "A Nemeck glowed gold beneath the skin of our hands for several minutes, then eventually faded. It's not reappeared."
Master Ryu relaxed back into his chair. "I can explain part of what happened."
"Yes?" Shaun asked eagerly.
"All Nevreks have the ability to speak telepathically, but only after they've had contact in the flesh."
Ryu removed his glove and held up his hand. "If you want to learn, I can show you how."
Slowly, Shaun reached out and put the palm of his hand against Ryu's.
In a flash, he was floating, disembodied, in the golden light once again. Expecting it this time, though, he spent his few brief seconds appreciating the untroubled feeling that bathed him like warm bath water.
Then, with a jolt, he was back in his body, looking at Master Ryu.
"Now our minds are linked," Ryu said, withdrawing his hand.
Shaun looked at his hand, but there was no mark glowing in it. "But what about the Nemeck?"
"That I don't understand—at least not fully."
"What part do you understand?" Shaun asked.
"You and Annabel both share a special destiny. The gods have something in store for both of you. It's possible that you were both marked with that symbol by the gods as… a sort of identification—to show that you were chosen by the gods. Or there may be some other meaning behind it; I'm not sure. But I think it is because of your shared destiny."
Shaun studied his hand, but saw nothing. "If Annabel and I each have the mark…" he said slowly.
"Yes?" Ryu asked when he didn't finish.
"Does that mean there's a third person who also has a mark? A we two parts of a three-part whole?"
Ryu was thunderstruck; the thought had never occurred to him, although he could see Shaun's reasoning immediately. Because their land was blessed by three goddesses—each in control of one element of the Nemeck—then it would seem reasonable that their three-fold mark would appear more than just two times.
"I don't know," Ryu said, his mind racing with possibilities. "I will have to think about it and consult the stars."

Over the next several weeks, Master Ryu taught Shaun how to use the mental connection between them to communicate. On the nights that Shaun and Annabel were able to sneak out of the castle, Shaun passed on what he had learned to the Princess.
Blue.
"You told me 'blue,'" Annabel replied, as they sat under the old oak tree and practiced. "Let me do it."
Grass.
"'Grass,'" Shaun replied.
"Let me try something more complicated," she said, enjoying the new game.
The moon is white in the blue sky.
"'The moon is white in the blue sky,'" Shaun repeated.
"Can you read my thoughts?" she asked.
"No. I can only hear what you project, and visa versa. Master Ryu said projecting was like talking aloud; what you don't project is like having private thoughts."
"It's rather amazing, isn't it? Imagine back when everyone was a Nevrek; people could talk without ever saying a word. You'd never have to worry about being overheard."
"It will certainly make sneaking out easier," Shaun pointed out. "You and I can coordinate our plans without anyone being the wiser."
"You're right!" Annabel said with surprise. Then she giggled.
Shaun leaned back against the tree and looked up at the stars through the leaves. "I wonder what else Nevreks could do?"
Annabel pressed her lips together, then finally decided to tell Shaun her secret. They had shared so many other secrets, she didn't feel right not telling him about her biggest one. Besides, she was dying to know if he could do it, too.
"I… I think… they could… turn into animals," she said hesitantly.
He looked at her. "What?"
"I think they could turn into animals."
"What makes you say that?"
"Can you not do it?" she asked, already feeling disappointed.
"No." Then he looked confused. "Can you?"
"Yes." She hung her head. "If you can't do it, then maybe it's not a Nevrek thing at all; maybe I'm just weird."
Shaun sat up straighter. "You're not weird. Tell me, what do you turn into? Or can you take any shape?"
"No… at least, I don't think so," Annabel said, surprising herself. It never occurred to her to try to be anything else.
"Then what do you become?"
"A horse."
Shaun stared at her for a long moment. "Show me," he said.
Annabel stood up and walked a short distance away. Then she turned back to look at him. She willed herself to be a horse, and a tingling energy flowed out of her center and down into her extremities, changing her shape as it went. In less than a second, she was standing as a horse.
Shaun's mouth was actually open in shock, and if she hadn't been so worried about what he might think of her, she might have felt proud that she caught him by surprise.
He slowly stood up and walked over to her. He cautiously reached out his hand, then touched her neck. "Can you understand what I say?" he whispered.
She tossed her head.
"Can you think the same? I mean are you still a person on the inside?"
She tossed her head again.
"Can you speak?"
She whinnied, trying to make a sound like "no."
Can you hear me if I talk to you like this?
Annabel practically jumped with surprise. She nodded her head eagerly.
"How do you do it?" he asked. "How do you transform?"
I don't know.
She pulled the energy up, taking it back into her center. Once again, she was standing in front of him as a person. But, despite paying attention to the process while it was happening, she was still no closer to describing it. "I'm sorry," she said helplessly, "but I don't know how I do it. I just… want to do it, so it happens. It's like… me trying to tell you how to balance on two feet and walk."
"How did you do it the first time?"
"The first time I came out here—out to this tree—I ran across the field and I felt so free, I wished I could run farther and faster, like a horse. And then, I was galloping. It scared me at first, but as soon as I didn't want to be a horse anymore, I wasn't one. I was too scared to try anything again that night, but later I became curious about it, so I came back out and tried to replicate what I had been doing at the time, and it worked. Eventually, I figured out it wasn't the running that was necessary, but the wanting to be a horse."
"But you think it's a Nevrek trait?"
"I don't know; I was hoping you could do it, too."
Shaun shook his head. "Not that I've ever tried."
"You should try."
Shaun tried, but even when he ran across the field at Annabel's suggestion, he did not turn into a horse.
"I guess it's just me," Annabel said, disappointed.
"Don't sound so upset, Your Highness. Having a unique skill is something to be proud of."
"What sort of skill is turning into a horse?"
"I don't know, but it could be useful. Imagine if you had to run away; you would be much faster as a horse. Or, if you had to make a long journey, you could travel a lot farther and take less time."
"I suppose," she said, feeling moderately better.
Annabel was still thinking about their conversation the next morning when she was at her harp lesson. She was starting to think that Shaun's way of looking at the situation was probably a good one when her teacher clapped his hands impatiently.
"Your Highness, pay attention!"
She startled, shaking off her daydream and coming back to the matter at hand. She had been playing her harp automatically and even she could recognize she wasn't doing very well.
She took a deep breath, then began her song again, concentrating.
Her harp teacher tapped out the tempo with his cane, calling out instructions randomly, telling her to not to get behind, not to get too fast, to use a lighter finger, to use a heavier touch.
She dutifully tried to do everything he said, although he seemed to be contradicting himself much of the time; when she made a correction that he asked for, the next moment he was wanting her to play it as she had before she corrected it.
That was one of the reasons why she hated her harp lessons. She tried to hold on to the fact that Shaun thought she was better than her teacher and he was just hard on her because he was jealous. But it was hard to feel confident when Master Jehan was around.
Annabel began to hear something in the distance some time before her brain—concentrating deeply on her piece and Master Jehan's steady stream of critiques—comprehended that she was hearing someone playing the same song.
At first the sound was soft and indistinct, but it slowly grew louder, until Annabel recognized it was a flute.
She glanced out the open window and spotted a gray-clad sitting on the rampart across the courtyard from her window. He was sitting casually on the edge of the stonework, his legs dangling over.
She smiled, then threw herself into her piece with more enthusiasm than Master Jehan had ever managed to elicit from her. She liked the idea of playing with Shaun. The sound of his flute floated through her open window and it was almost like he was there with her, encouraging her.
Then Master Jehan finally shut up long enough to hear the sound over the noise of his own voice. "What's that?" he said irritably.
Annabel didn't say anything; she only continued to play, wanting to send her music back out to Link for him to enjoy, as she was enjoying his.
"Gods, what an awful racket!" Master Jehan complained, getting to his feet. "It sounds like a bird being eaten by a cat."
Annabel didn't think it sounded like any such thing; she thought the music was quite nice.
Master Jehan limped stiffly to the window and looked out. "Hey, you there! Boy!"
Shaun didn't stop playing.
"Boy! Stop that this instant! You are disturbing the Princess's lesson with that horrible noise."
Shaun still didn't stop playing, and neither did Annabel. She finished the song, but immediately switched into something else—something more upbeat and fun. There was barely a pause before Shaun began to play the same song, his flute trilling gaily.
"You over there!" Master Jehan called out louder. "Stop that at once."
Shaun's only response was some quick, flashy finger work.
"Ugh!" Master Jehan said, pulling his head back inside the window. "He can't hear me over the squeak of that tinker's toy." He pulled the window shut with a snap.
Then he rounded on Annabel. "What on earth are you playing? I've heard two-year olds who managed to improvise something more elegant than that. It sounds like music out of the lowest of pubs."
Annabel sighed and switched to a quieter, more boring piece.
Master Jehan was in an irritable mood the rest of the lesson and was worse than usual. When Annabel was able to steal a glance at the window, she saw that Shaun was gone. She hoped that he wouldn't be mad at her; she enjoyed his playing, even if her tutor didn't.

Shaun and Annabel had birthdays only eight days apart, so they agreed to celebrate in between the two dates by sneaking out for the evening. Annabel was turning seventeen; Shaun had just passed eighteen.
Annabel expected she would have a typical royal birthday party, complete with many visiting dignitaries—none of whom were actually there for her, but rather to conduct business—and that she would be paraded among all of them like a prize racing horse being put through its paces before eager bettors. She was now in her "prime marrying years" as one of her father's advisers liked to say (when he didn't know she could hear him), and had endured a similar show the year before—being asked to play the harp, sing, and show off her graciousness and charm.
She much preferred the idea of actually celebrating her birthday with Shaun. And knowing that he was alone and had no one to acknowledge his birthday, she did the necessary amount of lying to get some food and sweet cakes from the kitchen in advance.
They sat together under the old oak tree—the last few dead leaves of fall that still clinging to its branches rustled dryly in the wind—and shared the food Annabel had brought.
"This is excellent," Shaun said, wolfing his portion down. Annabel wondered if he didn't get much to eat, or if it wasn't very good, or if ravenous hunger was just typical of boys his age (she had heard it was).
"I'm glad you like it," she replied. "Happy birthday."
He smiled at her and raised his goblet. "Happy birthday to you, too, Princess."
She clinked her goblet against his. "Here's to another year older… and another year closer to an arranged marriage," she said with biting sarcasm.
"May it be one arranged by the gods… not by politicians."
"Goddesses make it so," she said fervently. She tried not to think too much about who her father—and all his advisers—might marry her to; it made her feel ill.
Annabel took a drink from her cup, then set it down. "I got you something," she said, suddenly feeling a little shy about giving him a gift.
"You didn't have to do that, Your Highness," he replied, but looking eager nonetheless.
She smiled and handed him a package wrapped in a soft piece of scrap leather.
Curious, he untied the string and opened up the leather.
"They're vambraces," she explained, as held up the leather arm protection to the moonlight so he could see them better. They were heavily tooled with various decorations and painted in bright green and yellow and red.
"They're beautiful," he said, gazing at them in appreciation.
"I prefer to wear one when I'm doing archery," she said, showing him her somewhat more modest arm guard. "The bow string stings if it pops back on you."
"Oh, trust me, I know," he said, as he slipped a vambrace on over his shirt sleeve. It had straps and buckles that made tightening it up with one hand easy. "I wasn't allowed to use any sort of arm protection when I was growing up. The brothers used to tell me that there might come a day when I'd have to shoot without any protection, so I might as well get used to the pain so that I'd be tough when I needed to be."
Annabel winced. "I'm not sure if I'd like to go to your school after all."
"Well, I suppose it has made me tough," he said, slipping on the other guard. "But, I won't mind wearing this when I shoot, just the same," he added with a smile. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she said, pleased that he liked his gift. It had been hard to think of something that he might want or need; he seemed pretty self-sufficient and not the type to like impractical, ostentatious gifts like the nobility and royalty so frequently exchanged.
"I have something for you, too," he said.
"Do you?" she asked, sounding more eager than she meant to.
He reach down the front of his tunic and pulled out what looked like a stick. But when he handed it to her, she realized it was a flute.
"It's pretty," she said, examining it. It had vines and tiny flowers carved into it.
"Thank you. I made it myself."
"Did you really?" she asked, looking up at him.
He nodded.
She smiled, then looked at it again. She would have probably liked anything he gave her, but she was extra pleased with the little flute, which he had made himself.
"I don't know how to play it," she admitted, "but I can learn."
He chuckled. "I heard your harp teacher complaining about me the other day, so I don't think you should learn from me." He grinned. "I wouldn't want you to sound like… what was it?… a bird being eaten by a cat."
Annabel frowned. "I thought what you were playing was quite beautiful. I enjoyed it" She offered the flute to him. "Will you play something for me?"
He took the flute. "Certainly. Is there anything you would like to hear?"
"Whatever you want."
He cleared his throat, then licked his lips once and put them to the flute. Then he began playing the rollicking tune that Annabel had taken up—the one her teacher complained was too low.
She listened intently, enjoying it, and—contrary to her harp teacher's complaints—she didn't hear a single note that was too sharp or out of place. In fact, Shaun added in some extra flourishes that showed he had a good deal of skill with the instrument.
"That was great," she said when he finished.
"I think it's better when you're playing too, though," he replied.
"Maybe we'll be able to play together again sometime—when my teacher isn't around." Then she brightened up. "Would you play with me at my birthday party? My father always makes me play to show off."
"If you like," he said with a smile.
Annabel felt a little bit better about her party, knowing that Shaun would be there. That, and she liked the idea of them playing a duet. She felt she had been cheated out of their last one.
Annabel felt like going for a run after eating, so she took off her cumbersome weaponry, changed her shape, and galloped far out onto the plain. As much as she enjoyed Shaun's company, there was nothing that could match the feeling of the wind in her hair (er… mane) and the moonlight glowing soft on the tall grass. It was peaceful and free and the best feeling in the world.
When she stopped, she could just hear the sound of the flute. She looked back and saw Shaun perched high in the tree, playing. It was one of Annabel's favorite songs—and a love song.
She was just contemplating going back and singing while he played—although she wondered how he might take such a gesture, given the nature of the lyrics—when she caught a strange scent on the air. It smelled like dirt and fur and something indescribably unsavory.
She wheeled around. There, close to the ground, crouched to spring, was the most massive wolf she had ever seen. It was almost as big as she was.
It gave a low, barely audible snarl, showing its pointed teeth.
Annabel spun around with a whinny of terror and leaped into the air, coming down at a full-out gallop.
Her horse-instincts told her to run as fast as she could, as far as she could. But as fast as she was running, she could hear the thump of paws on the ground behind her and they weren't getting any farther away.
"Princess!" Shaun shouted, although his voice was faint because she was running farther and farther away from him.
She altered her course so that she was running back to the tree. She could see Shaun waiting in one of the lowermost branches, ready to help her climb up, out of harm's way, but she could feel the hot breath of the wolf right behind her and she knew she would never have time to transform and get into the tree before it got her.
Shoot it! Shoot it! she screamed to Shaun.
He quickly hopped down and grabbed her bow, which she had left at the base of the tree. He was ready with an arrow as soon as she flew past.
The arrow struck its target, but the wolf didn't slow; its momentum plowed it directly into Shaun, and the two went tumbling across the ground in an indistinguishable lump. Before Annabel could even skid to a halt, she heard an agonizing cry of pain.
She wheeled around and saw Shaun pinned down by the wolf. He had thrown his left arm up to protect his face and throat, and the wolf had bitten down on his forearm and was savaging it.
"Shaun!" Annabel screamed, racing back towards him and the wolf. She never even noticed changing back into a human. She had only one thought: to get to her sword before Shaun died.
It was propped against the tree, and she snatched it up at the run, ripping the sheath off of it.
Shaun managed to pull his dagger out of his belt, and he plunged it into the wolf's neck. It howled in agony, letting go of his arm. A moment later, Annabel rammed her sword into its side, between the ribs, and buried it all the way to the hilt.
The wolf made a strange, high-pitched squeal, then collapsed onto its side, convulsing.
Annabel sank to her knees, absolutely breathless from her run. As the shock wore off, it was replaced by a delayed-onset fear, and she began to tremble and cry. Her tears, however, only made it even more difficult to breathe, and she bordered on hyperventilating.
Then Shaun was kneeling beside her. "Princess, are you hurt?" he asked, his voice full of concern.
She shook her head a little; she didn't have enough air in her lungs to speak.
"Are you sure?" he asked, looking doubtful.
She nodded.
He put his right arm around her and pulled her close, stroking her hair. "Thank all the gods," he whispered in relief.
He held her until she began to regain her composure, then he sat back on his heels and gently wiped her tears away with his fingertips. Annabel noticed that he didn't use his left arm at all; he had it cradled against him. But he never made any indication he was in any pain.
"Thank you," he said, looking at her tenderly.
"For what?" she asked.
"For what?" he repeated, incredulous. "For saving my life, of course."
"You saved me first. It… it would have gotten me if you hadn't stood between it and me."
He smiled softly. "That's why I'm here, pestering you with my company: it's my duty to protect you."
"You aren't a pest," she said honestly. She could remember a time when she thought he was, but now, for the life of her, she couldn't remember why she ever thought that. She truly felt Shaun was a kindred soul.
He dried the last of her tears. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked once more.
"Yes," she replied honestly. "What about you?" She started to reach for his wounded arm, but he recoiled, not willing for her to touch it.
"I think my arm's broken," he said, an edge to his voice at last revealing the pain he was in.
"We better get you to the abbot; he can take care of you."
He nodded. That he didn't argue or brush her off told Annabel that he was hurt more than he was showing.
She quickly gathered up her bow, quiver, and the bag of dishes and water-skin she had brought with her.
"Don't forget your sword," Shaun said, nodding towards the wolf.
Annabel tugged at it half-heartedly, then, with great reluctance, she put her foot on the still-twitching corpse and pulled. She used both hands and pulled with all her might, but she couldn't get it to come out.
"It wasn't that hard to get it in," she said, giving up in frustration.
"Let me try," Shaun said, stepping up beside her. He put his foot on the body, as Annabel had done, then pulled on the sword with his right hand. He had to wiggle it a bit as he pulled, but at last it came clear.
Annabel wrinkled her nose at the blood and gore dripping off of it.
"Get that piece of scrap leather we had earlier," Shaun suggested.
Annabel found it, discarded, at the base of the tree, and she used it to quickly wipe the sword clean, then she put it back in its sheath and buckled it across her hips.
"Ready?" Shaun asked. Annabel noticed he sounded a little anxious.
"Yes, I'm ready."
"Keep your eyes and ears open for more," Shaun said, nodding to the wolf. "Most wolves are pack animals."
That was enough to induce Annabel to hurry back to the monastery; she hoped she never met another wolf again for as long as she lived.
"Was that the first time you've killed?" Shaun asked, breaking the silence after a few minutes.
"Yes," she said, surprised. She hadn't thought about it, but for all her swordplay and shooting, she had never actually killed anything before.
"The first time's always hard," Shaun said. "The first thing I killed was a rabbit for dinner. Killing something innocent and harmless is not easy. Although I was a good shot, I missed the first few I aimed for simply because I lacked the courage to take a life. Later, when I was older, I had to kill a wildcat. That was a little bit easier, since I knew it was dangerous, but at the same time, there was something beautiful and graceful about it. And it was only doing what the gods put it here to do; it wasn't its fault that it was the way that it was."
"Have you killed many things?" Annabel asked, looking up at him.
"Enough that I no longer hesitate," he replied.
When they crept back into the monastery, they found it just as quiet and deserted as when they had left.
Annabel went to a small cottage in the back, which was set apart from the rest of the sanctuary and monks' apartments. She knocked softly on the door, afraid of being overheard. "Abbot?"
She waited a moment, then she heard a noise inside. The door opened with a faint creak of its hinges. The abbot took one look at Annabel and Shaun, then he stepped back, ushering them into the room.
"What happened?" he asked quickly.
"We were attack by a wolf—the largest wolf I've ever seen," Annabel replied. "It was as big as… as a horse, and almost that tall."
The abbot shut the door and hurried to fetch a few more lamps. There was a book lying on the table and a solitary candle was lit. Annabel had the impression that he had been sitting up, reading, and waiting until they came back in safely. Even thought she rarely saw him, she suspected that he always knew when she came and went from the monastery.
"Is your arm hurt?" he asked Shaun, as he cleared away his book.
Shaun nodded. "I think it's broken."
"Have a seat," the abbot said, gesturing to his recently-vacated chair. He immediately began laying out bandages and medical implements.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, looking at Annabel.
"No, I'm fine… thanks to Shaun."
The abbot just nodded. "Put your arm up here and let me have a look at it," he told Shaun.
Wincing, but making no sound, Shaun stretched forth his arm, gingerly placing it on the table.
In the light of the oil lamps, Annabel could see several bite marks in the leather vambrace—including at least two puncture marks which looked like they went all the way through.
The abbot unbuckled the vambrace and tried to pull it off as gently as possible, but it made Shaun yelp with pain.
"You must be quiet or someone will hear," the abbot said anxiously. "I have no concern for myself, but explaining how the Princess came to be here…."
Shaun nodded, pressing his lips together.
"I can cut it off," the abbot offered.
Shaun shook his head.
"Shaun, let him cut it off," Annabel hurried to say, before the abbot began hurting him again. "I can get you another pair."
"I want these," he said stubbornly. Then he looked at the abbot with grim determination. "Take it off."
Annabel felt her heart breaking as she watched, helpless, while the abbot gently tugged the vambrace off, while Shaun whimpered in pain, holding in his cries. When the abbot at last got the leather guard off, Shaun breathed a ragged sigh of relief and relaxed back in the chair.
Annabel noticed, however, that his white under sleeve had several rents in it and it was covered in bright red blood.
The abbot cut the sleeve off at the elbow and examined his arm, wiping away the blood that was drying on it. There were a couple of deep punctures, plus two or three more minor scrapes. The deeper wounds were still oozing a little blood, but for the most part, the bleeding had stopped.
Shaun silently squirmed when the abbot touched his arm. Annabel could see that there was a disfiguring lump in the middle of it
"Yes, it's broken," the abbot pronounced a moment later. "I'll have to set it, then clean these wounds and splint your arm."
"Hide the wounds," Shaun said, his voice strained with pain. "I'll just tell everyone that I fell and hurt my arm. I don't want anyone to suspect that I was attacked; that will lead to awkward questions about what I do on my nights off."
The abbot nodded and began to ready his things.
"What do you mean 'your nights off?'" Annabel asked, looking at Shaun in confusion.
He managed a watery smile. "If I'm scheduled to be on duty when you want to go out, I trade my shift with someone else. If I was on-duty when I slipped off with you, it would definitely be noticed."
"I thought… I thought guarding me was your job?"
"It is, but it's not what I'm paid to do."
"You… you don't get paid to guard me?" she asked in disbelief.
"Oh, I think I get paid," he said with a disarming smile. "Being with you is its own reward."
Before Annabel could figure out how to reply to such a declaration, the abbot interrupted them. "I'm ready whenever you are," he told Shaun.
Shaun braced himself in the chair, then gave a quick, jerky nod of assent.
The abbot took Shaun's arm in his hands and began pulling and pushing on it to get the bones back in place. Shaun bit his knuckles, trying to keep from screaming, although a deep groan of pain came from him.
Annabel rubbed his back as he leaned forward against the table, hiding his face, and trying to valiantly to stay quiet. The muffled sounds of pain he made were agonizing.
At last, the abbot was done. "There, that has it," he said triumphantly.
Shaun fell back against the chair, panting. His peaked face was tinged with green. "Gods, I feel sick," he moaned miserably.
"Princess, would you get him a cold cloth?" the abbot asked, nodding to his washbasin on the other side of the room.
Annabel hurried to pour some cold water on a cloth and she wiped Shaun's face with it. Slowly, a little color began to return to his chalky face.
"Thank you," he said with relief, sounding a little better.
While having the bite wounds cleaned stung, the pain of them clearly paled in comparison to the broken arm, and the abbot had Shaun splinted and bandaged up in no time.
"Thank you, Abbot," Shaun said, looking at the white bandages on his arm.
"Let me give you something to drink for the pain," the abbot said, beginning to pull out little jars of herbs.
"I can't take anything right now," Shaun said, standing up. "I have a shift in a couple of hours."
The abbot stared at him in amazement. "You're not going to take anything?"
"No. But, if I may, I'll come back when my shift is done."
"Absolutely. I… don't know if you'll make it that long, though. The pain will get worse and a slight fever will probably set in."
Shaun smiled his teasing way. "Thanks for giving me something to look forward to."
"Shaun, you should probably stay with the abbot a few days and let him take care of you," Annabel said. "You can tell people you fell and broke your arm and no one will be the wiser."
"No, I traded my shift with someone and my word is my bond."
Annabel glanced helplessly at the abbot who looked equally helpless, then he just shrugged. Annabel already knew Shaun well enough to know there was no talking him out of it, so without further delay, they took the secret passage back to the castle.
"Thank you for my birthday," he told her when they were almost to the throne room. "I didn't much care for the wolf that crashed our party, but I'm very grateful for your present. I think without the vambrace, it would have taken my arm."
Annabel swallowed, sickened by the thought. It was bad enough he had to suffer a broken arm on her account. If he had lost his entire arm….
They paused at the foot of the stairs. "Your Highness," he said, stopping her before she could throw the switch and open the secret door, "I wish that you would promise me something…."
"Anything," she said quickly.
He smiled a little. "Remember that you said that," he teased. Then he became serious again. "Would you promise me that you won't go out alone? I know you went out alone for years before I came along, but… well, you've seen the worst that can happen. That we survived is because we had each other; if either of us had been alone, we would have been dead."
Well, that wasn't entirely true, Annabel thought. Shaun was safely in the tree when she attracted the wolf's attention. If she hadn't been there, he wouldn't have gotten hurt. At the very least, he would have been able to shoot the wolf from the safety of the tree; he only put himself in harm's way to save her.
"I promise," she said honestly. She really had no desire to go out again any time soon. In fact, she didn't know if she would ever feel safe outside again.
"I think it would be best for both of us if we didn't go out again for a while," Shaun continued. "The predators become more vicious in the winter when food is scarce—not to mention it will take a couple of months for my arm to fully heal and regain its strength. And I certainly don't want to go out without the use of my sword hand."
"No, you should stay in and take care of yourself," she agreed.
"Maybe we could find another place to go?" he asked hopefully. "I do like our evenings together…."
"We can stay inside the monastery; I used to do that when I was younger. No one ever knew, except the abbot, and even if someone did see me there, we could have some excuse—that I was sick or something, and you escorted me there to see the abbot."
"That sounds like a plan," he said with a smile. And Annabel knew then that he needed her company as much as she needed his.

Annabel didn't get to see Shaun again for a few days—although, while sitting idly at her window one day, waiting on her lunch to arrive, she heard some guards in the courtyard teasing.
"How's it going, Shaun?" a guard said with good-natured mocking. "Fallen off any more bridges lately?"
"Thankfully, no," came the reply. Annabel leaned forward to look, but the small group of guards in the courtyard were all in full armor, so she couldn't see Shaun's face—although she recognized him by the way he cradled his left arm against his body. He had put his armor on over the bandaging, though, so it didn't show.
"I do plan to stay in for a while," Shaun continued. "It's pretty dangerous out there."
The other men laughed, and one clapped him on his good arm. "The city can be a dangerous place for country boys like you, Shaun."
"So it would seem."
Annabel wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh at their ignorance, or be mad about it. She didn't think that any of the other guards would have done as well as Shaun, and if she had a choice of who to take with her in a dangerous situation, she would definitely pick Shaun above anyone else.
With all the excitement from the attack, and all the work involved with planning her birthday party, Annabel completely forgot that she had asked Shaun to play with her—and even if she had remembered, she would have not expected him to actually come, given the condition of his arm.
So she was quite surprised when, on the night of her party, as she was setting up her harp to play for the guests, a butler came up to her and whispered, "Your Highness, there is… a boy outside who says that you asked him here to entertain."
"A boy? Where?" she asked, looking around in confusion, not even thinking of Shaun.
"He's at the door," the butler whispered. "I tried to send him away, but he said that you had specifically asked him to play the flute for your party, so I thought I had better check with you…." He sounded apologetic, as if he didn't really believe the story was true and hated to bother her with it.
But Annabel immediately remembered Shaun, then was surprised that he was there. "Yes, I asked him to come," she said. "But let me speak to him first."
The butler bowed obediently, then showed her to the door.
Shaun was standing outside. He was dressed in his usual green tunic and funny stocking cap. He bowed low when she came near. "I hope I'm not too late, Your Highness. I had to work this evening."
"No, no, I was just about to start," she said, looking at him. She felt it had been forever since she had seen him, but it also felt weird seeing him in the bright party lights and with so many other people around. He belonged to a different part of her life—the private part, not the princess part.
He showed her a flute in his right hand. It looked very similar to the one he had given her, although it was a bit larger. "I'm ready to play, if you still want me to," he offered.
"But… your arm…."
"I can manage."
When she looked dubious, he smiled. "Trust me, I practiced beforehand to make sure that I could."
"Well… if it doesn't pain you to do so…" she said hesitantly, not wanting to see him leave, but not wanting him to be in pain for such a silly thing as playing the flute for her.
"I think nothing would make me feel better than to play with you," he said honestly.
"Your Highness," the butler interrupted, "I believe everyone is ready for you to start."
Annabel turned around and noticed that the hall had grown quieter and everyone seemed to be looking at her harp expectantly.
She gestured for Shaun to follow her, and they crossed the hall to the platform at the head of the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests," she said, addressing the crowd formally, "I would like to personally thank you all for coming to my birthday party. It is an honor and privilege for me to host you this year, and I hope that you enjoy being here as much as I enjoy having you here. I look forward to this every year."
Lying was a necessary part of statecraft, her father always said.
There was genteel applause from everyone for her words. She paused to let it die down, then she continued. "I would like to entertain you tonight with a few pieces that I have been practicing under my tutor, Master Jehan. Also, I have…" she stopped herself before she introduced Shan as her friend—that would never do. "I have someone here with me tonight who will be playing the flute. Quite by accident, I heard him playing one day while I was practicing my harp, and I thought that the two instruments together made a fine sound, so I asked him to join me tonight. I apologize in advance that we have not practiced together, but we will do our best."
There was another short round of polite applause and Annabel took her seat on a velvet-covered stool next to her harp and removed her gloves, laying them neatly across her lap. She leaned over to Shaun and he bowed his head close to hers.
"How are we going to do this?" she whispered to him.
"Do an introduction, then I'll come in. Don't worry; I've heard you play enough, I can follow you."
She nodded a little, then tilted the harp back against her body and played a few bars as an intro. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shaun lick his lips, then he put the flute to his lips as if there was nothing wrong with his arm. Indeed, if she hadn't known to look, she might not even have noticed the bulge of bandages under the sleeve of his shirt.
As promised, he played along with her perfectly, never missing a note. She could tell he didn't quite play with the finesse and flourish that he had a few nights before, but she wasn't sure if that was because his arm hindered him, or if he was toning his performance down a bit so it didn't overwhelm hers. Regardless, they sounded quite good together, in Annabel's opinion.
And for once, she was able to ignore the hundreds of eyes on her and she relaxed, playing for fun, rather than performance. She was playing for herself and Shaun for the sheer enjoyment of it.
They played three songs back-to-back before she finally set her harp back on the floor.
There was appreciative applause as she rose from her seat and took a bow. She noticed that Shaun had subtly taken a step back, half-disappearing in the shadows behind her, but she gestured for him to step forward again and take his share of the applause. He did so, but kept his head bowed to her and the audience with uncharacteristic humbleness.
As the applause died, the regular court musicians took up their instruments and the hall once again filled with the low hum of conversation.
"Thank you," Annabel said to Shaun quietly as she slowly put on her gloves, not eager to rejoin the crowd.
He bowed to her. "It was my pleasure, Your Highness."
She noticed that there was a sheen of sweat on his face, and he looked very pale. He wasn't going to say anything, but playing had been very painful for him.
She caught the eye of a server standing nearby, and he was at her side almost as soon as she gestured to him.
"Bring us some wine to drink," she said.
The man bowed and disappeared swiftly into the crowd. He reappeared a moment later with a single silver goblet on his silver tray.
Annabel frowned; she had asked for drinks for both of them. Apparently the server had not even bothered to notice Shaun.
She took the cup and shooed the man away, then she offered it to Shaun.
He bowed again a little. "I shouldn't, Your Highness," he whispered.
"Drink. I can see your arm pains you."
He hesitated, but at last took the cup from her—a bit awkward with his right hand. He drained it in a couple of swallows.
She called the server back over. "Bring him another one," she said, gesturing to the cup in Shaun's hand, but Shaun shook his head, handing it back to the server. "Thank you, Your Highness, but I really shouldn't."
"Do you have to work again tonight?" she asked, as the server disappeared again.
"No."
"Then why not drink more?"
"I don't think it would be… wise for me to drink too much. In vino veritas. I don't want to lose control of my tongue—not here."
She noticed that he hadn't looked her in the eye once the entire evening. She had never seen him so deferential before, and while she had once found it annoying that he wasn't more deferential towards her, now she was bothered by his deference. He didn't seem like the same person at all, and, she had to admit, she rather liked Shaun when he was being his normal, self-confident self.
"That was very lovely," someone said, approaching Annabel and Shaun. Annabel seemed to recall the woman had been introduced as part of the diplomatic party from the eastern kingdom of Shi-Ha, although she had lost track of names long before the woman had passed through the receiving line earlier in the evening.
"Thank you," Annabel replied for both of them.
The woman smiled, looking at Shaun. "Are you one of the court musicians?"
Shaun bowed a little. "No, m'lady."
"Are you a student of Her Highness's music teacher?" she pressed, clearly eager to know who Shaun was.
"No, m'lady. I'm just a palace guard who likes to play when I'm not on duty. Her Highness heard me playing one day and graciously asked me to join her."
"Well, isn't that sweet?" the woman said in a somewhat patronizing tone. "It must be a big thrill for a humble guard like yourself to play with the Princess."
Annabel ground her teeth, willing herself not to give the woman a tart reply.
Instead, it was Shaun who was gracious. "It is always a thrill to serve Her Highness, in large ways and small. Her happiness is the only thing I want out of life, and if I can please her, then I shall always be content."
The woman glanced at Annabel and broke into a big grin. "Well, isn't he a charming thing? I wish the servants back home were so erudite." She looked at Shaun. "That means 'well-spoken,'" she added for his benefit, with simpering condescension.
"Begging your ladyship's pardon, but I believe it means 'well-educated,'" Shaun corrected with a smile. "But why split hairs among friends?"
The woman glanced at Annabel again with a mildly impressed look—as if she and Annabel were adults being entertained by a rather precocious child.
A moment later, she snagged a man out of the crowd and drew him over. A rather sour-faced couple—representing the rest of the Shi-Ha diplomatic delegation—followed him.
"Here, Mitchum, meet this young man," the woman said. "He really is quite remarkable."
Mitchum—looking rather bored—merely nodded at Shaun, who gave him a much more cordial bow.
"He's a guard here at the palace," the silly woman explained animatedly. "Princess Annabel just happened to hear him playing his flute one day and she invited him to play with her. Isn't that remarkable?"
"Quite," he lied, sounding even more bored then he looked.
"Where did you get that hood?" the other woman, lately come to their group, asked. She was eyeing Shaun's long, decorative hood with a haughty disdain.
"It's commonly worn by the people in my village but tonight I got this one to celebrate Her Highnesses birthday," Shaun replied levelly.
"How… quaint," she said with a mocking smile.
"Nevara is a large, diverse kingdom with several unique styles of clothing," Annabel said, unable to keep the frostiness out of her voice. "It's something of a point of pride for people of different districts to identify themselves through their clothing."
"Common people are just so fascinating," the snooty woman replied. She looked at her companion. "Wouldn't you agree?"
"I don't know; I don't bother to keep up with them." The others in the group chuckled.
Annabel clenched her fists, silently fuming. But before she could overcome her anger enough to think of a good retort, Shaun bowed to the group. "Excuse me, but I'm sure you have important matters of state to discuss; I don't want to intrude."
He turned and gave Annabel an especially low bow. "Your Highness, with your permission…."
Annabel wished she could send the Shi-Ha delegates away instead of Shaun, but she knew what he was doing was the wiser course of action.
"Yes, certainly. Thank you for playing with me today." She put her gloved hand forward, giving him a highly unusual honor.
He didn't miss a beat. He took her hand in his—so lightly, it barely seemed as if they were touching—and touched his lips to the back of her glove—as proper as any courtier in Nevara. "The pleasure was all mine, Your Highness."
For the briefest of instants, he glanced up at her with that look in his eyes that made her want to be kissed by him. "Happy birthday," he said, speaking to her as if there was no one else around. And then, before she could thank him, he had disappeared.
"He seems a bit uppity for a common guard," the snobby man drawled, watching Shaun's green form slip through the guests and out the door. "In fact, he rather acts like he's one of us."
"He's certainly educated," the silly woman said. "He was correcting my speech."
"He corrected your speech?" the snooty woman gasped in disbelief.
"He's definitely uppity," her partner concluded.
Annabel glared at him. "No, he's educated. He went to a monastery somewhere in your kingdom."
"Well, I suppose that would explain why he can speak so well," the man replied. The others laughed superiorly, making Annabel grind her teeth again.
"Well, if you'll excuse me, I must attend my other guests," she said, practically snarling, and she hurried away before they could say anything else to irritate her.

"I'm sorry those people from Shi-Ha were such asses," Annabel said, the next time she and Shaun were able to meet, nearly a week after her birthday party. They sat together in a dark corner of the monastery where there was no one to overhear them.
Shaun merely shrugged. "I don't let it bother me."
"Well, it bothers me," Annabel said, still feeling hot under the collar about it.
Shaun chuckled. "That's because you perceive it as an injustice."
"And how do you perceive it?"
"As nothing more than a bit of hot air blowing across my face."
Annabel looked at him in astonishment, then laughed.
"Well, it's true," he said. "Why should I care what such insignificant people think about me or anything else? What are their opinions to me?"
She looked at him, then smiled. "They were right about one thing, you know."
"Oh?" he said, sounding a bit surprised. "What?"
"You are pretty uppity for a commoner."
Shaun laughed loudly. "Maybe that's because I don't see myself as a commoner," he explained.
"What do you see yourself as?"
"I see myself as a Knight of Nevara… or, at least, a squire in training for that role. I don't think I'm yet worthy of that title, but one day I will be—once I've gone on my quest," he added, almost as an afterthought.
"What quest?" Annabel asked eagerly. A "quest" sounded terribly exciting.
"I don't know, but it's written in my stars that I will go on a great quest. I've been training all my life to fulfill my destiny, and if I pass the test—by completing my quest—then I will know that I have, at last, earned the title that I carry in my blood.
"Every title must be earned," he went on to explain. "It doesn't matter who you were born to, but what you were born to be. If you don't work to earn your title, then… well, then, you're like those dignitaries at your party: people puffed up with pride, but hollow inside and lacking any real substance. Why wouldn't I—or anyone else—feel contempt for them?"
"Have I earned my title?" Annabel asked anxiously. She hoped Shaun didn't think her hollow and lacking substance.
He looked at her with a critical eye. "Yes, Your Highness, I think you are a good princess. Of course, being a queen is a different matter all together, but I think you're still practicing and learning, as am I. I think we are both on the road to becoming people of true substance."
Annabel felt better. She valued Shaun's opinion more than anyone else's, except maybe Master Ryu's and, in certain instances, the abbot's. If Shaun didn't find her wanting, then she was doing well.
The King sat at a large table in his bedroom, brooding over the pile of letters from various people who were interested in seeking the hand of Nevara's one and only princess.
"This is a weighty decision," the king said, as he glanced at one letter, then another. "Whoever I choose will be king of this kingdom."
"Your Majesty would be wise not to choose someone who is too eager for power," the Grand Vizier, Nagdii, said smoothly.
Nagdii was certainly one to talk about men eager for power, since his whole life had been consumed with the process. He had become a powerful magician at an early age and had been quick to take up a post in the palace. He took great pains to appear wise and ingratiate himself with everyone. When it was rumored that the King had taken a dislike to Ryu, Nagdii had done everything to worm himself into the King's good graces in order to secure the position of Grand Vizier for himself.
The king threw the letters to the table in aggravation; it was more thinking and study than he normally cared to do. "Who do you think I should marry her to, Nagdii?" the king asked, leaning back in his chair. "What sort of man would be good?"
"Someone wise, certainly," Nagdii replied. His voice was so soothing, it eased the king's troubled mind. And although he wasn't anyone's idea of handsome, the women of the palace seemed to swoon every time he spoke to them. Only Annabel disliked the way he talked, complaining (only to Shaun and Rayliss) that he sounded oily, like a con artist.
"The Princess can be… headstrong," Nagdii added, apologetically. "She has Your Majesty's drive and determination, but that's not an asset in a woman, as it is in a man."
The king nodded silently. While Annabel strove to be an obedient daughter, there were times when she—literally—put her foot down and would not be budged. As a young child, there had been more than one occasion when a guard had to pick her up and take her to her room when she otherwise refused to go.
"If you would have her rule in her own right, then she will need a weak husband that she can dominate. But if you would have a king who rules in her stead, then you will need someone strong enough to overpower her."
"I don't think anything short of magic can overpower that girl if she has her mind set to something," the king said sadly.
Nagdii smiled a little. "I could help with that, Your Majesty."
"I might take you up on that offer," the king replied, before looking at the letters and sighing again. "So much rests on this."
"I agree. I think you are very wise to take your time with this decision."
The king made a little noise of disgust. "Ryu would have had me betroth her to a fisherman's son. Can you imagine!"
Nagdii shook his head in sympathy. "It is inconceivable. I'm afraid Master Ryu… how shall I say it?… has gone a bit addled. When a person starts to reach an advanced age, their mental powers start to fade a bit, you know."
"I hope it hasn't ruined the Princess' education," the king said, sounding a bit worried.
"Oh, I don't think so. From all the conversations that I've had with the Princess, she seems well learned. …Although I think that might be due in large part to her natural-born intelligence, rather than the tutor. I know you to be quite intelligent, of course, and I heard that the late Queen was very wise as well."
"She was," the king said sorrowfully. "She could smooth over any hard feelings; she always knew the right thing to say."
"I wish I could have met her."
The king sighed heavily again; he still missed his wife, even after seventeen years. Annabel had taken up her mother's mantle in almost every aspect of governance, but she still lacked his late-wife's experience. That, and Nagdii was correct: Annabel was strong-willed. She acted more like him than her mother.
"You know," the king said, steering the subject away from his late queen, "I never have believed that the boy died—that fisherman's son," he clarified. "It was all too convenient. First, Ryu says that this boy has a big destiny and something bad will happen if he and Annabel come together, then suddenly this child of destiny falls off a cliff and drowns in the ocean?" The king shook his finger. "And I happen to know that Ryu left the palace immediately after that and was gone for a month. You can't tell me he didn't get that boy and do something with him."
"It certainly sounds like he did."
"I think the quicker I marry Annabel, the sooner I can relax. I don't want there to be any chance she and this boy end up together—none. It weighs heavily on my mind, and that weight only grows heavier as she gets older."
"Who was this boy?"
"I don't know. I just know he was born before Annabel—maybe a year, I think—and was the son of a fisherman. Oh, and I believe he was from Marlin Village."
Nagdii stood up straighter, a visible shudder running through his body.
"What is it, man?" the king asked, alarmed. "Do you know this boy?"
"Did Your Majesty not see?"
"See what?" he asked, looking around.
"The boy who played the flute at Her Highness's birthday party."
"What of him?"
"He was wearing garb peculiar to that region of Nevara. In fact, that silly-looking hood he was wearing is specifically worn by fishermen."
The king sat bolt upright. "Are you positive?"
"Yes."
The king slammed his hand down on the table so hard, he upset a bottle of ink. A servant who had been standing unobtrusively in the corner, waiting to be needed, hurried forward and started trying to blot the ink out of the silk carpet.
"He has put that boy right here under my very nose!" the king roared.
"Quite possibly," Nagdii said with a bit more caution.
"The arrogance!"
"Your Majesty," Nagdii interrupted, before the king could work himself up into a towering rage, "would you permit me to investigate this matter?"
"In what way?"
"I will observe this young man and make inquiries about him and delve deeper into this matter—as only I know how," he added with just a touch of a smug smile for his magical skills. "If he is the boy we think he is, then we can trap him and Ryu together. Ryu will be exposed as a traitor and this boy in collusion with him. Then it would be up to Your Majesty to determine a fitting sentence for both."
The king thought about Nagdii's plan for a minute. "I think that might be best," he said slowly, looking as if he was warming to the idea. "Ryu is clever; if he were to suspect anything, he and the boy could disappear without a trace, leaving them to try again."
"Then we must keep this between you and me," Nagdii said with a smile.

Shaun and Annabel passed the winter nights quietly in the monastery. When it was bitterly cold, they stayed inside the Sanctuary, huddled under blankets considerately left there by the abbot, and drinking hot soup and tea that Annabel brought from the castle kitchens. With Shaun's help, she learned to play (quietly) some tunes on the little flute he had given her, and she could do well enough to play simple things with him—her higher-pitched flute sounding sweet with his deeper-pitched one.
She certainly preferred Shaun's tutelage to Master Jehan's; Shaun was always quick to encourage her and praise her efforts. When he saw a problem, he showed her how to correct it, rather than just chastising her for it.
They also enjoyed playing chess—being evenly-matched in skill and intelligence—and Shaun taught Annabel some card and dice games that the common soldiers liked to play, but they bet tidbits of food instead of money; Shaun said it wasn't proper for a Princess to gamble, nor for him to take her money if she lost. He didn't seem to have the same compunctions about taking her sweets, though.
When the weather was more moderate, they wandered through the bare garden or sat under a tree in the corner of a courtyard and talked.
When the first snow of winter thickly blanketed the ground, they went outside the monastery's walls and played in the snow under the pale light of the stars. Annabel learned that she could throw a pretty mean snowball. Shaun wasn't quite as good, having to use his right hand, but he was better at ducking and dodging, so she really didn't end up hitting him anymore than he did her.
After the third such fight, she noticed that he always let her get in one final hit before he called the game for the evening.
The winter thus passed quietly. The two of them grew so close, Annabel couldn't imagine how she had made it through most of her life without Shaun. Even when they had to be apart because of his schedule or her schedule or events at the castle that made sneaking around impossible, they communicated telepathically, sharing bits of their day, making jokes—often at Master Jehan's expense—or commiserating (although Annabel noticed that Shaun rarely complained about anything; he was content to be her sympathetic ear).
A part of Annabel was aware of the fact that Shaun had feelings for her, which ran deeper than friendship or duty. Sometimes he looked at her with burning eyes that dared her to deny she had feelings for him, too. She felt that just allowing him to look at her like that created an unspoken acknowledgment on her part.
But, in truth, she didn't know how she felt about Shaun. She certainly considered him her best friend, and she wanted him to always be that; she needed a real friend worse than she needed anything else in life. But at the same time, when he looked at her like that, she felt that old desire to kiss him. She spent many sleepless nights wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
Shaun's arm was healed and he had regained his strength and full range of motion in it by the time winter began to wane. One day, when it was unseasonably warm, Shaun and Annabel agreed to go out to "their tree" for the first time since the wolf had attacked them.
The night was cool, but not unbearably cold, by the time they hiked to the old oak tree. Annabel spread out their evening snack and they sat down together—Shaun with this sword across his lap and Annabel with her bow and arrows propped up against the tree next to her. Both of them kept a wary eye on the grassy plain while they ate, but nothing disturbed them.
As they relaxed against the tree's roots—neither of them wanting to test fate just yet and wander too far away from a defensible position—Annabel looked at Shaun.
"You know, I rather like your people's clothes, except for the hood. It is rather strange-looking."
Shaun chuckled. He reached up and plucked the long hood from his head, shaking out his messy sandy-blond hair. Annabel tried not to stare at his ears; even though she knew he had them, she had only ever seen them once, and she found the ears of other Nevreks fascinating. There was something comforting in being around someone so visibly similar to herself.
Shaun held the hood in his hands. "Everyone at the castle laughs at my hood, but it's really quite useful."
"Oh?" Annabel asked, leaning forward curiously.
"If you put it around you like this," Shaun illustrated, wrapping it around his back, just under his armpits, "and tie it," he tied a knot in the front, "then it can be used as a flotation device."
"What?" Annabel asked, not sure if she understood him.
"If you're in the water, it will keep you afloat."
"Really?" she said with surprise.
"Yes." He untied the knot and took the hood off, but he didn't put it back on his head. Instead, he ran his hand through his hair, making it even messier. "More than a few men's lives have been saved because they had their hood."
"Do the women in your village wear them, too?"
"Not usually. As soon as a child can be taught to tie a knot, boys and girls both wear them. But usually girls quit wearing them when they get older—around the time they get married. Although there are some women who fish, and they wear them—at least when they go out on the boats."
"I've never seen the ocean," Annabel said with a wistful sigh.
"Someday I'll take you," Shaun promised. "I'll take you out on one of my family's boats until we're out of sight of land and there is nothing but the water below us and the sky above. We can watch the sun set below the edge of the world and see the stars come out at night. There is nothing like an uninterrupted view of all of the stars—especially when you're alone on the ocean. It makes you feel like you're the only person in the world and everything the gods created is vast beyond imagining."
Annabel sighed again. "I'd love to see that."
He reached over and took her hand in his. "I promise I'll take you."
He was looking at her that way again. And his hand was warm around hers. He sometimes took her hand in his to help her or encourage her, but this was different. This was an affectionate touch.
Slowly, he reached up and touched her face with his other hand. She wasn't sure if he drew her closer, or if he leaned into her, but before she knew what was happening, his lips were softly brushing hers.
Her heart beat wildly and felt as if it was going to jump out of her chest. Her breath became ragged and irregular and her entire body trembled. But Shaun remained a quiet, steady presence as he pressed his lips more firmly to hers.
Annnabel wasn't sure how much time passed before he finally, slowly, pulled away.
He rested his forehead against hers and looked into her gray eyes. "I have waited my entire life for that," he whispered.
Annabel didn't think she could trust herself to speak at that moment, but she knew exactly what Shaun meant. She had never really realized that was what she wanted from him, but now that they had kissed, it did feel like something she had been waiting forever for.
She wanted him to do it again—and was contemplating making the next move herself—when he suddenly pulled back and sniffed the air.
"Do you smell that?"
"What?" she asked, looking around in alarm and sniffing the air.
"It… smells like something burning."
The wind—which had been blowing steadily, and sometimes strongly, all evening—shifted slightly and then she smelled it, too.
Shaun pushed himself to his feet and walked around the tree, looking for the source. Then he stopped in his tracks.
Annabel was on her feet in an instant and hurried to his side. He threw out his arm, keeping her safely behind him.
To the south, between them and the monastery, was a solid wall of flames that seemed to stretch forever in both directions across the prairie. Fanned by the wind and consuming the previous year's dead grass, it was moving their way. Rapidly.
"Run!" Shaun shouted.
They both turned around, taking only a second to snatch up their weapons and cloaks, then they began running on a northwest course, needing to stay ahead of the fire, but also needing to circle back around to the safety of the city.
The high grass slowed them down some—even as it fed the fire. Soon, Annabel and Shaun were both looking behind them as the wall of flame grew closer. It was moving twice as fast as they could run.
They needed to run faster.
Annabel transformed into a horse without conscious thought. Get on, she told Shaun.
He never broke his stride. He grabbed a handful of her white mane and launched himself onto her back.
She could feel the extra weight pressing down on her, but she was still faster on four feet than two, and she stretched her neck out, racing across the prairie as fast as her hooves would fly.
She was starting to become winded when Shaun pointed back to their left. "It's clear to the city," he shouted.
She turned and saw that the fire had not yet passed the city, so—if she hurried—they could make it to the western gate and get inside before the wall of flame moved through.
Even though her muscles were numb with fatigue, she pushed herself to keep up her speed.
Shaun jumped off her back as soon as they reached the gate and she immediately transformed and collapsed to the ground, exhausted and barely able to gasp enough air to keep herself conscious.
Shaun pulled her cloak hood down, hiding her face in the shadows, then lifted her in his arms and hurried inside the open gate with her. The fire was already so close, the smoke stung their eyes.
But just inside the gate, they were stopped by a wall of palace guards, arranged in a semi-circle across the thoroughfare. Annabel's heart still felt like it was going to pound out of her chest, but the rest of her insides felt frozen solid.
Shaun and Annabel both stared at the line of guards, no one moving or speaking for a long moment. Then a man in black robes slipped between two guards and stood looking at them. A slow smile broke across his face, but it was the sort of smile that made Annabel shudder. She never had liked Nagdii; there was something about him that she didn't trust.
We're in trouble, she told Shaun.
If you have any story to tell to get us out of this, I'm all ears, he replied.
She glanced up at him and gasped in shock.
You forgot your hat!
…Oh, s***.
Annabel had never heard Shaun curse, much less show anything approaching the level of dismay currently on his face. She knew then that he—her rock, her anchor, her confidence in every storm—was just as lost and unsure as she was at that moment.
"Come with me," Nagdii said, gesturing to the two of them. He sounded terribly pleased with himself.
The guards parted, allowing him to walk through. Shaun followed quietly behind him, carrying Annabel—who was still panting heavily and trembling. The guards fell in behind them, marching them back to the castle.

Ryu was in his room, studying Shaun and Annabel's star charts. Although Shaun had the chart Ryu's former apprentice did at the request of his family, and Annabel had a one-page, abbreviated version that Ryu had given her, neither of them had ever seen—or even knew about—the elaborate charts that Ryu had plotted for them in the days immediately following Annabel's birth, and which he kept adding to and tweaking as they grew older.
Calamity was looming on the horizon. In fact, it seemed imminent. There was no way to be precise about it, but Ryu was pretty sure that, in five years or less, the Great Catastrophe (as he thought of it) was going to happen. Shaun was eighteen and Annabel seventeen—old enough to marry and start a family. The question that kept him up day and night was how he was going to get that to happen.
He had managed to put the two of them together, and from what he gathered from Shaun—who had become (rather tellingly) taciturn about the situation—the two of them had become quite close. He knew Shaun had the requisite feelings on his side, and if Annabel didn't feel something in return yet, Ryu was confident that she soon would. Shaun and Annabel had spent too much time together in the past; their souls knew one another too well for them to remain emotionally distant.
That only left the matter of Annabel's father. Ryu didn't think the king would be any more agreeable to the idea of Shaun now than before. If Annabel loved Shaun, and was willing to fight for the right to marry him, then she could be a considerable foe. But she got her stubbornness from her father, who could just as easily dig in and refuse to yield. That would only lead to an explosion of some sort.
But the only alternative was for Shaun and Annabel to elope, and that didn't sound too promising, either. Ryu felt that would reflect rather badly on Annabel as the future queen. No one could have a lot of confidence in a monarch who went off and did things her own way without any consultation or respect for tradition. It made her look irresponsible.
Ryu sighed, feeling defeated. Not for the first time he wished that he had just kept his mouth shut all those years ago and not told the king anything about Annabel's future. Gods rest the late queen's soul, but she had been right about the situation.
Perhaps he had done all he could do; perhaps he had taken Shaun and Annabel as far as he could and he would just have to leave the rest up to them.
He had been telling himself that all winter, but it had not stopped him from consulting the stars and looking to see if there was anything else that might be done to help the situation.
He was so engaged when Shaun's thoughts interrupted his own.
Master Ryu, we're in trouble.
Ryu sat up straight, alarmed.
Have you been attacked again? If that was the case, he was really going to have to insist that Shaun keep Annabel inside.
No, it's worse than that.
Worse than being attacked by a wild animal?
Yes, we've been caught.
Oh, was all Ryu could say. He had so many things to worry about—like a juggler with half a dozen balls in the air at once—that he had never actually worried about Shaun and Annabel being discovered. The Princess had years of practice sneaking out, and Shaun was as able as a man with twice his experience; it had never occurred to Ryu that they might get caught by the typically-inept palace guards.
Well, I'm sure we can come up with some story to explain the situation, Ryu offered.
I don't think so, sir. I have a feeling we've been set-up. We were out on the plains when a fire sprang up. We had to run around to the west side of the city to escape it. And just inside the gate was a contingent of guards and Grand Vizier Nagdii. They were waiting on us; they knew where we would come.
Ryu felt a chill go through his body.
And I lost my hood in the fire, Shaun continued. I took it off for just a few minutes, then the fire came up and I forgot all about it.
Ryu gasped. The situation was going from bad to worse. If Shaun had just been an average soldier, caught sneaking out with the princess, she might have been able to convince everyone that she was the instigator and Shaun had merely been going along to keep her safe. Worse would have been if the king or anyone else suspected that was any sort of familiarity between the princess and him. But this… this was worst of all. Shaun's life was in danger if anyone figured out who he really was.
I think you should leave the castle, Shaun warned. It won't take them long to figure out who I am, and you will, of course, be blamed for my presence here.
I can't leave you defenseless.
I don't think there's anything you can do to help at this point.
The king could have you killed, Ryu replied bluntly.
I understand, Shaun replied with calm assurance. Ryu could help but feel proud of him in that moment. He had never had children of his own, but Shaun had been like a surrogate son to him for many years. He was proud to see him grown to manhood full of courage and honor and a proper sense of duty.
There's no need for both of us to die, Shaun added. Get out while you can. We're almost back to the castle now.
Ryu hesitated. The thought of leaving Shaun to his fate—a fate he had been trying to help shape for eighteen years—made him cringe inside. He was no coward—he would have never defied the king if he had been—and he was old and had led a long and useful life; he would not hesitate to sacrifice his own life for Shaun's. But if Shaun was right, then the situation was doomed anyways, and it wouldn't help matters if they were both executed as traitors.
Perhaps by escaping he could help. The king's anger would surely be hottest against him, and if he offered to turn himself in, in exchange for Shaun, the king might just take him up on the offer.
He hurried to grab his cloak. He stuffed the remains of his half-forgotten supper into a traveling bag—food would probably be hard to come by for several days—and added a purse of coins. Everything else—a lifetime's worth of work—he left behind.
He pattered down the tower stairs and opened the door into the second-story hallway. He was shocked when he saw a group of armed guards waiting for him.
"Master Ryu, you are commanded to attend the Grand Vizier at once," a guard said briskly.
Shaun had been right; they had all been set up.
Shaun felt his heart fall to his feet when he carried Annabel into Nagdii's room and saw Master Ryu already there with a guard. Ryu's sorrowful expression told him everything: their game was up.
Nagdii walked to the head of the room, where a robed and hooded figure stood, silently watching the proceedings.
"It seems there has been a traitorous plot brewing here in the castle," Nagdii said with glee. "A common guard has been taking advantage of the Princess's innocence, with the full support—nay, encouragement—of her tutor."
"There may be things that I have done for which I have no defense," Shaun replied coolly, "but 'taking advantage of the Princess' has never been one of them."
"Do you not, even now, hold her in your arms like a lover?" Nagdii said mockingly. The cloaked figure beside him clenched his fists.
"I carry her only because she could not walk. We were nearly killed in the fire which, I believe, you set."
"Is she hurt?" the robed figured asked Nagdii anxiously.
"If she is, it is because of his carelessness in taking her out."
"I'm not hurt," Annabel said, speaking for the first time. She had recovered her breath on their march back to the castle, but she was so terrified of what was going to happen to them—especially Shaun—she didn't think she could have walked if she wanted to.
"That is good to hear," Nagdii said with complete insincerity.
"Put me down," she whispered to Shaun.
He carefully put her on her feet, but she found her knees were so weak from exertion and fear that she trembled with the effort of standing. Shaun kept his arm around her waist, supporting her against him. She hated herself for needing to rely on him at that moment—knowing that it only made him look worse—but she couldn't muster the strength necessary to stand; she had used it all up.
"Shaun did not take me out," Annabel said, her voice sounding more sure than her knees. "I have been going outside of the castle for years. When…" she hesitated to say Master Ryu, lest she get him in trouble for knowing about her escape but saying nothing, "when Shaun found out," she amended, "he tried to stop me. I threatened him to the point that he agreed to let me go, but only if he could go with me to protect me. That has been all that's happened."
She silently thanked her father for teaching her to lie at an early age.
"No, Your Highness, that is not all that's happened," Nagdii corrected. He put his hands behind his back and began to pace the floor, warming up to his subject as he went along.
"Many years ago," he continued, "when you were born, Master Ryu—who was Grand Vizier at the time—plotted your star chart. He discovered two things: one, that you and a certain boy had shared past lives and were destined to meet again in this lifetime; and two, that life-altering disasters always happen when the two of you come together.
"For whatever reason, he concluded that you and this boy needed to be brought together—perhaps in order to induce this calamity so that he could appear to be our kingdom's savior."
Nagdii shot Ryu a cruel, condescending smile.
"When His Majesty refused to take that risk," Nagdii continued, "and ordered that the boy be seized and sent into exile, Master Ryu went against his king's orders and took the boy and hid him. Now, all these years later, he has not only placed this boy in the castle, but has actively worked to bring him and you together."
Annabel glanced at Shaun, who was keeping a sharp eye on Nagdii. Did you know any of that? she asked him.
He hesitated. Yes, he finally replied. I have always known you were my destiny.
Annabel didn't know how to feel about the fact that Shaun had been withholding information from her. She hated being kept in the dark.
"Now do you see that you've been set-up, Your Highness?" Nagdii continued. "Master Ryu and this boy have been traitors all along—manipulating you in order to bring about this calamity so they can present themselves as some kind of heroes."
Annabel felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as she realized that Nagdii might be right. She pulled away from Shaun's arm, turning away so she wouldn't see the hurt on his face.
"I have never done anything but work to avoid the coming calamity," Ryu protested. "The stars show that it's almost upon us, but there's still time to avoid it, if you will just let Shaun and Princess Annabel be. Any attempt to interfere with their shared destinies—any attempt to keep them apart—will ruin us all!"
Nagdii pointed at him. "You lie! You are nothing but a traitor."
"Call me what you will. Do with me what you will. But know that you hold the fate of the world in your hands. We stand now at a crossroads. The fate of millions rests on your decision."
Nagdii sneered at him. "You've set all of this up, like a house of cards. Don't blame me when it falls."
He waved to a table set up in the middle of the room. "Place him there," he commanded the guards.
"What are you doing?" Shaun asked anxiously, watching the guards roughly drag Ryu to the table and lay him out on it. With magic, Nagdii conjured shackles at his wrists and feet.
"Ryu, you are hereby declared a traitor and are sentenced to death. You are to be sent directly to the Other World."
"What!?" Shaun shouted, lunging forward, his hand on his sword hilt. But he was immediately swarmed by several guards who held him immobile while one ripped off his sword belt, then struck him so hard across the face he saw stars. He was only vaguely aware of being released and falling to his hands and knees.
"You… you can't do that…" Shaun said thickly, speaking through a busted lip—his brain still foggy from the hit. "He… he's entitled to… entitled to a fair… trial. Only the king can order an… an execution."
The robbed figure, who had stood by silently while Nagdii played his part, pushed back his hood.
"I do order it," the king said coldly.
"Father!" Annabel gasped.
He ignored her. Instead, he looked at Nagdii and nodded.
Nagdii held his hands as if he was cradling a ball top and bottom, then he began to chant in some strange language. A blackness—it looked like smoke become solid—began to roil in his hands, crackling with blue sparks of electricity.
Annabel dashed past the guards, who were still surrounding Shaun, and she went to her father's side. "Mercy," she begged.
Whatever wrongs he may or may not have committed, Annabel loved the old man; he had been like a father to her. In fact, at that moment, she realized he had been more of a father to her than the king ever had. But just as she forgave her father his shortcomings, so she could forgive Master Ryu anything.
She slid to her knees in supplication before her father. "Mercy," she pleaded again, desperately.
The king resolutely refused to look at her, instead watching as Nagdii's ball of black magic grew larger.
Annabel clutched at her father's robe. "Please, Father, have mercy. Master Ryu has served you loyally for years—more years than anyone else. He has taken care of me and taught me all of my life. Please, spare him. Exile him, if you must, but spare him."
"I cannot," he replied gruffly. "He has actively worked to undermine my command for seventeen years. I cannot let that go unpunished."
Before Annabel could say anything else, Nagdii's voice grew louder and a sourceless wind began to blow around the room. He now held the smoky ball, crackling dangerously with blue lightning, over his head; it was bigger than he was.
Shaun tried valiantly to get up, but his guards beat him down again. He could do nothing but shout helplessly for Master Ryu, his voice all but drowned out by the raging wind.
And then Nagdii threw the ball of magic at the table. Master Ryu's eyes went wide, but he made no sound as the ball swallowed him up. It lingered on the table for a moment, then, with a flash of blinding white light, it blinked out of existence.
There was nothing on the table but empty manacles.
"Noooooooo!" Shaun screamed in the silence.
Reluctantly, the king raised his hand and gestured towards Shaun.
"Put him on the table," Nagdii told them.
"What!?" Annabel screeched, looking between the guards, Nagdii, and her father.
"Shaun of Marlin Village," Nagdii said, as the guards dragged Shaun—kicking and fighting—to the table, "you are hereby found guilty of conspiring with Ryu to bring terrors down on this kingdom for your own gain. You are also found guilty of inappropriate conduct towards Her Royal Highness. Therefore, you are hereby sentenced to death and shall be sent directly to the Other World."
"NO!" Annabel shouted. She threw back her arms, shrugging off her cloak, and in an instant had an arrow strung to her bow and pointing directly at Nagdii.
Whatever else happened, she could not let Shaun be killed.
But she hesitated to loose her arrow when she had the chance. As Shaun had warned, it was hard to kill another living thing. And she didn't really want to kill Nagdii or anyone else; she just wanted to keep them from killing Shaun.
In the moment she hesitated, her father grabbed her and ripped the bow from her hands, flinging it across the room. He likewise tore the quiver of arrows from her and threw them in the opposite direction.
"You will have nothing more to do with this boy, do you hear me?!" the king thundered, holding her painfully by the arm while he unbuckled her sword belt. "I decide who you marry. Me! It is my will which will be obeyed around here—not Ryu's, not this boy's, and not yours!" He flung her sword at the guards on the other side of the room, who had to dodge it.
Nagdii began chanting and conjuring another ball of magic.
Shaun strained against the shackles, sitting up as far as he could, and looked directly at the king. "It is not your will that will be obeyed here, Your Majesty, but the gods'," Shaun said calmly. "The gods have decreed that the Princess and I shall be together. We always have been and always will be. You may send me to the Other World, but I will come back—in this life or the next. I will always come for her."
The king looked back at him coldly. "There is no coming back from where you're about to go."
"We'll see about that."
Nagdii raised his arms above his head as the ball of magic began to grow even larger.
Shaun looked at Annabel as the spell-wind began to whip his hair around his face. I have loved you since the first time I saw you, Your Highness. I have loved you with a love that has always been and will always be.
Tears began to spill from Annabel's eyes. She knew then, without a doubt, that everything Nagdii had said was a lie. Shaun and Ryu had never used her or toyed with her affections in order to advance themselves; they weren't that kind of men. She could believe that whatever they were doing, they were doing for her benefit.
Don't… don't leave me, was all she could think to say.
We will meet again. I promise.
Nagdii's voice became louder as he chanted the last part of the spell.
Annabel couldn't stand it anymore. If they were going to kill Shaun, they were going to have to go through her.
She jerked her arm away from her father's grip and lunged towards Nagdii. He turned to see her barreling towards him—his eyes wide in surprise.
She tackled him low, around the legs, and fell with him to the floor.
She wasn't exactly sure what happened next, but a small explosion rocked the entire room, flashing a blinding light. Then there was a multitude of shouts and anguished cries.
Nagdii somehow jumped to his feet, jerking a still-stunned Annabel up by the wrist. "Look at that!" he hissed cruelly, turning her around.
Where her father had been standing a moment before, now there was nothing but a large gash in the floor. The edges of the hole crackled with blue sparks and a solid dark cloud churned inside it.
"The Princess has murdered the King!" Nagdii announced loudly. "She interfered with the execution of the King's justice and traitorously disobeyed his direct command. And look at the result! The King is dead!"
Annabel gasped, unable to believe her eyes. "No… no, it isn't true," she whimpered.
Nagdii shook her roughly. "It is true, Your Highness. You caused me to lose control of the spell before it was completed. Instead of sending this traitor to the Other World, your father went instead. And there is no bringing him back."
He flung Annabel against the table where Shaun lay. She crumpled helplessly in the floor, sobbing.
"As our King has been murdered by his own daughter," Nagdii said, speaking to the horrified palace guards, "I, as Grand Vizier, assume emergency control over this kingdom until such time as we can determine the rightful heir to the throne."
"And I hereby condemn Annabel, former Princess of Nevara, to death for the murder of her father, the King."
There was a low murmur in the room, but no one openly objected. Even Annabel didn't object; she was too grief-stricken at that moment to care. In fact, she rather thought she deserved the punishment.
But Shaun cared.
"Don't you dare," he threatened, raising up to glare at Nagdii.
But Nagdii only laughed—a high, maniacal laugh. "You wanted to be together. Now you can be—in the Other World!" He began to chant, conjuring up yet another ball of magic.
Shaun strained at his shackles, unwilling to allow anyone to hurt Princess Annabel. But the iron bands were too much for him to break.
If only his hands and feet were small enough to slip out of them!
And then, suddenly, they were. Somehow, he was standing on the table, free of his bonds. Guards were shouting in alarm, and even Nagdii was staring at him, the ball of magic fizzling out.
Shaun didn't waste the opportunity. He launched himself at Nagdii, screaming out his anger. But it wasn't a human scream; it was the screech of an eagle. And when he came at Nagdii, it wasn't his hands that beat him about the face, but heavy brown wings.
Nagdii ducked, holding his arms above his head, trying to protect himself from the onslaught.
"Kill him! Kill him!" he shouted to the guards.
If Shaun hadn't already known about Annabel's ability to transform, he would have been too shocked to continue to fight. But he immediately realized the advantage of his shape, and he made full use of it.
He raked his claws down Nagdii's back, making him scream, then he launched himself at the guards. They clumsily swung their swords at him, but he was too quick for them. He swooped down and grabbed the horsehair plumes on top of their helmets and pulled on them. A few men were lifted from their feet before the chin strap broke and the helmet came off. Then Shaun was able to wheel around and swoop down, clawing heads and faces with his razor-sharp talons and pecking at them with his piercing beak.
It was total pandemonium. Still-armored men tried to protect their companions, while the helmet-less men began running out the door, unable to withstand Shaun's attack.
When there were only three men left, they gave up and ran out the door, too.
"Shaun, help me!" Annabel shouted.
He wheeled around and saw that the gash in the floor was rapidly widening. Annabel was trapped on the far side of the room; there was no way she could reach the door.
Shaun circled the room for a minute, his mind racing, trying to figure out what to do.
Break a window, he told her.
Annabel looked around for something she could use on the window. "Get my bow!" she shouted, pointing to it. It was teetering on the edge of the abyss.
Shaun swooped down, grabbing Annabel's bow. He glanced around, but both of their swords were already gone.
He dropped the bow into her hands and she thrust it into the window, breaking out the glass. She used her foot to kick a few last jagged shards away from the frame.
She stood in the window sill and looked down. There was no ivy that she could use as a ladder.
"There's no way down!" she shouted.
Shaun landed gently on her shoulders, although he was a noticeable weight. He carefully gathered her cloak and shirt up in his talons. I'll take you down.
"Are you sure this will work?" she said nervously.
No, but you have less chance of dying this way than if you stay.
Annabel couldn't argue with that.
Jump out, he told her.
She hesitated, then closed her eyes tight and jumped out into nothingness.

Shaun and Annabel both were immediately enveloped in a thick black smoke from the prairie fire. Below them, people were shouting that some of the houses in town were on fire. Others were shouting that the king was dead. In the chaos and smoke, no one noticed the huge brown eagle flying out an upper-story window with the Princess in its claws.
Shaun struggled to gain altitude. He desperately wanted to fly over the castle walls and out onto the plain, but Annabel was too heavy; her weight was dragging him down. The best he could do was glide in a downward spiral, trying not to drop her.
He sat her down rather roughly, but otherwise unhurt. As Annabel had told him, there was nothing more to changing than wanting to be either an animal or a human; the trick seemed to be knowing which animal to want to be. In any event, as soon as Shaun wanted to put his feet on solid ground, there they were.
Annabel was coughing from the smoke. "What are we going to do?" she gasped.
He took her by the hand and pulled her into a darkened section of the nearest arcade. "We have to get to the throne room and out that way; I can't fly you out."
"Follow me," she said, taking the lead.
The passage through the castle wasn't at all like their usual nightly forays, when there were few guards patrolling the hallways in predictable patterns. Now, the entire guard was called out, and it looked like most of them were running in and out of the castle, unsure what to do or what rumors to believe.
Annabel and Shaun kept to the shadows, dashing past doorways as soon as someone's back was turned. They had almost made it to the throne room when they heard the voice they least wanted to hear at that moment.
"Captain, organize the guard!" Nagdii commanded. "We need to send half the guard into the city to help put out this fire that the traitors started. The other half needs to be organized into search parties. I want this entire castle examined from top to bottom. Check in every cupboard and under every bed and in every storage room. Find Princess Annabel and that boy Shaun!"
Shaun and Annabel ducked behind a suit of armor in an alcove as the Captain of the Guard went trotting past, calling out orders to his subordinates.
Shaun cautiously peeked around the corner, but found the main hallway deserted. I think we can make it, he told Annabel.
They ran on their tiptoes to the large double doors and pulled one open. Annabel normally never came by the main doors—because there was usually a guard in front of them, not to mention they creaked—but they were in the wrong part of the castle to come in through their usual back entrance.
Shaun winced as he eased open the door and it groaned softly on its hinges. He pushed it open as little as possible, then slid in sideways. Annabel did likewise, then gently pulled the door closed. She thought leaving it open would be more noticeable than the sound.
They ran silently down the long red carpet leading to the dais. Shaun threw himself against the back of the throne, opening the passage that led to the monastery.
Annabel flew down the stairs and hurried to light the lantern; Shaun was just seconds behind. Neither of them seemed to breathe until Shaun threw the switch that closed the trap door above them.
They hurried down the passageway.
"They'll be looking for us tonight," Shaun whispered. "And with the fire, there will be a lot of people outside the city. If the Abbot will hide us, I think it would be best if we left tomorrow night."
"Where are we going to go?"
Shaun pressed his lips together, thinking hard. "We might go to my family," he suggested after a moment. "I can count on them to give us shelter and supplies. We don't even have a way to defend ourselves at the moment; we'll at least need arrows for your bow and preferably a sword for me as well."
"Will your family be able to give us that?"
"I don't know, but at least we can trust them. The only problem is that I don't want to draw my family into this any more than I have to. When they figure out we're not in the palace or city, the first place they'll look is my village. We will only have a day or two before we have to move out."
"Where can we go?"
"I have no idea. But maybe my mother or Uncle Alfon will have an idea; they know the area better than I do."
When they reached the end of the passage, Shaun slowly pushed open the wall, carefully checking to make sure that the crypt was empty.
As soon as he saw the coast was clear, they hurried inside, closing the passageway behind them.
Annabel cautiously opened the door from the crypt. When the rusty hinges creaked, the abbot—who was standing in the Sanctuary—wheeled around. "Oh, Princess, you're safe!" he said quietly, but with great relief. "I was so afraid for both of you when this fire broke out. Thank you for coming back to tell me that you're safe; I would have worried all night if you—"
"That's not why we're here," Shaun interrupted. "There's trouble."
"Trouble?"
Shaun pulled the abbot down into the crypt with them and shut the door. He hurriedly related everything that had happened to them, beginning with the fire on the plain.
"We were set up from the beginning," Shaun said. "And I don't think it's an accident that the king and Master Ryu were killed tonight. If Nagdii had had his way, Annabel and I would also be dead and there would be nothing to stand between him and the throne."
"But… there are other heirs… other heirs to the throne," the abbot said, still looking shocked by the news.
"Yes, and you'll find they begin disappearing rapidly," Shaun said grimly. "Mark my words."
"But… but half the nobility of Nevara is distantly related to the royal family—maybe more!"
"And those Nagdii perceives as a threat will be eliminated until the only people left are the ones who are too weak to worry him or those who support him out of fear," Shaun insisted. "Nagdii isn't going to want a class of semi-autonomous, educated, armed people walking around free. He wants people he can control."
The abbot continued to look at him in disbelief, as if it was too much for his kind heart to think so ill of someone else.
"Can we hide down here until tomorrow?" Shaun asked, changing the subject. "I'm afraid we'll be found if we try to leave tonight."
"Yes, of course. I'll bring you some food and water and blankets, then I can lock the door from the outside."
He started to turn away, but Shaun reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Whatever you hear about us," Shaun said, "you mustn't believe it. Nagdii is already telling people that we started the fire, when in reality, he had it set in order to flush us out and drive us into his trap. There is no telling what other lies he may concoct. While he is busy distracting the people with stories of how horrible we are—how everything that's happening is our fault—he will be getting more and more power for himself. By the time people realize that we're not the enemy, he is, it will be too late."
The abbot nodded.
"I don't care what he says about me," Shaun added, "but I do intend to see the Princess on her rightful throne one day. If you can, in any way, help dispel the rumors and lies about her, that would be a great help. Don't let Nagdii turn the people against their rightful queen."
"I will do everything I can to prevent that," the abbot promised. Then, with a rather low bow to Annabel—as if she was queen already—he hurried out of the crypt.
Annabel slumped miserably against a tomb. Her strength seemed to flow out of her like water down a drain, and she sank to the floor.
"I don't want to be queen," she muttered. "I don't deserve to be queen. I… I killed my father."
She burst into uncontrollable sobbing.
Shaun sat down beside her and put his arms around her, holding her to him while she cried. "Princess," he said soothingly, stroking her hair, "you didn't kill your father—not even by accident. If Nagdii didn't do it on purpose, I'll eat my hat. …Although it might take me a few days. It is rather large and a bit tough."
Annabel's sobs turned to chuckles, then she hiccuped.
Shaun held her face in his hands and wiped away her tears. "You are blameless," he whispered, looking at her seriously.
"If I hadn't gone out, none of this would have happened."
"That's not true. Master Ryu long ago foresaw a great calamity coming to Nevara and that you and I would have to battle against it. This was inevitable. The gods designed it so."
"Why did he tell you that, but not me?" she said unhappily.
Shaun shook his head. "I don't know, Your Highness. I suppose he had his reasons."
"Did he think I wasn't strong enough to hear the news?" she pressed.
"I wouldn't think so; he often remarked at your tenacity and courage." He shrugged. "Perhaps it was better for you—better for fulfilling your destiny—if you didn't know in advance."
Annabel wasn't so sure about that. She still had a sinking suspicion that Master Ryu didn't believe her up to the job. Had he foreseen her father would die as a result of her actions? Was that why he didn't tell her? And if so, was it because he didn't want to make her worry in advance, or because he had seen the future and knew she couldn't be trusted to handle the situation well?
The abbot returned a short time later with blankets and food and water. He reported that the prairie fire had been so high and the wind blowing so hard, it had jumped over the city walls and some the houses' thatched roofs were on fire. He was going to send a delegation of brothers into the city to help with the fire brigade and any injuries, but he was going to stay at the sanctuary and make sure no one came near the crypt.
After the abbot left—locking them in—Shaun ate a little food, but Annabel still felt too miserable and guilt-ridden to eat. She did, however, drink a lot of water; her run and the exposure to the smoke had left her parched.
They wrapped themselves in the blankets—it was chilly in the underground crypt—and lay down on the floor. Annabel found the stone floor extremely uncomfortable. When she laid on her side, it made her hip and shoulder hurt, but if she tried laying on her back, she found it bothered her head and neck not to have a pillow.
Shaun watched her roll around fitfully. "Can't get comfortable?" he finally asked.
"No," she admitted.
"Sleeping on the ground takes some getting used to. It's horrible for the first few days, but you will become accustomed to it—I suppose because you get so tired you could sleep standing up."
"Have you had to do it much?"
"Some. That was part of my training when I was younger. In fact, when I was six or seven, we went for an entire year without sleeping on a bed. Later, we occasionally had to go without when we were training in the field, or if we were being punished for some infraction."
"Were you punished often?" she couldn't help but ask.
He shrugged a little. "Not often. I didn't do things I knew would get me in trouble, but I had a bad habit of daydreaming during lessons, and sometimes I was reprimanded for that."
Annabel understood that; she had been fussed at countless times for daydreaming; she was especially bad about doing it when she had been out most of the night and was short on sleep.
Poor Master Ryu. She probably should have tried harder for his sake. He worked so hard to give her a good education, but she had never appreciated it or him properly. She had never even thanked him for his service to her.
She felt cold tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes and running down the sides of her face. She quickly hurried to wipe them off with her shirtsleeve.
"If you cry again, you'll make me cry," Shaun said, looking at her sadly.
She sniffed. "I won't tell," she promised.
"That's not what I'm worried about."
"What are you worried about?"
"Falling apart," he said bluntly. "I can't fall apart right now—not when we're still in so much danger. I have to take care of you first; I can grieve for the dead later."
She looked at him. "You know… I don't think I've ever heard any of my guards talk about taking care of me as you do."
"That's because they're just guards. I'm your knight—or, at least, I will be one day."
"What's the difference between a guard and a knight?"
"Guards are paid. And when you hire someone to do something for you, there's always the possibility that there will come a time when they say, "I'm not going to do this because I don't get paid enough." For some risks and trials, there's not money enough in the world to pay to have it done.
"But a knight serves you because he swore an oath to do so. Thousands of years ago, the Knights of Nevara swore an oath on themselves and their descendants to always take care of the royal family. No matter what the risk or trial, I can never refuse because my oath—my ancestor's oath—has no limits."
"But… why would knights swear an oath to risk their lives if there was nothing in if for them?"
"Well, there was something in it for them. There was a symbiotic relationship between the Crown and the Knights. The Knights were given land and power and noble status; they just weren't given a wage. It was up to the King to make sure they were fairly compensated."
"I don't have anything to give you."
"I wasn't asking for anything."
"I know, but I mean… I don't know if I will ever have anything."
"You will if I succeed in my mission, which is to put you on the throne; and if I don't put you on the throne, then I don't deserve anything. But that's neither here nor there; there's nothing that I truly need; I'm not doing this out of a desire for land or power or riches."
"Why do you do it, then?"
He looked at her a long moment, as if surprised she had to ask, then he looked up at the ceiling and smiled a little. "Because I want to."

Exhausted—physically and emotionally—Annabel finally fell asleep, despite her initial uncomfortableness. The crypt was so dark and silent, it was impossible to tell how much time passed before she and Shaun both were startled awake by loud voices on the other side of the door.
"Abbot, we have reason to believe that Princess Annabel and the boy known as Shaun have been frequent visitors to this monastery. Are they here now?"
Shaun and Annabel sat up, looking at the door. The voices sounded as if they were just on the other side of it.
"No, there's no one here now, except myself and few of the brothers; the rest of our brothers are in the city, helping with the fire."
"Do you acknowledge that they come here?"
"Princess Annabel has come here before, yes. She is a lonely child and sometimes seeks my counsel. And, I believe she grieves for her mother, who is buried here."
"But she and Shaun—they come here together, don't they?"
"I don't believe I know a Shaun."
"Don't lie, Abbot. We know she and he come here often, in secret."
"Well, if they are here in secret, that must be why I don't know him. I only know Princess Annabel, and as far as I know, her coming and goings from here aren't secret; it would surprise me to find out they were."
The inquisitor laughed. "Do you mean to tell me that two people have been coming into your monastery frequently, for months, and you don't know about it?"
"Again, I only know about Princess Annabel. If she's been hiding some boy while she's been here, I don't know about it."
"Right…" the other man said doubtfully.
The door handle jiggled. "What's in this room?"
"That's the crypt."
"Why is it locked? Are you afraid the dead will get out?"
"Well, to be honest, some years ago I had some brothers who shirked their responsibilities by disappearing in there and taking a nap when they should have been working. I have kept it locked ever since."
"Open it. I want to take a look around."
"Gracious… it's been so long since it's been opened, I'm not sure where the key is."
"Look for it," the other man said with a cold, firm voice. "I want in there."
"What on earth for?"
"To make sure no one's hiding in there. Now find the key or I'll break down your door."
Shaun hurriedly blew out the lantern, plunging him and Annabel into near-absolute blackness. There was only a faint bit of light to be seen under the door.
Annabel felt suddenly very claustrophobic.
She felt Shaun moving around beside her, but she didn't know what he was doing. Her mind was racing with how to get out of the situation, but the only thing she could think of was to go back into the tunnel and hope that no one discovered it from either end.
She was snapped out of her thoughts by the soft grating sound of stone on stone.
What are you doing? she asked Shaun.
Making a place for us to hide.
She was confused. How could he make a place for them to hide?
"Abbot, what's taking so long?" the man outside the door shouted, sounding irritated.
"The key wasn't where I thought it was," came the abbot's distant reply. "There are a few other places I might have put it. As I said, I haven't opened the crypt in a while."
"Well, hurry up. I haven't got all night."
The next moment, Annabel felt hands on her waist. Get in, Shaun said.
Get in what? she asked, even as he lifted her up. The next thing she knew, she could feel herself surrounded by stonewalls hip-high.
Shaun gently pushed her head down, forcing her to duck under a stone ledge.
It wasn't until she crawled out of the way, to make room for him, that her hand touched something that felt like a bone, and she realized where they were.
We're in a tomb!
Yes, I know, he said patiently, getting in beside her. Annabel could hear the heavy stone lid sliding back into place.
Her sense of claustrophobia increased tenfold.
We can't stay in here!
We have to. I don't think they'll look for us in here.
We can hide in the tunnel.
They already know we've been coming here at night; they may know about the tunnel as well.
The lid slid into place and Shaun lay down against the wall of the sarcophagus.
Lie here and be quiet, he told her, pulling her down to him. Let's hope they pass us by.
Annabel lay on her side, her back pressed against Shaun. He pulled a blanket over both of them and Annabel quickly became warm. But on the inside, she was still chilled by the thought of being in someone's tomb.
I hope whoever this is, he doesn't punish us for disturbing his tomb, she said.
I am much more worried about the living at the moment.
Before Annabel could say anything else, they heard the muffled sound of the crypt door creaking open. They both lay in absolute silence, straining their ears for some indication their discovery was imminent.
"See, there's nothing in here," the abbot told the searcher. "Nothing but the dead."
"Hmpf," the man said, not sounding convinced.
There was a pause, then the man said triumphantly, "You seem surprised that I know about this secret passage, Abbot."
I told you, Shaun said to Annabel.
"I'm surprised it's there," the abbot lied smoothly. "I've never known there to be another exit to this room. Where does it go?"
"Into the castle. That's how the Princess and that guard have been sneaking out."
"Ah. Well, then, that would explain why I haven't seen him. He could have been hiding in here and I would never know."
"You say you see the Princess often, and yet you say the door into the sanctuary stays locked. How does she get out?"
"I don't know. Maybe there's another way out of that passage? Goodness! There might be hundreds of passages under the castle. That castle is very ancient, and I do know there's an old sewer system that runs under it and Linnens. There's no telling where all those passages might come out."
"Well, I suppose," the man said reluctantly, sounding less sure of himself.
Gods bless the Abbot, Shaun said. I would have never thought a holy man could lie so well.
"Come, let's get out of here," the abbot said. "This cold and damp makes my joints ache. I'm not as young as I used to be, you know."
"I know the feeling," the man replied, sounding less antagonistic.
And that might have been the end of it, but for someone kicking over something metal.
"What's this?" the man said.
"What? Oh, it looks like a lamp. Whoever was down here last must have left it. I'll take it…."
"It's warm," the man said. Then his voice became angrier. "It's still warm. Someone has been in here. Recently."
S***, how could I have forgotten the lantern? Shaun berated himself.
"I'm telling you, this door has been locked for weeks," the abbot replied. "Maybe… maybe someone came in through the passageway, couldn't get out, then left again?"
"And left the lantern? And where would they go? The other end is being watched."
"Is there a passageway that leads off the other one?"
"Maybe. We'll soon find out."
The man called for some guards, who came thumping loudly into the room, their armor rattling. "You and you: stay here and see that no one leaves this room—the abbot included. You, come with me."
Silence descended again. Annabel had a knot of fear in her stomach. She knew there were no other exits from the tunnel. As soon as the soldiers realized that, the abbot was going to be in trouble and the soldiers would surely look in the tombs for them.
She shifted slightly as she began to ache from lying on the stone. Her hand touched something and instinctively jerked away—not wanting to touch the bones again—but a moment later, she realized it was some sort of fabric. Curious, she tentatively reached forward again and felt the softness of silk velvet under her fingertips. She traced over the fine fabric, then found a wide piece of fur trim. Whoever had been buried in the tomb, his clothing had been quite costly. He seemed to have been buried in a robe of state.
And then Annabel loudly gasped.
Shaun's hand was over her mouth an instant later. Shh….
I… I have to get out of here! She struggled to get up, but Shaun crushed her to him, pinning her down.
What are you doing?! he demanded. They're going to hear you.
She continued to struggle, but he only held on tighter until she could barely breathe. But that only made her panic worse. I have to get out. I have to! She said desperately, still trying to fight against him.
We can't go anywhere until they're gone.
This is my mother's tomb! She would have shrieked the words aloud, but for Shaun's hand still firmly clasped over her mouth.
Then pray to her to keep you safe, he replied rationally.
I can't stay here, she insisted. The idea of lying beside her dead mother horrified her.
If you show yourself, we will both die, Shaun said sharply. Your mother died bringing you into this world; the least you could do is live now and honor her sacrifice—not throw it away.
Annabel stopped struggling, feeling ashamed by her behavior. Of course he was right.
He released his tight grip on her when she stopped fighting him. Then he slowly stroked her hair with a comforting hand. I'm sorry this is so hard on you, but I truly believe if your mother's spirit could speak, she would tell you to stay. What would she care if you share her resting space, if it will keep you safe?
You're right, Annabel replied.
I often am.
His joke made her smile a little. A moment later, though, they were interrupted by voices.
"Well, Abbot, there's no one in the tunnel from here back to the castle, and there aren't any other exits. Care to explain how a warm lantern came to be in a locked room?"
"I haven't any explanation. I don't know how that lantern came to be in here, or why it's warm. This door has been locked for weeks, I tell you."
"They were here and someone let them out—and I mean to find out who," the soldier replied. There was a rattling of armor again and the sound of footsteps, which quickly faded away. There was no telltale squeak of hinges, though, which meant the crypt door was left open.
Should we stay or try to leave? Annabel asked.
I… don't know, Shaun said hesitantly. If they left a guard, he'll be on us before we can get out of the tomb… and neither of us have any weapons we can fight with.
He paused, thoughtful for a moment. I think we should stay for as long as we can, he reasoned. They expect us to be nearby, so they'll stay here for a little while. But they'll give up after a few hours, thinking we somehow slipped past them, and they'll broaden their search. That will make it easier for us to get out undetected.
But what about the door? What if they lock it?
We'll just have to chance it. The abbot is still on our side, and even if he's not in a position to help us, he might give word to someone else to help us.
There was nothing for them to do but lie in silence next to the bones of Annabel's mother. The stale, musty air and absolute blackness seemed to press in on them until it was enough to drive Annabel mad; it was as if she was already dead and consigned to an eternal tomb.
Think of something else, Shaun said.
What?
Think of something else.
…How do you know what I'm thinking? Annabel asked in shock. If he had learned to read her mind, he hadn't told her about it.
You're fidgeting and your muscles are tense; that means you're probably thinking about something that makes you anxious. So think about something else.
Easier said than done.
I know.
There was a long pause. What are you thinking about?
The ocean.
Annabel remembered that Shaun had promised to take her to the ocean. Had it been that very night? It seemed like a lifetime had passed since they had sat under the oak tree and talked about the ocean. …Since he had kissed her.
What did it mean? She knew common girls kissed boys they were sweet on, but such a thing was unheard of for a princess. For them, their first kiss usually came on their wedding day when they were marrying a man they might not have known a mere two or three weeks before.
Whenever she had remarked on this, her maids had always assured her that love would grow in time. Hadn't her father and mother been in love, although they had only met two weeks before their wedding?
Love, like free time, was a luxury not afforded most royals—princesses especially.
Annabel slowly began to relax and become drowsy. It was probably morning already, and they had only gotten a brief nap earlier.
It wasn't until she had almost dropped off that she realized she could feel Shaun's heartbeat against her back. It was calm and steady—just like him. No matter what happened, she could count on him to keep her safe; he would die before he let anything happen to her. And with that comforting thought, she drifted off to sleep.

Shaun couldn't be sure if he ever went to sleep. Although his presence had eased Annabel's worries, her presence only increased his; he was desperate to do whatever it took to keep her safe. His mind raced with plans and scenarios for sneaking out or fighting their way out of the monastery until he couldn't come up with any other possible alternatives. And then he had begun praying to all the gods in the heavens, the goddesses of Nevara—who were supposed to be especially partial to Nevreks—and even to the spirit of Annabel's mother to keep them safe in her tomb for a little while longer.
It was during these prayers that he might have actually drifted off into sleep, but his mind didn't rest; it continued to plan and worry and pray in an endless circle.
Annabel began to stir, and it brought him out of his stupor. He found himself lying on his back with her head resting comfortably in the hollow of his shoulder. He was struck by how right it felt to hold her—as if there was no gulf of class separating them—as if they had known each other all their lives—but as soon as he was aware of it, he was struck by a pang of longing and regret. They were a long way from safety and even further away from restoring Annabel to her rightful place as heir to the throne of Nevara.
There would be no more evenings of talking and sharing everything about themselves; no nights sitting in the old oak tree, watching the moon rise over the plain; no cold winters spent huddled under blankets, sipping hot tea and laughing quietly as they battled their wits and chess pieces.
Shaun didn't know what lay ahead of them or how long it would take to put things right, but he knew it was going to be a long road, full of pain and deprivations. Master Ryu had warned him of such.
He had to quickly blink back the tears that stung his eyes. He couldn't believe that Master Ryu was gone. Shaun had only been five years old when his father had been lost at sea; Master Ryu had been his father figure instead—especially after Shaun was brought to the castle at age eleven. That was when his relationship with Master Ryu had really developed and he had been taught much more than simple swordplay and basic lessons.
If he had stopped to think about it, he might have realized that Ryu's attention to him and Annabel was more than a mere attempt to thwart a tragic fate. In his way, Ryu had cared deeply for both of his young wards, and he had worked all their lives to make them worthy of each other. It was no accident that Annabel had been allowed to take up archery and study swordplay. Likewise, Shaun had not been introduced to the flute and philosophical works casually. Although the gods had fated them to be together, it was Ryu who made sure they would enjoy their joint destiny.
Shaun felt Annabel awaken. But her wiggling increased rather than decreased.
"Shaun," she whispered, "I need to get out."
"I'd like to wait longer, if we can," he whispered in return. "I want to wait as long as possible, because they're likely to be that much farther away."
She was quiet for a moment, then spoke again. "I can't wait any longer."
Shaun didn't have to be told why she needed to get out of the crypt; his own bladder was feeling rather uncomfortably full.
"Alright," he whispered. "Crawl to the other end and wait for me to check that it's clear."
Annabel did as he said. Shaun listened carefully, his ear pressed as close to the crack between the tomb and the lid as he could get. But he heard nothing.
He pressed up on the lid and slowly pushed a corner of the lid away. He grimaced as the stone made a scraping noise, which sounded very loud after being in the silent vault for hours.
He cautiously stuck his head out of the opening, but he didn't see anyone. The door to the crypt was standing open and the pale blue light of morning filtered in. He strained his ears, but he didn't hear anything, either.
He slid the tomb lid back a little more—but no more than necessary—and pushed himself out.
Stay there, he told Annabel. He slipped silently to the crypt door and peeped carefully around the corner, but the Sanctuary was empty. Sun was streaming through the windows; it was later than he had thought.
He returned to the tomb. It's clear. You can come out, he told Annabel.
She crawled to the opening and he lifted her out. Despite the noise it caused, Shaun slid the tomb lid back into place. Then he dropped to his knees and kissed the stone, silently thanking the Queen for her protection.
He rose to his feet again. Where can we go now? he asked Annabel. It's daytime, so it will be extra hard for us to hide.
Annabel thought about it for a minute. There's a door at the back of the Sanctuary that opens out close to the abbot's house. Maybe he can hide us in there for the day and we can leave tonight.
That's a good idea, Shaun replied. We will need whatever supplies he can give us, at the very least.
Although he didn't like it, he let Annabel take the lead as they slipped silently through the Sanctuary. Behind the altar was a narrow corridor with a few storage rooms off of it. The hallway ended at a door.
Let me, Shaun said. Better someone take off my head than yours.
Annabel frowned, but stepped aside. Shaun opened the door cautiously and looked outside, but he didn't see anyone in the narrow yard that separated the Sanctuary from the abbot's solitary dwelling.
Let's go, Shaun told Annabel.
They ran across the grass in the bright, midday sun. Shaun had never felt more exposed in his life. He had not been without a sword since he had been about six years old. In the East, where he grew up, the land was still wild and stepping foot outside the monastery walls was always dangerous. No one—down to the school children—went outside without at least one weapon.
Shaun felt as if he was back in those dark woods where one could feel the eyes constantly watching, constantly hunting. He and the Princess were prey animals surrounded by packs of vicious predators.
Shaun scratched at the abbot's door, but heard no response. He didn't want to risk knocking, nor did he want to stand outside, exposed, any longer than necessary, so he took it upon himself to open the door and let himself in, uninvited.
He and Annabel slipped in and he closed the door behind them. "Abbot?" Annabel called out in a loud whisper, but no one responded. A quick search of the three-room building found that they were alone.
"Do you think they took him?" she asked Shaun anxiously.
"Yes," he replied bluntly. He didn't see any use in sugar coating the situation; they were in a lot of trouble, and anyone caught helping them was likewise going to be in trouble.
Annabel wrung her hands nervously, but didn't say anything. What could she say?
"Hopefully they've already searched the house, so they won't think to look here again for us," Shaun said, glancing around. "We should wait until nightfall, then get out and head west, to my family."
"What about supplies?"
"I don't think the abbot will begrudge us taking what we need while he's away."
They spent nearly an hour quietly combing through the house, trying to decide on what to pack. There was a lot that they needed, but Shaun insisted that they keep their foraging bag as light as possible.
"The heavier this is, the slower I'll move," Shaun warned. "And the harder it will be for me to fight."
"I can carry it," Annabel offered. "Or we can try to find another bag and split it up."
Shaun just shook his head.
"Do you not think I'm up to it?" she asked, her voice getting a little heated.
"I'm sure you're up to it," he said soothingly. "But I don't want anything to hinder you. I want you free to fight, hide, or transform."
"So why are you going to bear all of the burden?"
"Because I'm not the heir to the throne of Nevara, Your Highness. It's more important that you live than me."
She frowned at him again.
"My duty is to keep you alive, even at the cost of my life," Shaun explained. "Your duty is to live to protect and serve your people. Sometimes we have to swallow our pride to do what's right, not what we want to do."
"I'm going to remind you of that one day when what you want conflicts with what we should do," she retorted.
He chuckled. "I'm sure I'll deserve it when the time comes."
They finally had the bag packed with the food, medicinal herbs, and tools they agreed would be most useful. Shaun found a long knife among the abbot's kitchen things, and he immediately requisitioned it, slipping it down the top of his boot. It wasn't a sword, but it was better than nothing. He felt slightly less vulnerable.
He also found a tall, stout walking stick that he could use as a weapon if pressed. It would be impractical to carry on their journey, but he might need it to get out of the monastery, so he put it next to the bag, ready for when they made their escape.
Shaun let Annabel take a nap on the abbot's bed while he stayed awake and listened for trouble. But the monastery was eerily quiet, as if it was deserted.
Annabel woke up a little after midday, and they had a hearty lunch. "Food will be hard to come by after this," Shaun warned. "We better eat as much as we can."
After lunch he laid down while Annabel kept the watch. He thought he wouldn't be able to sleep because he still had so much on his mind, but his weariness caught up with him and he quickly fell into a deep sleep.
The next thing he knew, Annabel was shaking him awake. "Shaun," she whispered, "I hear voices outside."
Shaun sat bolt upright on the bed. He could from the window that the sky had turned a deep rosy shade; the sun had set and nightfall was near.
"I know there here somewhere," a distant voice said. "We know they came into the crypt and the abbot let them out. We've had all the doors in and out covered, so they couldn't have gotten out past us. That means they're hiding here somewhere."
Shaun and Annabel both carefully peeped out the high window that faced the back of the Sanctuary and the monks' vegetable garden. A monk was kneeling in the dirt in front of a stern-looking guard.
"That's Nagdii's personal guard," Annabel whispered. "He picked out the soldiers that he wanted to serve him; they're not the same as the palace guard."
"I know," Shaun replied grimly. "They kept apart from us. And when they didn't, they were bullies."
"I don't know where they could be," the monk replied to the guard. "I haven't seen anyone here except soldiers."
"Where could two people hide?"
"I don't know. Maybe… there's a wine cellar under the kitchen. And… there's a well. Could they hide in the well?"
"Maybe. Search it," the guard commanded two soldiers who were standing nearby. They saluted him, then hurried off at a brisk pace.
"If they're not there, you're going to have trouble," the guard growled at the monk.
"I honestly don't know where they could be," he pleaded. "There aren't many places around here to hide; we don't have much. Only the abbot has his own house; the rest of us stay in a dormitory. We would have seen anyone in there."
"Has the abbot's house been searched?" the guard asked.
"Sir, yes sir!" a soldier said, throwing a smart salute.
"Well, search it again. Make sure there aren't any trap doors in the floor or ceiling or behind cabinets."
"Oh, s***," Shaun said, ducking beneath the window. "We have to get out of here. Now."
"Where are we going to go?" Annabel asked, her voice high and anxious.
Shaun glanced around. "Out the window," he said, pointing to the window on the back wall of the main room.
Shaun paused long enough to quietly bolt the front door while Annabel reached up to unlock the window and push it open.
Shaun grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up. She scrambled through the window, then dropped out of sight on the other side.
Shaun bent down to pick up their supply bag and walking stick—intending to shove them both out the window—when he was stopped by the sound of the door rattling.
"The door is locked," the guard complained.
"Break it open," came the irritated reply.
There was no time for the stuff. Shaun stepped up onto a chair, then made a jump for the window. It took all his strength to pull himself up into the windowsill.
He looked down and saw Annabel gesturing for him to hurry and jump. He leapt lightly to his feet, then reached up as far as he could to gently push the window shut. He only hoped their bag of supplies didn't raise any suspicions. What a waste!
A moment later, there was a clunk and bang as the lock was broken off and the door flew open.
Shaun looked around, anxious to find a place to hide, but there was none. He knew better than to try to get out a door in the wall; there were guards there.
He noticed a large beech tree in one corner, and it dawned on him that they could climb up it and, when the coast was clear, go over the wall.
This way, he told Annabel, before jogging towards the tree. He helped her get on the lowest branch, then followed her up until they were as high as the wall. The tree was still denuded—its leaves were just small buds—and they could see most of the compound in the dwindling daylight.
We'll be seen up here, Annabel warned.
Shaun didn't think anyone would think to look up for them, but if anyone did look their way by accident, it wouldn't be hard to miss them.
The other option was to get over the wall. But there was still enough daylight left that any guards standing at the doors would surely see them fleeing. If Annabel transformed, they would be able to outrun them, but what if they had arrows? Shaun didn't want to take the chance of her getting hit.
But at the same time, if they stayed and were noticed, they would be hauled down and executed, so that was hardly any better.
I wish Master Ryu could consult the stars for us and tell us what we should do, Shaun said to Annabel, confessing his fear of making the wrong decision.
From what I gather—not that he and you told me about it, she added rather sharply—some sort of disaster has been foretold and we're supposed to fix it.
Right.
Well, if we're destined to fix it, then it shouldn't matter what we decide: we'll survive and fix things regardless, right?
Shaun contemplated her argument. I don't know, he slowly admitted. I suppose there's still a chance something might happen and we don't fix things. Master Ryu never told me that we would necessarily be successful—and maybe that's why he was working so hard to avoid the problem in the first place.
The thing about destinies, Shaun continued, is that you get in trouble when you try to go against them.
But if we try to fix what went wrong, then we will be following our destiny, right? Annabel asked.
Yes, I think so.
Then it shouldn't matter what we decide to do. As long as we're actively working to fulfill our destinies, the gods should look after us. They're the ones that put this burden on us in the first place.
Shaun still felt there was a flaw somewhere in her logic, but he couldn't find it. And, more importantly, he couldn't figure out anything else to do, so he decided to go with her plan. Besides, it felt better to think that they were being guided by some unseen force rather than they were at the mercy of chance.
Alright, Shaun conceded. What do you think we should do?
I think we should get out of here. I feel like game birds in this tree, just waiting for someone to shoot us out of it.
Shaun had to agree that he felt the same way. Alright, let's get over the wall. But you will need to transform as soon as we're on the ground, because we need to get a head start. We're sure to be spotted and followed.
Annabel nodded her agreement.
They carefully climbed from branch to branch until they were just a few feet above the narrow perimeter wall. Annabel dropped down onto it, followed by Shaun. So far, their presence was still unnoticed, but from their vantage point, they could see a couple of guards standing at doorways in the wall about a hundred and fifty feet away on either side.
They both looked over the wall. It was close to fifteen feet to the ground. Shaun knew he could make the jump, but he wasn't confident that Annabel could do it without getting hurt. And they couldn't afford for her to end up with a turned ankle.
He briefly contemplated jumping first, then catching her, but he was afraid that would cost too much of their precious time. If the guards saw him—and they almost certainly would—they would be on their way over while he was still trying to catch the Princess. Their lead-time would be cut by at least half.
No, they both needed to jump at the same time.
Then Shaun remembered his ability to transform into a bird. He could take her down just as he had at the castle.
I'm going to fly you down, he told her. You need to transform and start running as soon as you hit the ground.
Understood, she replied with grim firmness.
Shaun worried that he might not be able to transform on command, but as soon as he wanted to be a bird, he was a bird.
He flew up and carefully gathered the material of Annabel’s cloak and shirt into his talons. But before he could pick her up, he heard someone nearby shouting.
"Look at that big bird up there!"
"Wait… is that the Princess?"
They couldn't waste any more time. Shaun spread his wings and threw his weight forward, pulling Annabel off the wall. Startled, she gave a little cry, but it didn't matter; they had already been spotted.
"That's her! Get her!"
Shaun glided towards the ground, trying to go as far as he could. When it looked like she was just a few feet above the ground, he called out to her, Now!
He released her from his talons and she transformed, hitting the ground running on four legs instead of two.
As soon as Shaun was satisfied that she was safe and well on her way to escaping, he wheeled around with a piercing screech. There were guards running from all corners of the monastery, shouting, "They can turn into animals! That's them!"
Shaun dove at them, causing them to scatter. But unlike the soldiers in the castle, these had bows and arrows, and as soon as they recovered their senses, they began shooting at him.
Shaun quickly found himself in the middle of a rain of arrows and he decided to beat a hasty retreat.
He tried to get higher, so he would be out of their range, but one arrow still managed to clip his wing with a sharp sting like a knife cut. He cried out in surprise and pain, but still managed to climb higher, getting to safety. He turned and began to follow Annabel’s course; luckily he had diverted the guards for long enough that she was well out of their range.
But not for long. From his high vantage point, Shaun could see that troops were jumping on horses and galloping in pursuit. Shaun doubted Annabel’s ability to run for as long as a real horse; he already felt a weariness in his wings that he doubted a real eagle experienced. Neither he nor she was accustomed to their animal forms, so they did not have the stamina that real animals had.
Shaun turned his course towards Annabel and he tucked his wings in, diving with considerable speed so that he could catch up to her.
At the last minute, right before he collided with her, he pulled up and, instead, dropped onto her back in human form.
"They're following us on horseback," Shaun called out to her over the sound of the wind whistling in his ears. "We have to beat them to the Western Forest and lose them there."
Annabel tossed her head a little in reply. Shaun knew she was already giving it everything she had; they could only hope that she would last longer than the soldiers' horses.
Shaun kept glancing anxiously behind him. They had a good lead, but it did seem to be slipping over time. However, it was also growing darker and there was no moon in the sky. If Shaun was beginning to have trouble seeing them, then the same had to be true of them.
Annabel’s pace gradually slowed until she had to give up and start walking. Shaun hopped off to give her back a rest.
"Ow," he said, as a pain shot through his right arm.
What's wrong? Annabel asked anxiously.
Shaun put his hand on his arm. He could feel blood soaking though his shirt, but it had already started to dry. The cut was painful when he moved and pulled it open, but he didn't think it was too bad. He still had mobility in his arm.
"I got hit," he told Annabel in a quiet voice, "but it's not too bad."
Are you sure?
"Yes."
He looked back again. He thought he could still see dark shapes in the distance, but after a few minutes, he determined they weren't getting closer. Either he was seeing things in the dark, or the soldiers had to drop down to a walk, too.
"Change back," Shaun told Annabel.
She did as he said. It was easy to see how weary she was when she was in human form; her shoulders slumped and it looked like it was everything she could do to stay on her feet.
"I think it's easier to walk on four legs than two," Annabel said after a minute.
"Yes, but you're harder to see when you're smaller," he said, checking behind him again. He still wasn't certain if he was seeing the dark shapes of troops, or if his eyes and nervous mind were playing tricks on him. "A large, light-colored horse is much easier to see from a distance than a girl in a dark cloak."
"That makes sense," Annabel admitted.
They continued their slow walk across the plain. The Nevarian Plain was massive; on foot, it took the better part of a day to cross it. They only had to go halfway across it, and they had been traveling much faster than usual. Shaun reckoned they should be in the woods by midnight. That would hopefully give them time to find a hiding place to hole up for the day.
Eventually, they came to a line where the prairie fire had died down—probably because the wind had shifted—and the scorched earth gave way to the usual hip-high grass.
"It's a shame we can't turn into gophers," Shaun said. "Then we could run through the grass and no one would see us."
"Run? Why wouldn't we just burrow into the ground? Maybe make a few extra holes for them to trip on…."
Shaun quietly chuckled. "I have to admit, Princess, you are better at animal-strategy than me."
"Well, I've been turning into a horse since I was twelve; I suppose I have more practice."
After a while, Annabel said that she thought she could run some more, so she changed and Link got on her back again. But they both agreed to keep the pace to a trot, though, to conserve energy.
The moon was beginning to rise in the east by the time they at last reached the Western Forest. Shaun could see in the moonlight that there were definitely troops still following them, but they had drifted off course in the dark, so Shaun and Annabel still had a decent head start. Still, Shaun was glad they had reached the concealment of the forest. The moonlight made it too easy to see them out in the open. The soldiers only had to get so close before they would be able to use their bows and arrows.
"Where are we going now?" Annabel asked. She was so weary, she had to lean against a tree.
"We need to find a place to hide for the day. Then, tomorrow night, we'll head for my mother's house."
Annabel just nodded, and when Shaun took the lead, she followed him silently. Shaun was physically and emotionally exhausted; he knew Annabel had to feel even worse. He hoped to find a place to hide soon so they could both get some rest.
He walked more or less in a southwesterly direction, since that was ultimately where they needed to go anyways. But as he walked, his eyes were scanning the ground, searching. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he would know it when he found it.
The air was warming and the birds were starting to come alive in the trees above them—which meant that dawn wasn't far behind—and Shaun was becoming very nervous, when, at last, he thought he saw something promising.
There were vines and shrubs covering a small hillock, but Shaun’s sharp eyes could see a dark depression at the base of the mound that might be what he had been searching for.
"Wait here," he told Annabel. With her looking on curiously, he knelt down and pushed away some trailing vines to reveal a hole. He looked in, but didn't see anything. He listened, too, but didn't hear anything.
The hole was quite small, but part of Shaun’s training had involved crawling into dark spaces, so he didn't hesitate to get on his belly and, using his elbows, crawl into the hole. His arm wound began to burn again and he thought he felt something warm and sticky running down his skin, but he ignored it.
"Shaun, be careful," Annabel whispered worriedly.
Shaun had no intention of going in too far—he wanted Annabel to be able to pull him out if she had to—but he was in luck; after a few feet, the tunnel widened into a small den that was large enough to accommodate two people. There was even a narrow shaft in the ceiling—no bigger around that Shaun’s wrist—that went all the way up and allowed in a little fresh air.
"It's okay," Shaun called to Annabel. "There's a place in here where we can be safe. Come on in."
He could see her peeking in at the far end of the tunnel. "You do know I don't like small places, don't you?" she said in a loud whisper.
"No, I didn't. But it's okay; it's bigger inside."
She grimaced, but lay down and scooted herself into the tunnel.
"Shaun, this is horrible."
"Just a little ways more," he encouraged. "No one will find us in here; if they even see it, they'll think it's too small."
"It is too small."
"For them, but not for us."
Annabel continued to grumble—Shaun let her, knowing it was keeping her mind off her fear—and as soon as he could, he reached forward and took her by the arms and pulled her into the little den.
"Is this it?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"I thought you said it was bigger! I can't even sit up."
"We don't need to sit up; we need to sleep."
"I don't know if I can do this."
Shaun stretched out—his head at one end of the den and his feet at the tunnel—and he pulled Annabel close, holding her.
"Just lie still," he said soothingly. "You'll be asleep in a few minutes."
She was quiet for a few minutes, but Shaun knew she wasn't going to sleep; her body didn't relax.
"How do you do it?" she asked him after a time.
"Do what?"
"Keep going. No matter what happens—no matter how impossible things seem—you keep going. Even when you're tired, or hungry, or have to crawl into tiny little holes, you keep going forward. You always have a plan."
"I wish I had a bigger plan," he contradicted. "I don't know what we'll do once we reach my family; I just know we can't stay there long. I'm only hoping they can help us."
"But where does your hope come from? I mean… I don't even know why I'm bothering to run, really. I don't deserve to be queen. I don't want to be queen—"
"Your Highness," Shaun said, interrupting her, "a usurper has killed your father and has taken over Hyrule. If nothing else, you should want your rightful throne so that you can protect your people from him.
"What gives me hope? What motivates me to push myself one step more when it seems that the whole world is against us? You. I hope that I can restore you to your throne and, together, we can right the wrongs that Nagdii has committed.
"Did Master Ryu tell you nothing at all about your future?" he asked, his voice softening.
"Only that I would be one of the greatest rulers that Nevara has ever had," she said, still sounding unsure.
"I believe you will be," he assured her. "And every day we must take a step in that direction. As long as we keep our eye on our destination—on our destinies—then we will always find the strength to move forward."
She was quiet for a while, and Shaun thought she had fallen asleep; her body had finally relaxed. He was nearly asleep, too, when she surprised him by speaking.
"You're wiser than any of the men I've ever known," she said.
"Not more than Master Ryu," he mumbled sleepily.
"Well, maybe not," she conceded, "but you're still better than the rest."
"Thank you."
She was quiet for another moment and he started to fall asleep again. "Will you stay with me always, Shaun?" she asked, jarring him awake again. "If I do become queen, will you be on my council?"
"Yes, if that's what you want."
"I want that."
"Do you know what I want, Your Highness?"
"What?"
"I want you to go to sleep."
"I can't. I have too much on my mind."
"Think of the ocean."
"I don't know what it looks like. How can I think of it?"
"Then think of running across the Plain as a horse. It's a dark summer night. There is no moon, but thousands upon thousands of stars. You can run as fast and as far as you want. You don't have to worry about anything, because this is before me and before any problems. You are alone and free."
She became quiet and he was almost asleep again when she whispered, "But I don't want to be alone anymore."
"Princess, it's just a thought—an imagining," he said, started to feel irritated; he desperately wanted to sleep. "You're not really alone—as my presence here would indicate."
"But I don't want to even imagine being alone."
In the dark, he reached for her face and, taking her by the chin a bit roughly, he turned her to him and kissed her hard.
"There," he said, pulling away. "Think about that for a while."
He settled back down with a bit of a huff, and whether because she was really thinking about it, or because she was still just too stunned to say anything, she stayed quiet long enough for him to go to sleep.

Shaun's first awareness was the sound of a growling stomach. But he was unsure if it was his or Annabel's. He was certainly hungry, but she had to be as well.
He began to stir. When he opened his eyes, he was blinded by a shaft of light that pierced the dark den. But after a few moments, his eyes came into focus and he could see that Annabel was lying on the other side of the den—which was only a foot or so away—and was looking at him.
"Did I wake you up?" Annabel whispered fearfully.
"No."
"I've been trying to be quiet."
Shaun immediately felt guilty. "I am so sorry, Your Highness; I was very rude to you last night."
"No, I was for keeping you awake. You've been working so hard to… to keep me safe. I should have been more considerate and let you sleep."
"Well, we will just have to agree that we have both been under a lot of stress and sometimes we say or do things we don't mean as a result."
He held his hand out to the beam of sunlight, which came through the little hole in the dirt above them and he tried to gauge the quality of it.
"I wonder what time it is?" he asked.
"I don't know; I was wondering that myself."
He continued to study the light. "I think it's sometime in the afternoon," he finally decided.
"Do we have to wait until dark to go out?" Annabel asked anxiously. She was almost interrupted by the rumbling of her stomach. It had been a long time and many miles since their lunch the day before.
"I think we might risk it," he said. "We need to find food, and we can't do that in the dark."
She looked relieved.
He crawled out of the tunnel first to make sure the coast was clear. When he finally emerged and was able to stand up straight and take a look around, he saw that it was indeed late afternoon. He estimated that they had an hour or a little better of good daylight left.
He cautiously climbed to the top of the hillock and took a look around, but he didn't see or hear anything, outside the normal movements in the forest.
He went back to the tunnel entrance. "Come out," he called to Annabel in a loud whisper. Even if there wasn't anyone within sight or hearing, he didn't want to make enough noise to attract attention.
When Annabel was close enough, he reached in and pulled her the rest of the way out.
"I really hate little holes," she said, looking disgruntled. It didn't help that her hair was disheveled and her clothes covered in dirt.
Shaun tried to brush off some of the dirt on her. "I'm sorry, but I slept better knowing we wouldn't be found."
"I'm glad you slept well," she said honestly.
She noticed his right arm and she stopped him. "How's your arm?"
"I don't know," he replied. It still hurt—especially after crawling around on it—but he still didn't know the extent of the damage. But gauging by the blood which had soaked through his gray tunic sleeve and white undershirt, it had been rather deep.
"Let me see it," Annabel commanded.
Shaun unbuckled his vambraces, then unfastened his belt and pulled off his tunic and undershirt together in one motion.
He noticed Annabel staring at him, but as soon as she caught his eye, she looked away with a blush. He wasn't sure if he should feel pleased that she had taken notice of him, or guilty that he had made her feel embarrassed.
Well, actually, he knew he ought to feel guilty, but in reality, he just felt pleased.
Annabel recovered herself and moved closer to take a look at his arm. "That kind of looks bad," she said with a wince.
He looked at it and gently pulled and prodded on it with his fingers, trying to determine how deep it was.
"Stop, you're making it bleed again," she fussed.
"It will probably keep bleeding," he said, although he did quit touching it. "It needs stitches."
Annabel blanched. "I don't know how to do that."
"We don't have anything for you to do it with anyways. Maybe my mother will be able to take care of it."
They followed the sound of running water until they came to a wide, fairly shallow stream with a little waterfall where fish occasionally leapt, trying to swim upstream.
Annabel insisted that Shaun sit on a rock while she cleaned his wound. He ripped the sleeve off his undershirt—it was ruined anyways—and she dipped it in the water and washed the blood away from his arm.
Shaun inhaled sharply. "That's cold!" he said.
"Sorry."
She cleaned him up the best she could, then she tore what was left of the sleeve into strips and tied a bandage around his arm.
"Thank you."
He redressed, then assessed their situation.
"Let's get across this stream," he said, pointing to the opposite bank, "then we'll find something to eat. If we have to flee, at least we'll have the water between us and the soldiers; it will slow them down a little and give us an advantage."
Annabel nodded her agreement.
Before she could say anything, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms.
"What are you doing!?" she said in shock.
"Keeping you dry," he said with a smile, as he splashed into the shallows.
"It makes more sense for me to carry you across than the other way around," she argued.
"Oh, well. My boots are already wet, so we might as well continue."
With a disapproving frown, she put her arms around him and held on while he forded the stream.
"You're going to make your arm bleed again," she fussed.
"And it will quit again."
His arm was throbbing rather painfully, but he was enjoying himself too much to stop. Sometimes he liked to do things just to make Annabel argue with him. He didn't know why he enjoyed getting her worked up—maybe it was the way her gray eyes flashed or the way she frowned, which looked more like a pout than anything.
"You're stubborn, you know that?" she said.
"Yes, and so are you. I would say that's why we get along, but, really, I'm surprised that we do. You would think our stubbornness would cancel each other out."
She was quiet for a while as he concentrated on getting across the stream. In the middle it was rather deeper than he had thought and he was up to his waist in the chilly water.
"Did you mean what you said earlier?" Annabel said, suddenly breaking the silence, just as Shaun was beginning to climb out of the deepest part of the water.
"I usually mean everything I say, but what part are you specifically talking about?"
"You said earlier that we had both said and done things that we regret."
It took Shaun a minute to catch on. "Oh, you mean last night."
"Yes."
"I do regret being rude to you."
She was quiet again for a few minutes. When she spoke, she purposefully avoided looking at him. "Do you regret everything?" she asked in a quiet voice.
"Everything?"
She sighed wearily. "Never mind."
He was confused. He tried to think back to what had happened the night before—to what would make her ask such questions. Then it suddenly dawned on him what she was talking about.
"Do you mean when I kissed you? Are you asking me if I regret that?"
"Yes," she mumbled, still not looking at him.
He was thoughtful for a moment as he reached the far shore and put her down on dry ground.
"I regret that I acted like an ass and kissed you just to get you to be quiet; that's not the purpose of a kiss," he explained. "And it was especially egregious that I forced it on you without your consent; that's also not the right way to kiss someone.
"So, on the whole, not one of my finer moments."
"Well…" she said slowly, looking down while she rolled a rock under her boot, "I suppose if I didn't mind, then it wouldn't have been without my consent."
"Did you not mind?"
She toyed with the rock more. "No, I didn't mind."
Shaun stepped in closer and put his hand under her chin, lifting her face so she had to look at him. He studied her for a moment—trying to burn the image of her face into his mind—then he slowly leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.
But as soon as he started, he pulled away, feeling guilty. "I need to stop that," he said, as much to himself as to her.
"Why?" she asked.
He moved away, walking upstream; he needed a little distance between them. "Besides the fact that this is neither the time nor the place, I need to remember who I am—and who you are—and why we're here.
"You are my sovereign, not some common girl from the marketplace whose kisses can be bought with a flower."
Annabel—who had been trotting in his wake—suddenly stopped. "Have… have you ever kissed such a girl?"
Shaun stopped, too, and sighed as he looked out over the stream. He purposefully avoided looking at Annabel. "Yes."
"How many times? Once? Twice?"
"Your Highness, why do you ask questions you don't want to know the answer to?"
He dared a glance at her and saw her face fall. "More than twice?" she asked.
"More than twice," was all he would say.
They stood there awkwardly for a long, tense minute. Shaun knew Annabel's feelings were hurt, but he didn't know what he could do about it; nothing changed the fact that he had gotten rather a lot of kissing experience from Madge, the girl who sold bread in the market. And as the Princess didn't even know his name at the time, it was hardly like he had cheated on her.
"I'm… going to try to catch a fish for us to eat," he said hesitantly.
He reached into the little pouch at the back of his belt and took out a piece of flint and a bar of steel. Thankfully, he had been smart enough to put the fire-making tools in his pouch, not in the bag of supplies, which was left behind at the abbot's house.
He offered her the flint and steel. "Can you make a fire?"
She reluctantly stepped forward and held out her hand. It was clear she didn't even want to touch him. "I think so," she said, not looking at him. "I've seen it done, but I've not tried it."
He dropped the fire making tools into her hands. "Well, try while I go fishing. If you can't, then I'll start one when I get done."
He turned away, then transformed into an eagle. He thought he might be quicker at catching fish as an eagle than if he had to make a pole and a hook and dig up some bait. And although it took him a few tries to get the timing right, he did prove correct; in less than a half hour, he soared upwards, over the falls, with a fat trout clutched in his talons.
He changed back into a human, letting the fish drop to the ground, where it flopped—surprisingly—like a fish out of water.
"That was a good catch," Annabel said, grudgingly impressed.
"Thank you. That's a nice fire," he said, pointing to the small but steady fire she had managed to build.
"Thank you," she replied. They were cautious with their words, but both seemed to want to make up.
Shaun bent down and picked up the fish by the tail. Then he quickly—and with force—slapped its head against a rock. It quit wriggling.
Annabel stared at him, horrified. "What are you doing?"
"Killing it."
"Can't you do it less… less violently?"
He perked a brow. "Killing something implies a certain amount of violence, Your Highness."
He sat down and, using a flat rock as a cutting board, he began to gut the fish with the abbot's knife that he had stashed in his boot—it was yet another thing he was glad he had kept on his person.
"I'm afraid, Your Highness, that you're going to have to get used to a certain amount of violence. We need to eat, and there will come a time when we will have to defend ourselves. Unfortunately, we don't have the luxury to be squeamish."
"I'm not squeamish," Annabel said irritably.
"Well, maybe not squeamish," Shaun allowed. "More like tender-hearted."
He cut the fish along the spine, filleting it into two pieces. Then, with a few strokes of his knife, he whittled sharp points onto a couple of sticks. He gave both a good soaking in the stream, then he slid the fish fillets onto them.
"Why did you wet the sticks?" Annabel asked, as she watched Shaun stick the skewers into the ground so that the fish fillets angled close to the fire.
"To keep them from catch on fire," he said.
He stood up, looking around. The sun was setting; they had about an hour's worth of light left. He thought they would have time enough to cook their supper before it grew so dark that their fire became a beacon.
"I'm going to see if I can find something else to go with this," Shaun said, still looking around at the forest. It was early in the spring, but there were a few plants already budding and blooming; there might be something green available.
"Don't go too far," Annabel said, betraying her worry.
"I won't be out of sight," he promised, before heading up the slope next to the waterfall.
He had been taught to forage while he was in the East. While the plants there were sometimes different, there were enough that were the same—or that were clearly related—that Shaun was able to find a few edible things: some rather bland leaves that were typically used in salads, a spicy herb that had a peppery-taste, and a handful of small, sweet-tasting flowers.
Shaun gathered everything up in his tunic, then headed back to the campfire.
"The fish was started to look cooked on one side, so I turned them," Annabel said, sounding anxious and unsure.
"Good," he reassured her. "They need to be turned."
Annabel looked relieved. "I've never cooked anything before."
"You're doing fine."
He sat down next to her and she looked at the plants in his lap. "What did you get?"
"Not much, but it'll go a little ways towards filling our bellies. He carefully divvied up the salad leaves and the blossoms.
"Are you supposed to eat the flowers?" Annabel asked, looking at one curiously.
"Yes, they're sweet."
She looked unsure, but tried one, biting it off the stem. "It is a little sweet," she said, sounding mildly surprised. "Not like sugar, but still pretty good."
"Eat them with the greens," he said, pointing to the larger leaves. "They really don't have any taste, so that will help flavor them."
They sat in silence while they ate and waited for the fish to cook. The sun had set completely and the light was fading when Shaun declared that the fish was done.
"Sprinkle some of this on it," Shaun said, as he handed Annabel both a skewer full of fish and some of the thin, spiky plant he had picked. "It's peppery."
"This is pretty good," Annabel declared as she bit into the spiced fish.
"Hunger is the best ingredient," Shaun said wisely.
They were silent again as they hurriedly ate—driven more by hunger than an urgency to leave.
"I didn't know fish were so boney," Annabel complained, as she removed another bone from her mouth. She and Shaun both had a little pile of bones stacking up between them.
"Some are worse than others," Shaun replied. "I can de-bone most fish pretty well—although I'm not as good as my mother—but I didn't take the time to do a good job. I was too hungry to wait."
"I'm glad you didn't take any longer," Annabel agreed, even as she had to remove another bone.
"There are some fish with soft, thin bones; those you're actually supposed to eat. They say they're good for you."
"I suppose that would make them easier to eat but, just the same, I think I prefer to remove the bones."
All too quickly their dinner was done. Neither was satisfied—not after being without food for more than a day—but it held the hunger pains at bay.
Shaun kicked dirt on the fire, putting it out. "I don't think we're more than a few hours from my mother's house," he said.
"Good," Annabel said. "I would like to sleep in a proper bed tonight. And maybe get a bath and a clean change of clothes."
Annabel's clothes were certainly looking worse for wear. While her pants and shirt were at the extreme far-end of casual wear for a princess, they were merely everyday clothes for a normal person in Linnens. Shaun's tunic and pants were holding up much better because they were made from a canvas material that was specially made for rough use on the sea. Only his lightweight undershirt—which was made for comfort rather than durability—was showing signs of ill use.
"We'll see what my mother can find for you," Shaun promised.
He found a leaf on the ground that was tough and still mostly intact, and he folded in into a primitive cup so that he and Annabel could drink their fill before they left the stream.
Once they were as satiated as they could hope for, given the circumstance, they started through the woods, bound for the little house that overlooked the ocean.

Shaun reckoned it was near midnight when, at last, they came out of the forest on its far western side. It ended where the beach began. And beyond that was the sea.
Shaun was so busy trying to figure out where they were—where they above or below his mother's house?—that he forgot that Annabel was seeing the ocean for the first time.
"I think it's that way," he said, pointing south. "I think we're still too far north."
When she didn't respond, he glanced at her. She was staring, wide-eyed, at the water.
Shaun smiled a little and took her hand in his. "I promised you that I would show you the ocean one day. This isn't the circumstance that I would have chosen, but here it is, nonetheless."
"It's so big," she said in awe.
"It has no opposite side," he said. "They call it the Endless Ocean."
"It smells funny."
"That's the salt in the water."
"It's salty? You can't drink it?"
"No."
"So… it's pretty useless."
"I wouldn't say that. My family has made its living from the ocean for generations. They collect the water and allow it to evaporate, leaving the salt behind. That's how you get salt on your dinner table, Your Highness. And the big fish that they serve at banquets don't come from streams; they come from here in the ocean. We also eat other things from the ocean—shrimp and oysters and clams and seaweed and—"
"Quit talking about it," Annabel interrupted, "you're making me hungry."
Shaun laughed. "Let's find my mother's house and let her feed us."
It was quickly decided, in the interest of getting to eat that much sooner, that Annabel would transform.
Shaun hopped lightly onto her back. "Stay on the sand where it's wet," he said, pointing ahead. "It's harder and easier to run on."
She tossed her head, then began to move forward. In a few steps, she broke into a run.
The moon was bright overhead and the ocean calm, the waves gently washing in under Annabel's hooves. The air off the ocean was warm and comfortable. It was a wonderful night for a gallop along the beach, and for a moment, Shaun and Annabel completely forgot who they were and why they were there; they were in the moment when they were nothing but two young people enjoying life and each other.
The land to their left began to slowly rise. Shaun pointed to it, yelling over the air whistling past them. "That's the beginning of the cliff. Mother's house sits on its highest point. We're not too far away now."
Shouldn't we be over there? I mean, how will we get up the cliff if we stay on this side of it?
"Don't worry, there are stairs. I think it will be easier to climb those than run up the slope for a long time."
They were quiet for a while as the land steadily rose up beside the beach. Just when Annabel tired and had to drop to a walk, Shaun spotted what he had been looking for.
"There it is," he said, pointing at a little light far up on the cliff. As they drew closer, the moonlight revealed a quaint little cottage perched near the cliff. It had grown over the years since Shaun had been born—it was definitely more a cottage than a hut now—but it was still relatively small and cozy. The fishing business had not turned out quite as well as it would have if Maverick had lived, but Shaun's mother had done well with what she had to work with.
When they reached the cliff stairs, Annabel transformed.
"Do those belong to your family?" she asked, looking at the boats. There was a small fishing boat and a rowboat pulled up on the shore, out of reach of high tide. But out in the water, there were two much larger boats—boats too large to be beached- which were riding at anchor.
Shaun was surprised. "I suppose so." He pointed to the smaller boat on the ocean. "I know that one is ours. I can only assume the second one is ours now, too. It's been a few years since I've been home."
"Do you not write letters?" Annabel asked in surprise.
"My mother can't read or write. My Uncle Alfon can, and I'll send him a letter occasionally, letting everyone know that I'm alright, but he never writes back much; he's too busy."
They climbed the ninety-six stairs to the top—"really, Shaun, are you sure this was easier than just walking up the cliff?" a breathless Annabel complained—and went to the door of the cottage.
Shaun glanced around and listened, but he saw and heard nothing that disturbed him. Still, he worried that it wouldn't take Nagadii long to figure out that he had gone to his family for help. He pulled Annabel’s cloak hood up to hide her face.
Shaun knocked on the door quietly, but with urgency. After a moment, he heard something stirring inside.
"Who is it?" a scared voice—trying to sound braver than it was—demanded.
"Mother, it's me," Shaun said quietly, speaking close to the door.
There was a moment's hesitation, then the sound of a bolt being opened. The door creaked an inch—one blue eye peering out—and then it was suddenly thrown wide open and Shaun was engulfed in his mother's arms.
"Oh, Shaun, it is you!" she said in a loud whisper. She pulled him away long enough to kiss him repeatedly all over the face, then she hugged him tightly to her again.
Shaun was a little embarrassed, but at the same time nothing could ever take the place of a mother's love at seeing her child for the first time in nearly three years.
She at last pulled away a little, but she held him by the arms, looking at him. "Oh, look at you," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "You're all grown up. My baby is a man now." She couldn't resist another kiss and tight hug. "Oh, I wish your father could see you. He would be so proud."
Shaun felt a little emotional, too. But before he could recover, his mother was pulling him inside the house. "Come in," she said. "Sit here by the fire. Meghan! Alons!" she called out. "Come see your brother."
There was a mad scramble as brother and sister both tried to be the first to reach Shaun. Alons was in the upstairs loft, and he skipped the ladder entirely, jumping down onto the living room floor. Meghan came tearing out of one of the back bedrooms.
They both rushed Shaun simultaneously, nearly knocking him over. He had to take a step back to brace himself.
"Speaking of all grown up…" he said, looking down at his siblings. His sister—fair and blonde like him—was almost sixteen years old. His brother—short and dark and husky-built, like their father's side of the family—was thirteen.
They both tried to speak to him at once; he was only able to catch a few words of what they were saying.
"You're alright!"
"We heard…."
"…come see us sooner?"
"…you have a sword?"
"What's… like?"
"Are you a knight?"
"How long… staying?"
"I want to… with you."
"Meghan, Alons," their mother gently chided, "You're going to worry him to death. Let him rest and catch his breath. I'm sure he has time to answer all your questions."
They reluctantly pulled away, but stayed close, as if afraid he might slip away before talking to them.
Suddenly Shaun remembered Princess Annabel. He was embarrassed that he had been so rude; she had been left standing at the doorway, awkwardly left out of the warm family reunion.
He hurried to the door, gently pulling her in. He shut and bolted the door before turning back to his family.
"Mother, Meghan, Alons, may I introduce you to Princess Annabel."
They stood in open-mouthed astonishment as she pushed back the hood of her cloak, revealing her face.
It took a moment for the surprise to wear off, then Susan quickly knelt and tugged on her children's arms until they did the same.
"Your Highness, may I present my family," Shaun said formally. "My mother, Susan, my sister, Meghan, and my brother, Alons."
Annabel held out her hands. "Please, you don't have to do that. Rise."
They seemed almost reluctant to do so. Meghan and Alons continued to stare at her in wonderment, but Shaun's mother seemed unsure if she should avert her eyes or not. She kept stealing glances, clearly too curious to look away for long.
"Mother, we're starving," Shaun said. "Could we have something to eat?"
"Oh, yes… yes, of course," she said, snapping back to her senses. She began bustling around the house, ordering the younger children to fetch and tote while she put together a meal.
Shaun sank down wearily into his mother's rocking chair—the one his father had made for her many years before. He gestured for Annabel to sit in the cushioned chair beside him.
"Don't worry," he whispered to her, "we'll be safe here for a little while."
"How long, do you think?"
He frowned. "Not too long," he admitted. "This is the first place I would look for me."
The smell of fish and spices and hot food soon wafted through the house. Both Annabel and Shaun's stomachs rumbled audibly.
Shaun clutched his. "Gods, that smells so good! And I'm so hungry!"
"Alons, go get some oranges from the cellar," Susan commanded. "Hurry." Then she looked at Shaun and Princess Annabel. "How long has it been since you ate?"
"We had our last real meal… um… yesterday at lunch. We had a little fish and some greens tonight for supper, but it wasn't much."
She turned back to the kettle she had on the fire, stirring it while she talked. "We've heard so many rumors the past few days, I haven't known what to believe. Some have said that the king was murdered by an assassin, while others have said he was taken captive by a demon. And some said that the princess was killed, others say she was kidnapped, while others say…." She hesitated, glancing back at her.
"What do they say?" Annabel asked quietly.
Susan whispered, as if the words were too horrible to say aloud. "They say that you killed your own father, then ran away when the guard tried to stop you."
"Have you heard anything else?" Shaun pressed. He wanted to know what sort of rumors were at work; they could harm as much as any soldier tracking them down.
She glanced at him, worry in her eyes. "They said… they said that you and Ryu tried to take over the kingdom. Some say that you were working with the Princess to take down the king, others say you were trying to kill both her and the king in order to take over for yourselves, but she escaped."
"Well, obviously I didn't try to kill her, or she wouldn't be here with me."
"I knew you would never do any such thing," Susan declared hotly. "I told everyone that my son had been raised to be a knight for the royal family and there was no way that my own flesh and blood could ever turn against his rightful monarchs."
"You are more correct than the rumor-mongers, to be sure," he said with a smile.
They were interrupted by Alons, who presented them with a plate of dried oranges. Shaun tried not to snatch them up and cram them into his mouth like some low person… but it took effort. When he glanced at Annabel, he noticed that she looked like she was having to restrain herself, too.
"So what did happen?" Alons asked, looking at both of them.
Shaun gave them a brief version of events between bites of orange.
When he was finished, Alons pointed to Shaun's right arm where blood had soaked through the hem of his tunic sleeve. "Is that how you got hurt?" Alons asked.
Shaun glanced down; he had forgotten about his arrow wound. "Yes, an arrow clipped me."
"Alons, dish up this soup," Susan commanded, as she wiped her hands on her apron and hurried to Shaun's side.
She pulled up his short sleeve and looked at the bandage underneath. The wound had bled through the thin linen.
"I think it needs to be stitched up," he told his mother. "It keeps pulling open and bleeding again."
She unwrapped the bandage and looked at it. "Yes, it does," she said. "Meghan, get my bag."
Meghan, who had been setting the table, hurried to Susan's room. She emerged a moment later with a canvas satchel.
Susan set to work cleaning the wound—Shaun gritted his teeth against the sting of the medicine she used—then she ground up a few leaves and made a plaster over the wound.
"These will help numb it," she explained, as she tied a clean bandage around his arm to hold the plaster in place. "I'll stitch it up after you eat."
"I'll take my time," Shaun said with a slight smile.
Shaun and Annabel ate a hearty dinner of seafood stew, bread, and a sort of liquidy salad made from seaweed and tangy spices.
"This is good, Mother," Shaun said between bites.
"Eat all you want; there's plenty more." She reached out and brushed a stray lock of his hair back, tucking it gently behind his ear.
"I remember when Grand Vizier Ryu came for you," she said quietly, reminiscing. "You were barely a year old. It was storming; your father and I were sitting by the fire. He was mending a net while you played with it. Then there was a knock on the door and a few minutes later, my baby was gone.
"And tonight, with a knock on the door, my son returns to me. But I'm afraid you are in as much danger now as when you left seventeen years ago."
"I'm afraid it's worse," Shaun admitted. "His Majesty probably wouldn't have killed me if he had found me before, but now Nagadii will execute me. He was getting ready to do it when we managed to escape; I have no doubt that he will do it now. I am a threat to him. Princess Annabel is a threat to him. He will try to eliminate us both."
"What are you going to do?" she whispered.
"I have no idea. My plans only went as far as here. I was hoping you and Uncle Alfon could help us decide what to do. Somehow, we have to defeat Nagadii and the soldiers which he has under his command—and I don't know, at this point, how many that is. It could be that they've all become loyal to him, or it may be that some are still unsure and won't fight against their rightful ruler. But, regardless, we are only two people against a powerful magician and at least some soldiers. And, at the moment, we don't even have any weapons. The Princess has her bow, but no arrows, and I have nothing more than a large kitchen knife."
"I will go see your Uncle first thing in the morning," Susan vowed. "He might know what to do."
At last, Annabel pushed away her empty bowl with a sigh. "I'm stuffed," she declared.
"Are you sure? Is there anything else I can get you, Your Highness?" Susan asked fretfully.
"No, I'm fine, thank you." Then she paused. "Well, actually…."
Susan rose to her feet. "Yes?"
"I would like a bath. And maybe some fresh clothes?" she asked hopefully.
"It's late to draw a bath," Shaun hinted to her in a low whisper. Unlike the palace, where there was at least one huge kettle on a fire at all times—filled with hot water ready for use at the royalty's command—Shaun's mother would have to draw half-a-dozen buckets of water up from the well, by hand, build up the fire, heat her small kettle to boiling, empty it into the wooden barrel they used as a tub, then do it all over again, just to have enough hot water. Then she would have to draw up another dozen buckets of cold water to finish filling the tub and moderate the temperate.
To make a hot bath took a few hours of labor.
"I can do it, if Her Highness wants," Susan offered.
Shaun glanced at Annabel, his eyes pleading with her not to make his mother go through so much effort so late at night.
"No, that's alright," Annabel said. "It can wait."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite sure."
"At least let me get you some water so you can wash up." She looked at the princess, gauging her size. "I think you're about Meghan's size. Meghan, find some clothes for Her Highness to wear."
Meghan smiled shyly, looking pleased at being able to help, then hurried off to her room.
Alons drew some water and put it on the fire to heat. While they were waiting for it to heat, Susan unwrapped Shaun's wound and wiped away the poultice.
"I think this is as good as it will get," she said, pressing on his wound.
Shaun's skin felt a little numb, but he could still feel his mother touching it. "Regardless, it has to be done," he said, sounding braver than he felt.
Susan had Meghan light an extra candle and put it close on the table, so she could see better. She threaded a needle by the light, then turned, straddling the bench so she could reach Shaun's arm.
"You need to take off your shirt," she said. "I can't hold your sleeve out of the way and sew at the same time.
Shaun stood up and took off his belt, then peeled his undershirt and tunic off at the same time. He sat down on the bench again and propped his right arm up on the table.
"You're going to have to hold still," she warned.
"Alons, hold my arm," he said, gesturing to his brother on the other side of the table. With a grimace, Alons leaned forward and took Shaun by the wrist, holding him tight.
Shaun nodded that he was ready.
Susan swiftly drove the point of the needle through one side of his skin. Shaun jumped. "Ow, I don't think that numbed at all!"
"It only helps a little," Susan said apologetically. "It works best on mild burns and scrapes."
Shaun winced as she pulled the needle through, followed by the greased thread; that was only slightly less painful than the prick.
She pierced the skin on the other side of the wound, causing him to jerk a little. But he managed to stay still while she drew up the thread and tied it into a knot.
"I think three stitches will do you," she said.
"Don't skimp," Shaun said, his voice tense. "I need to use my arm a lot and I don't want to tear the stitches out because there are too few."
Shaun turned his head away so he couldn't see his mother preparing for the next stitch. Annabel was sitting on the bench to his left, looking at him sorrowfully.
He smiled weakly at her, then flinched again as his mother pierced his skin.
Annabel slowly reached under the table and took his left hand in hers. He grasped it tightly as his mother stuck him again, making a second stitch.
"Have you ever had this done before?" Alons asked, looking at his older brother in wide-eyed worship; Shaun's stoicism obviously impressed him.
"Yes, when I was about your age," Shaun replied.
"What happened?"
Shaun actually chuckled, before wincing in pain again. "I tripped and fell into a rack of weapons and brought them all crashing down on my head." He let go of Annabel's hand long enough to trace a line from the top of his forehead up into his hairline. "I split my scalp open and the court physician had to stitch me up. But, luckily, I was unconscious for most of it. I think they said a mace hit me on top of the head and knocked me out cold."
"Tell him about your arm," Annabel said.
"Oh, that was definitely a lot worse than this."
"What happened to your arm?" Alons asked eagerly.
"We were out on the Nevaraian Plain when a wolf attacked us. It started chasing the Princess and… ow," he said, jerking as his mother made another stitch. But he picked up his story again. "I tried to shoot it—I did shoot it," he corrected—"but the arrow didn't even faze it. It knocked me down."
He released Annabel's hand again and demonstrated how he blocked across his face with his left arm. "I put my arm up like this, to keep it from getting my throat. It bit down on my arm instead and broke it."
Meghan and Alons and Susan all gasped.
"What happened then?" Alons asked, even more enraptured.
"Luckily, Her Highness had a sword, and she ran it through and killed it."
"Wow," Alons said, his eyes growing even wider.
"There have been several animal attacks here lately," Susan said gravely, as she returned to her surgery. "Wolves and mountain lions have both been growing bolder and coming closer to town."
"This was the most massive wolf I've ever seen," Shaun said. "It was much bigger than me."
"It was nearly as big as a horse," Annabel added.
"There, you're all done," Susan said a moment later, tying the last stitch. "I put four in, which should be plenty."
"Thank you," Shaun said, looking at the four little knots holding his skin together.
"Let me put another numbing poultice on it; that will help a little with the pain and help it heal."
She got up and went to grind more herbs.
Alons leaned forward on the table. "If you leave, can I go with you, Shaun?" he begged. "I want to be a soldier, like you."
"No," Susan said briskly, turning to look at him sharply. She sounded as if she had had the same conversation with him before.
"You let Shaun go," he whined.
"That's Shaun's destiny; that's his role to fill. I can't argue with that."
"But what about my destiny? What am I supposed to do?"
"You will stay here with me until you find out," she said firmly.
"She's right," Shaun said. "I couldn't bear the thought of leaving Mother and Meghan here alone to fend for themselves. I rest easier knowing they have you."
Alons beamed.
Susan returned to Shaun and put the poultice on his wound. Even if he wasn't impressed by its supposed numbing qualities, he had to admit that it felt nice and cool on his inflamed skin.
As soon as Shaun was bandaged, his mother poured up two wash basins of hot water. Annabel went into Meghan's room to clean up, while Shaun washed up in the common room.
"I have some new clothes for you," his mother said, producing a pair of pants and a linen undershirt. "I'm almost done with your tunic; I just have a little bit of work left to do on the embroidery."
Shaun smiled. "You always make them too fine to wear."
"Nothing is too fine for you," she said proudly.
Shaun nodded to his old tunic, which still lay wadded up on the bench. "I think that one will be alright; it just needs the blood washed out of the sleeve."
"I'll do that tomorrow," Susan promised.
"And can you make me another hood? I lost mine the other night."
She smiled. "Do you still wear those, even when you're so far inland?"
"Yes, I wear it all the time—at least when I'm not in armor. I had to wear to hide my ears, and even now I'm not too keen on people recognizing me."
"Well, I knew you had to hide your ears, but I didn't know you still wore your old hood; I thought you might have switched to something else—something more fashionable—something from the city."
"I like my hood and on special occasions I where a fashionable one," he said firmly. "I am the son of a fisherman, and fishermen wear hoods."
Susan smiled even more broadly, looking very pleased. Then she gave him a hug. "I'm so glad to see that you haven't forgotten where you came from," she whispered.
"I will never forget my family," he swore. "No matter what the gods intend for me—no matter what I might become—I will always be the son of a fisherman. And I like it that way."
Shaun changed into the clean clothes. A few minutes later, Annabel emerged from Meghan's room wearing a long nightgown. She looked fresh-faced and had combed out her long, silvery-blonde hair and braided it.
"Your Highness," Susan said, "you can sleep in my room."
Her offer began a series of brisk negotiations over where who would be sleeping. They went around and around until, finally, Shaun declared that he and Annabel both would take Alons' loft and Alons could sleep with either Meghan or his mother.
"But… my bed—or Meghan's—are nicer," Susan tried to argue. "And you don't have to climb the ladder."
"I want to sleep where I can keep an eye on the door," Shaun countered.
"Fine, but Her Highness can still stay down here."
"She stays with me," Shaun said firmly. "I do not want to be in a position where we could be separated."
At last, Susan relented—only because she couldn't talk Shaun out of his plan—and it was decided that Alons would take Meghan's bed, and Meghan and Susan would share.
Shaun climbed up the ladder first, wincing as he used his arm, causing the skin to pull against the stitches. Once he was up, Annabel started to climb—awkward because of the long gown—and when he could reach her, he pulled her the rest of the way.
Susan insisted on sending up covers so Shaun could make himself a decent bed on the floor. There was a basket on a rope and pulley that Alons used to carry things up to the loft, and Susan loaded it down with blankets to the point that Shaun struggled to pull it up.
"Thank you," he said, once he had landed the basket. He looked over the rail that separated the loft from the common room and he waved goodnight to the others.
"Goodnight," Susan said. "If you need anything, you wake me up."
"I'm sure we'll be fine."
Susan and Meghan and Alons took the last remaining candles with them to their rooms. Downstairs, there was only a dim orange left where the fire had died down to coals. But there was a large window in the loft, and the moonlight shone brightly in it.
They had to crawl to the bed because the ceiling wasn't high enough to allow them to stand. The bed frame had been cut down so that the bed was only a few inches above the floor.
Annabel got in the bed and sighed. "Oh, this feels so good after sleeping on the ground."
Shaun folded up some of the blankets and made himself a little mat on the floor beside the bed. He started to lie down and cover up, but Annabel stopped him.
"Shaun," she whispered, "why don't you just get in the bed, too?"
"That wouldn't be proper, Your Highness."
"You've slept next to me the past few nights; I don't see a difference."
"It's perception more than anything," he said. "Sleeping together on the ground is perceived to be different than sleeping together in a bed."
"Who cares? There's no one to see. Your family has all gone to bed—not that they can see up here, anyways."
He started to open his mouth to argue, but she cut him off.
"This is your home; you should be able to sleep in a real bed. And after everything we've been through, I think you especially deserve to sleep in a real bed."
He hesitated. He suspected that if Master Ryu had been there, he would have told Shaun that no, under no circumstances was he to get into bed with the Princess. On the other hand, Shaun did long for the comfort of a soft bed—especially as his right arm was beginning to throb.
"Shaun, do I have to order you to get in the bed?" Annabel said wearily.
"No, Your Highness," he replied obediently, as he pushed himself up into the bed. He also let out a contented sigh as he sank into the soft straw tick. "This feels wonderful," he declared. It felt like it had been years since he had slept in a proper bed.
"I told you," she said with a yawn, before rolling over.
Shaun put his arm over her—it felt better stretched out in that position—and fell asleep immediately.

Shaun was sitting beside the fire in Master Ryu's room. It was dark, but for the yellow-orange glow of the flames. Master Ryu was sitting in a chair beside him.
"Shaun, everything I ever feared has come to pass."
"It begins then?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
"We must figure out how to raise an army that can defeat Nagadii and whatever soldiers he has. We must put Princess Annabel on the throne."
"Oh, things are far, far worse than that," Ryu said sadly. "If it was as simple as that, I would send you to Erenrue; the Princess's family there could muster an army to support her easily."
"What's the problem, then?"
"Unbeknownst to me, Nagadii has been dabbling in dark magic—apparently for some time."
"What is that? I mean, what makes magic dark?"
"Magic done for positive or neutral benefit is light magic. However, anything done for negative or destructive purposes is dark. The gods provide us with the ability to use light magic, but dark magic comes from demonic forces.
"The problem with dark magic is that you can't trust your source of power. Demons will lie and manipulate people into doing their bidding. Someone like Nagadii may think he is in control, but, in reality, the source of his power is the one who is really in control; Nagadii is just a puppet. When the time comes, his demon-master will cut his strings and step out on the stage himself."
"What is going to happen?"
"I don't know for certain, but I have a hunch."
"Tell me."
"When Nagadii lost control of his magic, he opened a rift between the world of the living and the dark side of the Other World."
"Wait," Shaun interrupted. "What do you mean 'the dark side of the Other World'?"
"The Other World is divided into light and dark. Those whom the gods judge to be cruel and undeserving are sent to the dark side. Those who were good in life go to the light side."
"What is the difference?"
"The dark side is literally that—a place where it is perpetually dark. It is filled with thieves and murderers and more evil men than you can imagine. And the gods banished demons to the dark side, too, so they roam free. It is like a constant state of warfare as people battle one another and demons attack the vulnerable."
"But… you can't die, can you?" Shaun asked, feeling confused. "I mean, if you're attacked, you can't die again, right?"
"No, but you can still feel pain. And that is what the people and demons of the dark side like to do—cause others pain."
Shaun shuddered.
"As I was saying," Ryu continued, "Nagadii opened a portal between the living world and the dark side. It was growing wider rapidly, but he has managed to contain it, for the most part. Still, every day it gets a little bigger, and every day demons escape. And the larger it grows, the larger the demons which will come from it."
"How can we stop it?"
"Only a very strong light magic could counteract dark magic like that."
"Where do we get it? Or where can we find someone who can wield it?"
Ryu sighed wearily. "That's just it: I don't know."
Shaun slumped in his chair, feeling discouraged. "Is there anyone who would know?"
"I have been racking my brain to come up with an answer, but the only person I can think of is a Nevrek scholar by the name of Gardamon. He was a legend when I was just a boy. It was said that he learned everything there was to know in the world, so one day he set out on the Endless Ocean to determine if it was really endless. But he was never heard from again.
"It's possible—even probable—that he's been dead for years; he was an old man when I was young. But he was a Nevrek, and we live longer than humans. So, if he did manage to find a distant shore, there's a minute possibility that he is still alive there."
Shaun looked at him in stunned silence for a long moment. "Do you mean… you want me to try to cross the Endless Ocean to find a man who is, most likely, dead?" he asked in disbelief.
"It is the only hope we have at this point; I can think of no other person who would have the knowledge you need of how to close up the rift.
"And, I must warn you, Shaun, demons cannot be killed by normal means. You may stun them for a time, but they will regenerate; only light magic can banish them back to the Other World.
"And there's worse: when they attack humans, they turn them into demons, too. Nevreks are immune to it, but they can still hurt you—even kill you."
Shaun sat in silence for a while, digesting what Master Ryu had said. "So…" he said slowly, "demons are coming out of the rift, plus, when they attack people, they turn those people into demons, too."
"Correct."
"So, eventually, this world will be full of nothing but demons and a handful of Nevreks like me and Annabel."
"Until they manage to kill you."
Shaun was silent again.
"Now do you see why it's so important for you to seek out Master Gardamon? I know it's a wild goose chase, but it's the only hope we have. Even if you can't find him maybe… maybe you can find someone whom he shared his knowledge with, or maybe he left behind texts—something. You must find some way to defeat the demons and close up the rift before the world of the living becomes a world of the damned. That is surely what the master demon backing Nagadii wants—he wants your world, and he will use Nagadii as a pawn to conquer it."
"You're right," Shaun said wearily, "this is worse than simply defeating Nagadii."
"Shaun, you are not only fighting for Princess Annabel and the future of Nevara; you are fighting for the existence of every person on the earth."
"No pressure," Shaun said with a wry smile.
Shaun stood up to leave, but Ryu put his hand out to stop him. "Shaun, I want to tell you something."
"Not more good news, I hope; I think I've had as much as I can handle for one night."
Ryu smiled a little. "No. I just… I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you."
Shaun was surprised, then he felt very moved. Master Ryu had never told him that before. Any time Shaun accomplished something, he would merely say, "Good, now I have something else for you to do." Shaun had been moving from one challenge to another all his life; there was no looking back at what he had accomplished—only looking forward to what was left to do.
"You have already endured more than most men do in a lifetime," Ryu continued, "and I know you have many more burdens to shoulder. But I have every confidence that you will meet them head-on, as you always do. Somehow, you will find a way to defeat this evil. I believe in you."
Shaun felt tears well up in his eyes. "Thank you," he said in a choked voice.
Maybe it was the tears causing it, but the room began to grow hazy and indistinct. "Tell Princess Annabel that I am proud of her, as well. I know she will be a wonderful queen."
"I'll tell her," Shaun promised.
Everything began to fade away into nothing, but Shaun heard Master Ryu's voice one last time. "You really shouldn't share a bed with her, you know," he gently chided.
Shaun opened his eyes—wet with tears—and found sunlight streaming through the window onto his face. Birds were chirping nearby.
He was a little startled, momentarily forgetting where he was, then he saw Annabel's blonde head on the pillow beside him and he realized he had been dreaming.
Or had he? If anyone could have found a way to communicate from the Other World, surely Master Ryu could have.
Knowing he would never get back to sleep, he crawled out of bed—careful not to wake Annabel. He went down the ladder, only to find the house quiet and empty, save for his sister sitting by a window in the common room, sewing on his shirt.
"Good morning," she said quietly. "How did you sleep?"
"Soundly," he said pulling over a chair so he could sit next to her. He could see the ocean out of the window; it was calm and the day was sunny and bright. It made him think about his dream and the command that he cross the Endless Ocean.
"Is the Princess still asleep?" Meghan asked.
"Yes," he said, sitting down.
"Mother and Alons left for town early this morning. She said to let the two of you sleep for as long as you wanted; you probably needed it."
"Yes, we do."
"How's your arm?"
"About the same as it was before Mother stitched it up."
"Is that good or bad?"
"It's livable," he replied. "It should heal faster, though, now that I won't be tearing it open constantly."
"Is it always like that when you're a soldier? I mean, are you always getting hurt?"
"Most of the time, no, but to be a soldier means that you will one day face being hurt—even killed."
"Why did you want to do it?"
"It wasn't a choice; it was written in the stars before I was born."
"Doesn't that make you feel like you're trapped? I mean, I wouldn't like to think that someone had already determined for me how I was going to live my life."
"I suppose some people might feel that way," Shaun allowed, "but I don't."
"Why not?" she asked, looking at him curiously.
He shrugged. "I don't know. It just feels right, somehow. I was made for this time—for this purpose. I'm good at what I do. I think I would be very unhappy and unfulfilled if I tried to run from my destiny and take up a quieter occupation, like fishing."
Meghan glanced up at the loft. "What's it like to be around a Princess all the time?"
"I find it to be rather enjoyable," he said with a smile, "but then, she is part of my destiny, too."
"In what way?"
He hesitated. Master Ryu had told him quite plainly what part he and Annabel were to play in each other's lives, but no one else knew—apparently not even Annabel.
"Someday, I might be worthy of her," he told his sister evasively.
But she didn't relent. "What do you mean 'worthy of her'—like, marrying her?" she asked with wide eyes. "Like being the king?"
Shaun was startled. It hadn't ever occurred to him that if Annabel was queen and married him, he would, by default, become king. He only thought of her and of the way things were at that moment—her as only the heir of Nevara. He didn't think about what would happen when she was elevated to queen. He didn't think about the responsibility and title that would come with being the queen's chosen.
"I… don't know," he replied. "Not king, I don't think."
"But that's what you would be if you married her, right?"
Shaun shook his head; he preferred not to even think about that. He wanted only to be a Knight of Nevara and to live in peace with Annabel; he had no ambition beyond that—and certainly none to the throne itself.
"I have no desire to be king. And it doesn't matter anyways, because we have a long, hard road ahead of us if we're to even put the Princess back in her rightful place. What happens beyond that is too far into the future for me to worry about at this point."
His sister looked at him appraisingly. "It must be hard to have so much responsibility. I mean, you're responsible for a princess and the kingdom. You can't afford to fail."
"You know, Meghan, your pep talks really leave something to be desired. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I will go throw myself off the cliff in despair."
He started to stand up, but she grabbed him by the arm, laughing. "You're being silly."
He chuckled, then sat back down. "Did you say that Mother and Alons went to town?"
"Yes." Meghan returned to her sewing. "We have a horse now, you know."
"No, I didn't know that."
She nodded. "But Mother's afraid of it. Alons and I learned to ride it, though, so if she needs to go to town, she rides with one of us."
Shaun chuckled again.
A few minutes later, Meghan clipped the thread she was working with and stuck her needle in a pincushion on the table next to her. "There, I'm done," she declared, holding up the green tunic.
Shaun stood up and took it from her. "It's beautiful," he said, holding it up to look at it in the light. It was simply cut—as all of their tunics were—but the black fabric was heavily embroidered around the neckline, sleeves, and hem with red and yellow cording laid out in intricate, interwoven knots.
"Do you see it?" Meghan asked, looking up at him expectantly.
"See what?"
"The knots."
"Yes, they're very pretty."
"No, look closer."
Confused, Shaun looked at the knots again. At first, he saw only decorative embroidered knots, but slowly it dawned on him that the knots were not all the same. In fact, every knot was different.
"They're sailing knots," he said in awe. The entire tunic was a sampler of the most common knots using on sailing ships.
Meghan laughed, clapping her hands gleefully. "I knew you would get it! Alons said you wouldn't, because you don't know how to sail, but Mother and I said you would know."
"I know how to sail," Shaun said defensively. "Maybe not well—probably not even as well as Alons—but I can handle a boat."
He was suddenly struck by the enormity of his next task. Abler seamen than him had gone out on the ocean and had never returned—including his own father, who was reckoned one of the best. How was he supposed to cross the ocean with his rudimentary knowledge?
He put it out of his mind for the moment—he was tired of worrying—and he bent down to kiss his sister on top of the head. "Thank you," he said. "I love it."
"Mother did most of it," she admitted, "but I did the shroud knot," she said, pointing to the knot in the center of the hem on the back of the tunic, where the all the ends of the cording met. "She can't make one," she said, with a touch of smugness.
"It's wonderful," Shaun praised.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, getting up.
"I could eat," he said, pulling the tunic on over his head.
"If you'll build up the fire, I'll cook something for you."
Shaun put on his belt—it still felt wrong to wear it without a sword and scabbard—and then put on his boots and went out to get some firewood.
When he stepped outside, he was greeted by a bright, warm sun and a fresh spring wind blowing off the ocean. He took a minute to stop and inhale the smell of the salty sea.
Although he had spent very little time there growing up, it still felt like home. His Uncle Alfon had always said that when the salt water was in a man's blood, it never came out; he would always be at home on the sea. And, truly, Shaun did feel like he was at home.
Shaun went to the woodpile and split some kindling, then carried an armload of wood back into the house.
The trapdoor to the cellar was open and Meghan was just coming up the stairs when Shaun came in.
She laughed at him. "That's enough wood for an entire day."
"No need to go out twice."
He built up the fire while she began cutting up salted fish. A moment later, Shaun heard something, and he looked up to the loft. Princess Annabel was at the top of the ladder, looking down with a little trepidation.
He walked over and held up his arms. "Jump," he told her.
"Are you serious?"
"I wouldn't tell you to do it if I wasn't."
She shook her head. "I don't think so."
"Do you not trust me to catch you?"
"More like I don't trust myself to jump correctly." She turned around and began slowly climbing the ladder. It was clear she was having difficulty not stepping on the hem of the nightgown.
"Besides," she said, "this is not nearly as bad as climbing out my tower window. …Although, it is much harder to do in a gown."
"Now you know why I don't sleep up there," Meghan said.
When Annabel was almost down, Shaun reached up and took her by the waist, then set her lightly on her feet.
"You're going to hurt your arm," she fussed.
"It's fine," he said, brushing it off.
"Your Highness," Meghan said, looking at her shyly, "I laid out a dress for you to wear on my bed."
"Thank you."
"I think I'm going to go out," Shaun said, feeling a bit cabin-feverish on such a beautiful day. "Have a look around."
"Alright," Meghan replied.
"Call me when it's ready."
Shaun went out again and stood on the edge of the cliff, looking out to sea. As much as he just wanted to enjoy being at home for a while, his mind kept coming back to the thought that he needed to sail across the Endless Ocean.
What was he going to do with Annabel? He didn't want to risk her life unnecessarily, and yet the idea of leaving her behind frightened him. He couldn't defend her if he was hundreds of miles away at sea. And he knew someone would come looking for them there; it was only a matter of time. If he couldn't leave her behind, that only left taking her… on a quest that was probably hopeless and doomed to start from the beginning.
Feeling a knot of fear in his stomach, he decided to take a walk to try and clear his mind. There would be precious little rest to be had in the upcoming weeks; he wanted to get as much as he could while he had the chance.
He walked down the stairs to the beach and had a look around. The salt evaporation project had been expanded over the years; there were now rows upon rows of tiled basins filled with salt water, which was slowly turning into salt.
All three boats—plus the rowboat—were gone. Apparently Susan had quite a crew of fishermen working for her now if they could put three boats to sea at once.
Shaun was squatting beside a tidal pool—watching the little creatures floating and scurrying within it—when a distant voice floated down on the wind.
"Shaaaaaaaaaaaun!"
Shaun looked up and saw Alons at the top of the stairs, waving at him. Apparently he and Susan had returned from Marlin.
Shaun climbed the stairs and found his brother at the top, along with two horses staked out and clipping at the tender spring grass that grew thinly in the sand soil. He assumed that the pale horse—a non-descript color halfway between the gold of a palomino and a dapple gray, but not as pretty as either—belonged to the family. It looked like an old plow horse which had seen better days and was only fit for the occasional ride to town. The large, dark brown horse beside it, however, was younger and fitter and decked out in red leather tack with a decorative crupper and breast band studded with brass pieces. That horse certainly didn't belong to his mother.
"Who… came back… with you?" Shaun asked, breathless from his climb up the stairs.
"Uncle Alfon." Alons grabbed Shaun's hand and tugged. "Come on; he's so excited to see you."
Shaun let his brother pull him into the house. The little common room seemed bursting with people—but most of that was because of Uncle Alfon. He was short—shorter than Shaun, who was none too tall—and wider than he was high. He had wild, bushy hair, which refused to be tamed, and a thick black beard that was almost as unruly. And when he spoke, it was with a deep, powerful voice that could rattle windows when he was angry. Every room seemed too small to contain such a person as Uncle Alfon.
"There's my nephew!" he said in his booming voice, before grabbing Shaun and crushing him into a bear hug. Shaun made a little squeak of surprise and pain as the breath was driven from him. Alfon had arms like iron bands.
"Alfon, be careful," Susan fussed. "Shaun has a bad arm."
Alfon released him. "What's this? A bad arm? Surely not!" He clapped Shaun jovially on the right arm—right where the stitches were.
The next thing Shaun knew, he was on his knees, doubled over—a shooting, searing pain running up and down his arm and causing white lights to pop and flash before his eyes. It hurt worse than when he had first been wounded.
There were raised voices—Susan was yelling at Alfon, who was immediately contrite and apologizing profusely. Then someone gently touched Shaun on the back, speaking close to his ear. "Shaun, are you alright?"
"I… don't know," he gasped.
"What can I do for you?"
"Help me up."
The gentle hand slid around his waist and helped lift him to his feet. It was only after blinking a few times to clear his vision, that he was able to see Princess Annabel.
She was wearing a lightweight linen under dress which fell to her ankles. Over it was a tunic—cut the same as a man's tunic, only longer and wider—that fell to her knees. It was a light gray, which exactly matched the color of her eyes. It was embroidered with flowers in pale lavender and blue, with silver thread highlighting the edges.
Annabel's silvery-blonde hair had been plaited across the back of her head in numerous strands, like the weave of a basket, and the ends were likewise plaited and draped over her right shoulder.
"You look beautiful," he whispered, forgetting his pain entirely.
She smiled. "Thank you. Your sister braided my hair."
"It's lovely."
There was a moment of silence, then someone cleared his throat. It was only then that Shaun realized they were being watched by a room full of people—some looking on curiously, some with surprise.
"Shaun, my boy, I am so sorry," Alfon said apologetically. "I had no idea you were seriously wounded."
"Well, it's not serious," Shaun said, as Annabel helped him to the table. "At least, it wasn't until you came along," he said with a smile.
Alfon sat down on the other side of the table—taking up most of the bench. Annabel joined Shaun, and Meghan hurried to serve them fried fish cakes, still too hot to eat. Susan and Alons hung around the table, anxious and clearly impatient to hear what was going to be said next.
"Your mother told me your news," Alfon said, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper—which was no quieter than a normal person's conversational voice. "What can I do to help you?"
Shaun took a minute to gather his thoughts. "First off, do you have any weapons or can you get any?" Shaun asked. "Princess Annabel needs arrows and I need something—a sword is preferable, but I'll take whatever you can get. I just want to have a way to defend ourselves."
Alfon nodded. "I have just the thing for you. And I can get arrows, no problem."
"Good." Shaun cut off a bite of fish cake and blew on it to cool it, before taking a bite. It was still too hot.
"Oh, here, Shaun," Meghan said, hurrying to put a gravy boat in front of him. "I almost forgot the sauce. That will cool it down."
Shaun poured a heaping quantity of creamy dill sauce over his fish cakes, then handed it to Annabel. He tried another bite.
"Perfect," he said. His sister smiled.
"Once you have weapons, then what will you do?" Alfon asked, steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.
Shaun hesitated to tell them about his dream, but then decided he wanted everyone's opinion. "Last night, I dreamed that Master Ryu spoke to me."
Annabel gave a little gasp and turned to look at him. He related everything that Ryu had told him in the dream.
A darkness seemed to have descended on the little cottage by the time Shaun was through with his story. Everyone seemed struck by the enormity of the problem.
"And… do you believe this to be true?" Alfon said.
"I do," Shaun admitted. "It explains what we saw with our own eyes at the castle."
"But… it could still be just a dream," Susan said anxiously.
"Maybe… but I don't think so," Shaun replied. "It… it didn't seem like a normal dream. It seemed… too real."
Annabel looked at him. "Do you think Master Ryu can talk to you from the Other World the way we speak to each other?"
Shaun was surprised. "I didn't think about that, but it's possible."
"What do you mean?" Susan asked, looking between them.
"Nevreks can speak to one another telepathically," Annabel explained.
"At least, once they've touched," Shaun amended, holding up his hand. "Master Ryu and I could speak and the Princess and I can speak."
"Cool," Alons said with wide eyes.
"So you think Master Ryu can speak to you from beyond the grave because of that?" Alfon asked.
"It's possible."
"Then why doesn't he do it now and confirm that you weren't dreaming?" Susan asked.
There was a pause as everyone in the room held their breath in anticipation, but nothing happened.
"I don't know," Shaun said after a minute. "I suppose if it was easy to do, we would have heard of people doing it before. It does take a certain amount of concentration; maybe my mind is too busy to hear him when I'm awake.
"Regardless," he continued, "I feel that this is my next task. But I don't know how to accomplish it."
"Well, if you're determined to try to sail across the ocean, you've come to the right place," Alfon said. "We can give you everything you need to make the attempt."

By the time supper was ready, all the details had been worked out. Susan was going to give Shaun the smaller of her two sailing ships. It was large enough to handle the deep sea, but small enough so Shaun could manage it on his own. Uncle Alfon was going to get weapons for them and stock the boat with food and other supplies.
The ship wasn't fully outfitted for such a long journey, though, so Susan put a crew of her fisherman on readying it for the voyage. Shaun planned to go out with the crew of the larger boat daily so that he could brush up on his sailing skills.
He felt moderately better by the time he climbed into the loft to go to bed. The journey ahead of them was still fraught with danger, but at least he would have the tools he needed to face it.
He lay down beside the bed on the blankets he had arranged there the night before. But Annabel would have none of that.
She pulled the covers back beside her. "Do we have to go through this again?" she whispered.
Shaun hesitated. "Master Ryu fussed at me last night for sharing a bed with you."
"He didn't say anything about it to me," she argued. "Besides, you're to do as I say, not as he says."
"You're becoming quite demanding, you know," Shaun said, even as he crawled into bed beside her.
"I don't like being alone," she confessed. "It scares me."
He put his arm around her waist, pulling her close. "Then I shall stay with you so you feel safe."
There was a long lull in the conversation; Shaun thought she had gone to sleep. He was starting to drift off, too, when she spoke. "Shaun?" she whispered.
"Yes?"
"You've been making all these plans for you to sail across the sea. What am I going to do?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "It's not called 'the Endless Ocean' for nothing; no one has ever sailed across it and lived to tell the tale.
"I would hate to put your life in such peril on what will probably turn out to be a fool's errand anyways. Even Master Ryu was not confident that I would find this Gardamon or, at least, the answer to our problem. There is so little hope of this endeavor succeeding that it might as well be impossible.
"I can only hope that because the gods have tasked me with saving the world from this peril that they will grant me a miracle."
They were quiet again for some time before Annabel spoke. "I want to go with you."
"It's very dangerous."
"So is staying behind."
"I know," he said sadly. "I have been trying to think of someplace where you could go and be safe, but there is none. You can't stay here with my family because you'll be found. Even if you travel to your family in Erenrue, that is a very long and difficult journey under normal circumstances. But now wild animals are attacking people more frequently and we know there are demons escaping into the world. I would not want you to make that trip alone."
"So I need to come with you."
"I suppose," he said with an unhappy sigh. "I just wish I could think of a safer alternative."
"You are not the only one with a destiny from the gods, you know," she argued. "If you're counting on them protecting you, then I can do the same."
Shaun was woken by a sudden flash of light across his face. He jerked upright, alarmed.
"Shaun, what is it?" Annabel mumbled, sitting up beside him.
That's when he noticed his mother on the ladder to the loft, looking over the top. There was a lantern in her hand and that was what had caused the light to flash in his eyes.
"I'm… I'm sorry," she stuttered, looking stunned by the sight in front of her. "Forgive me for waking you, Your Highness. It's just… Shaun wanted to go out with the men and the tide will be turning in about an hour."
"I'll be down in a moment, Mother," he said.
She nodded and quickly disappeared.
Shaun leaned closer to Annabel and whispered, "What were you saying about no one in my family would notice?"
"Sorry."
Shaun sat on the floor and pulled on his tunic, belt, and boots. Annabel watched him.
"Can I go with you?" she asked at last.
"Why would you want to when you can sleep in and spend the day with Mother and Meghan?"
"Well… if I'm going to go with you across the ocean, don't you think I should learn a few things, too? So I can help you?"
Shaun couldn't argue with that and he agreed that she could go if she wanted to.
"Hurry, though," he warned. "As they like to say, 'tide and time wait for no man'—not even a princess," he added with a smile.
Shaun hurried down the ladder and found his mother was busy making breakfast. Shaun could remember when she used to get up with his father and make breakfast for him before he left to catch the outgoing tide.
He sat down at the table. "Princess Annabel wants to go with us," he said in a loud whisper, not wanting to wake Meghan and Alons. "Do you have enough breakfast for her, too?"
"Yes," Susan replied, quickly added a little more to the pot heating over the fire.
She glanced up at the loft, then sat down beside Shaun, looking at him seriously. "What is going on between the two of you?"
Shaun found he couldn't meet his mother's worried eyes. "It's not what you think."
"What else am I supposed to think?"
"She… is afraid to sleep alone," he whispered. "She has seen her tutor and her father both murdered—and she feels guilty about her father's death, although I am quite sure she played no part in it; that was all Nagadii. Add to that the fact that we've been chased out of Nevara all the way here by people who want to kill us, and, well, you can see why she might be in a bit of shock."
He looked down at the table. "I'm not sure about myself. I haven't grieved for Master Ryu. I haven't really stopped to think about what all we have suffered and what all is yet to come. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other. But, at some point, I am going to have to pay."
Susan leaned in, hugging her son. "You are a child shouldering a man's burdens," she whispered. "I would not have wished this on you for anything."
He rested his head against his mother's shoulder. "It is hard," he admitted, "but I don't regret it. As I was telling Meghan, I was made for this time. I feel… I feel like I have a purpose. That keeps me going."
Susan kissed him on the cheek. "I'm very proud of you."
He smiled at her. "Thank you."
She got up and resumed making breakfast. A few minutes later, Annabel joined Shaun at the table, yawning.
"Good morning, Your Highness," Susan said quietly.
"Is it morning?" Annabel asked, looking out the window. It was still quite dark outside.
"It's a little before dawn."
"Doesn't that still make it night?" she asked with a smile.
"Welcome to the life of a fisherman," Shaun said. "You go out when the tide tells you to go out—morning, noon, or night."
"Is it not at the same time every day?" Annabel asked.
Shaun was surprised she had to ask. "No. Didn't Master Ryu teach you astronomy?"
"Yes. What does that have to do with it?"
"You know that the moon rises and sets at different times every day as it goes through its phases, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, the moon is what controls the tides. When it circles the earth and is coming towards where we are now, it pulls the water with it, causing a high tide. When it moves away from us, it pulls the water in the opposite direction. As it circles the world, it is constantly pulling the water one way or the other."
"Why does the water follow it?"
"I don't know; it just does."
They ate their breakfast in silence, both still too sleepy to talk much. They were almost through when there was a knock at the door.
Shaun was immediately on his feet his hand clenched tightly around his table knife. But his mother put a calming hand on his shoulder. "That's just one of the men coming to fetch you."
Still, Shaun didn't let go of the knife until his mother had opened the door and identified the man.
"Lars, I want you to meet my son, Shaun," Susan said gesturing to Shaun.
Shaun stepped forward, offering the man his hand. "It's nice to meet you."
Lars gripped his hand tightly, giving it a brief shake, and nodded to him. Lars looked like he had been born on the ocean; he had a tan, leathery face that the sunlight reflecting on the water had left in a permanent squint. His hair was bleached out from the sun and salt water until it was hard to tell if it was blond or had already turned gray. His hand was tough and calloused, like any proper sailor.
"It's time to go," Lars said.
"Just let me get your lunch together," Susan said, hurrying to her worktable, quickly stuffing food into a canvas satchel.
"Come down when you're ready," Lars said, before he went out the door.
"Don't mind Lars," Susan said, as she continued to pack. "It's not that he's rude—he's just a man of few words. Too much time at sea, I suppose. But you couldn't find a finer seaman. He'll teach you what you need to know."
Susan handed Shaun the satchel, loaded down with food. "Good gods, Mother, what all is in this?" he said, as he struggled to slip the satchel's strap over his head.
"It's enough for everyone, so don't hog it," she said, giving him a kiss goodbye. She smiled reassuringly at Annabel. "Be careful."
"Thank you."
Shaun took a lantern from his mother and led the way down the steps to the beach. The sky had lightened to a dark gray and he could just see the two ships riding off the coast. The waves were breaking high on the beach, but Shaun could tell they already sounded different; the tide was starting to go out.
Shaun's mother had once laughed at him when he said the tides sounded different—the waves on the incoming tide sounded louder and stronger to him than the outgoing ones—but his father had later told him, privately, that every able seaman could tell the difference; Shaun's discernment only proved that he was destined to be a great sailor.
Shaun and Annabel crossed the sand to the row boat. There was a crew of five already on board; Lars was standing beside the boat, waiting.
Shaun started to help Annabel into the boat, but Lars put out his hand, stopping them. "What's this? She's not going with us?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes, she is," Shaun replied.
"Bad luck for women to be on board," Lars said, shaking his head.
"She's going with me on my journey and wants to learn how to sail," Shaun said firmly. "And it's safer for both of us if she learns, so she's coming with me." He put Annabel into the boat.
"We'll not catch anything," Lars said, still shaking his head sadly.
"That's Mother's concern, not yours. Your first job is to teach us. You can go back to fishing once we're gone."
Lars just continued to shake his head, but he didn't argue anymore. Instead, he put his shoulder against the boat and began to push it down into the water. Shaun got on the other side and helped push until the boat was floating free in the shallows. They pivoted the prow around until it faced the ship, then they both climbed into the boat.
"You're wet," Annabel said, looking at Shaun. His pants were soaked to the knee.
"I know. That's a surprising side effect of being around water," he said with a teasing smile.
She gave him a disapproving look, but couldn't maintain it; she ended up smiling and shaking her head in defeat.
Two of the men began to row them out to the larger ship. Shaun was still feeling half awake and not paying much attention when Annabel noticed something behind them. "There's a light there," she said, pointing.
Shaun turned around and saw a figure half-illuminated in the light of a lantern. The person raised her hand to her forehead, as if shading her eyes from the sun, then raised her arm up high in a salute.
Shaun stood up in the boat—steadying himself against Annabel's shoulder—and mimicked the salute.
The figure waved her hand back and forth for a moment, and Shaun did likewise.
"Who is that up there?" Annabel asked.
"Mother," he replied, before finally sitting down. "That's a customary farewell for people who are going to sea. It's a promise that they will look for your return, but also an acknowledgment that you may be saying goodbye forever. With the sea, you never know."
"She always sends us off," an elderly man in the front of the boat said, watching the exchange. "Miss Susan is a fine lady."
They were silent as they rowed the rest of the way to the ship. The elderly man tied them up alongside, then the men began scrambling up the rope ladder on the side.
"Your turn," Shaun told Annabel when they were the last two people in the boat.
She made a face, but said nothing as she gamely tackled the rope ladder. She was wearing Meghan's dress again and, just as with the ladder to the loft, she had trouble climbing up because of the long hem.
The elderly sailor took pity on her and leaned down, offering his hand. Between him pulling and Shaun pushing from behind, they finally landed the princess on the deck.
"Well, we have our first catch of the day," the old man said with a smile, as he put Annabel on her feet. "And a prettier fish I have never laid eyes on before."
"It'll be our last fish," Lars said glumly.
"Pay him no mind, missy," the old man whispered to her. "Lars is serious about his sailing; he don't like to fail. Now, me, I'm just happy to wake up every morning. Every day is a good day, no matter what."
Shaun climbed on board and a couple of men set about securing the row boat to the side of the ship, while the rest made ready to weigh anchor.
"I wish I had thought to wear my old clothes," Annabel fussed, as she and Shaun stood out of the way. "A dress is useless."
"Well… if you will permit me?" he asked, kneeling beside her.
She looked confused, but nodded for him to continue.
He took one corner of her under-dress, lifted it up, and tied it off around her belt. Then he did the same to the other side. That left her legs bare to just above the knee.
Shaun stood up. "That's the way the village women wear their dresses when they have to work. It keeps them from getting wet and keeps them out of the way."
"It'll work," Annabel said, nodding her approval. Then she smiled, looking embarrassed, and whispered to Shaun. "What would people say if they could see me like this?"
Everyone had agreed the day before that no one outside the family was to know of Annabel's true identity. She was merely Penelope, a friend who had come visiting with Shaun.
"I think we better keep this between us," he replied in a low voice. "It's not terribly befitting a future queen… even if it is practical."
Lars barked out the occasional order, but for the most part, the men knew their jobs, and before long, they were headed out to sea.
"Come, look at this," Shaun said, leading Annabel to the eastern rail.
"What?" she asked, not seeing anything but dark water under a slightly less-dark sky.
Shaun pointed. "The sun will rise over there. There is nothing more beautiful than a sunrise at sea—unless it's a sunset."
They stood together at the rail for a long time as the sky gradually lightened and the gray gave way to warm hues of pink and orange and yellow. Then, finally, the glowing-orange edge of the sun appeared to rise from the shimmering golden water.
"It's so beautiful," Annabel whispered in awe. It was everything Shaun had promised it would be, and more.
They watched for a little longer—until the sun was fully above the horizon—before Lars complained. "Did you come here to learn to sail, Master Shaun, or is this a honeymoon cruise?"
Shaun smiled at Annabel, then went to help with the sails and the nets.
Annabel was unsure what to do—and knowing that Lars didn't approve of her being there anyways—she just tried to stay out of everyone's way. She found the working of the sails fascinating, though, and she marveled at how they went up and down and swung around on the booms to catch the prevailing wind from any angle.
About mid-morning—when everything seemed to be running smoothly—the elderly sailor—his name was Greens—although Annabel hadn't determined if that was his first name, family name, or a nickname—pulled out a big piece of canvas and sat down on the deck with it.
He noticed Annabel watching him curiously, and he motioned for her to come join him.
"Let me show you how to stitch up canvas," he said, as she sat down beside him. He threw the sail across her lap—it was much heavier than she expected—and showed her the tear in the material.
"I assume you already know how to sew," he said more than asked.
Annabel had never had to sew anything before in her life, although she had learned needlepoint. Embroidery was thought to be a virtuous way for a royal lady to spend her free time… not that any of them seemed to have much free time.
Annabel assumed embroidery was a type of sewing—close enough to count, anyways—so she nodded.
"Good. Now, the only difference between sewing a tear in clothing and a tear in a sail is that the sail is tough."
He pulled out a piece of leather with a small loop set in a larger loop. He put his hand through the larger loop and his thumb through the smaller one, so that the widest part of the leather ran across the palm of his hand. It looked as if there was a short, warped thimble sewn to the center of the leather.
"If you're sewing more than a couple of layers of canvas, you can't pull a needle through it," Greens explained. "You have to push it through," he mimed, using the palm of his hand.
He pulled out a large cone of heavy thread and a pair of large shears. He cut a length of thread, then pulled out a square dish of something yellowish.
"You need to wax your thread," he demonstrated, pushing the thread into the dish of wax, then pulling it through. "This makes it easier to sew."
He continued with his lesson, showing her how to whipstitch the edges of the tear back together. He let her try a little bit towards the end. She found it was tough to pull the needle through the canvas, but not impossible. By the time she finished, she found her stitches weren't any messier than Greens'.
"There's a good job of it, miss," Greens praised, as he took the needle and thread back from her. He knotted off the thread and cut it with his shears.
"Now," he said, as he pulled out a scrap piece of canvas, "we have to put a patch over this tear, or it will tear out again."
She watched as he used the thimble set in his denim-glove—which he called a "sail palm"—to push the needle up through both layers of canvas. Slowly, he made a zigzag stitch around the edge of the patch.
"Do you want to try?" he said, offering the needle to her.
She nodded. But they quickly discovered that her hand was too small to wear the sail palm.
"Ah, miss, you can't do it without this here tool; this needle will ruin your hand for sure. But you watch ol' Greens do it."
Greens was nearly done when Shaun came over, bending down to look at their progress.
"I've just been showing the miss here how to sew up a sail," Greens told Shaun.
"A very useful skill."
"Indeed."
"Well, I hate to cut the lesson short, but Captain Lars wants the deck cleared; we're ready to pull the net."
Greens chuckled. "Somehow, I don't think those were his exact words."
"Well, more or less," Shaun said with a smile. He offered Annabel his hand.
She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. Then he bent down and helped Greens fold up the sail.
"Your… Penelope," Shaun said, catching himself, "you should move out of the way." He gestured for her to step aside.
She moved back to the rail and watched as a few men at the stern turned the large winch, which pulled up the trawling net. Shaun and a few others used long poles with hooks to grab the net and swivel it around on its boom until it was over the deck. It was full of fish still wriggling and trying to jump, and saltwater poured from it.
Then someone pulled a rope and the net opened up, dumping all of the fish onto the deck.
In a moment, Annabel was awash in a wet, slimy, slithering mass of fish.
There was a pause—where she was in disbelief that she was knee-deep in live fish—then…
"Shaaaaaaaaaaaaaun!"
All of the men burst into laughter. Shaun was trying valiantly not to laugh as he waded through the squirming mass, but he couldn't keep a wide smile off his face.
He picked up Annabel and carried her through the fish to the rear of the ship, where the deck was clear.
"Maybe I picked a bad place for you to stand," he admitted.
"Maybe?" she said, her voice breaking up an octave. "Maybe?"
"I'm sorry," he said, even as he continued to smile, not looking the least bit repentant.
"You did that on purpose," she accused.
"I'm afraid that would require knowledge of how these nets work and fish movement on a boat that's listing ever so slightly to starboard—knowledge I don't possess. At least, I didn't possess it a few minutes ago."
She sat at the stern in a huff while the men worked to get the fish down in the hold and put the trawling net back in the water. Then the ship was turned around and they started home.
Once the deck was washed clean, they sat down to a late lunch and spread out the feast that Susan had prepared for them. There was oyster stew—good, even if it wasn't hot—and little fried shrimp that could be eaten by the handful, and fried fish patties, and bread, and candied oranges and lemons for dessert.
Annabel sat beside Shaun while they ate, but she didn't say a word to him.
"I think someone's mad at you," Greens said to Shaun in a conspiratorial whisper that everyone on board could nonetheless hear.
"I said I was sorry," Shaun replied. "And I rescued her from the fish. A man can't do more than that."
Annabel only frowned at him.
He sighed despondently, then reached for another piece of bread.
"Ow!" he said, suddenly grabbing his wounded right arm and jerking it back.
Annabel was instantly attentive. "Shaun, are you alright?" she asked worriedly. "Did you hurt yourself?"
Shaun merely grinned at Greens. "See, she's not too mad at me."
It took a moment for the realization that Shaun had tricked her to sink in, but when it did, Annabel showed him what she truly looked like when she was mad.
She slapped him hard on the arm—right on his stitches.
"OW!" Shaun cried out in earnest, rolling on the deck, cradling his arm, alternately crying and laughing. The other men howled with laughter.
"Serves you right!" she declared hotly. "I hope your entire arm falls off!"
"I told you women were bad luck," Lars said with a deadpan humor.

Annabel still wasn't talking to Shaun by the time they hauled in the last catch of fish and sailed within sight of home.
"Today was a pretty good day," Greens said as they dropped anchor.
"Was that a normal haul?" Shaun asked.
"A little better than average, I think."
"So women aren't bad luck after all," Shaun said, glancing at Annabel, as if trying to placate her.
"Does your arm still hurt?" Lars retorted.
All of the men laughed at him. But Shaun, with his characteristic good humor, laughed along with them. Annabel was the only one who wasn't amused—although she was finding it increasingly difficult to stay mad at Shaun. She didn't think he had purposefully set her up to be swamped with fish, but he had definitely laughed about it—even if only on the inside. And he had tricked her—pretending that his arm was hurt when it wasn't. She felt that he was taking advantage of her supposed commonness a little too much.
The men loaded the bottom of the rowboat full of fish—many of them still wriggling and flopping—their eyes bulging and their mouths gaping for air. Greens and three other men started to jump down into the boat—meaning to take the first load to shore—when Shaun's mother came down to the shore and waved at them.
"Shaun… come in!" she called. "And you, too, You’re… Penelope."
"This is not my fault," Shaun muttered under his breath, as he climbed over the side and into the rowboat full of fish.
Annabel just sighed, too tired and windblown to complain.
She climbed down the ladder—it was much easier with her dress tied up out of the way—and let Shaun help her into the boat. She managed to sit on a board in the middle and prop her feet up on another bench so she didn't actually have to put her feet down among the fish. And like some sort of royal sea nymph, she was rowed ashore.
Shaun's mother splashed into the shallows and helped the men drag the boat up onto the sand. Annabel felt a little ashamed as she watched Susan pull her own weight, equal with the men. Susan had never had the luxury of servants to wait on her hand and foot; when she was left a young widow with two small children to care for by herself, she had to become father and breadwinner as well as mother and housewife. She ran her own small kingdom with no help at all.
Shaun helped Annabel out of the boat and onto the sand. "What's wrong, Mother?" he asked, looking anxious.
"Nothing. Your Uncle is here and wants to see you, is all."
Annabel tried to discern from Susan's face and the tone of her voice if there was something wrong that she didn't want to say in the presence of the fishermen—perhaps someone had come looking for them—but Susan didn't seem upset or nervous in any way. But Shaun glanced at Annabel with a look that told her he was wondering the same thing.
There was no chance to talk as they made the long climb up the cliff-side stairs; even Susan, who was used to the climb, was winded by the time they reached the top. Silently, they went into the house.
Shaun's uncle was there, as was a girl Annabel had not seen before. She was beautiful—with black hair, dark flashing eyes, and a rather ample figure. She looked to be somewhere around Shaun and Annabel's age.
Alfon and the girl both rose from their chairs near the fire when Annabel and the others entered. "Ah, Shaun!" Alfon said. "I heard you were out learning the ropes today."
"Yes, sir."
"I told Susan that you would only need a little reminding—not a real lesson. With a lineage like yours, there is no way you could be anything less than a natural seamen. Too many generations have poured their salt into your blood for you to be anything but."
"I'm glad you have confidence in me," Shaun said. "I'm attempting no mean feat. Far better than me have failed."
"If it is your destiny to do this, then you will," Alfon said with absolute confidence.
Shaun went to the beautiful girl and gave her a tight hug. Annabel felt a pang of jealousy shoot through her and she immediately wondered if this pretty girl was the one he had kissed "more than twice." Well, if he thought he had been getting the silent treatment before, he was in for a rude surprise; she was going to ratchet the coldness up by a factor of two or three.
Shaun smiled warmly at the girl. "It's so good to see you again, Sasha."
"And you, Shaun. It's been ages."
Make that a factor of five. In fact, he could go back to sleeping on the floor.
Shaun turned to Annabel, but apparently didn't notice she was shooting daggers at him and the beautiful girl. "Your Highness, this is my cousin, Sasha. Sasha, this is Her Royal Highness, Princess Annabel."
Sasha gave a deep curtsy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness."
Annabel immediately felt guilty. She hoped her face wasn't turning red, because it felt hot. "Likewise," she replied.
"Everyone have a seat," Susan said, gesturing for all of them to move to the table. Supper is almost ready, and I know Shaun and Her Highness are probably hungry."
Annabel hadn't thought about it, but now that Sasha mentioned it, she was famished. She wasn't sure why, since they had had a hearty lunch and she hadn't done anything more than help with a bit of canvas repair.
"How was your first day at sea, Your Highness?" Susan asked, as she put a grilled fish on the table that was large enough to be worthy of a banquet hall in the palace.
"I think it went pretty well," she replied evasively.
"My day was horrible," Shaun said, as he picked up a pitcher full of cold well water.
"What happened?" Meghan asked, as she helped her mother put bread and plates of vegetables on the table.
"Her Highness wouldn't talk to me for most of the day," he said sadly. He took up Annabel's cup and poured her some water before serving himself. "It darkened my entire day—like the sun being covered by a storm cloud."
"And what did you do to earn the silent treatment?" Sasha asked, looking at him critically.
"I didn't do anything!" he said, protesting his innocence.
"You only let them dump a bunch of fish on me," Annabel countered.
"I did no such thing. They just hauled the catch in and opened the nets. I didn't have anything to do with where the fish went."
"You told me where to stand; I thought I was going to be safe and out of the way."
"I thought so as well; I didn't know the fish would go everywhere like that."
Meghan wrinkled her nose in disgust. "What happened? Did they drop them on your head?"
"No, but they slid across the deck and buried me up to my knees."
"Ew!" Meghan and Sasha both squealed.
"And I came to your rescue," Shaun said, defending himself. He began to put food onto her plate, serving her first. "I waded in and got you and carried you out. And what did I get for all my trouble? The silent treatment!"
"No, you got the silent treatment because you laughed at me."
"I did not."
"You smiled."
"I couldn't help that," he said, even as another grin began to creep onto his face.
"Look, you're doing it now!" she said, pointing an accusing finger at him.
"You mustn't mind him, Your Highness," Sasha said. "He's always been lacking in sympathy."
"I am not!" he declared.
"You are. Remember when I was about five years old and I fell into a mud puddle and scraped my knee? You laughed at me."
"Yes, and I distinctly remember putting you on my back and carrying you all the way home. And then I washed you off and put a bandage on your knee."
He looked at his uncle imploringly. "Don't I get any credit at all for taking care of them?"
Alfon shook his head. "Women are sensitive about their feelings; they would rather you not laugh and just leave them in the mud than take a moment to find humor in the situation and then help them out."
That created a lively debate—about whether women preferred their dignity over an offer of assistance—that raged back and forth across the table for the rest of the meal.
Finally, Alfon pushed away his plate and shook his head. "We're going to have to give in, boys," he said to Shaun and Alons; "they outnumber us."
"Well, if I've learned one thing from this," Shaun said, tossing his napkin onto his empty plate, "it's that I'm always wrong, even when I know—or at least suspect—that I'm right."
"That sounds about right to me," Susan said with a teasing smile.
Sasha looked at her aunt. "Do you think he deserves his present now? He sounds pretty repentant."
"Yes, I think so."
Shaun perked up. "A present?"
"Yes, I made you something."
"Okay, I take back all the times I laughed at you… even if I couldn't help it."
Sasha chuckled, then rose and went to a large canvas sack that was lying near the door. She pulled something out of it, hid it behind her back, and returned to the table. Then, with a wide grin and a flourish, she produced a black hood.
"A hood!" Shaun said joyfully.
"Father told me that you had lost yours."
"Yes, and I've missed it." He pulled it on—although Annabel noticed he didn't bother to cover his ears, as he once did. "It felt especially wrong to be on a ship today without one," he added. "What if I had fallen in?"
"Thank goodness you didn't," Sasha said.
Meghan smiled shyly at Princess Annabel. "I'm making you one, too, but I didn't have time to finish it today. I should have it done by tomorrow."
"Thank you. I'm sure it will be very nice," Annabel replied.
"More than nice, Your Highness," Shaun said. "It might end up saving your life."
"Yes, you can use it to keep yourself afloat," Susan explained.
"Shaun told me about that; it's quite ingenious."
"Well, I suppose it's my turn now for presents," Alfon said, clearly eager to share as well. "Sasha, bring me the bag."
Sasha fetched the canvas sack and he reached down into it. He pulled out a leather quiver full of arrows and handed it to Annabel. "These probably aren't as nice as what you're accustomed to, Princess, but they're good hunting arrows; they'll fly true for you."
Annabel took the quiver from him, clutching it to her chest like a treasured possession. She hadn't realized, until that moment, how vulnerable she had felt without some sort of weapon. Although, unlike Shaun, she had not grown up wearing a weapon, nor had she ever had any need to use one—hers had just been for practice—her recent turn in fortune made her long to have one in her possession at all times.
"Thank you," she said with heartfelt gratitude.
Alfon looked a little surprised, then blushed under his bushy black beard. "You are most welcome, Your Highness," he replied.
He returned to his bag and drew out a sword that he held with the sort of reverence reserved for a holy relic.
"Shaun," he said, uncharacteristically solemn, "this sword has been passed down through our family for generations. It is said that it once belonged to Laertes, one of the last Knights of Nevara and our ancestor. For certain the last hero of Nevara wielded it, and it is clear to me that you are his heir. It is yours."
Shaun rose to his feet and hesitantly stretched forth his hand. He took up the sword and slowly pulled it from its scabbard, as if it was too wonderful a thing to look on all at once; it had to be savored.
"It's still in wonderful condition," he said in awe as he held it up before him in all its naked splendor. The colored flames of the driftwood fire and candles on the table flashed on the gleaming steel blue and green and yellow.
"I have maintained it," Alfon said with pride, "as did my father and his father before him. Always it must be ready to answer the call of the king."
"We have no king," Shaun replied. "Only a queen."
He turned to Annabel and knelt before her, offering up the sword. "I cannot yet call myself a knight, but I will endeavor to live up to this sword and to the men who wielded it before me. It is yours—and I am yours—from now until the ending of the world. Whatever you ask of me, I will give it."
Annabel had to repress a shudder as a chill ran down her spine. She had seen her father entitle many a nobleman's heir, and she had seen the same swear fealty, but nothing they ever said or did compared to what she was now witnessing. No man had ever more genuinely promised all of himself to his monarch.
She rose to her feet with all the dignity she could muster, determined to show Shaun the same respect that he now gave her.
She laid her hand on the sword. "I cannot yet call myself Queen, but I will endeavor to be worthy of your boundless loyalty. I accept your fealty and you shall be my knight—if not in name, then in deed."
Shaun took the sword and—before anyone could stop him—he sliced the palm of his right hand with it.
There was a gasp from the women in the room, but Shaun's eyes never left Annabel's. She felt riveted in place by them.
"May the gods stand witness: my blood is my bond," he declared.
Annabel felt another chill go through her. Master Ryu had told her about the powerful oaths that the Knights of Nevara had once sworn—oaths so powerful, they had gone to their deaths rather than break them—oaths made on their blood.
It was an ancient form of magic. It had no visible effect—no lights or smoke or noise—but woe be to him who broke his oat: misfortune and death followed—and not just on the oath-breaker, but down through time unto the tenth generation.
Annabel didn't like to think of Shaun held by so heavy an oath to her, but she felt compelled to complete the ceremony nonetheless. It was like leaving an incantation half-uttered; there was no telling what might happen to the words left uncompleted.
She clasped his fist between her hands; she could feel his blood wet and sticky on her palms. "May this be the last blood you shed on my account," she prayed.

"Well, I'm a bit ashamed to give my gift now," Alfon said, as Shaun's mother bandaged his bleeding hand. His act of self-sacrifice had looked worse than it really was; the cut across his palm was long, but barely deeper than a parchment cut. "It's not very important compared to all that," Alfon added.
Sasha leaned forward, pretend-whispering. "He's lying, Shaun; he's quite proud of what he made for you. He was up all night working on it."
"Sasha…" her father chastised with a mock frown.
"It's the truth," she retorted.
"I would love to have what you made for me, Uncle," Shaun said.
A grin broke out on Alfon's face. "Alright," he quickly conceded. He reached into his bag and pulled out a shield, presenting it Shaun with false modesty. "It's not much, but it might help you."
Shaun took the shield from him and examined it. It had been carefully constructed—despite the rush nature of the job—from thin sheets of wood steamed into a slight curve and glued together in a press. It was painted bright blue and was trimmed out along the edges in shiny tin nailed in with tiny nails. On the front of the shield there was, at the top center, a Nemeck made from sheet brass that was polished until it shined like gold. Below that was painted a stylized bird of crimson—its wings spread from edge to edge.
"Supposedly there was a shield once upon a time that went with the sword," Alfon explained, "but it has been lost. I suspect, if it was made of wood, it rotted long ago. Or maybe it went through a different line of the family and disappeared—I don't know. But there's a picture of it in our genealogy book, so I made one to match it."
Shaun looked up at him. "What genealogy book?"
Alfon went back to his sack and pulled out one last thing: a fat, leather-backed tome. It looked ancient; some of the pages were sticking out a little, as if they were tearing out, and the cover was scratched and the color worn completely off of it in places. It had a brass clasp on the covers.
"This is our family's history back as far as we know it," Alfon said, laying the book on the table. Everyone gathered closer, all trying to see it at the same time.
Alfon unfastened the clasp and carefully opened it. "There are some pages missing here at the front," he said, indicating the inside of the spine where there were only a few shreds of parchment to indicate that there were once pages there. "But here we can see that Lyastra, our great-grandmother many, many times over, married the King of Nevara," he said, pointing to the first name on the first page. "Thousands of years ago, the Knights of Nevara—and their families—intermarried with the royal family frequently."
Annabel leaned closer. "I recognize those names," she said, sounding surprised. "They were my ancestors."
"Not too shabby for some fishermen, eh, Your Highness?" Alfon said with a smug smile. Then he pointed to the next name on the list. "Next the line descends through one of their younger sons, Prince Hanor. His son is listed as a duke, but you must remember that all of these men are Knights, even if they have other titles."
He flipped through the book a little farther, then pointed out another name partway down the page. Now, however, the names had little portraits sketched beside them. "This is Laertes," Alfon said. "He was the last man in our family to be dubbed a knight and was one of the last men to be hunted down and killed during the Great War.
"But he had children before he died. Here is his son Stephas. Notice that it's written "farmer" under his name. There, my lovelies, is where our family lost their nobility; with no more knights and the kingdom ravished by war, that was all that was left for us to do."
"When did we become fishermen, Uncle Alfon?" Alons asked, peering at the book curiously.
He flipped a couple of pages forward. "Here," he said, pointing to a man by the name of Skylar. "He is listed as a fisherman—the first in the family." He flipped through the remaining pages—a hundred or more. "Almost everyone else—with a few exceptions—was a fisherman. There are a few armor and sword makers, a few more farmers, a merchant or two, a scholar, and…." He thumbed through the remainder of the book until he found what he was looking for. He opened the book wide and pointed to the small painted portrait of a young man. "We have had a number of heroes in our family. This was the last one. And, incidentally, he was the last Nevrek born into the family, as far as I'm aware."
Everyone leaned closer. "Was his name really Shaun?" Meghan asked, shocked.
"Yes."
Annabel glanced at Shaun, then looked back at the picture. "He even resembles you."
"He does," Susan said, surprised. "I had no idea 'Shaun' was a family name."
Alfon smiled. "I put a little bug in Maverick's ear when he told me that the two of you hadn't decided on a name. But even I could not have expected that Shaun would actually be foretold to be the next Hero of Nevara. Sometimes I wonder if his destiny would have turned out differently if I had suggested a different name."
"I don't think it works that way," Shaun said, studying the face of his ancestor; it did resemble him. "The stars determine a person's fortune; they don't change depending on someone's name."
"Well, I suppose you're right. Perhaps it was fate that you should take up the name as well as the sword."
Shaun leafed through the book, looking at the pictures and names. Sometimes the line descended through women, but it mostly went from father to son. Some of the men were large and dark like Alfon and Shaun's father; some were fairer and blonde, like Shaun and his sister. Ever so many generations, however, there was a Shaun listed who also bore the title "hero."
Shaun flipped to the last page of the book and was startled to see that his own name and picture had been put into it—despite the fact that the sword and book both had passed from his grandfather to Alfon, who was the older son.
Alfon put his hand on Shaun's back. "You are the next in the line," he said quietly.
Shaun gently closed the ancient book. "Well, I suppose I must succeed; I would hate for you to have to erase me from the family tree."
Alfon laughed heartily, filling the house with the sound. "As long as you know what's important!" he said.
"Shaun, is something wrong?" his brother asked, looking at him. "You're red in the face."
"Am I?"
Susan reached out and took him by the chin, gently turning his face from side to side, examining it. "I think you got too much sun today," she declared. She glanced at Annabel. "Oh, Your Highness, you're looking even worse!"
She made both of them sit on the bench at the table while she hurried to make up a lotion.
"Oh, Shaun, I forgot to tell you…" his mother said, as she started to rub the cool balm on his increasingly-hot face, "the men made good progress with the boat today. They got all the supplies loaded on it that you'll need. They still have some work to do with the rigging, though—something about setting it up so it's easier for one person to control. And I have to put together a medicine kit for you. This won't be the last day the two of you get burned; you're both so fair, the sun and wind will peel the skin off your faces unless you doctor yourselves."
"Yet another thing to look forward to," Shaun said with a wry smile.
"Once the men get the boat rigged, they'll take you out and show you how to sail it."
"We need to leave soon," Shaun said, growing more serious. "I worry that soldiers will come here soon looking for us. And while I certainly don't want to be caught, neither do I want the family put into peril because of me."
"Because of us," Annabel corrected. "And he's right—your family must not be implicated with us."
Susan brushed aside their concern with a wave of her hand. "This is bigger than any one person—or even a family. We will make what sacrifices are necessary for the survival of this kingdom."
"We are with you both," Alfon agreed. "We may not be able to bear this burden for you, but that doesn't mean we can't make our own contributions to the cause. No matter what comes during these dark times, we are family; we will always stick together."
Annabel blinked back tears. "Thank you all so very much," she said, looking at everyone.
"You have no cause to thank us, Your Highness," Susan said, as if she was surprised Annabel would even offer. "We are your subjects; you have every right to expect this and more from us."
"I don't feel that I deserve your loyalty because I haven't yet earned it, nor do I have the means to reward it. But one day, if by the gods' blessing, everything turns out well for us, I will see to it that the title of nobility is restored to you."
Alfon knelt beside the princess, then everyone else followed his lead and knelt, too. "Your Highness is generous," he said, "but we don't do this because we expect payment."
"I know," she replied. "That is why I want to reward you. It is clear to me that your family has lost none of their nobility—only their title. And a title is easy enough for me to give—or it will be one day."
Shaun was standing outside the house, looking down the dark road through the woods that led to Marlin Village. The wind was blowing as if a storm was moving in. He had an uneasy feeling.
Suddenly Master Ryu was beside him. "Shaun, you must go. They are coming for you."
Shaun jerked upright, listening for any noise out of the ordinary. But he heard nothing but the princess's slow, deep breathing.
He shook her awake gently. "Your Highness?" he whispered.
"Mm?" she muttered, rolling over a little and cracking one eye open.
"I just dreamed that Master Ryu was here and he told me to get out; they're coming for us."
That woke Annabel up, and she sat bolt-upright in bed. "Do you think it's real?" she whispered.
"Yes, I think so," he said, pushing back the covers and getting out of the bed. "If it's not, it won't hurt us to leave the house for a while, just to be safe."
He started to reach for his clothes when a noise stopped him. He and Annabel both turned towards the sound, which was coming from outside. It was faint at first, but it steadily grew louder. Having grown up in a castle, they didn't have to be told what the noise was: it was the sound of armored men marching in formation.
"Get your stuff," Shaun hissed, grabbing up an armload of clothes, boots, and weapons.
Annabel barely had time to gather up all her things when there was a hard, impatient knock on the door. "Open up in the name of Nagadii, Lord Protector of Nevara!"
Annabel and Shaun both froze. There was no going out the front door!
Shaun glanced around, trying to think of a plan. There would be too many of them to take on himself, and the first place they would think to look would be the cellar. There was no other way out and nowhere else to hide.
And then his eyes lit upon the large window in the loft. It was nearly as tall as the wall, so it would be easy to go through. And when Shaun looked out of it, all he could see was a dense sea fog.
A moment later, Shaun’s mother came hurrying out of her bedroom, glancing anxiously up at the loft. Shaun hurried to the railing and leaned over it, whispering, "Throw me a bag."
The guards knocked on the door again. "Open up. We come in the name of Nagadii, Lord Protector of Nevara."
Susan ignored them; instead, she used their noise to cover up the sounds of her searching. Within moments, she had a large canvas sack in her hand. Shaun reached out and she tossed it up to him.
"Give us one minute," Shaun whispered.
She nodded. "I'm sorry, sirs," she called out in a loud voice. "Give me just a moment to put something on."
"Open up!"
"I will, sirs, if you will but let me put on something first. You caught me and the children abed; we're in nothing but our nightclothes."
Even as she spoke, Meghan was hastily helping her mother pull on a tunic. Upstairs, Shaun was stuffing his and Annabel’s clothing and weapons into the sack. He was finished packing at the same moment Susan finished dressing.
He leaned over the railing again, looking down at his mother's and sister's and brother's anxious faces which were looking up at him.
"I love you all," he whispered.
"May the gods protect you," Susan whispered in return.
Shaun hastily saluted them, then hurried to the loft window. He carefully opened it, even as his mother's footsteps slowly moved across the downstairs floor.
Shaun handed Annabel the bag. Hold onto that, he told her. I'm going to fly you down.
Annabel nodded and slipped the bag's strap over her head and shoulder so that it hung across her body.
Shaun opened the window and transformed. But he hesitated to grab Annabel; she was wearing only a linen nightgown, and he feared he could not carry her by it alone.
He awkwardly hopped onto her shoulders—the low ceiling making it difficult on both of them. You're going to have to reach up and hold onto me, he warned her. I can't carry you by your clothes alone.
He gathered up as much material as he dared in his claws, and Annabel reached up grasping him firmly by the legs.
He heard his mother opening the front door, and with a silent prayer to the gods, he pitched forward into the dark, foggy night, dragging Princess Annabel with him.

Shaun had two plans. Plan A was to get Princess Annabel all the way to the beach. Even if the soldiers somehow managed to see them in the dark and the fog, there were ninety-six stairs separating them from the beach—giving Shaun and Annabel time enough to get away.
Failing that, Plan B was just to get her to the ground behind the house. There was a small orchard there and the trees didn't provide much cover, but beyond them were woods; they could hide there and, later, walk down the cliff's slope and circle back around to the house via the beach.
But Annabel had a good grip on his feet, so Shaun decided to chance the beach landing. He flew over the edge of the cliff and glided down to the beach without incident. It seemed their escape had gone unnoticed.
"Now what?" Annabel asked anxiously, once he had put her safely on the sand and transformed back into his human shape.
"I don't know," he replied, "but I don't want to be found—or even spotted. If they see us, then they'll know that my family was helping us and they may punish them."
"But, Shaun, all the fishermen knew you were staying with your family," Annabel said. "How long will it be before they're questioned? And will they lie for you? For that matter, do they know they need to?"
"Good point," he replied with a frown.
He glanced out to sea, but it was so dark and the fog was so thick, he couldn't see either of the fishing ships.
"Mother said they had loaded all the supplies on the ship…" he said slowly, thinking aloud.
"Yes, but don't they still need to do something to it?"
"They were only going to re-rig it so that I could operate it by myself, but I think the two of us can manage it as-is."
"I don't know anything about sailing," she admitted. "I only watched one day."
"I can tell you what to do."
They were silent for a moment while Shaun continued to consider their situation.
"I think we better leave," he declared at last. "The tide is going out and we have the fog as cover. If the soldiers leave a watch here, we might not have another opportunity to get away unseen. And the longer we stay, the higher our chance of getting caught and implicating my entire family with us."
"You're right," Annabel agreed. "I don't want anything to happen to them—not after everything they did for me."
"Then we'll put to sea."
Annabel got into the row boat and Shaun tried to push it into the water. But it was heavy for one person to handle alone and was rather far away from the retreating waterline.
Annabel saw him struggling, so she dropped their bag of clothes in the bottom of the boat and got out to help him push. "If I'm going to help you sail, I might as well start now," she said, putting both hands on the bow of the boat and pushing with all her might. The boat slowly started to move across the sand.
Together, they managed to get the boat into the shallows. Shaun helped Annabel back into the boat, then he pushed it—easier to do once it was afloat—as far out as he could. Before he knew it, he was chest-deep in water; the bottom dropped off rather sharply, which is why the ships were able to anchor so close to shore.
Shaun grabbed onto the side of the boat and heaved himself up, but the boat rolled towards him in the process, leaving him half in the water, half in the boat, and unable to move either direction.
Annabel helped him out again—grabbing him by the back of the pants and pulling. With no small amount of effort on both their parts, Shaun finally rolled into the bottom of the boat, tangled up with Annabel, and dripping water everywhere.
He couldn't help but laugh, and he had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from being too loud.
"What did Greens say yesterday about me being a fish when he finally got me onto the ship?" Annabel whispered. "At least he didn't have to pull me out of the water."
"I would never live this down if he and the others were here to see me," Shaun said as he managed to get up and take a seat at the oars.
"I hope this isn't an omen about our voyage," she said as Shaun helped her onto the bench opposite him.
"We are coming off as rather incompetent," he agreed. "But I never promised I was a good sailor—only an adequate one."
He began to row, trying to steer them to where he thought the ship was.
"Remind me why we thought this was a good idea again," Annabel said.
"Because," he said, his voice strained as it took everything he could do to row the heavy boat alone, "Master Ryu—or his ghost or whatever—said that we have to try to find Gardamon, who is the only person who might know how to close up the rift in the castle. Demons are escaping from the rift and the larger it grows, the larger the demons that will escape from it. When demons attack humans, they turn them into demons, too. So if we don't find a way to close it up, the world will soon be full of nothing but demons and a few Nevreks like us—and we'll be marked for death."
"When you put it that way," Annabel replied, "it does make this expedition look less ridiculous."
They quickly lost sight of the shore… and everything else. Shaun soon became disoriented, unsure whether he was still rowing in the direction of the ship.
"This is not good," he muttered, looking around.
"What?" Annabel asked worriedly.
"I don't know where the ships are. If we passed them, then we're heading out onto the ocean. And we don't want to be there in an open boat with no food or water."
Shaun let them drift a little—afraid to row because he might be taking them farther from the shore. They both looked around, but could see nothing.
"What do we do now?" Annabel asked.
"The morning sun should burn off the fog," he replied. "Maybe then we can see the ship or figure out where we are and we can still get underway while there's enough fog to hide us. Even if there isn't, though, the soldiers aren't likely to be able to catch up with us. The only ship they can use is mother's larger one, and it's probably slower than the small one. And if they're all soldiers and no sailors, then we'll be in great shape, because they probably won't even be able to raise the anchor."
"And if they're sailors?" Annabel asked.
"Then we're going to have a problem, because an experienced crew could overtake us, even in a slower boat."
They were quiet a few minutes, aimlessly drifting, then Shaun heard something that perked him up. "Listen," he whispered.
Annabel frowned. "What is that?"
"It's the sound of water lapping against a boat," he said. He turned the rowboat towards the sound and began to row.
"Are you sure?" Annabel asked, more cautious. "How can you tell?"
"Because it's not the first time I've heard that sound," he replied.
A few moments later, a large dark mass appeared out of nowhere and a second later they were roughly jarred as their little boat ran directly into the side of a much larger ship.
"Ow!" Annabel said, more from alarm than pain.
"We're here," Shaun whispered with a chuckle.
He unshipped the larboard oar and put it in the boat. Then he used his hand and the other oar to slowly guide them alongside the ship until he found a rope ladder.
He boated the other oar and tied the rowboat off to a ring in the side of the ship.
"You first, Your Highness," he said, standing up in the boat and hanging onto the side of the rope ladder to keep his balance.
Annabel carefully stood in the rocking boat and lurched her way to the rope ladder. Shaun held her firmly by the arm while she got on the ladder. She had some difficulty climbing up because of her nightgown, but after a few minutes, she reached the safety of the deck.
Shaun tossed their bag of clothes up onto the deck, then nimbly climbed the ladder. He quickly walked the ship, looking it over.
"We're on the right one," he said with relief.
There was a lantern hanging next a door under the quarterdeck. He got it lit using some tinder that was tucked inside and the fire-making kit that was still in his belt pouch.
He opened the door, revealing stairs—if they could be called that; they were really a cross between stairs and a ladder—and he hurried down into the hold.
"Shaun, what are you doing?" Annabel called after him.
"Shh," he replied. "Sounds travel strangely through fog; sometimes things that are far away can be heard easily. We don't want any soldiers on the beach to know we're out here."
Annabel remained mute until he came back up the stairs a few minutes later. He slid a cover over the lantern, hiding its light, before hanging it next to the door once again.
"I was checking our supplies," he told to her quietly. "I wanted to make sure everything had been loaded. We have plenty of food and, more importantly, plenty of water."
"Do we have everything we need?"
"I think so."
He went down the rope ladder and tied the rowboat more firmly to the side of the ship. It should have been raised, but he didn't have the ability to do that on his own. He wasn't sure if it would make sailing the ship harder or slow them down, but he didn't want to just cut it lose; with the tide going out, it would just end up lost at sea. And if he must deprive his mother of it, he felt he should at least get as much use out of it as possible. A small boat might be useful. They weren't called "lifeboats" for nothing.
The securing was done in a just a few minutes, and he climbed back on board. "Help me with the anchor," he told Princess Annabel.
She followed him to the winch and together they slowly drew up the anchor. They were slow because it took the strength of both of them to turn the winch, but it was an advantage because the anchor chain hardly made any sound as it was taken up.
As soon as the anchor was lifted off the bottom, Shaun heard the sound of the waves against the hull change in quality; the boat was already moving out with the tide.
"Now what?" Annabel whispered once the anchor was raised.
"Now we have to turn her around, so we're heading west, then I need to drop sail."
They went up to the quarterdeck, at the other end of the ship, and Shaun took one side of the ship's wheel.
"Get the other side," he told Annabel, pointing to it. She positioned herself opposite him and together they began to turn the wheel hard to starboard. When it was laid over as far as it would go, Shaun told Annabel to hold it there and he went down to the waist of the ship and climbed the rigging up to the yard.
He was rather glad he didn't have his boots on. He found it much easier to move along the single precarious rope while barefoot; he was able to use his toes to help him cling to the rope while he leaned over the yard and untied the ropes, which held up the mainsail.
It wasn't pretty and it certainly wasn't fast, but Shaun managed to drop the heavy sail by himself.
It immediately began to flap in the breeze. Shaun had to climb down and secure the ends so that it would actually catch the wind and allow them to be propelled forward. The sail fought him a little, and with no small amount of effort, he managed to get it tied into place.
He could feel the ship beginning to really turn, so he grabbed the lantern and went back to the quarterdeck to check on their progress. He uncovered the lantern and looked at the compass that was mounted on a post next to the wheel.
"Hold this," Shaun said, handing Annabel the lantern and taking over the wheel. He slowly began to turn the wheel the other direction—checking their direction against the compass. The wheel was more or less back to center when the compass said they were heading due west.
"Alright, time for a quick lesson in sailing a ship," Shaun told Annabel, taking the lantern from her and setting it on a post near the wheel. As they were moving away from the shore, he was no longer concerned with someone seeing the light. Or hearing them.
"This rope" he said, pointing to the rope encircling the drum, which connected the two wheels, "is what controls the rudder. When the rudder moves one way, the ship moves in the opposite way… kind of like rowing a boat with only one oar; the boat will turn away from the oar. And that's important to remember: if you want the ship to go to the right, you have to turn the wheel in the opposite direction—to the left."
He patted a handle at the top of the wheel; it was taller than the other handles and was decoratively shaped, while the other handles were plain.
"This is the king spoke," Shaun explained. "When it's at the top of the wheel, your rudder is straight and you're moving in a straight line. It's shaped like this so you can feel it in the dark. If you want to go right, it needs to move left; if you want to go left, then it needs to move to the right. Clear?"
Annabel nodded.
Shaun pointed to the compass. "We're sailing west, so you want to make sure that the needle points that direction all the time. Right now the wind is more or less blowing due west and it's behind us, so we're going in a straight line. But if it shifts, it can push us off course, and the current can cause us to drift, too, so we have to turn the wheel to compensate and keep us heading west.
"Got it?"
"Yes, I think so. It seems pretty simple."
"Well it is… if you're not having to handle the sails," he said with a smile.
Reasonably confident that Annabel could keep them heading west, he went aloft again and dropped the topsail, then he went to the foremast and dropped its single sail. That was all the sail the small fishing ship had.
By the time he was done, there was a dull, dim light surrounding them as the rising sun tried valiantly to burn off the heavy fog.
Shaun went back to the quarterdeck. "How are you doing?" he asked Annabel, checking the compass. They were almost dead-on west.
"Fine," she replied. "But I'm not doing anything but making sure everything stays straight. If we had to turn, then I might run into problems."
"It won't take you long to get the hang of it," he assured her. He found a wooden crate that had been left on board and he pulled it near the wheel and sat down with a sigh.
"Tired?" Annabel asked.
"Yes. Handling sails is hard to do alone."
"What were they going to do to make it easier?" she asked.
"I'm not entirely sure, but I think there's a way to rig the sails with pulleys and weights so that one person can raise and lower them without having to go aloft."
"That does sound better. I'm not sure if I could go up as high as you."
"It's not as high as your tower," he pointed out, "and you've climbed that many times.
"Yes, but it's always up and down. And there's a lot of ivy. I saw you having to slide sideways on a rope; I think that would be too much."
"I guess I'm lucky; I've never had a fear of heights."
He rested for a few minutes, then when he felt he had his wind again, he stood up. "Let me take the wheel," he told Annabel. "Why don't you go below and rest?"
"You're the one who's tired," she said, not relinquishing her position.
"Yes, but I need to stay up until we're clear of the fog and I'm sure we're completely out of danger. So you might as well get some rest. When you get up," he added, seeing her prepare to argue with him again, "we can trade off."
She finally nodded her acceptance.
"There's a cabin directly under us." He handed her the lantern. "You may need this; it's probably still dark in there. But be sure to blow it out when you get in bed; unnecessary flames become preventable fires—that's what my father used to say."
Annabel nodded and, taking the lantern from him, she shuffled off to bed.

"Bed" was a relative term, Annabel learned. In the tiny cabin—her clothes closet was larger—there was a canvas hammock, and a small washbasin and a table just big enough for one person to sit at, but no bed.
Annabel only knew what the hammock was because she had once gone on board one of the Royal Navy's ships, and an officer had showed her how the men slept in hammocks. Annabel thought then that they looked terribly hard to deal with, but the man told her that they couldn't sleep in a regular bed because they might roll out when the waves grew rough.
Now she was faced with the daunting task of getting into one.
She quickly learned that one benefit of being in a tiny cabin was that there really wasn't room to fall down. Even though she was dumped out of the hammock a couple of times, she only bumped into the wall or the table.
Finally, after three tries, she managed to get in. There was a pillow and blanket on a built-in shelf, and she used both and carefully settled into place, trying not to flip herself out.
She blew out the lantern, as Shaun had said, and hung it on a nearby hook. That was the other benefit of the tiny cabin: everything was within easy reach; she didn't even have to get out of the hammock—for which she was very grateful.
She tried to go to sleep, but her mind kept coming back to Shaun’s family. She hoped they weren't in trouble because of her. She was grateful for the unwavering loyalty they had shown her, even though she was at her lowest point. She had every intention of keeping her promise to ennoble them once again.
She finally drifted off to sleep wondering whether she should make Shaun a baron or a marquis.
Annabel awoke when sun streaming through the small cabin window fell on her face. She still felt sleepy, and she tried to roll over—that didn't work too well in a hammock; it was meant for sleeping on one's back—but after a little while, she had to give up; she couldn't get back to sleep.
When she opened the cabin door, she found her clothes—Meghan's dress and her own rather beat up shirt and pants—folded up neatly outside the door. Her bow was there, too.
She put on Meghan's gray dress, knotting the ends of the under-dress around her belt—as Shaun had shown her—to keep it out of her way. She would have to think to ask Shaun if there was a needle and thread on board; she thought she might be able to mend her shirt and pants the way Greens had shown her to mend sails.
She went up on deck, squinting against the bright light. The sun had burned off all the fog and the day was cloudless and the sky a beautiful shade of turquoise blue.
She climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck and found Shaun sitting on the wooden crate, occasionally giving the wheel a little adjustment one way or the other. He looked exhausted. He also looked very red in the face; his sunburn was clearly getting worse.
"You didn't sleep long," Shaun said.
"The sun woke me up."
"Yeah, the fog's all gone now. It's good sailing weather," he said, looking up. Annabel looked up, too, and noticed that all of the sails were full and they seemed to be moving at a decent speed.
She looked back at him. "You're getting sunburned."
"Yeah, I know," he said with a grimace. "I can feel my face getting hotter."
"Didn't your mother say she was going to give us medicine for sunburn?"
"Yes, but she hadn't loaded it on the ship, yet. I checked our supplies, but there's nothing we can use."
He thought about the problem for a minute, then stood up. "Take over," he said.
Annabel took his place at the wheel while he went down into the hold. He came back up a few minutes later carrying an arm full of canvas sail, some ropes, and a few of the hooked poles that the men used to handle the fishing nets.
"I'm going to need your help," he said, as he came back to the quarterdeck.
It took them the better part of an hour, but when they were through, they had a sunshade of canvas that stretched the entire length and width of the small quarterdeck. The net-poles held it up at two corners; it was tied off to the standing rigging at two other corners.
"There," Shaun said at last, looking around at their handiwork with satisfaction. "That should keep both of us from burning.
"It does feel better not to be in the direct sun," Annabel admitted.
Shaun went back down—Annabel assumed to go to sleep—but he came back up a few minutes later with what looked like part of fishing net.
"What are you doing?" Annabel asked.
"I've been thinking about how we're going to sail the ship," he said, as he began doing something to the end of the net; it looked like he was lacing the end through a length of rope. "We have to take turns sleeping. I thought I would take the night shift and sleep during the day. But I don't want to be too far away, in case we run into trouble, so…."
A moment later he tied the rope off to some rigging near the back of the ship. When he stretched the net across the corner and tied it off to a ratline, Annabel could see that he was making himself a hammock.
When he was sure it was tied off tight, Shaun hopped up into the hammock—with much more ease than Annabel had—and stretched out in it. "I can sleep right here, in the shade and fresh air," he declared. "And if you need me, you only have to wake me up."
"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to be in the cabin?" Annabel asked. "I would think it would be easier to sleep down there where it's mostly dark."
"No, here is fine," he replied. And then, as if to prove his point, he fell asleep within minutes.
Shaun woke sometime around noon.
"How are things going?" he asked, stretching and yawning.
"Boringly."
He chuckled. "After the past few days, I'm looking forward to boring."
He hopped out of the hammock. "I'm hungry. Did you eat anything for breakfast?"
"No."
"You don't have to stand there the entire time," he said. "If you need to step away to get something to eat or go to the head, that's fine. We're not going to get very far off course—nothing that can't be corrected. And…"
He showed her a couple of pieces of rope with loops at the ends; one had been tied off on the compass post and the other to the deck railing. "If the ship keeps pulling to one side, you can slip the loops around the wheel's spokes to keep it from turning. It won't work long-term to keep us on course, but it helps short-term if you need to leave it for a little bit. Just check it regularly."
"Alright." Inwardly, Annabel sighed a little in relief. She had been very worried about keeping the ship on a direct course and she had been standing at the wheel for several hours without a break. She was glad to hear that Shaun was more casual about it.
Shaun went to the galley—it was located under the quarterdeck, next to the captain's cabin—and within a half hour, he had a brunch prepared for them. He found a couple more crates, and he brought them up on the quarterdeck so they could both have a place to sit and could use the third as a table.
"How long do you think it will take for us to cross?" Annabel asked, eating a candied orange. She had already polished off a bowl of seafood soup and a couple of biscuits of hardtack (they weren't too bad softened up in the soup).
"You assume there's a destination," Shaun said, as he checked the compass. He gave the wheel a little correction, then returned to his own hardtack.
"This isn't called the Endless Ocean for nothing," he added.
"Yes, but it can't really be endless," Annabel argued. "After all, the world is round. If there's nothing out there—no other land—then, eventually, we must circle back around to east; we must land in Shi-Ha."
"Your logic is sound," Link allowed, "but experience hasn't borne that out. No one has ever crossed the Endless Ocean. No one has ever made it to Shi-Ha. Either people get turned back or they're never seen again."
He looked out at the pacific blue water passing them by. "My own father went out one day and never came back. That was thirteen years ago; if he had ever managed to sail around the world and land in Shi-Ha, he would have walked back home years ago."
"But Master Ryu thought Gardamon might have made it across?"
"He didn't know. All he knew was that Gardamon set sail to try to find the end of the ocean and no one ever saw him again."
"This is like looking for a needle in a haystack," Annabel said despondently.
"I think you are being overly optimistic, Your Highness," Shaun replied. "This is more like looking for a specific needle in a stack of other needles."
"You know, your optimism is really one of your best qualities," Annabel said dryly.
Shaun laughed. "Well, I'm here, aren't I? If I knew it couldn't be done, then we wouldn't be here. But with a miracle from the gods, we might accomplish our mission, so it's not impossible—just 99.99% impossible. I'm betting on the .01%."
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as one day bled into another in an endless cycle of monotony. When Annabel woke up in the mornings, she and Shaun shared breakfast, then he stretched out in his hammock and went to sleep. Annabel had nothing to do but sit on one of the boxes and occasionally adjust the wheel to correct their course. If the wind shifted, she woke Shaun up, and he adjusted the sails to take advantage of the wind's new direction, then he went back to sleep.
He usually got up sometime in the afternoon and fixed them a late lunch. He managed to whittle some dice out of a bit of spare wood, so they wiled away a few hours every afternoon playing dice games. Then the sun would set—in all its blinding glory—and Shaun would make dinner. When they were done eating and the dishes were cleared away, he would take over for the evening and Annabel would go below to sleep.
Insignificant things became immensely interesting as they were all that made one day different from the one that came before or after.
On their second day out, Annabel managed to repair her shirt and pants while Link slept. She thought it looked sloppy, but Shaun praised her needlework. She couldn't be sure, though, if he was being truthful or if he was trying to be kind. He did mention that common women often applied embroidery to their clothing to cover up repairs, but there was no thread in the sewing kit that could reasonably pass for embroidery thread, so Annabel just had to live with it the way it was. But she liked the idea and vowed that if she couldn't get new clothes the next time they returned to civilization, she would at least get a bit of embroidery thread to hide the repairs.
On their third afternoon, Shaun spotted dolphins swimming off their bow, and he and Annabel both hung over the rail and watched them race the ship—occasionally getting ahead and jumping out of the water—until night fell and it grew too dark to see.
On the fourth day, Shaun finished the little flute he had been carving at night while Annabel slept. It had a high, trilling sound that wasn't as beautiful as either his regular flute or the smaller one that he had made Annabel, but he pronounced it "acceptable" given his limited selection of wood and the quick nature of the carving job. When they grew tired of playing dice, Shaun would play and Annabel would sing until they both grew too hoarse to continue.
On the fifth day, Shaun pronounced his arm healed and he told Annabel to take out the stitches.
"What?" she asked in alarm, backing away as he offered her his knife.
"I can't do this myself," he said. "I need you to do it for me."
"I'll cut you."
"I hope not."
He showed her how to pinch up the ends of the thread and pull them taunt, exposing the knot. "Do it like this, then cut right below the knot," he said.
"This looks like it would hurt," she said, gingerly taking up the ends of the thread.
"It does a little—which is why I would prefer you were quick about it. But don't rush it too much and cut me," he added.
"You're making me nervous."
"I'll shut up then."
"Do you even know how?" she retorted.
"I do when it's for my own good," he said with a smile.
He was true to his word and didn't speak again until Annabel was done. And although she worried about cutting him the entire time, it wasn't really as bad as she thought it would be. The stitches were soon cut and pulled out.
"That looks much better," Shaun said, looking at the thin pink scar where once there had been an open wound that refused to stay closed.
"I just hope I never have to sew you up," Annabel said, handing him back his knife.
"I hope you never have to, either. I'm rather over being injured."
Because they didn't have anything better to do most of the time, they spent hours talking—picking up where their winter evenings at the monastery had left off. Their conversations slowly became more personal until there was little they didn't know about each other.
"So… how many girls have you kissed?" Annabel asked one day while she was sitting at the helm and Shaun was still lying in his hammock, obviously feeling too lazy to get up.
He laughed. "Are we back to this?" he asked.
"What?"
"Your Highness, the last time you started this line of questioning, you got mad and barely talked to me for hours."
"I won't be mad this time," she said, even as she secretly hoped she could keep her promise. She was slowly coming to the realization that when it came to Shaun, she had a bit of a jealous streak.
"Do you promise on your crown?"
"Have you kissed that many?" she asked, appalled. Surely he wouldn't be making her swear such oaths unless the news was particularly bad.
"I won't say until you swear on your crown."
"Fine. I swear on my crown," she said shortly, then she braced herself for the bad news.
"Just one," was his reply.
It took a minute for his words to register. Without realizing it, she let out a breath she had been holding. "What?"
"I've only kissed one girl. Well, besides you, of course."
"I thought you had done it a lot."
"Well, I have—just with one girl."
"Oh." Annabel wasn't sure if that was better or worse than a bunch of girls. At least if he had been stealing kisses from every girl in town, it wouldn't mean anything. But if he only kissed one girl, he must have been serious about her.
"So…" she asked, trying to sound casual, "what happened to her?"
"Nothing happened to her; she still sells bread in the marketplace."
"Are… are you still dating her?" Annabel asked, her voice rising in pitch, despite her best efforts not to sound concerned.
He laughed. "I knew this was coming."
"What?" she said innocently.
"Your Highness, what sort of man do you take me for? Do you think I would be dating someone and kissing you at the same time?"
"Well… no," she admitted. She hadn't thought about it like that before, but Shaun was definitely not the type to be so dishonorable as to play with a girl's affection.
"For your information," he said, finally revealing the whole story, "Madge is a married woman now—and has been for a few years. And she and I never dated; I didn't have any interest in her that way and I was several years younger than her and she had no interest in me that way, either."
Annabel was confused. "But… why did you two kiss if you didn't like each other?"
"I don't dislike her," he corrected. "In fact, she's a sweet person and I consider her a dear friend. I still visit her when I go into the city."
"But not to kiss her?" Annabel hurriedly asked.
"Definitely not," he said with a chuckle. "I think her husband would rather disapprove of that."
She turned around on the box so she was sitting facing him. "So, what led to all this kissing between you and her?"
She may have been imagining it—after all, Shaun still had a little sunburn on his face—but it looked like he blushed.
"Well…" he said slowly, with some reluctance, "when I was… oh… about twelve years old, I noticed that some of the older soldiers and servers around the castle had sweethearts. And I observed them kissing.
"So I asked one of the older boys I knew how one goes about kissing a girl. Is it something you know how to do instinctively, or is it something that you have to practice?
"When he finished laughing at me," Shaun said with a grin, "he told me it was a little of both—you can do it without any practice, but you're not going to be very good at it at first.
"So I asked him where I could go to practice.
"When he finished laughing at me again, he said to ask Madge, the baker's daughter who sold bread in the marketplace. He happened to know she was rather fond of kissing.
"So, on my next day off, I marched to the market with great determination and seriousness and asked Madge if she would teach me to kiss.
"When she finished laughing at me, she told me I was too young for her and to come back in a few years.
"But I told her that it was important that I learn, and wouldn't she please reconsider?
"She asked me why it was so important, so I told her. She seemed rather compelled by my case and told me to come back the next day for her answer.
"I went back the next day and took her a flower, hoping to bribe her—because one of the older boys told me that women really like flowers.
"When she saw me with the flower, she smiled and said, yes, she would teach me to kiss.
"Kissing seemed—from my observance—something pretty simple, so I expected to master it within a few weeks, but I actually ended up going to Madge weekly for about a year. Not because it took me that long to get good at it," he clarified, "but because Madge took it upon herself to teach me much more than simple kissing. As she said, any fool can kiss a girl. Some fools can even do a good job of it. But, she said, it took a gentleman to really win a woman's heart.
"And that's what she taught me: how to be a gentleman. She taught me how to make conversation. She taught me poise and patience and charm. She showed me what to do and what not to do. She taught me what women like and what they don't like. She even taught me to dance.
"After about a year, though, she got a serious boyfriend, and she admitted to me that despite the fact that I was several years younger, and she wasn't at all serious about me, nor me about her, her boyfriend felt a little threatened by me.
"And then she smiled and said that was proof-positive that I had mastered all of her lessons and there was nothing more to teach me.
"She ended up getting married a few years ago and perhaps because of that, her husband mellowed towards me. He doesn't pay me much mind when I stop to visit, but then Madge and I are just friends. I don't practice my charm on her anymore. …At least not when he's around," Shaun added with a laugh. "I do occasionally take her a flower and ask her advice. I feel I owe her a large debt of gratitude."
Annabel felt considerably better for knowing the truth. She could just imagine a twelve-year-old Shaun marching up to an older girl and asking for kissing lessons with the same stubborn determination and self-confidence he always possessed. The thought made her laugh.
A few minutes passed before Annabel thought to ask another question. "What did you tell her that made her want to help you?"
She wasn't imagining it; he was blushing. "I… told her I was in love with a girl, and I had to learn to kiss so that one day I would be worthy of her. Gods forbid I approach such a girl with some inept, slobbery, son-of-a-fisherman kiss."
Annabel felt her relief melt away and her heart sank back to her feet. "Who were you in love with?" She hesitated to asked if he was still in love with the same girl.
He smiled at her rather strangely, then lazily lifted his hand and gestured for her to come to him.
What? Was he afraid someone was going to overhear?
Frowning, she walked over to him.
He looked up at her with a cocky smile and his old, smoldering look that made her heart skip a beat. He took her hand in his and slowly lifted it to his lips, gently kissing it.
"Your Highness," he said softly, "after all this time, do you really have to ask?"
Annabel felt a warmth slowly seep through her as she came to the realization that everything Shaun had done had been in anticipation of one day wooing her.
"There has only ever been you," he added, looking up at her. "From the first time I saw you, there was only you. And there will only ever be you."

Annabel woke as the rising sun came through the cabin window and fell on her face. Life was so routine, she didn't have to think as she got out of the hammock, washed up a little at the basin, and put on her clothes. The only variation was that she switched between outfits; one day she wore her shirt and pants and the other day she wore Meghan's dress (although perhaps she should really start to think of it as her dress, since it didn't seem likely that she was going to get the chance to return it to Meghan anytime in the near future).
Today was a dress day.
It had been a week since they left Shaun’s mother's house. …At least Annabel thought it had been a week. It was becoming increasingly hard to keep track of the days. Not that it probably mattered what day it was.
She went upstairs to find Shaun setting out breakfast. Even without clocks or anyone to wake them up, they kept a pretty consistent schedule. The sun kept them on track.
"Good morning," Annabel said with a yawn, sitting down on the box that she thought of as hers.
"Good morning," Shaun said flatly, lacking his usual cheerfulness at seeing her.
The tone of his voice instantly caught Annabel’s attention. "What's wrong?" she asked.
He glanced up. "There's no wind."
Annabel looked up, too, and that's when she noticed that the sails were all hanging limp. Not only that, but there was no splash of water against the hull and no rocking motion. They were dead in the water.
"What can we do?"
He laughed. "Nothing, Your Highness. I can't make the wind blow."
"There's nothing else to power the boat? No oars or something like that?"
He laughed again. "Even if we had oars, you and I together could not move this ship. It would probably take forty men to row a ship like this."
"So what do we do?"
"Wait for the wind to return."
After breakfast, Shaun laid down in his hammock with strict instructions to wake him up if the wind returned. But as hour after hour dragged on, there was no wind.
There was, however, heat. The temperature rose quickly—thanks in part to the still air—until it was unseasonably warm for a spring day. But it didn't stop warming. By the time noon rolled around, it felt like the hottest day of summer, and Annabel leaned listlessly against the wheel, too hot and groggy to do anything or think.
Shaun was tossing and turning in his hammock, and finally he got up.
"I'm burning up," he said irritably. He stripped off his vambraces, tunic, undershirt and boots, then got back in the hammock.
Annabel could feel sweat running down the back of her legs and her dress was damp under the armpits, but she was reluctant to take off a layer; walking around in one's under-dress was like being seen in your nightgown.
But after a while, she was so miserable, she gave up and took off the heavy gray tunic and her boots, leaving her in nothing but the white linen under-dress. After all, it wasn't like Shaun hadn't seen her in her nightgown before. Besides, he was asleep.
Annabel was lightly dozing against the wheel when Shaun woke up an hour or two later. If anything, it seemed even hotter than before.
"I can't sleep while sweating," he complained. "It feels like there are bugs crawling over me."
Annabel knew what he was talking about; as the sweat trickled down her body, she felt the same annoying tickle over her skin, as if something was crawling on her.
Shaun went down to the waist of the ship and threw a bucket overboard. He hauled it up full of seawater and immediately dumped it over his head.
"Ahhh," he said with relief.
Annabel just looked at him jealously. Wetting herself—and her white dress—with water was definitely not something she could do in front of Shaun.
He came back onto the quarterdeck and flopped into his hammock again. "Gods, this is miserable weather."
"Tell me about it."
"Has there not been any wind?"
"Nothing."
"Hmm," he said with a frown.
It was too hot to talk, so they both did nothing but lie around and doze and generally feel miserable. Shaun refused to light the stove in the galley—"I'll end up cooked long before the food," he complained—so they just gnawed on some hardtack and dried fruit. It was so hot, neither of them was very hungry anyways.
Annabel hoped that night would bring more reasonable temperatures, but as the sun started to sink towards the horizon, it only heated them up worse. And then, on the distant western horizon, she noticed a cloud slowly spreading across the face of the sun.
At last, there would be some shade from the relentless beat of light.
The cloud continued to grow. Annabel couldn't tell if the cloud was dark, or if it just looked that way because the sun was starting to slip below the horizon and the sky was darkening.
And then the sails began to flap ever so slightly.
She held her breath, waiting. Slowly, over the course of a half hour, the sails started to come alive
"Shaun, I think we're getting a wind," she said, waking him.
He was on his feet in an instant. He came to her side and looked up. But rather than be happy—as she expected—he frowned.
"It's a head wind," he said.
"What does that mean?"
"It means it's blowing straight at us. We can't go forward when it's blowing against us. In fact, it will blow us backwards if I don't change the sail and put us on a different tack. We can turn northwest, so I'll need to move the sails to…."
Annabel realized, as his voice trailed off into muttering, that he was no longer talking to her; he was thinking aloud.
"It looks like we might get some rain," Annabel said hopefully. "Maybe it will cool down tonight."
Shaun was looking up at the sails, waving his hands around a little as he mentally calculated the best way to shift them to take advantage of the unfavorable wind, when Annabel’s words brought him up short.
"What did you say?" he asked, looking a little startled.
Annabel pointed to the cloud in the west that was almost completely obscuring what remained of the sun. "It looks like rain," she repeated.
Shaun frowned even more as he looked at the sky.
"What's wrong now?" she asked, feeling disappointed; all her good news seemed to be coming up bad.
He didn't respond for a minute; he kept staring at the cloud in the west as if it was an opponent he was sizing up before a battle.
"I'm afraid we might be in for more than rain, Your Highness."
"What do you mean?"
"Very hot, still weather is often followed by a big storm. I think we better take up the sails completely."
"But… the wind's just beginning to blow. Can't we make up for lost time by keeping the sail down?"
"Yes, and if we had a full crew, I would do so. But it will take both of us some time to take up the sails; it's not something we can wait to do at the last minute. If the sails are down when the wind hits, it can blow us off course, tear up the sails, and even capsize us. It's safer if they're up."
Annabel couldn't argue with that, so she went down to the waist of the ship to help Shaun reef the sails. That was easier said than done, though. It took every ounce of strength that both of them possessed to pull up the big mainsail. Tying it off was even more of a challenge. The first time Annabel let go in order to tie up the end of the rope, the weight of the sail started to drag Shaun across the deck. Annabel had to scramble to grab hold of him to keep him from being lifted completely off his feet.
Before they tried again, Shaun tangled his left leg in some rope on the side of the ship. When Annabel let go of the tension the second time, the rope around Shaun’s leg kept him from being dragged away until Annabel could get the end secured.
"That was fairly awful," Annabel said, resting against the side of the ship and panting from exertion.
"I agree," Shaun said, leaning against the rail beside her. "Now do you see why I said it would take us a long time to take up all of the sails?"
She nodded.
He sighed wearily. "But that was the hardest one; they should be easier after this."
Shaun was strong enough to pull up the topsail by himself, and Annabel didn't have any trouble tying it off. It took both of them, though, to pull up the single foresail. Still, it wasn't as heavy as the mainsail, so it wasn't as much of a struggle. But by the time they were done, Annabel’s hands were raw and she could feel the beginning of at least a few blisters.
Shaun’s work wasn't done, though. He had to climb up the rigging and lash all of the sails against their masts. It made Annabel dizzy just looking up at him perched precariously on a single rope—sometimes standing on only one foot—leaning over the mast and wrestling with the sail. So, instead, she looked west and watched the black cloud blot out the lavender sky. Shaun was right: it wasn't going to be just rain; it was going to be a storm.
The wind was blowing as strongly as it ever had during their trip and the boat was beginning to rock noticeably when Shaun finally climbed down.
"Ugh, that's done not a moment too soon," he said. "I've never been seasick before, but being about forty feet up, standing on nothing but a rope, and being tossed back and forth and up and down is enough to make anyone wish they hadn't eaten lunch."
"What do we do now?" Annabel asked.
"Ride it out."
Annabel changed into her shirt and pants—if she needed to help Shaun during the storm, she didn't want to be encumbered by a dress—and then joined him on the quarterdeck. He had dressed again and had taken down their sunshade and was folding up the canvas. She hurried to help him with it, then she stowed it down in the hold while he stayed at the wheel.
When Annabel came back up on deck, she noticed how cool the wind was and how hard it was blowing. Now she wished it was sunny and hot again. There was something ominous in the wind that scared her. She was suddenly quite aware of how alone they were, how tiny their ship was, and how big and deep and unforgiving the ocean was.
"We're going to be in for a bad night, I'm afraid," Shaun said grimly, lighting a lantern and hanging it on a post next to the wheel. The sky was covered up with the dark cloud; there were only a few stars to be seen behind them in the east.
Then the lightning began.
At first it lit up the distance, but it quickly grew closer.
"Um… does lightning strike the ocean like it does land?" Annabel asked nervously as forks of lightning flashed down—quick as a snake's tongue—and then withdrew, leaving only a white blindness that lasted for a few seconds.
"Yes, it does," Shaun, replied. "Ships can be struck."
He looked at her. "Why don't you go below, Your Highness?"
"You might need help."
"I'll call you if I do. Or bang on the ceiling." He demonstrated by stamping his foot on the deck, sending an echoing sound through the rooms beneath them.
"Well… I suppose," she said, reluctant to leave him, but increasingly scared of the storm.
"It's alright," he reassured her. "Go below before it starts raining."
She didn't have to be told twice. Feeling no small amount of shame at leaving Shaun alone, she hurried to the cabin and got into her hammock.
It wasn't long before she learned firsthand why hammocks were a real necessity on a ship; it was true that she could not have stayed in a bed with the way the ship rolled and tossed. At first it went from side to side, then up and down.
The rain began suddenly and it came down in sheets, lashing against the window and the ceiling and the walls. A little water began to run into the room under the door.
The lightning became almost continuous and the thunder boomed like the roar of cannons until Annabel had to clamp her hands over her ears.
The ship began to pitch up and down even worse. It would start down and suddenly Annabel would feel weightless, but a moment later the bow of the ship would hit the bottom of the wave and start up again, and then Annabel would feel her body come crashing down into the hammock, as if there was a great weight on her.
She didn't know how long it went on, but she eventually became worried about Shaun. She couldn't hear anything over the pounding rain and near-continuous roll of thunder. She wondered if maybe he had called for her, but she couldn't hear it. Or worse—maybe he had been tossed overboard.
Eventually her worry for him overcame her fear, and she tried to get up. But the floor of the ship was heaving up and down so much, she wasn't able to get out of the hammock. She ended up rolling out of it and onto the table.
Walking to the door just a few steps away was an ordeal, and Annabel realized what Shaun had been talking about when he said the rocking was so bad it made him wish he hadn't eaten lunch. It had been a long time since lunch, but it still felt as if her stomach was in the back of her throat.
She lurched drunkenly to the door and managed to wrench it open. She was immediately hit in the face with stinging pellets of rain. It was as if the skies weren't just pouring out water, but flinging it maliciously every which way.
She was completely drenched in a matter of seconds.
She kept her hand against the wall and slowly inched her way over to the deck ladder. She didn't so much climb the rungs as crawl up them while pulling herself along by the rails.
"What are you doing here?" Shaun shouted over the storm, as she crawled onto the quarterdeck on her hands and knees.
"I came to make sure you're alright," she shouted back.
"I'm fine. Go back down."
"Come with me."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. Don't worry about what direction we're going; we'll make up for it later."
The ship suddenly pitched forward, feeling as if it was sinking nose-first into a big hole. Annabel had to grab onto the deck railing to keep from rolling headfirst back down the ladder.
A moment later, though, they hit bottom and swooped back up again—a giant wave breaking across the bow and swamping the forward two-thirds of the ship.
"I have to steer the ship," Shaun shouted, once they were on their way up again. "The waves are so high, they'll capsize us if they hit us in the side. The only way we can survive is to steer directly into them. They can't flip us over backwards."
As the ship fell down, and then sprang back up, like a rearing horse, Annabel doubted that was true. It certainly felt as if they were going to go over backwards.
"Princess… would you get my sword and shield?" Shaun asked after a minute.
What on earth did he need his sword and shield for in this raging storm? Did he plan on fighting the weather like it was some demon?
Then she realized he was probably using that as an excuse to get her to go back to the cabin—thinking once she was there, she might stay put.
She would get it for him, but she had no intention of staying below. She was terrified of the storm, yes, but she was equally terrified of leaving Shaun alone.
It seemed to take an hour to get back to the cabin; the deck sometimes seemed to disappear under her feet, and then it was rushing up again, as if it intended to hit her.
The inside of the cabin was dark, but for the lightning wildly lighting up the room in flashes of white, and she had to admit it was rather more peaceful. It wasn't wet and the noise from the rain and thunder—which had seemed so loud before—was noticeably muted compared to being outside.
She took Shaun’s sword and shield down from where he had hung it on the wall—although how it had managed to stay up, she didn't know—and in the same torturous fashion as before, she went out and heaved herself along the ship and up onto the quarterdeck. She had to crawl the last few feet to Shaun because the pitching deck and waves crashing from all sides wouldn't let her walk upright.
Shaun helped her to stand, and she held onto the wheel while he strapped his sword and shield across his back.
"What do you want that for?" she asked, still having to shout, despite the fact that she was only a foot or two away from him.
"I want it with me," he replied evasively.
"Why?" she pressed.
He didn't reply. Instead, he took off his hood and tied it around her chest, just under the armpits.
"Listen to me," he said, as he picked up a length of rope. "I want you to go back to the cabin and stay there. Do not come out for any reason—not until the storm is over."
"Shaun, what are you doing?" she asked, as she watched him thread the rope through the spokes of the wheel and around his body.
"If the ship breaks up, find something to hang onto," he instructed. "Don't worry about me or trying to stay with what's left of the ship; just keep your head above water."
Suddenly a cold chill went through Annabel as she realized what was going on. He was lashing himself to the wheel so he wouldn't be washed overboard. And he was giving her his hat—the one thing guaranteed to float—in case she needed it.
"Shaun, take your hood," she said, trying to undo the knot.
"Leave it!" he said sharply. "Go below like I told you. Now."
Annabel was a little taken aback. He had never snapped at her before, and he had certainly never given her orders. A second later, lightning flashed and she could see real fear in his eyes—more than she had seen when the wolf attacked them; more than she had seen when Nagadii had ambushed them at the city gate; more than when they had been in hiding in the monastery. He was truly worried they were both going to die.
She nodded a little, then lurched her way to the ladder.
Shaun watched as Annabel’s blonde head disappeared below the edge of the deck. He couldn't be sure if she made it back to the cabin, but he hoped to the gods that she had.
He tied the end of the rope off, securing himself to the wheel, and he gripped it tightly, struggling to keep it turned into the waves.
"Father," he prayed to his dad's ghost, "if you can hear me, help me. Help me keep us alive. Show me what to do."
He was suddenly struck by the fact that his father probably died in a similar storm; it was surely the only thing that would have taken down an experienced sailor like Maverick. That didn't bode well for getting his prayer answered.
"Goddesses, protect us," he said, changing tack. "You gave us this quest. Please give us the means to survive it."
Despite his best efforts, though, the ship increasingly began to turn to the left. Or maybe the waves were shifting direction. In either case, every time the ship went down into a trough, it rode up the crest of the next wave less perpendicular to it. As the ship started to drift, it made less progress as it rose up, so instead of cutting across the top of the wave, it was only getting most of the way up before the top of the wave broke over it. And with every successive wave, it rose less high and was hit harder by the crashing wave.
Shaun threw himself against the wheel, turning it with all of his might, laying the rudder to larboard. But the ship was beyond human control; it was completely at the mercy of the waves and it went where they tossed it.
And then, the next thing Shaun knew, they were sitting at the bottom of a trough at a dead standstill. Overheard, the lightning illuminated a massive wall of water that was far taller than the masts—more like a mountain than a wave.
"Save us," Shaun whispered, staring up at the towering water. A moment later, it crashed down on the ship and everything went black.

Shaun slowly became aware of the fact that something was rubbing his face against sand—back and forth, back and forth. Eventually it became rather painful.
He was also pretty sure he wasn't breathing.
He tried to lift his head and take a deep breath, but apparently he didn't lift his head up as high as he thought, because he ended up snorting up a great quantity of sand, which scoured his nose and the back of his throat—which were already quite raw from the salt water.
He was seized with a violent coughing and hacking that shook his painfully sore body all over.
He struggled to push himself up—wanting to get away from the sand before he sucked up any more of it—but he found himself tangled in ropes and weighted down by something that wouldn't move.
He tried to reach down to get the knife out of his boot, but the rope stopped him.
He checked his back and found that his sword was still in its scabbard. He had some trouble drawing it, but he eventually managed to free it. Freeing himself, however, was more of a chore. Using a large sword to cut something as small as a rope—especially when weak and half-tied down—was awkward and he risked cutting himself more often than the rope.
But after several minutes, he finally felt the last part of him—his left leg—come free of the weight. He used the sword to push himself to his feet and he took a look around.
He had been tied to the wheel, which was lying half-buried in the sand barely above the waterline. There were broken parts of the ship—boards and rope and canvas sail—strewn along the beach and still floating in the water.
The one thing he didn't see was Annabel.
"Princess?" he croaked, his raw voice barely audible even to him. He cleared his throat—which was quite painful—and tried calling out again.
"Princess?"
He began to limp along the shore, looking amongst the debris for Annabel. He walked for nearly a half hour before he ran out of wreckage, but there was no sign of Annabel.
He sat down, panting heavily from exertion. A cold fear gripped his heart, but he kept telling himself not to panic. The gods had surely answered his prayer and had saved them so they could continue their mission. Annabel had to be there somewhere. Perhaps he had just walked the wrong way and she was lying in the opposite direction.
He had to rest a long time, but eventually he felt that his legs could carry him, so he pushed himself to his feet again and started his laborious walk back down the beach.
He followed his footsteps back to the ship's wheel where he had started, then continued past it. Before long, he had to use his sword as a cane—his back bent and his gait shuffling like an old man. He was barely able to continue to walk—his body rebelling after such a harrowing ordeal—but he pressed ahead on nothing but sheer willpower.
It took him a while to realize that he had run out of wreckage. When he lifted his head, he saw that the shoreline in front of him was empty but for some random strands of seaweed. He turned around and saw nothing but the occasional board and piece of rigging.
Annabel was nowhere to be found.
His heart sank, giving up, and his body followed. He fell to his knees, then collapsed face-forward onto the sand.
He had been wrong: the gods had not spared Annabel.
He began to cry. "Why not me?" he wailed hoarsely. "Why didn't you take me instead?"
He felt like crawling back into the ocean and drowning himself. That was infinitely preferable to living in a world without Annabel. His family could just think they were both lost at sea, heroically dying in their attempt to save the world. They need never feel the shame of knowing that he had failed in the one, simple task he had been given: keeping Annabel alive.
Unfortunately, he didn't have the strength to move. So he decided to just lie there until he died. Let the gulls have me, he thought bitterly. Maybe I'll be more useful to them than I was to the gods.
He must have blacked out again, because it seemed that quite some time passed before he felt himself being gently lifted up and turned over.
He struggled to open his eyes. Through a crack in his lashes, he saw a blurry face with a black beard and bushy hair.
"Shaun? Son?" the man asked in a deep voice. "Can you hear me?"
"Uncle Alfon?" Shaun croaked. "Princess… the Princess… where…?" Then, despite his best efforts, and to his great annoyance, he was sucked back into unconsciousness before he could find out if Alfon had found Princess Annabel.
Shaun woke when someone raised his head and poured water into his mouth. Actually, most of the water ran down his chin and onto his shirt; the remainder seemed to go into his lungs.
He sputtered and coughed and took in great gasps of air that made his raw lungs burn.
When he finally quieted down, the cup of water pressed to his lips again.
"Drink. You're dehydrated."
He didn't have to be told twice; he was dying of thirst.
He gulped the water down, making a bigger mess, but got most of it down his throat.
"More?"
"Please," Shaun croaked.
The man laid him back on the pillow, then got up to get more water. Shaun struggled to open his eyes. Everything was dim and hazy at first, but he could see the man on the other side of the one-room cottage.
"Uncle Alfon?" Shaun asked, even as his lethargic brain realized that the man couldn't be his uncle. He was too thin.
The man came back to the bed and raised Shaun up again, helping him drink. Things were definitely going better; Shaun managed to drink all of the water without spilling.
Then the man sat down beside the bed and looked at Shaun with a great longing in his face. "No, Shaun, I'm not Alfon."
"How do you know my name?"
The man looked at him levelly with bright blue eyes behind his wild black hair. "Because I'm your father."
Shaun stared at him, his brain unable to comprehend what had just been said—as if the man had spoken a foreign language.
"When I went down to the beach this morning," the man explained, "I saw wreckage. I went up and down the beach, looking for survivors. Imagine my surprise when I saw someone face-down in the sand with a shield on his back like the one in our family book and a sword in his hand that I spent countless hours looking at when I was growing up.
"When I picked you up, I realized immediately who you were. Even if it weren't for your ears, I could recognize you just because you look like your mother."
Shaun’s bottom lip began to tremble. "Father?"
He didn't dare to believe it was true. His father was dead—lost at sea when he was just five years old.
"Yes, it's me." He ran his hand over his bushy beard. "I know I look different—I don't have scissors, so I can't keep my hair and beard trimmed like I once did—but I am Maverick. I promise."
Tears began to roll out of Shaun’s eyes and he reached out with weak arms. Maverick leaned over the bed, embracing his son for the first time in thirteen years.
"Shh, it's alright," Maverick, said comfortingly, rubbing Shaun’s back as he cried. "You're alright. I'll take care of you."
It took Shaun several minutes to stop crying. He wasn't even sure why he was crying; he had never cried from sheer happiness before.
When he finally stopped, Maverick sat down again, looking at him earnestly. "Tell me everything that's happened. What happened to you? Are you a fisherman now? Why did you have our sword and shield? What happened to Vizier Ryu? Did he get you an education like he said he would?"
"Wait," Shaun said, interrupting the interrogation. "First… Princess Annabel. Have you seen her?" Shaun didn't have any hope—there wasn't any place for her to hide in the little cottage—but maybe… just maybe… she had fared better than him and was up and about somewhere outside.
"Princess Annabel?" Maverick asked with surprise. "No, I've never seen her. Why should I have? I haven't been to Linnens since you were born."
Even though Shaun had tried not to get his hopes up, his heart sank noticeably anyways. "She was with me," he said despondently. "We were separated in the storm."
"Oh," Maverick said, his face softening. "No, I'm afraid I haven't seen her, son. There was no one on the beach but you."
Tears welled up in Shaun’s eyes again—tears of sadness.
"Don't lose hope," Maverick hurried to say. "She may yet come floating in. I will check the beach regularly for you."
"Thank you."
"How did you come to be on the same ship as the Princess?" Maverick asked, clearly too curious to share in Shaun’s despair.
"We were on a quest to find Gardamon. Master Ryu told me that he sailed west years ago, meaning to find the end of the Endless Ocean, and he was never seen again."
"Well, this is the end of the Endless Ocean. At least, I think it is. It's certainly the westernmost land I found."
Shaun was shocked. "Is it really?"
"Yes."
"Have you met Gardamon? Or seen evidence of him? He was old when Master Ryu was a boy, so he's probably dead, but maybe he left behind books. He was supposed to be a great scholar."
"There's evidence that a number of people have been shipwrecked here over the years, although I'm the only person that's alive. There are some ruined old houses further up the beach. I decided to fix this one up, though, because… here, what are you doing?" he interrupted himself, looking at Shaun in shock.
Shaun was trying to sit up. "Show me," he demanded. "Show me the other houses."
Instead, Maverick pushed him back down onto the bed. "Shaun, you can't go anywhere. You can't even walk, son."
Shaun frowned at him, unhappy.
"I will take you there as soon as you're well," Maverick promised. "Those old houses have been there for years and years; they'll still be there in a few days."
"Yes, I suppose," Shaun, said, relaxing back against the bed. He didn't want to admit it, but his small amount of exertion had exhausted him. His father was right; he needed to wait until he was recovered.
"Tell me," Maverick said, getting back to his questions, "is Susan well? What of Meghan and Alons?"
"They are all well." Shaun had to smile. "Mother has done quite well by herself. She is up to two ships—well, actually, only one now that I've wrecked the smaller of the two. But she still has the large one and your old boat. She has a crew of about a dozen fishermen working for her."
Maverick sat back, looking impressed. "That many?"
"Yes."
"And the children?"
Shaun laughed. "They're not really children any longer. Meghan is nearly sixteen and Alons is thirteen. He looks like you, you know."
Maverick smiled. "Does he now?" he asked proudly.
"Yes. Meghan looks more like Mother and me."
"That's good. A girl who took after me and Alfon would be rather ugly, I'm afraid."
Shaun chuckled.
"So, are they still at home? Or did Vizier Ryu take them away, too?"
"No, they're at home. …At least I hope they are," he added with a frown.
Maverick frowned, too. "What do you mean?"
Shaun took a deep breath, then began filling his father in on the last thirteen years—his education and training, his service at the castle, his secret rendezvous with Annabel outside of the castle, Nagadii's scheme, Master Ryu's death, their escape to his mother's house, the coming of the guards, and their attempt to cross the Endless Ocean.
Shaun had to stop several times to drink water and rest his voice.
At the end, Maverick sat in his chair looking like stone—too shocked by all the news to really comprehend it.
"Now you see why I have to find the Princess and Garamond—or whatever's left of his books and things," Shaun said.
Maverick slowly nodded. "I will give you all the help I can."

Shaun was anxious and annoyed in equal parts—anxious to be doing something to find Annabel and Gardamon; annoyed that his body rebelled against him.
"Shaun, you survived no small thing," his father said, trying to reason with him as he was forced to spend a second day in bed. "It's a miracle that you didn't die."
"Yes, I know. But it's my duty to carry on—near-death experience or no near-death experience."
Maverick looked at him with a little confusion and worry. "You are very young to be pushing yourself so hard."
Shaun actually laughed—almost bitterly. "This has been my entire life: pushing myself to be ready for my destiny, then pushing myself to complete it. Whenever I meet one goal, there is another one in front of me. I am never done. There is no rest."
"I'm sorry," Maverick said sadly. "I should never have agreed to let Vizier Ryu take you. I should have never let this burden be put on you."
"You didn't do this, Father; this was the work of the gods. And, if it is to be believed, I have done this in past lives, too. I was made for this.
"And, truth be told, I drive myself more than anyone else. I don't know why, but I feel a great desire to do these things—a compulsion to do them. No one is forcing me to do this, and yet I can't be at peace while these things are left undone."
Maverick looked at him critically for a long moment. "I am proud of you," he said quietly. "You have grown into manhood and… and I think you are more a man than I will ever be. I don't know who I am that the gods should have chosen me to bring such a child into the world, but I'm proud to have done it."
Shaun was stunned. "Father, why do you talk like that?" he asked in astonishment. "I have always looked up to you. I have always endeavored to be like you. What's this nonsense about not being worthy of me?"
"I meant… you have this heavy destiny—a destiny to do great things. And I'm just a fisherman—and not much of that these past thirteen years."
"I don't care if you're a fisherman or the king; you are my father and you a good person; that's enough for me," Shaun said firmly.
In an effort to quell Shaun’s cabin fever—or perhaps because he was beyond lonely after thirteen years of isolation—Maverick spent most of the day talking to Shaun. The only time he took a break was when Shaun—despite his fighting it—fell asleep. Maverick used the opportunity to search the beach again, but every time Shaun awoke, the only answer he could give was a shake of his head.
No Annabel.
Shaun tried reaching out to her telepathically several times during the day, too, but he had no more luck than his father.
He fell into a sort of numb denial. He couldn't cope with the idea that she might have died at sea, so he tried to keep his mind on what his father was saying, and he made plans for locating Gardamon and continuing his quest. He completely ignored the fact that Annabel’s unknown fate was hanging over his head like a pall. If he didn't acknowledge that she was most likely dead, then it wouldn't be true.
He needed something to do to keep his mind off that fact—to keep away the crushing pain that he knew was coming. If that ever hit, it would cripple him—likely for life. He owed it to his family and to all the innocents in Nevara and elsewhere in the world to keep going. He could fall on his sword later.
That's what he told himself every time he called out to her and got no response: he could hurt later.
The following morning, Shaun got up before his father could wake up and stop him. He was slow and tired very easily, but he was on his feet again, which was a great benefit to his mental health. Concentrating on walking took all of his energy, so he didn't have time to worry.
After breakfast, Maverick led him down the gently-sloping path to the beach. They combed the shoreline together, but saw nothing new.
Even Maverick was growing concerned. He didn't say anything to his emotionally fragile son, but it was written all over his face nonetheless.
Shaun had to rest before they could begin the second part of their search. His father sat beside him on the sand.
"Do you think there's enough wreckage here that we could salvage it and sail back home?" Shaun asked, looking out at the ocean. "We'd only need a week's supplies or so; it's really not far."
Maverick shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid it won't work."
"Why not?"
"That's the first thing I did." He pointed up and down the coast. "There are powerful currents here. Powerful. Even with the outgoing tide, I was never able to make it far from land before I was pushed back. I tried several miles up the coast in either direction, and I tried at different times of the day and night—when the tide was high, low, coming, and going—but I could never break away from the currents."
Shaun frowned. Even if he found Garamond's things—even if the answer to the demon problem was written on the first page of the first book he found—it would be useless to him unless he could get back to Nevara.
He was quiet for a while, mulling over this new information. He was idly watching gulls hang on the wind when he had a thought.
"I could fly out," he muttered to himself. But as soon as he said it, he realized that was easier said than done. A week at sea in a boat with supplies was one thing, but flying for a week with no rest and no supplies was something else entirely. In fact, he was pretty sure he wasn't up to it; he got tired flying after just a short period of time.
Maverick shook his head again. "I don't think so," he said. He pointed to the gulls, which were suspended in the air, making no progress. "I've never seen a bird fly out to sea. The wind always blows from the east. If I had a good westerly wind behind me, I might could break away from those currents, but with a header on top of them, I can't get anywhere."
Well, that killed that idea.
When Shaun felt strong enough, his father helped him up and they walked farther up the beach, towards the other huts. They were all in similar states of decay—looking so rickety it was surprising that a strong wind hadn't already blown them down. They all appeared to be cobbled together from pieces of wreckage and driftwood and random bits. They had—or had once had—roofs thatched with sea grass.
"These were all here when you got here?" Shaun asked.
"Yes, but there was no one living in them. They must have died, or maybe they were rescued or went inland. My cottage was the best of the lot, so I took it; it was less work to fix up."
"Have you gone inland to see what's there?"
"Yes, but not far. It's nothing but jungle as far as I can tell, and there are some big cats in there—and gods know what else. I prefer to take my chances with the ocean; that's an untamed beast I at least understand to some degree. I wasn't made for the land," he added.
Shaun began to head towards the nearest hut, but his father stopped him. "There's nothing in those," he said. "I've already been in them and stripped out everything useful."
He pointed farther down the beach. In the hazy distance, there appeared to be a point of land that stuck out into the sea. On a hill above the water, there appeared to be a structure.
"Down there is where you want to look. It's… well… I'll show you. Maybe you can figure out what it is."
Curious, Shaun followed his father down the beach. He had to stop and rest again on the way, but within an hour, they were at an eroded trail that snaked its way up the sandy hill to a sturdy-looking hut.
Maverick went up the hill first and Shaun followed him. Shaun found he was even weaker than he thought, and he nearly didn't make it up; his father had to reach down and pull him to the top.
"Thank you," Shaun panted, sitting on the grass.
Maverick just nodded. Even he was a little breathless.
Shaun took a minute to look at the hut. It was in as good a condition as the hut his father lived in, making it look occupied.
"Why didn't you move in here?" Shaun asked.
"Well, that's the thing," his father said, looking a little nervous. "I tried the door, but it seemed to be locked. When I looked inside, I could see that everything was dusty—like it had been locked up for a long time. Then I saw what appeared to be an old man sitting in a chair. I knocked on the window for a long time, but he never moved. I decided that he must have died in there. So I tried to break in the window, but the glass wouldn't break—no matter how hard I hit it with a rock. I tried to kick in the door, too, but it never budged—even though it looks like it's barely held together. That's when I decided that whoever was in there was either a sorcerer or had been imprisoned by one, so it was best if I left it alone. I haven't been back up here since."
It was clear from the way he talked that he was afraid of the place. Sailors were, by nature, a superstitious lot. Being alone and having no source of help if something happened to him had probably only compounded Maverick's fears. Why take an unnecessary risk?
Shaun, on the other hand, had seen magic being used when he had been in school. He had never had any aptitude for it, but he wasn't afraid of it, either.
He pushed himself to his feet and slowly walked around the cabin, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He looked in the window and confirmed what his father had said: everything was thick with dust and cobwebs and there appeared to be a gray-headed man sitting in the chair by the fire.
Shaun made a circle, coming to door last. But when he neared it, he heard voices—it sounded like children's voices—whispering. They echoed as if they were distant, and yet the sound seemed to be coming from the door itself.
"Do you hear that?" Shaun asked in surprise.
"Hear what?"
"Those voices."
Maverick was still, listening for a moment. "I don't hear anything."
Shaun moved closer to the door, but the voices didn't sound any nearer or louder. But when he backed up, there came a point at which they stopped—not grew fainter; just stopped. But when he moved closer, they began again. He tried to listen to what they were saying, but he couldn't make out any words or even any semblance of words. It just sounded like children making noises.
"I can only hear it when I'm near the door," Shaun said, stepping out of range again. "Here, it stops. But when I step closer…" he took a step forward, "it begins again."
His father took a big step back, looking a little afraid. "It must be part of the spell," he said. "Shaun… maybe you should leave it alone."
"And do what? Stay here until I die? If this is Gardamon's house, then I need to get into it and see if he left behind any books or things that will tell us how to defeat the evil that's taking over the world. If I don't stop it, everyone will eventually become demons—including Mother and Alons and Meghan."
Maverick stood up a little straighter, bracing himself. "Do what you must," he said, looking more resolved.
Shaun reached out and touched the doorknob, but nothing happened. He tried to turn it, and, to his surprise, found that it opened easily. His father was right; some sort of magic had obviously been locking it. But what did it mean that he could open it when his father couldn't?
Shaun slowly pushed open the creaking door and stepped into the dim interior.

When Shaun entered the cabin, the first thing he noticed was that it smelled musty and everything was still. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see shelves lined with books and rolls of parchment that were likely maps.
He took a few more steps in—wary of some sort of trap—but everything stayed quiet and still.
Growing bolder, he moved to the wall with the books and began to help himself to the contents of the shelves.
He turned to unload his find on a table when he noticed his father cautiously peeking in.
"I think it's safe for you to come in," Shaun said. "Maybe the magic's worn off. Or maybe it was set so that only a Nevrek could enter."
Maverick cautiously stepped into the cabin, but when nothing happened, he moved with a little more confidence to the table where Shaun was spreading out the books.
"Did Vizier Ryu give you an education?" Maverick asked, looking at one book upside down.
"Yes, one of the best."
"I'm glad," Maverick said, putting the book back on the table. "I can't tell one mark from another. Alfon was always the bright one in the family."
Shaun grabbed an armload of parchments from the shelf and put them on the table. As he expected, they were maps.
"I bet you can read a map better than me, though," Shaun said.
"Oh, aye, I can read a map. I can figure out pictures real easy."
Shaun pushed the rolls over to him. "Start looking through those and see if there's anything useful in them—like a way to get off this island or landmass or whatever it is."
Maverick began to examine the maps while Shaun flipped through the books, look for information on light or dark magic.
After a while, though, he got tired of standing up. He looked around the room for a chair, but the only one there had a body sitting it—presumably Gardamon.
Shaun stopped to look at the man. His body had mummified, but other than being a bit wrinkled and very dried out, it was very human-like. Or maybe that should have been Nevrek-like, because Gardamon had the same long, pointed ears that Shaun and Annabel had.
He had obviously been very old when he died; he had very little hair left on top of his head, and it was white and wispy. He also had a long white beard that went down to his knees.
And then Shaun noticed that he had died clutching a small piece of paper in his left hand. Curious, Shaun reached for it and gently tugged it from his grasp.
I have foreseen your coming, Hero. Put your hand to mine.
Shaun was so startled, he took a step back.
His father noticed. "What's wrong?" he asked anxiously.
It took Shaun a moment to find his voice. "This piece of parchment was in his hand. It says, "I have foreseen your coming, Hero. Put your hand to mine."
"What does that mean?" Maverick asked.
"I think…. See, Annabel and I can speak telepathically—and Master Ryu and I could as well. Once you make a connection with another Nevrek, you can speak to them. And to make a connection with them, you must touch hands—palm to palm."
Maverick came around the table to stand beside Shaun. Together, they both looked at the mummified corpse.
"But… he's dead," Maverick said. "It won't work… will it? How can you talk to someone who's dead?"
"I have no idea. But he says he foresaw my coming—assuming I'm the hero he's talking about—so he must have known I wouldn't get here until after he had died. This all seems to have been set up for me to find—like the fact that I could get into the house and you couldn't."
"Well… I don't know," Maverick said timidly.
"If it doesn't work, I won't have lost anything," Shaun said practically. "But the man was obviously a wizard, so he might have left behind a spell that will help me in some way."
Shaun reached out and gingerly touched the mummy's right hand, which lay on his lap, palm up.
Shaun was shocked when he found himself floating in the same warm, golden place that he had been in when he had touched Annabel and Master Ryu.
"You must be Shaun," a voice said. Shaun didn't recognize it.
"Are you Gardamon?" Shaun asked.
"I am."
Shaun exhaled in relief. "I have come a long way to find you."
"I know. I have been awaiting your coming."
"How did you know I was coming?"
"Oh, I used to scry," he said casually. "Not only that, but I read the stars. I foresaw your birth years before you were born."
"Master Gardamon, are you aware of what's happening in Nevara?"
"I am."
"Then I'll be brief: do you know how to kill the demons and close up the rift?"
"I do. In fact, you need only one thing to accomplish both goals: the Shadow Sword."
"The Shadow Sword?"
"Yes. It is an ancient weapon forged by the Goddess Nevlia herself. It is made of heavenly materials and is imbued with such strong light magic that it will defeat any evil—even demons from the very depths of the Dark World."
"Where can I find it?"
"It has passed into the keeping of the brothers of the Order of Nevlia. They guard it at their monastery in Shi-Ha."
"I know them!" Shaun said with surprise. "They tutored me as a child."
"Yes. They have been the guardians of the knowledge of the Knights of Nevara for thousands of years. That is why Ryu took you there."
"Do you know Master Ryu? Can I speak to him as I'm speaking to you?"
"No, I'm afraid not."
"Why not? Because he wasn't a wizard?"
"No, because… I'm sorry, but he is in the Dark World."
"What do you mean?" Shaun asked, confused.
"There is a light side and a dark side to the Other World. I am in the light side, but he is in the dark side. I can communicate with you as a privilege of my being here, but he is not allowed to communicate with anyone outside the Dark World."
Shaun was stunned silent for a moment. "But… he did communicate with me. That's how I knew to come here and look for you."
"Did he?" Gardamon said with surprise.
"Yes, in a dream. Two dreams, actually."
"Hmm," Gardamon said thoughtfully. He was quiet for a moment, then offered an explanation. "Demons can communicate via dreams—in fact, they are responsible for nightmares. And demons can transfer their powers to others, so it's possible that Ryu made some sort of deal with one so that he could speak to you. But I shudder to think what price he paid to do so; demons do not share their power without a price, and they prefer to trade in pain and suffering."
Shaun winced to think about his mentor offering himself up as a sacrifice so that he could give Shaun information and warn him of danger.
"Why on earth would he be there?" Shaun asked Gardamon. "I thought only evil people were cursed to go there? Master Ryu was no evil person."
"He was not sent there by the gods; he was sent there by Nagadii's magic. And once you go there, you cannot come back. You can't even be reborn into the world of the living."
Shaun was rocked to his very core. He could suddenly hear the King's last words to him echoing in his head: "There's no coming back from where you're going."
"The King was going to send me to the Dark World so I couldn't even reincarnate again," Shaun said with horror. "He was going to separate me and Annabel for all of time."
"Yes. There was nothing worse that the King of Nevara could have possibly done—no greater sin that he could have committed—than to try to thwart the will of the gods for all of time. If he had only tried to kill you, his punishment would not have been as great, but as it is, he too is confined to the Dark World for all eternity. He brought his curse down on himself.
"And, unfortunately, it has fallen on the people of Nevara, too. And not just them, but the entire world as you know it. For setting himself against the gods and interfering with their plans, they have decreed that your land shall be destroyed by the demons unleashed by Nagadii. Only when the demons have done their work, and your land is devoid of life, will they force the demons back to the Dark World and remake the land."
Shaun felt his heart fall to his feet. "Then there is no hope."
"I didn't say that."
"But you just said that the gods have decreed this."
"They have decreed that they will allow this to happen—not that no one may stop it. Shaun, you are personally protected by the three goddesses: Lin, Nauru, and Faro. Your world belongs to them and they will do everything within their power to save the people there. You are their weapon against this evil."
Shaun was silent for a moment, a thousand questions running through his head. But one came to mind very strongly. He hesitated to ask it, though, for fear that the answer would be negative. If he knew for certain that Annabel was no longer alive, then he could no longer hide and pretend; he would be forced to confront the full onslaught of his pain.
He drew in a deep breath and steeled all of his courage. "Do you know where Annabel is? Does she… does she live?"
"Yes… for now."
Shaun’s heart felt as if it was going to leap out of his chest, but it fell back down just as quickly. "What do you mean?" he asked anxiously.
"She is still adrift at sea, but she is nearing land. I believe she will come ashore somewhere on the western-most coast of Erenrue. But she needs help."
"Will someone find her? Can you see that?" Shaun was leaning forward, on his tiptoes, as if he could spring forward to her rescue.
"Not as such," Gardamon replied, "but I know she will be cared for."
"By whom?"
"By you."
"How? I can't get off this island… or land… whatever it is. Father said the wind and currents both move towards us."
"Nevreks can do more than just talk to one another; they can also teleport."
Shaun took a moment to digest what he said. "What do you mean exactly?"
"If you want to go to someone, then you only have to want to go to them—and they have to want you to come to them. If you both desire it, then you will teleport to their side."
"So… I can bring Annabel here? So I can take care of her?"
"It would be much preferable if you went to her—that way you can continue your mission to retrieve the Shadow Blade. If you bring her here, then neither of you will be able to leave because there will be no one on the other side of the ocean to call you back."
Shaun couldn't argue with that.
"So… you can speak to me from the Other World," Shaun said slowly, a plan forming in his head. "Can I teleport someone out of the Other World? Like Master Ryu?"
"I'm sorry, but no. The barrier between the mortal and immortal worlds is much greater than a band of storms or strong currents. Only the gods can remove a soul from this world and place it in the mortal world."
"What about my father? If I hold onto him, can I take him with me when I leave?"
"No. Only Nevreks can travel through this plane, which is somewhere between the moral and immortal worlds, because we are somewhere between mortal and immortal."
Shaun sighed unhappily.
"It is to your credit that you think of helping others," Gardamon praised. "Perhaps the gods will one day reward your kindness and grant your prayers. But until then, you must follow your destiny and save your world."
"What can you tell me about me and Annabel? Are we fated to be together, as Master Ryu suspected?"
"Most definitely. As you know, Nevreks were created by the three goddesses. But human blood has weakened our blood over time until it is barely present. In a few more generations, there will be no Nevreks born at all. You and Annabel have been chosen to restore the bloodline. If you don't, then the gods will allow the humans of your world to be wiped out—either in this catastrophe or another—and they will start again."
"You make it sound like humans aren't wanted. Why were they allowed to intermingle with us if they weren't?"
"Shaun, you only know a small portion of the entire world. There are multiple races—each living on their own landmass. Once upon a time, only Nevreks lived in our portion of the world. Then humans—who came from this land—sailed across the ocean and settled in Nevara. It was then that the gods created a barrier around each landmass to keep the inhabitants sealed inside—a combination of destructive storms and impassible currents and unfavorable winds. But for our world, it was already too late; humans intermarried with Nevreks and their blood eventually came to dominate.
"There is nothing wrong with humans, but they are living in a place which is not theirs, and—albeit without malice—they have taken away the land that belongs to the Nevreks. Hence the gods desire to purge our world of them."
"But even though they don't belong in our world, the goddesses have pity on the humans and Nevreks both who live in their domain. After all, there is no person in our world who doesn't carry Nevrek blood. So the goddesses decided that rather than wipe everyone out and start again, they would just restore the bloodline slowly, over generations, in the same way that it was weakened: through marriage."
"You said that humans are from this land. Are there still some here?"
"Yes, but wars have ravished their population and they are few in number and far from where you are. It would take you many months of travel to reach them. And I think I would not tempt the gods; who knows what may happen if we were to mingle with them and upset the balance in their world as they did in ours."
"So my father must remain here alone?"
"I am afraid so—at least so far as I can see. I can't see the future now—as I once did—but I can see everything that's happening all over the world."
Shaun was thoughtful for a moment. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"Nagadii is eliminating heirs to the throne of Nevara and pressing men into military service."
"I knew he would kill to keep the throne for himself, but why is he growing the army?"
"He fears that Princess Annabel will be able to retake the throne if she manages to get help from her family in Erenrue. They have the largest standing army in the world, after all. And Annabel’s grandfather is reckoned a fierce warrior. When he was a young man, newly come to the throne, Shi-Ha declared war on Erenrue. The war lasted less than a year before Shi-Ha sued for peace. King Ranis won every battle by an overwhelming majority."
"Is there reason to hope that he will help us?"
"Yes, I think you can expect that… if you can get to him. If Annabel comes ashore where I expect, you should be able to move due east and hit Pallis, the capital city of Erenrue, in… about two weeks. But there are demons already loose in the world, and the wild animals are growing more fierce as a result."
"Do you have another suggestion?"
"No, I think it would be best for you to take the Princess to Erenrue. Her family will, at least, protect her. But there's a good chance they will help her retake the throne."
"And the Shadow Sword?"
"You will still need to retrieve it and kill all the demons. And that will not be an easy task," he warned. "Normal weapons will only stun minor demons for a short while; they will be completely ineffective against the major demons. So the best you can do, if you happen upon any on your way to Erenrue, is to stun them and run away. But you should take note of where they dwell. Once you have the Shadow Sword, you will have to return there and eliminate them completely. Only when all of the demons are purged from the world will you be able to close up the rift in the castle."
"Do you know how many we have to fight?"
"No, but I will see if I can learn more and help you on your quest. You will be able to contact me any time you need me—just as if I were alive."
Shaun paused, racking his brain for any more questions. Gardamon had been a font of knowledge—just as Master Ryu had hoped he would be.
"Is there anything else I should know?" Shaun said.
"I don't think so. Not at this time, anyways. Take one of my maps and mark where you find demons—the better to hunt them down later."
"Yes, sir."
"Rest and gather your strength. I will tell you when to go to Princess Annabel."
Shaun felt tears well up in his eyes. "Thank you," he said with heartfelt gratitude.
He felt himself slowly being pulled backwards, out of the peaceful golden space.
"Never forget that the goddesses want you to succeed," Gardamon said, his voice beginning to fade away. "You will always find help, just when you least expect it."

"Shaun!"
Shaun opened his eyes at the same moment his father slapped him across the face.
"Ow! What was that for?!" Shaun exclaimed.
His father hugged him close. "Oh, son, I thought you were dead!"
"Did you?" Shaun asked, bewildered; he felt fine. "Did I stop breathing?"
"No, but you passed out and I couldn't wake you."
Shaun smiled. "That hardly means I'm dead."
"But… I thought you might be dying."
He sat back, looking at Shaun seriously. "I don't want you to mess with this magic stuff anymore."
"It's alright; I know what I need to know."
Maverick helped Shaun to his feet and roughly beat the dust off his clothes. "I hope it was worth it," he grumbled.
"Definitely."
Shaun looked at the old man sitting in the chair. "I think it's time Master Gardamon's body was laid to rest. Do you have a shovel?"
"Aye," Maverick said with reluctance, eyeing the mummified body with distrust—as if he expected it to work dark magic on his son again.
"May I borrow it?"
Maverick hiked back to his hut to get the shovel while Shaun looked through all of Gardamon's maps. He found one that was a complete map of the world—as far any of them knew it. There was even, on the left side, the thin outline of the western land where they now stood.
Shaun folded the map carefully and put it in the pouch on his belt, then he skimmed through the books, looking to see if there was any information of use in them.
His father returned a little while later with a wooden spade. They chose a spot at the bottom of the hill where the ground was soft and sandy, but it was too far above the waterline to flood. Shaun and Maverick took turns digging and soon they had a respectable-looking grave.
Shaun carried Gardamon's body down to the site; it was strangely light, as if the old man had been nothing but bones and magic, and the magic was now gone.
He placed the body in the ground and stood up, bowing his head in respect.
"Thank you for all the help you have given me—for thinking of me even when your own death neared," Shaun said. "I hope I may someday be so selfless."
He shoveled the sandy soil over the body and soon there was nothing left but a smooth mound of dirt slightly darker than the ground around it.
Shaun and Maverick began the walk back to his hut.
"You seem better," Maverick said, looking at his son. "I was afraid you might have had a relapse when you collapsed."
"No, I feel fine," Shaun said, a little surprised. He hadn't noticed it, but now that his father mentioned it, he was definitely feeling better than he had when he had first gone into the cabin. He felt as if his body and spirit both had been restored.
"Princess Annabel is alive," he told his father. "Master Gardamon confirmed it."
"That's good. I know that's a weight off your mind."
"You have no idea," Shaun said fervently. It was more like a weight was off his entire body.
"What else did he say?" Maverick asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.
Shaun sighed and stopped. His father stopped, too, looking at him in confusion.
"I have to go back. Annabel will soon wash ashore somewhere on Erenrue's western coast. Master Gardamon will send me word when it's time to go, but I think it will be in just a day or two."
"How are you going to get back? Maverick asked, looking even more perplexed.
"Apparently Princess Annabel and I are able to teleport to one another."
Maverick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "And you can leave here just like that?"
"Yes… at least that's how it was explained to me. When I want to change into my eagle-form, it's as simple as just wanting to do it, so I suspect it will be similar to that."
Maverick smiled. "That's wonderful. …I mean, that you can go home."
Shaun looked at him sadly. "But I can't take you with me," he whispered. "The magic—or whatever it is—won't work on you because you're not a Nevrek."
Maverick’s face fell a little, but he quickly recovered. "That's alright," he said dismissively.
"No, it's not." Shaun hugged his father. "If I could take you with me, I would."
Maverick patted him on the back. "I know you would, son."
"I don't want to leave you—not after just finding you."
Maverick pushed him back, holding him by the shoulders, and smiled fondly as he looked at him. "Shaun, I never thought I would see you again. Even if we are only together for a few days, it is more than I could ever have hoped for. I cannot thank the gods enough for the blessing of seeing my son—my firstborn—grown into honorable manhood. It is more than I ever dared hoped for these long years."
Shaun felt tears well up in his eyes. "If there is a way to bring you home, I will find it," he vowed.
"I believe that you can do anything."
They spent the remainder of the evening alternating between long periods of silence—each man lost in his own thoughts—and discussions about the next phase of Shaun’s mission.
"If we can get the army of Erenrue behind us," Shaun said, as he ate dinner, "then Nagadii should be relatively easy to overthrow. Princess Annabel can take her throne and I can get the Shadow Sword and take care of any demons."
"You should take part of that army with you," Maverick pointed out. "Don't try to defeat those demons on your own."
"Only the Shadow Sword can kill them."
"Yes, but people watching your back never hurts. And if they stun them so you can finish them off, all the better."
Shaun nodded, taking his father's advice into consideration.
That night, Shaun slept better than he had since he had been at home. Annabel was alive and it was only a matter of time before he would be reunited with her. They would go to Erenrue and her family would help them reclaim her throne. Taking out the demons was almost an afterthought.
In his mind, his quest was more than half over, and the hardest part was already behind him.
He took Garamond's advice to heart and spent the following day sleeping late and eating everything that he could find. His appetite had apparently returned along with his good spirits.
"Didn't you have any food on your voyage over?" Maverick asked, as Shaun finish off a huge fish all on his own.
"Yes, we had plenty to eat. Mother gave us enough food for months."
Maverick chuckled. "Was the Princess not a very good cook?"
"I cooked everything, thank you," Shaun replied with mock indignation, even as he reached for a thin piece of flat bread that his father made from the grains of sea grass cooked on a hot rock. "I'm a very good cook," he added, tearing off a bite of bread.
"Does she not know how to cook?"
"No. But what princess does?" He shrugged, finishing off his bread. "It doesn't matter. She has me and I cook quite well."
Maverick looked at him as if seeing a side of him that he hadn't seen before. "You take your responsibility to her very seriously, don't you?"
"Absolutely. It is my duty to serve."
Maverick leaned back, as if needing to size up all of him. Then he nodded. "I think your ancestors would be very proud. I'm very proud," he hurried to add, "but I think they would be proud as well."
"Do you mean the Knights?"
"Yes."
"I want to be one someday," Shaun confessed.
"There haven't been any Knights of Nevara since the Imprisoning War wiped them all out."
"But we are their descendants. Uncle Alfon showed me the book."
"Yes, but there's more to being a knight than simple descent."
"I know. That's why I want to earn it."
"I suppose it would be silly to ask if you want to take over the family business," Maverick said with a smile. "Is there anything else you want out of life?"
Shaun hesitated to say. He looked down at his empty plate and shuffled his feet under the table. "Yes…" he mumbled.
"What?"
But Shaun shook his head. "I won't say. It's not mine to take; it is someone else's to give."
"I see," Maverick said, sounding as if he did know what Shaun was hinting at.
That afternoon, they rolled up their pants and went down to the beach to go fishing. Maverick was teaching Shaun how to spear fish.
Shaun stood in the shallows, the gentle waves lapping against his shins. He could see the fish clearly, but somehow they always seemed to dart away when he jabbed his spear down. He tried moving faster, but all he did was narrowly miss skewering his own toes.
"How do you do this?" he asked in frustration, missing for what had to be the tenth time. He wasn't used to being a slow learner.
Maverick chuckled as he struck, then pulled up another fish wriggling on the end of his sharpened wooden spear. There were already a half-dozen flopping forlornly on the beach.
"The water is deceptive," Maverick explained. "The fish is not quite where it appears to be. But once you learn how to compensate for the illusion, it's no trick."
"Maybe I should show you how I fish," Shaun said.
Maverick looked interested. "Sure."
Shaun sloshed back to the shore and transformed into an eagle. Even though he had told his father about his ability, the older man was still flabbergasted when he saw it.
Shaun took a few running hops and launched himself into the air. The air current was indeed strong from the east, but he managed to get a little ways out to sea. There was a large school of fish under him and one would occasionally jump out of the water.
He watched for fish that were accelerating and rising towards the surface. He swooped down to where he thought they were going to breech and opened his claws. He still wasn't perfect at it, but within a few tries, he had caught a fish.
He flew back to the beach and dropped the fish in his father's pile. Then he returned to his human form.
"Impressive," Maverick said. "I have to say I can't best you that way."
Shaun laughed. "I'm still not very good at it, but apparently I'm better at it than I am at spear-fishing."
A moment later Gardamon interrupted him.
Shaun?
Shaun was so surprised that he forgot and responded aloud. "Yes, sir?"
"I didn't say anything," Maverick said, looking at him in confusion.
Shaun held up his finger, asking his father for a moment of silence. Yes, sir? Shaun replied telepathically.
Annabel is nearly to shore. But her condition has greatly deteriorated; she is barely clinging to life.
Shaun turned and began to run for his father's house where his sword and shield were.
I'm afraid there is a complication in this that I had not foreseen, Gardamon said, sounding apologetic.
What?
Princess Annabel must be a party to the teleportation. She must want you to come to her as much as you want to go to her. But she's delirious at the moment; I don't think she will be able to participate. Is there anyone else in Nevara that you connected with?
No one but Master Ryu.
I don't know what to do about this, Gardamon said nervously.
You were the one who told me that the gods want us to succeed. We must trust that this plan will work.
I pray it will be so, he replied fervently.
Shaun burst into the hut and quickly took a seat on the side of the bed and started to pull on his boots.
"Son, what's wrong?" his father asked breathlessly, trotting in behind him.
"Gardamon just contacted me. I have to go."
"Now?"
"Yes." Shaun’s hands flew as he laced up his boots. "Princess Annabel is apparently in very poor health."
"Can you take things with you? Food and water?"
"I don't want to raid your supplies; you don't have much to spare."
"I don't bother keeping extra because I don't need it; that doesn't mean I can't resupply easily enough."
"I think I'll be able to take stuff with me. Master Gardamon didn't say I couldn't. And gods know I need my sword, at the very least."
Maverick hurriedly packed an old canvas sack—made from a torn bit of sail—with food and a skin of water and he gave Shaun hurried instructions for helping someone who was nearly drowned.
"Put your ear to her chest and listen; if she has a watery sound in her lungs, you will need to pump it out."
He made Shaun lie on the bed and he demonstrated how to use the hands to force water out of the lungs.
"If there's none in her lungs," Maverick said, letting Shaun get up, "she may have a belly full of salt water. Too much saltwater will dehydrate a person worse than no water at all, and it can act as a poison. Worse, when people get in that condition, they feel ill and usually don't want pure water because it makes them feel worse. Make her drink it anyways—even if it makes her sick.
"The water is warmer here than at home, too—especially if she's far north of Marlin. She will be very cold. You need to warm her up and keep her warm until she's well again."
Shaun nodded as he strapped on his sword and shield. "Anything else?"
Maverick paused, clearly searching his brain for more information. "Make sure she eats. She probably won't want to at first, but it's been days since she had something. Start with something easy, like broth. When her stomach can handle it, try something a little more substantial, like a little fish and bread." He lifted the bag in his hand and patted it. "I put some in here for you."
"Thank you."
Maverick looked at him with a mixture of sadness and fondness. "I can't think of anything else."
Shaun gave his father a tight hug, which Maverick returned. "I love you," Shaun said.
"I love you, too, son." After a moment, Maverick pulled away. "Tell Meghan and Alons that I love them and there's not a day that doesn't go by that I don't think about you all."
Shaun wiped tears from his face and nodded. "I'll tell them," he said, his voice choked with emotion.
"And tell Susan… tell her that I love her, too," Maverick said, his own voice choking up.
Shaun nodded, then hugged his father again.
Annabel was outside a fence. It wasn't very tall, nor very secure; she could pass through it if she wanted to. But, for the moment, she was content to hide behind a stone fence post and listen to the people on the other side.
Master Ryu and all the Nevrek Sages of yore were sitting in a circle under a tree debating deep philosophical concepts—some of which were even beyond Annabel’s ability to understand. Her father was pacing around the outside edge of the circle, occasionally interjecting a question or a nonsensical statement that he rattled off proudly.
It made Annabel laugh; her father clearly wanted to be part of the intellectual conversation, but it was way above his head. The more the scholars talked, the more agitated he became—like a spoiled child who was getting no attention from the adults. It was terribly comical.
And then Shaun was standing beside her, leaning down to look at her.
"Princess, can you hear me?"
For some reason his voice sounded louder and clearer—more real—than the voices on the other side of the fence.
"Of course I can hear you; I'm not deaf." She smiled to show she was teasing, not angry.
"I want to be with you, but you must want me to be there."
Annabel pulled back, horrified. She knew where she was; she was on the Other Side. The idea that she was dead didn't terrify her, but the idea that Shaun wanted to join her did.
"I don't want you to be here," she said.
"Your Highness, you must. You must want me to come to you."
"But I don't want you to come here. I don't want you to die."
"I won't die."
"But that's where I am, Shaun: I'm on the Other Side."
"No, you're not. You've washed ashore in Erenrue. You are very sick and need my help. But I can't save you if you don't call me to you."
"I'm not alive anymore." She pointed through the fence. "Look, there's my father and Master Ryu and all the great Sages. I know they're dead."
"Princess, you aren't seeing those people. You're hallucinating because you're cold and sick and half-drowned. You will die if I don't save you, but you have to help me. Call me to you."
"No, I don't want you to die."
Shaun grabbed her rather forcefully by the shoulders, giving her a little shake. His blue eyes were inches from her face and they were angrier than she had ever seen them.
"Princess, listen to me: I. Will. Not. Die. Now, call me to you. Want me to be with you."
"But, I don't—"
"Gods damnit, I want to be with you!" he shouted at her. "Now do it! Want me to be with you!"
She was afraid not to do it. And even if she didn't like the idea of Shaun dying, there was no denying, deep down in her heart, that she did want him with her for all of eternity.
With all her heart, she wished for him to be with her.

Shaun wasn't just lifted into the golden space—as happened when he first made a connection with a Nevrek—he was thrust into it. It twisted and warped into a tunnel and he hurtled headlong through it. The experience was so disorienting, and the wind in his face so strong, he had to close his eyes.
And then, the next thing he knew, he was perfectly still and standing on his feet. He slowly opened his eyes and looked on a foreign landscape. He was standing on a beach made entirely of dark rocks—tumbled smooth by the ocean.
Ahead of him was a narrow plain—longer than the eye could see—hemmed in between a dense forest to the south, and a rugged line of bare, stone-gray mountains to the north. The mountain range looked like a mouth full of sharp teeth pointing to the sky; there was still snow on the highest peaks. The forest, to his right, was dark and looked to be a thick, impenetrable tangle.
The plain itself was covered in a silvery-gray grass that looked as if it had been bleached of all color. There was nothing to be seen on the plain—no trees or features of any kind.
Overhead, the sky was dull and gray. It didn't really look like rain, but neither was there any promise of sun.
Overall, it was a gloomy, desolate place devoid of life and color.
Shaun’s eyes took in everything in a matter of seconds. What he didn't see was Annabel.
He wheeled around and found himself facing the iron-gray ocean. It was littered with bits of floating wreckage—wooden boards and canvas sails and ropes—and…
"Princess!"
Shaun dropped the bag of supplies his father had given him and dashed into the water, slogging his way towards the figure, which floated nearby.
Annabel lay on her back—Shaun’s black hood still tied tightly across her chest. Her hair was splayed out on the water in a tangle of silvery-blonde. In her right hand she clutched her bow. She had her quiver of arrows strapped across her chest and her left hand was jealously clutching them.
Her face was as white as the snowy mountaintops.
"Princess, can you hear me?" Shaun said, as he moved towards her, waist-deep in water.
She didn't respond.
He half-pushed and half-carried her towards the beach until the water was shallow enough that he was able to pick her up and carry her ashore.
"Your Highness, can you hear me? Can you speak?"
She didn't respond to his words. He could see her blue lips moving slightly as if she were speaking in a whisper, but he knew that was because she was still hallucinating; she didn't even know he was there.
He glanced up and down the shoreline and—miracle of miracles! —he saw what appeared to be a cabin some distance to the north.
He crossed the beach to the sturdier footing of the plain and began trotting towards the cabin. He could tell from his own half-soaked clothes that the water had been frigid, and Annabel lay like a lump of ice in his arms. She was dangerously cold.
Shaun was practically stumbling by the time he reached the dilapidated old cabin; his feet were numb in his wet boots and he was breathing so heavily he couldn't have spoken if he wanted to.
The door was hanging loose in the doorway, tilting forlornly on worn out hinges—attesting to the lack of an occupant.
Shaun kicked the door open and pushed his way inside.
The place looked as if it had been abandoned for some time. There was a bed in one corner with the remnants of some dusty, moth-eaten covers. There was a crude wooden table and two benches—one of which was broken—an empty fireplace, a small stack of firewood, and a wooden bucket. Besides one window, which was shuttered because it had no glass, and a compacted dirt floor, that was the entirety of the cabin.
Shaun tried to decide where to put the Princess. His first thought was to put her on the bed, but then he thought better of it. She was still dripping wet and there was no need to get the covers wet, too; they needed them dry and useful.
He finally put her on the floor next to the fireplace and set about building a fire with what kindling there was available. Not for the first time he thanked the gods for the fire-making kit in his pouch.
The fire soon caught up and he added wood to it as quickly as he dared—lest he snuff out the flame. But the driftwood had been drying out for a long time and it quickly caught up, putting out a hot fire with a blue-green flame.
Shaun got up and shut the door—the day was rapidly waning and the temperature outside was beginning to drop—and he peeled off his soggy boots. Then he knelt down in the floor beside Annabel.
"Your Highness, can you hear me?"
Still no response.
Shaun tried to pull the bow from her hand, but she had clamped down on it so long ago, and had become so cold, her fingers were locked around it and refused to loosen.
"Princess, if you can hear me, I need you to let go of your bow. It's alright; nothing's going to happen to it."
He tugged on it, but nothing happened. Even if she had been conscious, she might have had difficulty—after such a long time—relaxing her fingers enough to let go.
He tried prying her fingers off of it, but quickly became concerned that he was going to break her fingers before he got the bow loose.
He pressed her icy-cold hand tightly between his, trying to warm it up, hoping her muscles might unlock.
"Princess Annabel, if you can hear me, give me a sign. Try to move your fingers."
Still nothing.
Shaun alternated between blowing hot breath on her fingers and rubbing and pressing her hand between his. "I really need you to let go of this for me," he pleaded.
She never acknowledged his words, but he finally got her hand warm enough that—with great difficulty and no small amount of fear—he was able to pry her fingers open enough to slip the bow from her hand.
"Good girl," he said, as if she could hear him. "Now, can I have your quiver?"
Her left hand couldn't encircle the entire quiver, so her fingers had not had the opportunity to lock around it. He was able to unbuckle the strap and get it off her without any problem.
His hood took some work. The knot had swollen and it did not want to come undone. Shaun hated to cut the hood off—especially since it had proven its worth—but he needed it off of her so he could get her out of her wet clothes.
He made one final attempt at getting the knot undone—going so far as to attack it with his teeth—and, at last, it began to give. Another minute of working on it and it finally fell apart.
He tossed the hood aside. "Princess, can you hear me?" he asked once again, not expecting—and not getting—a response.
"Your Highness, please forgive me," he continued, "but I have to get you out of these wet clothes."
He closed his eyes for a moment—his mind conjuring an image of Master Ryu giving him a severe dressing-down for what he was about to do—then he screwed up his courage and quickly stripped Annabel out of her clothes.
He carried her to the bed and put her in it. He wrinkled his nose at the poor condition of the mattress and covers—neither was very clean—but it seemed better than nothing, and he carefully covered her up, tucking the covers in tightly around her body and feet. He gathered up her long, wet hair and draped it over the headboard so that it wasn't touching her.
He busted up the already-broken bench and added it to the fire. Heat began to radiate through the cabin and Shaun felt pleasantly warm. But instead of taking a break to enjoy it, he pulled his wet boots on again and went outside. The light was rapidly fading behind the overcast sky, and he hurried to pick up as much driftwood and wreckage as his arms would hold.
He sorted the wood into stuff that was dry enough to burn now and stuff that was still too wet. He propped the wet wood up against the wall nearby, where the heat could dry it.
He was almost done when he remembered the bag of supplies. He checked on Annabel, but she was still comatose.
He knew he needed the water-skin that was in the bag, so he decided to chance leaving her for a few minutes.
There was hardly enough light left to see by when he went sprinting down the coast, back to where he first arrived. He grabbed the bag and jogged back to the cabin, panting with exertion. His toes were tingling painfully—protesting at being inside the wet boots again.
He took off his boots once he was inside and added some more wood to the fire—making it as big as he could given the small size of the fireplace. It was comfortably warm in the cabin.
Annabel was making little indistinct noises, and Shaun hurried to her side.
"Princess, can you hear me?"
She continued to mutter. Shaun feared she was still hallucinating.
He fetched the water-skin from the bag of supplies. He sat down on the bed beside her and gently lifted her up and put the nozzle of the bag to her lips—just as his father had done for him.
"Drink," Shaun said, trying to pour a trickle of water into her mouth. And just as had happened with him, more water went out than in.
But he didn't lose hope. He repositioned the bag so that the nozzle was more firmly between her lips, and he carefully poured a little more.
"Drink this, You’re Highness. You need it."
He knew he was getting some water in her when she started to cough and sputter. But after only a little bit more, she started to gag.
He got up and fetched the old bucket. He returned with it just in time; Annabel rolled over and retched water—much more than he had given her. It was as his father had feared; she had swallowed a lot of seawater and it would make her even sicker if she didn't get rid of it.
Shaun let her settle down a little before he tried to give her more water. She tried weakly to turn away from him, but he wouldn't let her refuse. He got another swallow or two of water down her before she was retching into the bucket again.
They went a third round—Annabel trying to fight him a little more; he steadfastly refusing to be turned away—but she only had a few dry heaves in response. It appeared that her stomach was empty.
Shaun made her comfortable again—taking care to tuck the blankets tightly around her—then he stepped outside to empty the bucket. The wind was blowing fiercely off the mountain—a biting cold that felt more like winter than spring. He thanked the gods that the hut was there; he would have hated to try to keep Annabel warm with no more than a fire on the unprotected plain.
He went back inside and added more fuel to the fire. The cabin was warm enough, but cold drafts still came through cracks in the walls, giving a temporary chill.
Shaun suddenly had an idea. He pulled on his wet boots once again and went outside. In the darkness, he gathered up a fistful of grass and cut it with his knife. Then he went around the cabin—paying particular attention to the end where Annabel’s bed was located—and every place where he saw light coming through a gap, he stuffed grass into it using the tip of his blade.
He worked for the better part of an hour, until he was too cold and numb to do anymore, then he went back inside.
Although the fire was burning lower, the cabin was warmer than when he had left it, and even though he could hear the wind rattling against the board walls, he felt almost no draft.
Satisfied with his handiwork, he checked on Annabel and found her resting quietly. There was some color in her cheeks again and when he touched her face and hands and feet, he found them all to be relatively warm.
It looked like the worst had passed.
He ate some of the grilled fish and bland, nameless root vegetables that his father had packed for them, then he dragged the bench over to the wall, next to the bed.
He induced Annabel to drink a little water and, thankfully, other than coughing and choking a little on it, she had no adverse reaction to it.
Exhausted—more emotionally and mentally than physically—he sat down on the bench, put his head back against the wall, and dozed off.

Annabel had a succession of strange, feverish dreams. Some of them she forgot as soon as she had them—although she tried to remember them later, even while having new dreams.
She dreamed that she was trying to fly a kite, but she couldn't get it off the ground. Horace offered to try, so she let him take it, then she climbed on top and he launched it and her both into the air. She flew for a long time.
At some point, she dreamed that a wolf tried to attack her and Shaun, but he played his flute and tamed it. Then he got on its back and pulled her up, too, and they rode around the plain all night.
Then she was in bed and Shaun was giving her something to drink, but she didn't want it because it made her feel sick to her stomach. But he held her down and forced the liquid on her until she vomited. Then he did it again. She was sure he was trying to poison her, but since she couldn't keep it down, it didn't harm her. That didn't stop him from trying to do it again, though.
She had no idea why Shaun would want to poison her. She thought he had been in love with her. Maybe it was just a ruse on his part to get her alone so he could kill her and take her throne.
The thought made her cry.
"See, I told you," her father said superiorly. "I told you he was after the throne. But nooooo, you chose him over me—your father—your own flesh and blood. Now look at the mess you're in. I'm dead and you soon will be, too."
Annabel cried harder.
"Crying about it won't help," he said unsympathetically. "You might as well give up and just let him finish you off. Better poison than having your head chopped off—less painful that way."
Then Shaun was holding her and trying to pour something in her mouth.
"Drink, Princess."
With tears running down her face, she decided to listen to her father and just give up; she drank the liquid. It was warm and rather fishy-tasting. It didn't taste like poison. And it didn't make her sick.
Suddenly she felt as if her stomach was trying to turn itself inside out—not from poison, but from sheer hunger. Her stomach, at least, knew what her feverish brain didn't: food was being offered. And it wanted it. Now.
Annabel tried to grab the cup of broth, but she was adrift at sea again and her arms were moving through water. Only the water felt thick and she could barely move against it.
"Shh… here," Shaun said, giving her more broth.
She gulped it greedily, not caring about manners or tidiness. When the cup was empty, she bit at it, convinced it was a rather-tough cracker.
Shaun chuckled, pulling it away. "Hey, don't eat that; it's the only one we have."
He laid her down and got up. Annabel watched as he walked across a low-lying fog that filled a strange wooden room. He went to the blue-burning fire and did something, then he skipped lightly across the fog to her side.
He sat down on the edge of the cloud where she was lying and he took her gently in his arms, offering her more broth. She downed it quickly.
When she was through, he laid her down again and looked at her closely. His eyes were made of the same blue flames as the fire.
"Princess, can you understand me?"
She tried to answer him, but only a tiny squeak came out. It was a struggle to find her voice—long disused and long abused by cold and saltwater.
She tried again. "Y-yes," she croaked.
He brushed his hand over her forehead and cheek. It felt nice and cool. "Do you know who I am?"
She nodded a little.
"Do you know who you are?"
She had to think about that one a little bit harder. She thought she knew who she was—in fact, she was certain she had known the second before he asked—but now she wasn't sure what her name was.
"Do you know who you are?" he repeated.
She finally shook her head a little. She wanted to tell him to give her more time—she'd figure it out eventually—but that was far too many words to speak; she'd never get it all out. It was too much effort.
"If you know who I am, what's my name?" he pressed.
"Sh-Shaun."
"Alright," he said, seeming content with that answer. He brushed his hand over her forehead again.
She wanted to ask him why he was trying to poison her earlier—and if he still planned on doing her in—but she fell asleep before she could gather the strength to string together an entire sentence.
She was in the cold ocean. She had been in it for days, but there was still no sign of land. She was dying of thirst and her stomach cramped painfully from hunger. She had never known real hunger or thirst before; she had never wanted for anything. But now she was alone and there was no help. Shaun—the only person left in the world who would care for her—was gone—drowned at sea.
Sometimes she could see large fish in the water around her, circling. Sometimes they even got close enough to brush against her leg. She tried to climb higher onto a little panel of boards, which represented the largest part of the ship that had survived. She didn't know anything about fish, but the ones circling her were so large, she was afraid they might eat her. She was pretty sure some fish ate people.
The sky remained overcast day after day, so she couldn't even figure out what direction she was moving—or even if she was moving. For all she knew, she was bobbing in the middle of the ocean, going nowhere.
One night it began to rain. It was as if the ocean—denied its victim—had asked the sky to help; either from below or above, she was going to be drowned.
The sea began to toss her and her little piece of wreckage around. It was going to clean up everything it missed the first time around.
Annabel cried out to the gods to end her suffering—to give her either rescue or death. She couldn't stand living in between the two anymore.
In the storm, a scrap of canvas became wrapped around her and she couldn't move her arms. This was surely it. She was going to go down into the dark depths of the sea and never been seen or heard of again.
Then Shaun was stroking her hair. "Shh… Shh, it's alright."
She struggled against the canvas, suddenly changing her mind—suddenly wanting to fight for life.
"I… I can't move. I'm drowning. Don't let me drown!"
"You're not drowning."
She struggled harder, not hearing him. She couldn't get free of the fabric wound around her body. She was sinking down, down, down.
She screamed, kicking and jerking her arms harder. But instead of getting free, thick ropes encircled her, holding her tight.
"Princess, Princess, shh, you're alright. You're not drowning. Be still."
She still cried and struggled. She began to hyper ventilate; a full-blown panic attack was setting in.
"Princess, please," Shaun begged, "you're making things worse."
"I… have to get out. I'm going to drown. I'm going to drown."
Then the rope bands around her released. She struggled with the sail, but, magically, it melted away.
Warm, dry air washed over her body. She was floating on top of the ocean, finally free. The storm was over and the sun was shining; it was a beautiful day.
She breathed a sigh of relief, calming down.
After a minute, she actually began to enjoy the feeling of floating effortlessly on her back. It felt good to be naked.
Naked?
Something about that didn't seem right.
She opened her eyes, only to discover that she was not floating on the ocean, basking in the sun; instead, she was in a dark cabin, lying on a ratty excuse for a bed. But she was naked.
Shaun was standing beside the bed, holding a blanket. He looked at her worriedly. "Princess, do you know where you are?"
"No," she said shrilly. "And why am I naked?" She curled up, trying to cover herself.
Shaun gently draped the blanket over her. "I had to take your clothes off because they were soaking wet and you were almost frozen to death. I had you covered up, but you were screaming that you couldn't move and were drowning. I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself if I didn't 'free' you."
Annabel heard only one thing that he had said.
"You took off my clothes!?" she shrieked. It was one thing if she had lost her clothes at sea, but for him to strip her of them….
Shaun dropped to one knee. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but I had to."
"Where are they?" she demanded.
He got up and walked across the room to a table. He brought her shirt and pants back; they were carefully folded.
She snatched them from his hand. She had to hold the blanket up with her other hand to keep from exposing herself again.
"What kind of perverted man strips a woman naked when she's helpless?" she railed. "I thought I could trust you."
He rocked back, looking as if she had just slapped him across the face.
"Get out!"
Shaun was stunned past the point of speech. He merely bowed to her, turned, and walked quietly out the door.
Annabel huffed angrily and threw back the blanket. She tried to sit up, but she became so dizzy, she nearly fell out of the bed. By blind luck, she managed to grab the headboard and steady herself.
That shocked her out of her anger. And as she struggled to dress herself, she slowly came to the realization that she had been—and still was, to some degree—very ill. It seemed to take forever to pull on her pants. And she nearly fell out of the bed three more times as she tried to get into her shirt.
After ten minutes, she finally fell back into bed—dressed, but so exhausted she felt that she could never lift her head again.
But, despite the fact that she was physically drained, her mind was steadily clearing and she started to see the difference between reality and her fever-induced hallucinations. She was pretty sure her dreams about being adrift on the ocean for days were based on reality. But she was quite positive that Shaun had not been trying to poison her.
In fact, she was sure that he had been taking care of her for some time—maybe even days. …Which made her feel like a complete ass when she thought about what she had just said to him. She didn't even know why she had reacted the way she had. She hoped he would believe that it was the fever talking, not her.
"Shaun?" she called out, hoping he would still talk to her.
He opened the door a second later—he must have been standing right outside—and walked in, his head bent and his eyes downcast. She could see in his face that she had wounded him deeply.
But before she could say anything, he knelt beside the bed and bowed forward, putting his forehead against the dirt floor.
It was the ultimate gesture of abject humility. Only the very desperate—such as those convicted of a crime—begged that way. And Annabel had seen a few condemned men go to the gallows rather than humble themselves that much—even to their king.
"Shaun, what are you doing?" she asked, completely bewildered.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry and I humbly ask your forgiveness."
Annabel stared at him in open-mouth shock. She should have been the one on her knees before him—not the other way around.
"W-what…? What…? No…. No, no, get up."
But he didn't move. "I did something which was improper and offensive to you," he said, "and for that I beg your pardon. But please know that I only did it because I felt there was no other alternative. I was truly afraid you were going to die."
Annabel felt tears stinging her eyes. She felt a million times more guilty than she had just a few minutes before.
"Shaun, get up. Please."
"Not without your pardon," he insisted.
"You don't need my pardon. It is I who wronged you. I hope you know that I wasn't in my right mind when I said those things. I know you would never take advantage of me. You are the most steadfastly loyal person I've ever known. And I trust you completely. If you say that you needed to do something for my well being, then I believe that it needed to be done."
He didn't budge.
"You're not going to get up, are you?"
"No, Your Highness—not without your forgiveness."
"I've told you there's nothing to forgive."
"Well… you may not remember it, but I did shout and curse at you because you wouldn't call me to you. I only did it because I knew you desperately needed my help, and you weren't listening to me, but… I probably should have handled that better."
Annabel sighed, too tired to argue with him anymore. Besides, he was the only person more stubborn than she was; he would never give in.
"Sit up; I can't reach you down there," she said wearily.
He slowly rose, sitting back on his heels. Annabel stretched out her hand and laid it on top of his head. "Shaun, for whatever wrongs you think you committed against me—and I still think that you didn't commit any—I forgive you… on one condition."
"Anything, Your Highness."
"You must forgive me."
He smiled a little, and that's when Annabel knew everything would be alright between them. "I already did."

One benefit to Annabel getting worked up into a panic attack was that her fever finally broke. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that lasted the rest of the night and all through the next day. Shaun woke her up a few times to give her something to eat and drink, but she quickly fell asleep again.
It wasn't until late in the morning on the following day that she finally woke up, feeling rather refreshed.
She looked over the foot of the bed and saw Shaun squatting in front of the fire doing something. She thought she must be imagining things again, because it looked like there were fish dangling above the fireplace. Only they weren't whole fish; they had been halved lengthwise.
"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled.
He glanced up. "Oh, good morning." He put down what he was working on and came to her side.
"How are you today?"
"I actually think I feel good."
"Do you want to get up?"
"Yes."
He pulled back the covers and stood by while she pushed herself upright. She was still a little weak, but that was probably from not moving much over the past week. Other than that, though, she felt fine—no dizziness.
Shaun offered his hands and she took them, letting him slowly pull her to her feet. She was cautious, but it proved unnecessary; her legs were capable of supporting her.
"Good?" Shaun asked.
She nodded. "I think I'll be alright."
He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I've lost track of the days, but I think today makes eight days since we got caught in the storm."
"You aren't serious?" she asked in disbelief.
"Yes." He began ticking days off on his fingers. "I don't know how long I was in the water, but I think I washed ashore sometime the following day. Then I spent a day in the bed. Then it was two days—almost two days—before I found you. So you were in the water nearly four days. And then you were hallucinating one day, yelling at me the next, and sleeping the third. So, yeah, this should be day eight."
Annabel shook her head in disbelief. An entire week gone. Counting the week they were at sea, it had been two weeks since they left Shaun’s family. Add in a few days that they were on the run, and it was going on three weeks since her world had come crashing down.
"I wonder what's happening in Linnens?" she asked aloud.
"Nagadii is getting rid of heirs—as I expected he would. He's also building an army."
"What?" she asked, alarmed. "Who told you that?"
"Master Gardamon."
Annabel gasped. "You found him?!"
Shaun waved her over to the fire. She took a seat on the bench at the table and he went back to what he was doing: poking holes in the tails of fish, threading them with strands of rope, and hanging them up in the chimney, above the fire.
"What are you doing?" Annabel asked again.
"I'm smoking fish. It will keep without spoiling and, by the looks of this area, food is going to be scarce. I thought it might be best to take everything we need in case we can't get more."
"I don't even know where we are."
Shaun finished preparing a fish and hung it from a nail that had been hammered into the chimney for just such a purpose. Then he wiped his hands on his pants and pulled out the map he had taken from Gardamon's house, showing it to Annabel.
"We're right here," he said, pointing to the map.
Annabel studied the map, frowning. "Are… are we still in Nevara?"
"No. In fact, the forest just to the south of us should be the northernmost border of your kingdom. We're in the narrow strip of land between the forest and the mountains, and that's actually part of Erenrue."
He traced the tip of his finger along the plain until he came to the capital city of Erenrue, Pallis, which sat at the heart of the mountain kingdom.
"Master Gardamon suggested we go to Erenrue and get help from your family. He thought it would take us about two weeks to get there. That's why I'm trying to smoke as much fish as I can; we'll need a lot to feed us for two weeks."
"So how did you find him?" Annabel asked, looking up at Shaun. "Where was he?"
Shaun spent the next hour recounting what had happened to him since they had been torn apart at sea: his father finding him on the beach, the magical house, his connection to Gardamon….
"You can talk to him even though he's dead?" Annabel interrupted, incredulous.
"Yes."
"What about my father?" she asked eagerly. "Can I talk to him?"
That led to a more difficult conversation about the fact Master Ryu and Annabel’s father both were in the Dark World.
"What?!" she asked, aghast.
Shaun sadly shook his head. "There's nothing we can do about it… at least not at the moment. Maybe… maybe we'll find some spell or something later that can help them, but right now we can't."
Annabel put her hand over her mouth, trying to hold back her tears. Even if she and her father hadn't seen eye-to-eye when it came to Shaun, and he had his flaws, like any person, he was still her father and she loved him and hated the thought of him being someplace dark, frightened and in pain. Thinking about Master Ryu in the same situation was just as bad.
Shaun continued his story, repeating everything Gardamon had told him—including the part about Nagadii's plans to build an army to match that of Erenrue. Then he told her how he had teleported to the rocky beach to find her floating in the water, more dead than alive.
It was a lot to take in; Annabel sat in silence for several minutes after he finished. He seemed to know she needed some time, so he quietly finished hanging up the fish.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"Yes."
He used a stick to rake some coals out of the fire and onto the hearth, then he put the flat rock he was using as a cutting board on top.
"What are you doing?" Annabel asked curiously.
"This is a poor man's frying pan. The coals will heat up the stone, then I'll be able to cook on it. It's slow, but it works."
Annabel gazed into the fire. The flames were blue and green from the salt water that had soaked into the driftwood and wreckage.
"You know," she said absentmindedly, "I thought I had been dreaming that the fire was blue."
Shaun chuckled. "No, it's blue. The saltwater makes it do that."
"I also dreamed that you were trying to poison me."
Shaun looked up at her. "Did you?"
"Yes. But it wouldn't stay down, so it never worked."
Shaun laughed. "I'm afraid only half of that was a dream."
"Were you really trying to poison me?" she asked in disbelief.
"Certainly not. I was trying to give you water, but it made you sick. My father warned me that when people almost-drown, they swallow a lot of seawater and all the salt in it acts like a poison.
"I wasn't trying to poison you; rather, I was trying to make you sick so you wouldn't be poisoned."
Annabel wished she hadn't said anything; she preferred to think that she had hallucinated the entire thing. She was rather embarrassed to think about poor Shaun having to deal with her while she was throwing up. And to think that she later accused him of being a pervert!
That still made her face burn with shame.
"What's wrong?" Shaun asked, looking at her. Her embarrassment must have shown on her face.
"Nothing," she hurried to say. Then she tried to change the subject. "When are we leaving?"
Shaun looked at the fish slowly smoking over the fire. "I think we have enough food to last us two weeks. It will need to smoke all day, but it should be done by morning."
"Good," Annabel said, suddenly eager to move out. "Let's leave in the morning."
Annabel was awakened the next morning by a scuffling sound. She jerked up, alarmed, but then saw it was only Shaun. He appeared to be packing the smoked fish into a canvas sack.
He looked up. "Did I startle you?"
Annabel rubbed her face, trying to wake up. "No, it's alright. I need to be up."
Yawning, she pushed back the covers and sat up on the side of the bed. It took a minute for her to fully orient herself and blink the sleep out of her eyes.
She reached down for her boots, which were beside the bed, and slowly pulled them on. She felt like she was moving half-speed.
"You would think, as much as I've slept, that I wouldn't be sleepy," she complained. She had taken a nap the previous afternoon, then had slept like a log all night.
"You went without food and water for nearly four days and then had a very high fever for another two. It takes some time to recover after that."
"Yes, I suppose."
"We can stay another day or two," he offered. "It's not as if we have a strict schedule to keep. No one is going to look for us in such an isolated place. We're as safe as we'll ever be in this world."
Annabel shook her head. "No, I want to move on. By the time we get to Pallis, Nagadii will have been in control for over a month. How many demons will have escaped? How many people will he have imprisoned or killed? How much bigger will his army be? The longer we wait, the worse it will be."
"I agree. If you're sure you're up to it, we'll leave. But it would be worse, overall, if we were to get out on the plain, exposed, and you have a relapse. I would rather you convalesce here, where's it's warm and relatively safe and we have a source of food."
"No, I'm up for it."
"Good," he said.
Shaun finished packing the fish and then they sat down to have a light breakfast of cooked fish and the last of the bread and root vegetables.
Shaun they drank their fill of water from the waterskin, then Shaun looked around the cabin one last time. He looked at the bed for a minute, then finally pulled off the sheet and moth-eaten wool blanket.
"I hate to take these," he told Annabel, as he folded them, "because some other poor lost soul may come ashore and need this shelter for his survival, but we're in a pretty tough situation ourselves. It's colder here than at home; we may have desperate need of these pitiful covers."
"We're likely to need them before someone else," she agreed.
As they had discussed the day before, Annabel was going to take horse form and Shaun was going to ride. They thought they would make better time that way, and should they cross paths with anyone, they would hopefully go unnoticed since spies would be looking for a boy and girl together.
Outside the hut, Shaun walked to a nearby stream and refilled the water-skin. He took one last look around to make sure there was nothing else of use that they needed to take, then Annabel transformed and he put the folded blankets across her back and hopped on. He held their food bag in front of him—not wanting to tie it across his back and possibly encumber his sword and shield.
"Let's go," he said.
Annabel walked a little ways, then, once she was limbered up, she broke into a run. It felt like forever since she had been on a run. The wind blew cold against her face, but it smelled fresh and clean. The sound of her hoof-beats on the firm plain was all that could be heard. Overhead, the sky was still sullen and overcast—as it had been every day since they had arrived.
It felt like she and Shaun were alone in the world.
She ran for as long as she could, then she walked for a while. She alternated between running and walking until Shaun patted her on the shoulder. "Why don't we stop for lunch?" he asked.
She nodded her head in agreement and stopped next to a small stream. It looked like it flowed directly from the mountain. Shaun had said the day before that he really wasn't worried about water, since all the snow on the mountains had to go somewhere. Annabel was glad he was confident of that; since being lost at sea, she felt a bit paranoid about not having enough food or water.
They sat down in the grass and each of them gnawed at a smoked fish filet. They drank water directly from the stream using the cup that Shaun had gotten from his father. The water was icy cold.
"This place scares me," Annabel said, looking around as Shaun repacked their bag.
"Why is that?" he asked.
"It's too… empty. I haven't seen anything alive since we started—no birds, no little animals—not even any bugs on the ground."
Shaun looked around with a frown. "You're right. I had thought it looked barren, but it hadn't occurred to me that there aren't even any birds."
"It's not natural."
He sighed. "Well, there's nothing we can do about it, except try to hurry to Pallis." He smiled a little, picking up the bag. "At the very least, look at the bright side: no animals means no wolves."
Annabel supposed he was right, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something sinister quietly lurking over the desolate plain.

Shaun had Annabel alter her course so that instead of going more-or-less up the middle of the plain, she moved on a southeasterly course, moving nearer to the edge of the woods that defined the plain's southern border.
Shaun had thought there would be food, wood for fires, and possibly even places to shelter in the forest. It was easier to make good time on the plain, where there was nothing to hinder Annabel’s run, but the forest provided more opportunities for forage and necessities.
However, as they neared the forest late that afternoon, Annabel suddenly wished they were back in the middle of the plain.
The trees were large and dark and the interior was a thick tangle of vines and brush. It was even more ominous than the lifeless plain. Annabel wondered if the area had always had something of an evil air about it, or if it had become that way since Nagadii had opened the rift.
"I don't like the looks of this forest," Shaun said, eyeing it with the same distrust as Annabel.
Neither do I. There's something wrong here—this whole place is wrong.
"I know. But I don't know what to do about it. We can't go down the coast, back into Nevara; we'll be caught long before we make it to Erenrue. And even if we had a ship, there's ice in the ocean to the north of us; it's only navigable for a brief time in the summer. And there are no harbors, and even if you get shore, you still have to go over the mountains to get to Pallis. It's all but impossible to go in from that direction.
"That leaves us this," he concluded, sounding less than happy about it.
When the light began to fade, they decided to stop for the night. There was one tree that had strayed out, alone, onto the plain. It was not more than fifty feet from the edge of the forest, but some distance away from it was better than nothing.
"Tomorrow, we'll try the mountain side," Shaun said, as he broke up a small pile of wood for a fire. "I haven't seen anything worthwhile in the woods, and I definitely don't want to hack my way through it to look closer. Near the base of the mountains there might be some caves or rock shelters where we can stay."
"That would be better than here," Annabel said, still looking at the forest with suspicion.
"We'll switch up tomorrow," he promised.
With unspoken agreement, they sat with their backs to the big tree and put the fire between them and forest. It gave Annabel the creeps even to look at it, but she preferred that to turning her back on it.
They ate their smoked fish in silence.
The wind picked up, blowing from the northeast, and it made their little fire gutter; occasionally a gust threatened to blow it out all together. The temperature steadily dropped as darkness descended.
Shaun unfolded the sheet and blanket he had taken from the abandoned cabin. "I'm glad I decided to take these."
He took off his shield and propped it up against a tree root so that it acted as a little wind barrier.
"Why don't you go to sleep?" Shaun asked Annabel, even as he unsheathed his sword and put it across his lap.
"What about you?"
"I'm going to stay up."
"You can't go without sleep," she argued.
"No, which is why I was planning on waking you up around midnight to take the second watch," he said with a little smile.
Annabel took off her bow and quiver and propped them up next to her. Then she lay down on the ground next to Shaun.
"I forgot what it was like to sleep on the ground," she complained.
"You'll get used to it," Shaun said, covering her with both blankets, tucking the edges in around her.
"Why don't you lie down and cover up, too?" she asked
"I don't dare lie down; I'll fall asleep."
"At least cover up a little bit."
It took several minutes of arguing and wrangling, but in the end Shaun stretched out a little more, Annabel curled up against him, and they tucked the covers around both of them. He left his sword at his side where he could easily reach it.
Annabel settled her head against his shoulder and he put his arm around her, holding her close.
"Alright, so I'm glad you talked me into this," he said, looking down at her with a smile.
"Why are you in love with me?" she asked bluntly. "It's not like I treat you very well."
"I have no complaints."
"Well, I mean, when we first met; I kept trying to get rid of you."
Shaun chuckled at the memory. "Yes, you did."
"But you didn't take 'no' for an answer."
"I rarely do," he said, grinning.
"But why were you in love with me when I was being so awful to you?"
"Well, I fell in love with you long before I actually met you in person. You would have had to treat me horribly for a long time before you overcame all those years of love."
"Yes, but why?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "I just know the first time I saw you, I fell hopelessly in love with you. It was fate, I suppose."
"Then why did I hate you when I first met you?"
He laughed. "Probably because we're both prideful—which can cause clashes at times. And we've discussed the fact that we're both equally stubborn. And… maybe I was showing out a little the first time we met."
"A little?"
"Maybe more than a little," he allowed.
Annabel fell asleep before she could continue the conversation; she had worked hard all day and still wasn't quite one hundred percent recovered.
It was a growl that woke her up.
Shaun’s hand was suddenly over her mouth, keeping her from crying out in alarm. Don't move, he warned her.
She stared at the red glowing eyes that were looking at them over the fire. She couldn't see what they belonged to, but whatever it was, it dark and hulking. She thought it might be a wolf, but as it paced back and forth—its unnatural red eyes staring at them constantly—she decided that it didn't move like a wolf. It was cringing more—its head close to the ground—and was shuffling its feet.
What is it? she asked Shaun.
I think it's a demon. Even speaking telepathically, he whispered, as if he was afraid it would hear him.
Annabel began to tremble with fear. The eyes that were staring at them were appraising. It was trying to decide if it was worth going around the fire to get to them.
Very slowly, Shaun slipped his hand out from under the blanket and grasped his sword by the hilt.
It's getting bolder, he said, as the creature paced closer to the fire.
It's going to come around the fire in a minute or two, he warned. I want to be on my feet when it does. When I give you the word, roll away from me and get your bow and arrows as quickly as you can. Back me up.
Annabel gave the slightest nod—less because she was afraid of being seen and more because she was so scared she could hardly move. When the wolf attacked them, it had been so sudden, fear didn't really have time to settle in and freeze her up. But sitting there helplessly, being hunted, made her fear response go into overdrive.
I'm going to move when it's on the other side of the fire, Shaun said. That way it will be as far from me as possible. Be ready.
Annabel held her body tense, ready to jerk away. She watched as the eyes went to the left, paused, then moved back towards the fire.
Now!
Annabel flung herself to the right, rolling out of the way. But before she could make a grab for her bow and an arrow, Shaun was slammed back into the trunk of the tree—he and the black, shaggy hyena-beast both crying out.
A moment later, Shaun gave a big shove and threw the demon off of him. It was only then that Annabel saw that Shaun’s sword had run it through.
"Holy mother of the gods," he gasped, staggering away, looking at the demon in disbelief. "It jumped over the fire. I expected it to come around, but it jumped right over the fire. I didn't hit it so much as it skewered itself."
He let out a shaky breath. "Gods, that was scary."
"So, it isn't just me, then?" Annabel asked, finally finding her voice.
Shaun shook his head. "No, it isn't just you. I've killed some pretty ferocious animals in my time, but that…." He just shook his head in disbelief.
"Didn't… didn't Gardamon say we couldn't kill them?"
"Yes. We need to go before it recovers and figures out where we are."
Shaun hastily kicked dirt on the fire and gathered up his shield, the blankets, and the bag of food. Annabel transformed and he hopped onto her back and wrapped the blankets around himself, trying to use them like a cloak against the cold night.
"Take us as far away from here as you can," he said. "Head back towards the middle of the plain."
Annabel set off at a gallop, wanting to put as much distance between them and the demon as possible. Although she eventually had to slow to a walk, she didn't stop moving.
The sky was beginning to lighten a little when Shaun finally called a halt.
"We need to stop before I fall off," Shaun said wearily.
They were in the middle of the exposed plain, but Annabel reasoned that they would at least see something coming—especially as day was beginning to break.
She changed back and they lay down together, covering up. They were both too exhausted to bother with a watch, and blindly hoping that nothing would attack them in the middle of the day, they fell into an exhausted sleep.
Eventually, the light grew so bright, neither of them could sleep. The sky was still overcast, but based on where the light seemed to be concentrated, it looked to be around noon.
"Does the sun never shine?" Shaun said, offering a rare complaint.
"I don't know; I've never been to Erenrue," Annabel replied.
They ate their fish in silence—Annabel was already getting tired of it, which didn't bode well for the next twelve days—then they started out again.
Annabel took a northeasterly track, taking them closer to the mountains. While the mountains looked less ominous than the woods, they also looked less hospitable. Their sides were steep slopes of jagged shale with white snow at the peaks being the only relief from the wall of gray.
They kept their eyes open, but there was nothing that looked like a cave or shelter in the rocks.
Most of the daylight was gone when Annabel noticed movement up ahead.
There's something coming this way—birds, or something.
"I can't see anything."
My eyesight is better in this form, she explained.
She paused and they both peered into the dim light. Annabel saw the red eyes before she could identify the black forms.
Demons! Birds or bats or something. Straight ahead.
Shaun quickly unsheathed his sword and shield. "Let's get them," he said, sounding eager. Annabel wondered at his courage, but figured after the demon-hyena that snuck up on them the night before, some demon-bats would seem tame in comparison.
Annabel trotted forward and met them as they swooped in with high-pitched, barely audible squeaks and clicks.
Shaun almost lazily struck them out of the air—left, right, left, right.
Then something moved out of the corner of Annabel’s eye, and she turned her head back to look. There was another group of bats—at least a dozen—approaching their right side from the rear and moving fast. With Shaun being left-handed, it was going to be a lot harder for him to fight them on that side. And if Annabel turned to meet them head on, the rest of the bats would be attacking them from behind.
Annabel made a snap decision. She suddenly went to her knees, throwing Shaun over her neck; he hit the ground and rolled several times before coming to a stop on his back, stunned.
But she was already on her feet again, bow in hand. She shot one bat after another with frightening rapidity and precision. It was as if she had no fear—only perfect focus. They were no more than targets being tossed at her.
The last bat got too close for her to shoot, but she didn't hesitate or stop to think about what she should do; she stabbed it with the arrow in her hand as if she was using a sword.
When she was sure everything was down, she hurried to Shaun’s side.
"Shaun, are you alright?" she asked, looking down at him.
"Yeah, I think so," he said, still looked stunned. "What happened?"
"A second group of them were coming up on our right side, and I was afraid they were going to hit you before you could deal with them. So I put you on the ground and shot them down myself. It's really a job for a bow and arrows anyways."
Shaun blinked at her, as if it was taking him a minute to comprehend what she was saying.
"That was a pretty good plan," he admitted.
"Thank you," Annabel said, unable to suppress a smile. She felt pleased that she had finally proven herself worthy in a combat situation.
Shaun held up his hand and she pulled him to his feet.
"I'd only ask you to change one thing," he said, dusting the dirt and grass off his clothes.
"What?"
"Give me a warning—even just one word—before you throw me off; I nearly fell on my sword. And while there are one or two things that might warrant me doing that on purpose, I would rather not do it by accident."
Annabel blanched. She thought he might get bruised a little, but she had trusted that he would be able to take the fall without real injury. She hadn't considered that his own weapons could wound him if he landed on them wrong.
"I'll warn you next time."
"Thank you," he said. Then he gave her a smile.

Shaun and Annabel hurried to collect her arrows from the bodies of the demon-bats; she had too few to waste them. Then, because they would resurrect, Annabel transformed into a horse again and she and Shaun galloped across the dark plain, back towards the middle.
"This seems to be the only safe place," Shaun said when Annabel slowed to a walk. "I suppose demons, like real animals, want a place to hide."
Or maybe they only come out at night.
"I hadn't thought about that," Shaun said. He mulled it over for a few minutes. "Yes, you could be right," he said at last. "Since they're from the Dark World, it's possible—even probable—that they prefer the dark. Maybe they can't even be out in the light."
Doesn't it make more sense for us to sleep during the day, when we'll be safe, and move at night? That way, at least we'll be awake if they come for us.
"I think that sounds like an excellent idea."
Annabel felt she was starting to get the hang of thinking strategically.
She walked most of the night—too tired to do more. By the time it started to grow lighter, she was practically sleep-walking and Shaun kept leaning to one side or the other until he startled himself awake; if she hadn't been so tired herself, she would have worried he was going to fall off.
"Let's stop," he said at last.
They ate their fish, then lay down together—each clutching their weapons securely—and fell into an exhausted sleep that not even the sunlight could disturb when, at last, it began to break through the clouds.
By the time they woke, the sun was setting.
"Look at that," Shaun said in awe.
Annabel sat up beside him and looked. The sun was a ball of orange flame sinking towards the western horizon. It cast its light on the mountains, setting the snow on fire and coloring the valleys in pink and deep shades of purple.
They sat for a long time, just watching the sky and the mountains go through the entire array of colors—blue to green and yellow, then orange and pink, followed by violet and indigo and deep midnight blue. Then the entire sky filled with shimmering silver stars.
"I don't care much for the excessive number of cloudy days," Shaun said, at last pushing himself to his feet, "but the sunsets on the mountains might make it worth living here."
Thus began an endless pattern of days: wake at dark and eat fish; travel all night with a brief rest and some fish around midnight; then stop, eat some more fish and sleep during the day. Sometimes they had some actual sunlight or their night was lit by the moon, but for the most part the sky remained cloudy. Thankfully they didn't encounter any more demons, but the monotony and depressing scenery created such a numbness in them that both secretly wished something interesting would happen—even if meant a demon attack.
They made good time, though, so that on the tenth day of their journey, Shaun broke their long silence with much-anticipated news. "Look!" he said excitedly.
Annabel lifted her head and, in the distance, she could see dots of light on the side of the mountain.
"That must be Pallis," Shaun said.
Suddenly they were both filled with life again and Annabel set off at a gallop. But the lights in the darkness were deceptive; the city was farther away than it appeared. Even with alternating between galloping and walking, it was morning before they came to Pallis's city walls.
The city was large—larger than Castle Town—and it rose above the plain in a series of terraces set into the mountain behind it. Nearly every house in town had an unimpeded view of the plain to the south.
Above it all, on the highest terrace, rose Erenrue Castle, tall and majestic. Everywhere banners and pennants fluttered in the cool spring air: blue with three white mountains set in the center.
Shaun pulled his stocking cap down over his ears, then he and Annabel entered the city through the Western Gate along with a small but steady stream of foot traffic and horse- and ox-carts. As they moved through the cobbled streets, people stopped to stare or exclaim to their neighbors.
"Look, he's riding that horse without a bride or saddle."
"It's so calm!"
"How is he controlling it?"
Well, Your Highness, Shaun said, if your family won't help us, it looks like we can make a living for ourselves as circus entertainers.
She whinnied her disapproval of that idea.
A small gaggle of boys standing on one corner watched them pass with open-mouth astonishment. One of the smaller boys was pushed forward by hands unseen.
"Ask him," someone hissed.
Shaun looked down at the boy.
"H-hey, mister," the boy said nervously, "can I touch your horse?"
Shaun thought about it for a moment, then smiled. "You can if you'll help me out."
"What?" the body said eagerly.
"I'm going to the castle. Can you show me the best way to get there from here?"
"The castle?" the boy said in awe. "Sure."
Shaun leaned down and picked the boy up, setting him in front. The other little boys gasped in surprise and envy.
"Show me," Shaun said.
The boy pointed down a narrow street, flanked by tall, two- and three-story houses. "That's the shortest way," he said.
Annabel turned down the street.
"Hey, mister," the boy said, growing bolder, "how does your horse know where to go?"
"She's very smart."
"Do you always ride without a bridle or anything?"
"On this horse, always."
"But… but what if she tried to run off or something?"
"She won't."
"What's her name?"
"Annabel."
"Where are you from?"
"Nevara."
"Really?" he said, awe-struck again. "That's a long, long ways away."
"Tell me about it. We've been traveling for weeks."
They turned a corner and Annabel came to a halt; there was a set of stairs up to the next street.
"Oh, I forgot," the boy said with disappointment. "This way has stairs. You'll have to take the long way around. There's a road that goes to the castle without any stairs; it's for the delivery carts."
"Stairs aren't a problem," Shaun said. He wrapped his arms around the boy and grabbed and handful of Annabel’s mane. "Hang on," he warned.
A moment later, Annabel scrambled up the stairs, sending pedestrians scrambling to get out of her way.
"How did you like that?" Shaun asked with a laugh as they topped the stairs.
"Awesome!"
With the boy's eager directions—and a couple more sets of stairs—they at last reached the massive front gate of Erenrue Castle. There were two guards standing outside watching them with the same curiosity as everyone else.
"I think I better go in alone," Link said quietly. "We don't if it's safe for you."
"Who are you talking to, mister?" the boy asked, turning back to look at Shaun.
Shaun smiled. "The horse, of course."
"Can she understand you?"
"Everything I say. And more besides."
Shaun hopped off, then picked up the little boy and set him on his feet. "Would you stay here with her? Make sure no one bothers her. She's worth more than my life."
"Alright," the boy said, gaping at Shaun with early-onset hero-worship.
Shaun slowly approached the guards, who stood up a little straighter when they saw Shaun meant to engage them.
"Stop and state your business," one of them said.
Shaun did as he was commanded—standing well out of reach of their poleaxes. "I am a messenger from Nevara. I bring the king urgent news."
The two guards exchanged looks. "I'll go," one of them said. "Wait here," he commanded Shaun, before stepping through a small door cut in the large gate.
Shaun waited for several long minutes, but the guard finally returned. "Come in," he said, gesturing to Shaun to follow him through the door in the gate.
Shaun glanced back at Annabel and the boy. "Wait here until you hear from me," he told both of them, then he ducked through the small door after the guard.

Shaun followed the guard into the courtyard, glancing around curiously. The courtyard was not as wide and impressive as Nevara Castle's, but the Erenrue Castle was more spectacular. It ranged across multiple levels, making it tower over its own courtyard. It looked like a mountain peak all its own.
Nevara’s beautiful, ornate castle was meant to display the kingdom's wealth, but Erenrue's castle was meant to display its strength and power.
Shaun followed the guard up a wide set of marble steps that opened onto a large veranda. They were high enough up they could not only look out over the courtyard, but they could also see over the castle wall and into the city beyond.
The guard led him inside. They took several turns and went up even more flights of stairs until, at last, they stopped before an impressive set of doors in a wide hallway. Shaun didn't have to be told that it was the throne room; the throne room in Nevara’s castle had a very similar set of doors.
"Wait here until you're called," the guard commanded.
"Thank you."
The guard marched smartly out of sight, leaving Shaun alone. There were chairs and couches along the walls in the hallway—Shaun was certainly not the first person to have to wait—so he took a seat and leaned his head back against the wall, resting.
Although he closed his eyes, he never truly went to sleep; he was aware of the sounds of scurrying feet and the groan of the heavy door as it opened to admit people. Shaun assumed that the rumor of his arrival was quickly spreading around the castle and that the king was gathering his advisors so they could all hear the news at once.
After a half hour or more, the door opened and a voice called out to him.
"Messenger of Nevara, you are called into His Majesty's Presence."
Shaun quickly stood and went to the door, but the guard blocked his way.
"You must disarm before going before His Majesty."
That was standard protocol, so Shaun didn't argue with him. He unbuckled the strap, which held on both his sword and shield and handed them to the guard. Then he leaned down and pulled the knife from his boot.
"Anything else?" the guard said, looking him over with suspicion.
"No, sir."
"Turn around," the guard said, looking at him with distrust.
Shaun slowly pirouetted on the spot, holding his arms out to the side to show he had nothing to hide.
The guard was still frowning when Shaun completed his turn, but he didn't seem to find anything that he could complain about.
"You may attend His Majesty," he said reluctantly, stepping out of Shaun’s way.
"Thank you."
Shaun walked to where the enclave at the back of the room opened out into the throne room proper and he paused. Normally, a person would be announced before coming into the king's presence, but Shaun had not given his name and no one had asked.
The king didn't seem to stand too much on formality. He gestured for Shaun to come forward.
Shaun walked briskly up the white carpet runner which was laid out on white marble tile. It made him think of snow.
At the other end of the hall, there was a raised dais and two men sitting on thrones. The younger man—obviously Crown Prince Adam—sat on the smaller throne to the right of the older man.
The prince was a very handsome man—tall and slender. He had long black hair, tied back loosely at the nape of his neck, and as Shaun approached, he could see that the prince had the same light gray eyes as Annabel. In fact, but for the dark hair, there was a close resemblance between him and his niece.
Prince Adam watched Shaun with a detached curiosity. His entire being radiated tranquility and wisdom. Shaun liked him immediately; he looked logical and reasonable. He would consider facts and not easily be swayed by rumors and gossip.
The prince's features were the opposite of his father, though. The grizzled old war veteran looked to be of medium height and had a strong, muscular build, even though he was close to seventy years old. He had bushy gray hair that framed his face like a lion's mane. In fact, that was Shaun’s overall impression of him: a proud old lion. There was a hard fierceness in his gray eyes; they were as steely as Adam’s were kind.
But Shaun liked him, too. He had always heard good things about King Ranis and knew him to be a strict ruler and man of action, but fair. He always made wise, calculated decisions—which was more than could be said for Annabel’s father, King Drake, who often acted first and thought later. In fact, King Drake had never done much thinking for himself, but he had been wise enough to hire people to do the thinking for him—up until he took on Nagadii.
Annabel’s grandfather, though, was highly independent. Shaun knew he had run off many would-be advisors because he did not place as much importance on them as they thought they deserved. (And Shaun knew this because those same men had come to Nevara looking for employment under King Drake.)
Shaun knelt before the king close enough to be able to talk, but far enough away to be unthreatening. It didn't escape his notice that there were several heavily armed guards arrayed behind and beside the thrones. And off to one side was a gaggle of men in long robes who looked eager to hear the news. Shaun assumed they were the king's counselors.
"You are welcome in my Court, Messenger of Nevara," the king said in a slow, gravelly voice, "although I fear you bring me ill news."
"I fear so, Your Majesty."
The king gestured for him to rise. "Tell me only what you know to be the truth," he commanded Shaun. "I have had enough of rumors."
Shaun began by telling him of the star charts and of the common boy whom King Drake feared. Leaving out only a few details—such as the fact that he and Annabel could turn into animals and he could talk to the dead—he told the king how everything had progressed up to the death of Annabel’s father and her escape from Nagadii—including the problem with the rift and the demons
He also left out one other small detail: he failed to mention that he was Shaun. He referred to himself in the third person the entire time he was relating what had happened.
The king was silent for a long moment, his chin resting on this hand as he digested the news.
"How do you know about the demons?" Prince Adam asked in a quiet, gentle voice.
"Two great scholars—men beyond reproach—told me about them. That, and I have seen them with my own eyes."
"Have you?" the king asked, looking at him sharply.
"Yes, Your Majesty—on my way here."
"And they can't be killed?"
"I will be honest: I didn't stay around long enough to check. One beast very nearly got me, and then we were set upon by an entire flock of bats; fighting them once was quite enough."
The king sighed. "This is distressing news. Worse—far worse—than we had heard."
"I don't know," Prince Adam said, "hearing that Annabel killed her own father was quite bad."
Shaun knelt on the floor. "Your Highness, I swear to you on all that's holy, Her Highness did not kill her father."
"And you know this how?" Adam asked, looking at him shrewdly.
Shaun bowed his head. "Because… I was there." Slowly, he reached up and pulled off his stocking cap, revealing his Nevrek ears.
"Ah, so now we have it," the king said, leaning back in his chair and looking at Shaun appraisingly. "You are the boy who caused all of this."
"Begging Your Majesty's pardon, but I did not cause anything—unless my mere existence is guilt enough."
"Perhaps." The king leaned forward and gestured to him. "Stand. Let me have a look at you."
Shaun stood up and looked the king in the eye. The king twirled his finger, and Shaun held up his arms—as he had for the guard—and slowly turned on the spot.
"Fearsome," the king said mockingly when Shaun had completed his turn. "I can see why Drake trembled over the very thought of you."
Shaun smiled a little; it wouldn't do to be seen openly mocking his late monarch, but he appreciated that King Ranis seemed more reasonable that Annabel’s father.
"See, when I want someone dead, they get that way and stay that way," the king continued. "That you escaped Marcus proves that he was messing with something that was beyond his ken. I warned him of as much."
Shaun was surprised. "You did?"
"Yes." He leaned back in his chair again. "I corresponded with Vizier Ryu for some months over the matter. He hoped that I would talk some sense into Drake or, failing that, take Annabel into fosterage so that he could raise the two of you together without any interference."
"Drake was not a brilliant man, but never think that he was an idiot; he saw through my offer."
"That is why Annabel was never allowed to leave Nevara," Adam said sadly. "We were allowed to visit her, but she was never allowed to come here."
"Drake thought if he could keep her isolated, he would keep her from meeting you," King Ranis continued.
"Which is why Master Ryu had me placed in the household guard," Shaun concluded.
"Right under his very nose," King Ranis said with a smile. Then he shook his head. "Never interfere with what the gods have planned."
"I try my best to do what they want me to do."
"And what of my granddaughter? How does she feel about her destiny?"
"That is not for me to say, Your Majesty. But if you wish to ask her, she may answer."
"Oh?" the king asked, sitting up straighter. "Is she nearby?"
"She is. She would like to ask for your help in reclaiming her throne."
"Why is she not here to ask that herself?"
"She is… somewhere safe. I wanted to come alone and gauge the mood. If my news was not well received, then I would not have allowed her to come."
"And that is why you did not reveal yourself from the beginning," Adam observed.
"Yes, Your Highness. I would prefer to leave here with my head as well."
The king waved such an idea away. "There is nothing to fear. I will not harm my granddaughter. Or you."
Shaun bowed his head. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"You may bring her before me."
But rather than leave, Shaun contacted Annabel telepathically.
The King has asked for you, Shaun told Annabel.
There was a long pause—Shaun assumed she ducked into some corner to transform—then, Oh, Shaun, I forgot about my clothes. I can't present myself before him looking like this.
Shaun considered the problem for a moment, then he dropped back to his knee. "Your Majesty, may I ask a favor on behalf of Her Royal Highness?"
"What?" the king demanded. "I haven't even seen my granddaughter yet and she's already asking for favors?"
Shaun merely bowed his head. There was no good answer to that question.
"What does she want?" he growled impatiently.
Shaun had the impression that he was acting more gruff than he really was—he actually seemed to be intrigued by Shaun and what was happening—but he didn't want to appear to be too consenting. Of course, there was always posturing involved when two monarchs met; it wouldn't do for one to appear to be weaker than the other. Everything always required negotiation. Just deciding what to eat for breakfast and where everyone was going to sit could require an hour of talks.
In a way, Shaun supposed they could take it as a compliment that King Ranis wanted to begin the typical diplomatic wrangling; it meant he, at least unofficially, recognized Annabel’s claim to the throne.
"Princess Annabel requests something to wear," Shaun replied. "After traveling for more than a month—and surviving a shipwreck—her clothing is not fit for either her or Your Court."
"Your clothes look fine," the king argued.
"Begging Your Majesty's pardon, but I am not royal; I am not held to such high standards. That, and my clothing was made by fishermen for working at sea; it has fared much better than Her Highness's."
The king looked thoughtful for a moment. "So, let me see if I understand this correctly," he said slowly, as if working out a puzzle: "my granddaughter comes here to ask my help in reclaiming her throne—no small request, by any means—but before she will come before me as a supplicant, she demands I give her nice clothes?
"Does anyone see a problem with this?" he asked, looking to his advisors. They all snickered.
"What's next?" he continued. "Beggars at the kitchen door refusing food that doesn't meet their standards?" He turned back to Shaun. "She is queen of nothing at the moment, therefore she can have no standards. Let her beg in her rags."
"Oh, Father," Prince Adam softly chided, "quit being a hard ass. You would ask for no less if you were in her place."
"Possibly," the king allowed. He appeared to consider the matter again, then he finally relented. "Very well, we'll find something for her to wear." He waved his hand at an attendant. "See if Rayliss has something Annabel can wear."
"No need, Your Majesty," Shaun said with a smile. He had been repeating everything they had said back to Annabel and she had not taken her grandfather's words well. "She is on her way now," he advised. "Although I might warn your staff to get out of her way."
Adam looked at him curiously. "How do you know that she's coming?"
"I can speak to her telepathically. I have conveyed everything that's been said here to her."
Adam gave his father a now-look-what-you've-done look.
A moment later, one of the hall doors was thrown open. Annabel stormed through in all her beauteous rage—like a storm at sea. Her blonde hair was loose and disheveled, her shirt and pants torn and tattered in places. Her boots were worn and discolored. But her head was held high—proudly high—as she came in, trailing sputtering, helpless guards and attendants.
Two of the inner court guards tried to stop her—she was still wearing her quiver and bow—but she pushed them roughly out of her way and walked up the carpet to the throne, uninvited.
The breech of protocol was so egregious, it left them struck dumb. They could only look at the king pitifully, wanting some command that would restore order to their regimented world.
The king just waved them away with a little gesture.
Shaun stepped to the side, out of the way, so Annabel could have the floor to herself. He had warned her that her grandfather was just grandstanding—as all monarchs did when they were together—but Annabel had decided that two could play at that game. Besides, after everything they had been through—including sleep-deprivation and hunger—she was short on patience.
She walked right up to the foot of the dais, but rather than make her obedience, she jerked off her bow and threw it on the floor at her feet.
The king's ministers gasped at the horrible show of disrespect. If anyone but another monarch had done such, it would have been a crime punishable by death. But even with it being Annabel, it was the highest level of insult to disrespect a king in his own kingdom. Wars had been started over less.
Annabel pulled off her quiver and threw it down, too. A few arrows fell out and scattered on the carpet.
"There!" Annabel said. "That is all that I own." She gestured to Shaun. "This is the only retainer that I have. What you see is all we have between us. Are you sufficiently pleased with my poverty? I have paraded through your castle and have appeared in your Court, before all your ministers and common folk, in all my glorious poverty. Am I sufficiently humble now? May I have your hospitality, or do you want me to grovel on the carpet?"
The king looked at her for a long moment, then looked away. It clearly looked as if he was fighting to not smile.
After a minute, he looked back at her levelly. "I don't think you know the meaning of the word 'humble,' Granddaughter."
There was a long, tense pause.
"Grovel," the king said.
Shaun stepped up before Annabel could explode with rage. He knew King Ranis was pushing her just to see how she would react, but the king didn't realize that he didn't want to know the answer to his question. Shaun was actually a little worried that Annabel might pick up her bow and shoot her grandfather. Her father's trademark temper was up and there was going to be a major international incident if he didn't do something to stop it.
Shaun got down on his knees and bowed down, putting his forehead to the floor. "Your Majesty, on behalf of Her Royal Highness, I beg for your hospitality and assistance."
This clearly caught everyone off-guard because no one spoke for a long minute.
Then Annabel grabbed him by the back of the shirt, trying to pull him up. "Shaun, get up! I won't have you debasing yourself like that—much less for me. Get up. We're leaving."
"You're going nowhere," King Ranis said. "You will stay here with me and I will give you my hospitality for as long as it is mine to give."
He gestured to Shaun. "Rise, Shaun."
Shaun pushed himself to his feet.
"I suppose I shouldn't expect humility from Drake’s daughter," the King said gruffly.
"Personally, I think you shouldn't expect humility from any grandchild of yours," Adam retorted.
The King suddenly laughed. "This is true."
He stood and descended the steps of the dais. Shaun quickly picked up Annabel’s bow and quiver and arrows and discreetly stepped out of the way.
King Ranis clasped Annabel on the shoulders, looking at her. "You need fire in your belly if you're going to fight and reclaim your throne. But when this young man steps in on your behalf, you should follow his lead. You have the fire, but he has the sense."
Annabel sniffed. Her air was still haughty, but she looked willing to be appeased. "I have sense," she said coolly. "After all, I made him my retainer, didn't I?"
The king smiled a little. "You are definitely your father's daughter."

Prince Adam personally escorted Shaun and Annabel through the castle.
"Rayliss will be very happy to see you again," he told Annabel. "I wish the two of you had been able to see each other more often. She is lonely without another girl her age; I can only imagine how much worse it was for you having no one at all."
"I had my father," Annabel said, almost automatically.
Adam laughed a little. "Being the sole heir of a king myself, I know exactly how much comfort and companionship that must have given you. Actually, being a girl, you probably got less."
After several long hallways and three flights of stairs, Adam at last stopped in front of a door and opened it.
On the other side of the door there was a flurry of activity; half a dozen women or more were preparing a large bedroom. Overseeing the operation was a tall, dark-haired woman. Annabel thought it must be her aunt, at first, but when the woman turned around, she could see that it was Rayliss. She had grown taller, but she still had the same round, happy face that she had had as a child.
"Annabel!" she squealed with delight, rushing to embrace her cousin.
Annabel—whose exhaustion and sleep-deprivation was becoming very evident as her temper cooled—was slow to respond, but she finally managed to return Rayliss's hug.
Rayliss stepped back to look at her, her brow furrowing in concern. "Annabel, you look terrible. When was the last time you had a bath?"
Adam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Rayliss…" he warned.
"Oh, well, never mind," Rayliss said, looking a little embarrassed at her gaffe. "I'm having a bath made up for you right now."
She started to drag Annabel off, but Adam put his hand out to stop them. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. "What hospitality are we to offer Shaun?" he asked Annabel in a low voice.
Annabel knew what he was really asking: were they supposed to treat Shaun like a noble guest or quarter him with the other servants.
She stood up taller. "He is my knight and my advisor," she said imperially. "I expect him to be treated as such."
Adam nodded. "I will see that it's done," he replied, before slipping back outside.
Rayliss took Annabel by the hand and led her over to a corner of the room that was curtained-off. Behind it was a marble tub sunken into the floor. Female servants were coming and going in a steady stream, each carrying two buckets of steaming-hot water.
"Tell me what happened to you," Rayliss said, pulling Annabel down beside her on an upholstered couch next to the bath. There was a low table in front of it, spread with sweets and delicacies.
"I've only heard rumors—crazy things," Rayliss continued. "When I heard there was a messenger here from Nevara, I tried to go to the hall with Father, but he said I couldn't come. I didn't even know you were here until he sent word to get a room ready for you."
Annabel couldn't reply for a moment. She looked around at the white jacquard hangings, the marble tub, and the table filled with food—none of which appeared to be smoked fish. The line of maids—each dressed in blue with starched white aprons and linen caps covering their hair—was especially mesmerizing. It felt strange to see so much excess—to have so many people to fulfill her every need. Shaun had certainly done his best to take care of her and do for her, but that was nothing like having a full staff.
"Annabel?" Rayliss asked, looking at her in concern. "Are you alright?"
Annabel shook her head a little, trying to clear it. "Yeah, I'm just… I'm trying to adjust."
"What do you mean?"
Annabel proceeded to relate her entire story to Rayliss—beginning with meeting Shaun. By the time she was done, her bath was ready. The steaming water was milky-white with cream—added to keep the skin soft—and scattered with pink rose petals, which made a sweet perfume. It was a proper bath for a princess.
"I think I want you to burn these clothes," Annabel said, taking off her worn shirt and pants and boots. "I used to love them, but after living in them for a month, I hope I never see them again."
She stepped down into the tub, sucking air in between her teeth as the hot water burned her skin. "This is hot!" she declared. But she stayed in it, and her body soon adjusted.
"After spending four days in the ocean, I thought I would never want to get in the water again," Annabel said, "but then, after nearly two weeks of being outdoors constantly and sleeping on the ground, I'm feeling rather partial to bath water."
Rayliss shook her head a little, still looking stunned by everything Annabel had told her. "I can't even imagine."
"No, you can't. Until you have been through it, you can't imagine it. It's like living in a different world—one you never knew existed."
She gestured to Rayliss. "Can you put the food down here where I can get to it? I'm starving."
Rayliss moved all of the food over to the side of the tub, then she sat on the edge, letting her feet dangle into the water. "Why did you never tell me about sneaking out? And especially about this boy?" She sounded a little hurt at being left out.
"I couldn't risk anyone reading the letters," Annabel said between bites of food. "Gods, but this is good! I hope I never see another smoked fish for the rest of my life."
"What's wrong with smoked fish? I like it."
"You wouldn't if that was the only thing you had eaten for the last two weeks," Annabel contradicted.
Rayliss lay down on her side, propping her head up on her hand. "So, tell me all about this Shaun."
"I already have," Annabel replied.
Rayliss snorted in disbelief. "No, you haven't. I mean, what's he really like? What do you think of him? Is he handsome? You haven't even told me what he looks like."
Annabel couldn't meet Rayliss's eye. "He's handsome, I think."
"Details!" Rayliss demanded.
Reluctantly, Annabel describe Shaun’s features. Slowly, as the food disappeared from the silver serving trays and the bath water cooled, Rayliss dragged all of the details out of Annabel.
Rayliss rolled onto her back with a wistful sigh. "He sounds so heroic and dashing! To think of him rescuing you from the water and taking care of you when you were near death!"
"It's a lot less romantic when you're throwing up on him," Annabel said rather sourly.
Rayliss wasn't to be deterred in her romantic dreaming. "Why can't I have some handsome stranger whisk me off on some great adventure?"
"Rayliss, you're not being realistic," Annabel fussed. "It's not a fun adventure out of some book; it's a matter of life and death. I can't explain to you how scary it is to know that you're being hunted—either by people or animals or demons; or what it's like to see someone you care about get wounded trying to help you; or what it's like to be alone and hungry and thirsty, thinking you are going to die…."
Rayliss looked at her. Annabel could see that she was honestly trying to understand, but she had never been the brightest candle in the chandelier to begin with, and talking about something well outside her experience was not helping.
"So… you care about him?" Rayliss asked, latching onto the one thing she could comprehend.
Annabel sighed. She was fighting a losing battle. "Yes, I do," she admitted.
"Even though he's common?" Rayliss asked with wide eyes.
"Even so."
"What's it like to love someone who is common?"
"It's not like he's a cow," Annabel said, laughing in disbelief. "He is a person; he has thoughts and feelings the same as any man."
"Yes, but he's illiterate isn't he? What could you have to talk about with him?"
"Actually, he's not illiterate," Annabel said, a touch offended. "In fact, he's quite well-educated." He's smarter than you, she thought to herself, but she didn't say it aloud. Instead she said, "We find plenty to talk about. He's well versed in philosophy and politics and history. He also plays the flute."
"Oh, I have a flute! I never did very well with it, though. When my flute teacher quit, Father had me switch over to the harp. I'm a little better with that." She made a face. "Grandfather said if it wouldn't be so shameful, he would give me a drum to play—like those girls with the traveling shows. He said there was only one thing to do with it, so I couldn't possibly make too big a mess out of it."
Annabel had to hold in a laugh because she could see that the comment was a sore point with Rayliss.
"So, what do you want to do today?" Rayliss asked, clearly eager to spend time with Annabel.
Annabel felt bad. "Actually, I'd like to sleep. Shaun and I got into the habit of sleeping during the day and traveling at night because the demons seemed to attack at night."
"Why would you move when they were out?" Rayliss asked, confused. "I would want to hide."
"Well, there wasn't any place to hide. Besides, which sounds better—sleeping when they're not around or sleeping when they might sneak up on you?"
"Sleeping when they're not around."
"Now you know why we slept during the day and moved at night," Annabel said practically.
Rayliss gave Annabel one of her nightgowns. It was soft, with brushed linen with heavy frills of lace around the neck and cuffs. Annabel felt a bit strange wearing something so elaborate.
The bed in the bedroom was huge—even by castle standards.
"Who all is supposed to sleep in this bed?" Annabel complained, crawling into one side. She felt as if a small county separated her from the other side.
Rayliss laughed. "No one, silly."
"Then why is it so big?"
Rayliss shrugged. "I don't know. They're all like that." She looked at Annabel. "Do you want me to wake you for dinner?"
"Yes, you probably ought to."
Rayliss had some of the maids close the curtains over the tall windows and blow out the candles, then they all left. Annabel was asleep within seconds.

Annabel slept soundly until Rayliss gently shook her awake.
"Annabel?"
"Huh?"
"Dinner is in an hour."
Annabel yawned, then slowly sat up.
"Feeling better?" Rayliss asked hopefully.
"A little. I still need a full night's sleep. Then maybe I'll be back on a normal schedule."
Annabel got up and Rayliss had the maids parade an endless variety of dresses before them. It was clear that Rayliss was eager to play dress up… with Annabel as her doll.
"Eww, no," Rayliss said, shaking her head as she looked Annabel over in one of their selections. "White looks absolutely horrid on you; you look like you're dead; you have no color."
Rayliss went down the line of maids and selected a pink silk dress. "Here, try this one. I don't look good in pink, so maybe it's your color."
Annabel changed into the pink dress. It was fitted—luckily she and Rayliss were about the same size—and the sleeves were tight to the wrist but had wide cuffs of thick white fox fur that came halfway over her hands. The skirt was full and was trimmed all around with a thick border of the white fur. The neckline was deep and wide and also trimmed in fur.
"Oh, that looks perfect on you!" Rayliss said, clapping her hands in joy. She dragged Annabel before a huge mirror in one corner of the room. Annabel hardly recognized herself in the beautiful dress.
"It feels like forever since I dressed up," Annabel said quietly.
"Oh, let's do your hair next," Rayliss said, ushering her to a dressing table. Annabel sat down and watched in the mirror as two maids braided her hair in elaborate loops that crisscrossed over her head.
While they were working, Rayliss was digging through several boxes of jewelry. "Hmm… what to go with this…" she muttered to herself as she poked through the jewels with her finger.
She finally settled on simple string of pearls with a gold locket and a matching set of earrings with a pearl dangling from a fine gold chain.
The last thing she took out of a box was a wide gold circlet, set with pearls and rubies.
"I don't like this one very much," Rayliss said. "I hardly ever wear gold. But I think it will look good on you."
She handed the circlet to one of the maids and she placed it on Zelda's head, rearranging her braids as necessary.
"Oh, it's perfect!" Rayliss said happily. "I'll have to ask Father if you can have it; it looks so much better on you than me."
A knock on the door interrupted them.
"See who it is," Rayliss said, sending one of the maids to answer it.
A moment later the girl turned around and courtesied. "His Highness wants to know if you are ready for dinner."
"Yes, we're ready," Rayliss said. She was already arrayed in a midnight-blue silk dress with wide bell sleeves. It was trimmed in black fur. Rayliss's long black hair had been pulled up a little and the remainder was curled and left to cascade down her back. She had on a silver circlet with sapphires and little diamonds. Rayliss reminded Annabel of the night that she and Shaun had watched the sky deepen into blue, then black, and then stars had come out and twinkled silver.
Annabel had noticed that all of the dresses that had been offered to her were very fine. She wondered if they were dressing for a special dinner—since it was her first night there—or if all of Rayliss's dresses were that nice. Annabel only wore such formal dresses on state occasions.
When they stepped outside, Annabel noticed that her uncle was splendid as well; he was wearing a fitted, black velvet cote with silver buttons and a high collar. His pants were white and he was wearing fashionable knee-high boots with silver decorative buckles. He was also wearing a silver collar of estate and a full crown of silver with pearls set in it.
Annabel concluded everyone must be dressing nice because it was her first night there; surely they didn't dress that way every day.
Adam smiled when he saw them and gave them a small bow. "What a pleasure to escort two beautiful young ladies to dinner."
Rayliss and Annabel both smiled.
"Where's Mother?" Rayliss asked, looking around.
Adam’s smile faded. "She is not feeling very well."
"Oh, that's too bad," Rayliss said with disappointment. "Mother gets bad headaches," she explained to Annabel. "She has to stay in the dark and not move for days. Even talking to her makes her head hurt."
"Yes, it's best to just leave her alone until it passes," Adam said sadly. Annabel felt sorry for him; it was clear he missed his wife. She knew from Rayliss's letters that Princess Austina was frequently ill. Many of her duties as the first lady of the royal family fell on Rayliss instead.
A moment later, someone rounded the corner and walked down the hallway towards them. It wasn't until Rayliss gave her a knowing nudge in the ribs with her elbow that Annabel realized that it was Shaun.
He was dressed in a fitted cote of deep emerald-green silk. It had been woven with black warp threads so that when the fabric moved, it seemed to change colors from green to black, back to green in a flash. It was long—to his knees—but had slits front and back. It was buttoned with gold buttons and there was wide gold embroidery in ornate paisley patterns along the bottom hem and from the cuffs nearly to the elbows.
He and Annabel stared at one another for a long moment—each in disbelief that the other could look so fine. Then Shaun bowed low.
"Your Highness, you look beautiful—like the last snow of winter on the first pink rose of spring."
Annabel tried not to blush, but it was hard; she was pleased.
Then Rayliss elbowed her again.
"Thank you, Shaun," she said, trying to remember her manners. "May I introduce you to my cousin, Rayliss?"
Rayliss thrust out her hand eagerly, smiling widely at him.
Shaun returned the smile and bent over Rayliss's hand, lightly kissing it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. I've heard a lot about you—although, if I may be so bold to say so, I had not heard how beautiful you are."
This sent Rayliss into a flutter. She couldn't speak for a minute and her face was as pink as Annabel’s dress.
"It's… it's nice to meet you," she finally managed to get out, all the while grinning from ear to ear. "I've heard a lot about you, too."
"I'm afraid to ask if it was good or not."
"Oh, it was all good."
"Thank you for the flattery, but I know it can't be all good," Shaun said with a smile. "I know I annoyed Her Highness to no end when I first began my guard duty."
Prince Adam stepped in before his daughter could tell all of Annabel’s secrets. "Are you ready for dinner, ladies? We can talk more once we're there."
"I'm ready," Annabel said.
Prince Adam offered his arm and it took Annabel a moment to realize that he was offering to escort them to dinner. It was a very formal gesture and not usually done except on state occasions.
A part of Annabel wished they weren't treating her like a visiting royal; she would have preferred to have dinner with the only family she had left. Instead, she was having dinner with the King of Erenrue and his heirs.
Rayliss was looking at her expectantly—even eagerly—and it dawned on Annabel that the choice of escorts was hers… and that Rayliss was hopeful to have Shaun to herself for a few minutes.
Her old feelings of possessiveness surfaced again and she held out her hand to Shaun. He quickly stepped up beside her and slipped her arm around his without missing a beat.
With a little frown of disappointment, Rayliss took her father's arm.
Adam gave Annabel a knowing look—a hint of a smile on his lips—then he led them down the dim hallway towards the dining room.

Prince Adam led them to a small, family-only dining room. The king was already sitting at the head of the table, waiting on them. He looked at Annabel and gestured for her to sit to his left.
Even though there was a servant standing behind each chair, waiting to serve that one person, it was Shaun who pulled out the heavy, high-backed chair for Annabel. She sat down and he pushed it under the table, then he subtly waited until she gestured for him to sit beside her. Across the table, Prince Adam and Princess Rayliss sat down as well.
"Where are Philippe and Castor?" Annabel asked when it appeared no one else was going to join them at the table. Philippe and Castor were Rayliss's younger brothers.
"They're not old enough," Rayliss answered. Annabel knew immediately what she meant; she had not been allowed to attend any formal meals until she had been twelve, and that was only because she was the only royal woman at court. Normally, royal children were kept more or less out of public sight until they were fourteen to sixteen years old. It sounded heartless, but it actually spared them the boredom and complexities of political intrigue until they were old enough to exercise both patience and a silent tongue.
"Now that you have had some sleep and food and a bath, are you in a better mood?" the king asked, looking at Annabel with a half-mocking smile.
"My mood varies from person to person," Annabel said, looking back at him levelly.
He laughed, then gestured for the servants to begin serving the food. Annabel found it disconcerting to have someone hovering behind her chair, just waiting for her to pause and look at some dish on the table expectantly so he could jump in and offer to serve her. Formal dinners in Nevara were served the same way, but, as she had told Rayliss, it was as if she had been living in a very different world for the last month. She had grown accustomed to always being on the lookout, always defensive, because there was always something out to get her. It was hard to remember that this genteel, insulated world was the one she was actually supposed to belong to.
The second time the servant reached around her chair to do something for her—causing her to jump—Shaun subtly waved him away and began to serve Annabel himself. She relaxed almost immediately.
The king watched the exchange with interest.
Everyone was quiet for a time while they ate the first course. Then, as the servants were clearing away the food and dishes, the king looked at Annabel.
"So, what exactly is it that you want from me?" he asked. "If it's just food and shelter, that is no problem, but Shaun suggested you are not interested in going into exile."
"I need to remove Nagadii from Nevara," she replied. "We have been told that he is eliminating anyone with a claim to the throne and that he is building up an army because he fears that Erenrue will march against him."
"And that's what you want to me to do? Take my army out against him?" He sat back in his chair. "You are asking me to risk the lives of my people—and make no mistake, there will be men who die in this endeavor—for what purpose? To put you on the throne of Nevara? To bring to justice a Nevrek criminal?"
He leaned forward again, looking at Annabel earnestly. "It's not that I don't have sympathy for your plight, Granddaughter, but why should I get my people killed to help you and yours? What's in it for Erenrue?"
An icy silence descended on the table. Even the servants dared not set the second course on the table.
It was Shaun who leaned in to answer the king. "You have a valid point, Your Majesty, but this is a problem which will spread beyond Nevara. For one thing, do you think that Nagadii will stop with Nevara? If he builds up his army, but you do not go forth to meet him, do you think he will send that army home? Or will he be emboldened by his success in our kingdom and attempt to take over yours or that of Shi-Ha?
"And that is to say nothing of the demons which are escaping into the world from the rift inside Nevara Castle. Every person who is attacked—aside from Nevreks—will be turned into a demon. It won't be long before you have no subjects—only demon-beasts.
"If we can't get to the rift in the castle, then we can't close it. And if we don't close it, the problem will grow worse and worse until nothing will fix it, save the gods. And I have it from Master Gardamon that the gods are content to allow our world to be overrun with demons and our people—humans and Nevreks both—wiped out. Then, and only then, will they step in and save the land and remake it.
"This is not about putting Her Highness on the throne—although that will help matters, certainly. It is ultimately about saving all of mankind and the world as we know it.
"If you don't send your men in to die now, in an attempt to regain control of Nevara, then they will surely die when the demons of Nevara come for them. We have already encountered demons in the outer regions of Erenrue. They will come here. And no army—no matter how mighty—can defeat them.
"You need us. You need us to find the Shadow Sword and restore balance to this world. And we need your help to do so. Our needs are aligned; we derive mutual benefit.
"That is what's in it for Erenrue."
Annabel was a little surprised by Shaun’s impassioned plea. She didn't think she could have framed the argument so well. She had referred to him as her advisor mostly because she wanted him treated with respect. But he clearly was worthy of the title on his own merit.
The king sat back in his chair, mulling over what Shaun had said. After a minute, he signaled the servants to serve the second course.
"You have a valid point," he said at last. "But I will have to work on couching the situation in those terms. My nobles' gut-reaction will be that this is for Nevara’s benefit alone. And while there are many young men who are out to prove themselves and want a chance at glory, they also expect there to be something in it for them. Obviously Nevara is not our enemy, so there would be no plunder involved."
"Young men will fight for noble ideas," Shaun countered. "They just need to think that they are saving the world."
"Is that what motivates you?" the king asked, looking at him shrewdly.
"In part."
"What's the other part?"
"A different noble idea."
"Which is…?"
Shaun glanced away. "Does Your Majesty seek to learn all of our innermost thoughts and secrets before the dessert course is served?"
The king chuckled. "Perhaps."
"You know what we need?" Rayliss spoke up, looking eager to contribute to the conversation. "A party."
Annabel frowned. "I hardly think this is the time for that."
But the king looked at Rayliss curiously. "What makes you say that?"
"You have said yourself that wine has won more people to your causes than weeks of negotiations. What better way to get everyone drunk and convince them that invading Nevara is a good and noble idea than to have a big party?"
The king leaned back and slowly rubbed his chin. Annabel could see a gleam growing in his eyes.
"That is an excellent idea," he said at last.
Rayliss beamed.
The king slammed his hand down on the table. "Fetch Isui at once."
They were halfway through their second course when a man with a long dark beard and long red robes came scurrying into the room. He bowed low to the king.
"You sent for me, my Liege?"
"Yes. I want you to draft invitations to all of my nobles inviting them to a state banquet and ball which we will be hosting in a week's time in order to publicly welcome the heir-apparent of Nevara. And I want you to make sure that everything Shaun told us about the state of Nevara—namely the part about Nagadii's demons—is leaked. I also want it leaked that there will be a discussion, at the reception, of our role in Nevara’s current predicament. And, lastly, I want it to be hinted that Princess Annabel—the uncrowned queen of Nevara—has no marriage prospects, but is entertaining offers."
Isui bowed low again. "I will see that it's done, Your Majesty," he said, before hurrying out.
Annabel looked at her grandfather in confusion and a bit of alarm. "Why are you telling people that I'm entertaining marriage offers? I'm doing no such thing! I have quite enough to do without sorting through suitors."
"Shaun said it himself: young men will fight for noble ideals. And what ideal is more noble than love? …Especially when it comes attached to a throne."
Annabel gaped at him. "Are… are you suggesting that I offer myself in marriage to the nobleman who can field the largest army for me?"
"Not at all. In fact, that would be counter-productive. We need every nobleman to raise troops and fight for us. If you are seen to be taken, those who have lost out will not be interested in fighting. It is the fact that you are available that is the bait. If every man thinks that he has the opportunity to win your favor by feat of arms on the battlefield, then every man will try his best."
The king sat back and looked at Shaun with a smile. "That wasn't quite what you had in mind, was it?"
Shaun looked back at him levelly, never blinking an eye. "It works."

Annabel was in a temper the following morning when Rayliss dragged her and Shaun—along with two maids and the household chatelaine—to the market in search of the necessary ingredients for a spectacular party. It was clear that Rayliss was in her element.
"First, we need a theme," Rayliss said, as she fairly skipped down the front steps of the castle, everyone else following behind her more soberly. She was wearing a sky-blue wool dress with white embroidery that perfectly matched the cloudless blue sky bordered by the snow-covered mountain peaks around them. "Every good party has a theme," she added.
"How about the 'Annabel’s not getting married on a bet' party?" Annabel snapped. "Or maybe a 'I'm not for sale' theme?"
Rayliss stopped, turned around, and looked at her severely. "Why are you bent on destroying my party idea? This is the first time anyone has ever listened to any idea I've ever had, and you're trying to ruin it." Rayliss stamped her foot in disgust.
"Oh, it's easy for you to throw a party and have a good time," Annabel said acidly. "You're not the one who's going to be paraded around like a prize brood mare that's going to the highest bidder!"
"Your Highness, please—" Shaun began to say. But Annabel cut him off, turning her vitriol on him.
"And you! You're supposed to be my knight. My champion. The boy who is so desperately in love with me, he'd fall on his own sword if I ordered it. And what did you say to this hair-brained idea? You approved of it!" She crossed her arms and turned her back on him. "Some love. Pfft. I see how convenient it is for you to drop it when there's power at stake."
Shaun’s cheeks turned pink in shame, but his blue eyes flashed with anger. "Your Highness," he said, in a carefully-controlled, low voice, "if you truly think that I have agreed to this in order to get power for myself—or that anything I have done for you has been an attempt to gain something for myself—then tell me openly and I really will fall on my own sword, because I can't stand to live with the shame of such accusations."
Annabel glanced back at him and was startled to see the hard way he looked at her. She had obviously insulted him.
"Then why did you agree to this party?" she asked, trying to soften her voice a little so he would know she might be willing to be appeased.
"Because your grandfather's argument in favor of it is sound. No one will support a war to give you back your throne when there's nothing in it for Erenrue or her nobility. But if there's a possibility that you would make someone your king as a result, then every young man will be eager to fight. Suddenly it's a cause worth fighting for."
"But what of your idea that everyone needs to fight in order to save the world? I liked that motivation much better."
"Yes, but you and I don't know the nobility of this kingdom; the king does. He knows what will motivate them. Besides, it's hard to believe the world is coming to an end when the sun is shining and the snow is melting and the flowers are blooming. The king can see what's coming down the road. You and I can see it, too. But most people will have a hard time believing it.
"Human nature is habit; we don't like to change unless we're forced to. If we could show the noblemen and soldiers the demons, then they probably would be motivated to fight to save themselves and their families and the world. But until everyone sees the darkness for themselves, I think His Majesty's idea makes more sense."
Annabel hesitated, wavering.
"Besides, Your Highness," Shaun continued, "the king already has suspicions. That's why he said what he said to me; he was trying to get a response out of me."
"Suspicions about what?" Annabel asked, confused; she had no idea what he was talking about.
Shaun glanced back at the chatelaine and maids who were listening with rapt attention, looking equal parts scandalized by the royal tiff going on right in the front courtyard, and delighted to hear such juicy gossip.
Shaun took Annabel by the elbow and led her a few steps away. "He suspects my feelings for you," he whispered.
"How do you know?" Annabel whispered back.
"By the things he says—and doesn't say. And by the way he looks at me. He plays with people in order to find out their strengths and weaknesses. That was why he told you to grovel before him. He had already made up his mind to help you; he just wanted to see what you would—or would not—do. Are you weak? Do you pretend to be weak but are, in fact, cunning? Or do you have your father's pride and temper?" He perked a brow. "I think we know how that question was answered."
"I think you're reading too much into him," Annabel said, although not sounding convinced. She had glimpsed a little of what Shaun was talking about, but was not certain that he had come to the right conclusion.
"And I think you're underestimating him," Shaun countered. "He is a cunning man and brilliant tactician. He knows how to lure people out into the open, where he is then free to do what he wants with them.
"That's why I didn't react to him. That's what he wanted: he wanted some confirmation of my feelings for you. And, more importantly, he wanted to know how I would act on those feelings and what motivates me. Am I after you for power or political favor? Would I put my interests ahead of yours? Am I the jealous type? Those are the things he wants to know. While this party idea has very practical, national purposes, it also allows him to test me and see what I'm made of—just as he tested you yesterday in court."
Shaun let go of her elbow and stood up a little straighter. "You accuse me of using this as a way to get power, but in reality, I stand to lose more in this gamble than anyone. I have to fear that there will be some nobleman of Erenrue who will win your heart. I am, after all, deficient in many things deemed necessary for a suitor of a lady such as yourself—as your father was quick to point out.
"But this isn't about me and what I want; it's about righting a wrong—a wrong done against you. It's about putting you on your throne, where you belong. What I do, I do for your interests—not mine. If I had my way, of course I would have vehemently vetoed this idea. But that's not what's best for you. So I will stand aside and watch as others try to win for themselves the only thing I have ever wanted, and I will smile and I will be gracious. That's because it's my duty—just as it is your duty to use every means available to you to free your people of the tyranny and horrors unleashed by Nagadii."
Shaun turned away from her and approached Rayliss—who was suddenly trying not to look like she had been eavesdropping.
"So, Your Highness," Shaun said, sounding perfectly chipper—as if he hadn't just chastised Annabel to the point she felt like crawling into a hole and dying of shame—"I had an idea for your party theme."
"Oh?" she asked, clearly looking like she relished the change of a touchy subject.
"What about a rose in winter?"
She considered it for a moment. "That's… an unusual theme," she said delicately. "I mean, usually they're things that are… bigger—like the sea or fairies or something like that."
"Is this to be a masked ball?"
"I hadn't thought about it, but I suppose not. It is, after all, supposed to be a reception; I suppose it's better if people can see one another."
"Then there's less need for costumes, don't you think? Perhaps a decorative theme will be enough—pink and white and gray."
"Alright," she said, still not sounding sure, but agreeing to it anyways because she didn't have anything better in mind—or else she didn't want Shaun to upbraid her as he had Annabel.
He offered her his arm. "Let's see about ordering what we need."
Rayliss glanced at Annabel, as if afraid she would protest. But Annabel was still too shocked by Shaun’s words to object, so Rayliss slipped her arm in Shaun’s and they proceeded to the gate—Annabel and the maids trailing behind them.
King Ranis and Prince Adam were sitting in a sunny study in one of the towers that overlooked the city and the Erenrue Valley to the south. Prince Adam had been drinking tea and reading the morning's paper and the king had been revising Isui's proposed invitation, but the news from the breathless chatelaine had interrupted their morning routine.
When she finished relating everything that she had heard in the courtyard, the king dismissed her with instructions to catch up with Rayliss and the others and carefully monitor the situation.
As soon as the door shut behind her, the king slammed his fist down on the table in triumph. "I knew it!"
"Knew what?" Adam asked his father.
"I knew that boy had affections for her. I told you so," he said, waggling his finger at Adam with glee. "And it sounds like she feels something for him in return—why else would she be so averse to looking for a husband and expect him to save her from the enterprise?"
"I don't know why you seem so surprised," Adam replied, calmly sipping his tea. "After all, their stars ordain them to be together, and that's what Ryu was working towards their entire lives."
"But in their pasts they have not ended up together. Worked together, yes, but never married. That may not happen in this lifetime, either.
He smiled as his mind raced with possibilities. "If their little lover's quarrel becomes a war, we could be well positioned to arrange a marriage for Annabel and align our nobility with Nevara. And if Annabel doesn't want Shaun, there's always Rayliss. Gods know she's not the wisest person; we have to be careful no one seizes control through her. A truly good man, who has no interest in feathering his own nest, but is wise enough to help her govern, would be an ideal husband for Rayliss…." His voice trailed away as he plotted multiple options for the future.
Adam set down his cup and looked at his father sternly. "Father, you said yourself that Drake was a fool to mess with the gods' plans, and here you are doing it yourself."
"I'm not messing with anything," he defended himself. "I'm just saying if things fall apart, I'm willing to pick up the pieces."
"I think your time would be better spent making sure nothing falls apart," Adam warned, before returning to his paper.

Rayliss's first stop of the morning was for flowers. The shop they entered obviously catered to a high-end clientele because it was no mere street vendor selling flowers on the corner; it was a large shop decorated with exotic flowers and filled with a combination of scents that was rather heady.
As soon as the store clerks saw Rayliss walk in, they dropped everything they were doing and hurried to wait on their royal customers. Shaun, Annabel, and Rayliss were given seats on a velvet couch and served tea and sweets. The salespeople brought in flowers by the dozens and the owner himself enumerated their qualities and made impromptu arrangements to show how different combinations looked.
"I don't know," Rayliss said after half an hour. She had narrowed the selection of pink flowers down to three types, but was still torn which white flowers looked best with them.
"Janice, have we used any of these before?" she asked, looking up. But Janice, the chatelaine, wasn't to be seen.
"Where's Janice?" Rayliss said, looking around.
"I don't know," one of the maids said, looking around. "I thought she was right behind us when we came in."
The store owner looked at them in confusion. "Are you missing someone?"
"Yes, another woman," Rayliss replied.
"No other woman came in the store, Your Highness."
A moment later the bell on the door rang and Janice walked in, breathless and pink-cheeked; she looked like she had been running.
"Forgive me," she said, bowing a little to Rayliss. "Someone called to me just as we were leaving and I had to tend to something right away."
"Oh?" Shaun asked, looking at her. "What, exactly? Not an emergency, I hope?"
Her face became redder. "No, sir. Well, not a real emergency. Just… a problem. Someone… didn't know… how to handle something."
"I see," Shaun said. He glanced at Annabel with a knowing look before turning his attention back to the flowers.
Annabel had lived in a castle too long not to know what had just happened: the chatelaine had tattled on them.
It was her own fault; she shouldn't have said anything to Shaun and Rayliss with other people present; she ought to have known that everything they said would be carried throughout the castle until even the little page boys knew their business.
It made her face burn with shame again. She remained silent for the remainder of their time with the florist. Rayliss was content to plan things by herself, with occasional input from Shaun; they didn't seem to need or even want Annabel’s opinion.
They went to several more shops for decorations and to order food and drink. Rayliss was very proud of herself; she had stayed up half the night planning the menu. Her figures for the amount of food they needed weren't always right, but the chatelaine carefully corrected them without causing a loss of face.
"This is going to be such a lovely party!" Rayliss said with delight as she crossed the next-to-last chore off her to-do list. "Everyone thinks your theme is great," she told Shaun.
Shaun chuckled. "Even if it was horrible, they would say that it's great, Your Highness; they want to sell us things."
She laughed. "You're probably right."
"I know I'm right," he corrected.
This elicited more laughter from Rayliss, but Annabel just stewed with jealousy. It was the sort of thing he liked to say to her—when he was speaking to her. But she had gone and insulted his honor, and she knew that was the one thing Shaun would have trouble forgiving.
Could she humble herself before him as he had done?
The thought of getting down on her knees before any person and begging pardon made her feel a little sick. How on earth had Shaun—who had no small amount of pride himself—managed to swallow it and so effortlessly beg her forgiveness?
"I only have one more stop to make," Rayliss said, interrupting Annabel’s thoughts. She turned, leading them off the main thoroughfare and up a narrow alley.
"What's it for?" Shaun asked.
"Mother's medicine. There's an old woman up here who is a healer—one of the old kind. When I was young, I had a very bad fever that the court physicians couldn't relieve. Kara heard about it and came to the castle. Father and Mother were so desperate, they let her try her medicine and by the next day, I was cured.
"Kara's medicine can't cure Mother's headaches, unfortunately, but it relieves some of the pain and she says they don't last as long. It used to be that she would have them for nearly a month."
The alley winded up the side of the mountain by way of four flights of stairs and rather steep inclines. It was so narrow and the houses on either side were so tall, it was in near-perpetual twilight.
Everyone was breathless by the time they reached the little one-story cottage at the end of the alley. Behind it, and to its right, was nothing but the hewn mountainside; it was the uppermost portion of the city—and the farthest point from everything.
"Here we are," Rayliss said, sounding relieved. She knocked on the door and a second later—as if the occupant had been expecting them—it was opened.
The woman on the other side was ancient; her face was as wrinkled as a prune and her long gray hair—what could be seen under her cap—was stringy and thin. She was a short woman to begin with, but age had bowed her back until she was barely taller than a child.
But she looked at them with blue eyes that were still sharp and cunning.
"I've been expecting you, Your Highness," she said in a wizened voice. "Come in."
Shaun stood back and let Rayliss and Annabel enter first. But there was no room in the tiny house for anyone else, so Janice and the maids had to stay outside. Shaun shut the door behind him almost with relish; he had obviously not forgiven Janice for spying on them earlier.
"Have you been scrying again, Kara?" Rayliss asked.
Kara cackled. "Again? Always."
"If you knew Mother needed more medicine, why didn't you send some to the castle and save us the trip up all the stairs?" Rayliss complained.
"Because I wanted to see these two people here," she said, turning her gaze to Shaun and Annabel. "Long have I seen your coming in my scrying bowl."
She held her thin, gnarled old hand out to Annabel.
Annabel wasn't sure what she wanted—maybe to read her palm, like a fortune teller?—but she hesitantly placed her hand in Kara's.
She gasped as she was instantly transported to the weightless golden place.
You have not completed half your journey, the woman said. The worst is yet to come. You and this Hero will need one another; nothing can be won alone.
And then, suddenly, she was back in her body, holding the old woman's hand. Kara grinned at her, revealing her toothless gums.
"Your Highness, are you alright?" Shaun asked worriedly. Annabel looked at him and noticed that his hand was on the hilt of his sword and it was half-drawn. She felt a little better knowing that, even though he was mad at her, he had not hesitated to act when he thought she was in some danger. That meant he wasn't so angry that he didn't care.
"Yes, I'm fine," Annabel said. Then she looked back at Kara. "You're a Nevrek, aren't you?"
She laughed. "Yes."
Kara offered her hand to Shaun, but he didn't move. "Why didn't you tell us that to begin with?" he asked, still looking at her warily.
"An old woman has to entertain herself somehow," she said with a smile.
"I would prefer you didn't do it at Princess Annabel’s expense," he said coolly, but he slid his sword back into its scabbard. "If you want to play, use me."
"Why do you think I picked her first?" She pointed a crooked finger at him. "To see how you would react."
"Who are you to test me?" he asked, perking a brow.
"Who are you to question me?" she retorted. "I am old enough to be your great-great-grandmother. I have seen things—things that have happened and things that have not yet happened. You would do well to respect my knowledge, young Hero. There may come a time when you need it."
She offered her hand again. "I won't offer a third time," she warned.
Reluctantly, Shaun took her by the hand. Annabel watched as he gave a little jerk and his eyes glazed over, as if his mind was a million miles away.
It was no wonder Shaun had reacted with fear when the same thing happened to her; it was rather spooky-looking.
A few moments later, he startled a little and life came back into his eyes. He actually smiled at Kara and she returned it. Annabel wondered what Kara had said to him.
"What's going on?" Ryaliss asked, looking between Shaun and Annabel and Kara with confusion.
"Nevreks can speak to one another telepathically," Shaun explained, "at least once we've touched hands."
"And… that's what you were doing?" she asked, sounding unsure.
"Yes."
"Come, let me get your mother's medicine," Kara said, changing the subject.
She shuffled over to a table against one wall that was covered in fresh and dried herbs, measuring cups, and a mortar and pestle. There was already a small, wrapped package waiting there, and Kara handed it to Rayliss.
Suddenly the old woman stood up straighter, her entire body going rigid and her eyes sliding out of focus.
"What's wrong?" Annabel asked in alarm. "Is she having a stroke?"
Shaun reached out to catch her if she fell, but Rayliss took a step back, looking a little frightened. "She's having a vision," she said in a low voice. "She scrys, but sometimes visions sometimes come to her without warning."
A moment later, Kara came back, her body relaxing and her eyes focusing again. "I saw snow," she said. "There will be a trip through the mountains to the East."
"Who will make this trip?" Shaun said.
"You will."
Shaun nodded. "That will be when I got to get the Shadow Sword."
"You will not be going the way you think," Kara warned. "And you will take Princess Annabel with you."
She grinned her toothless grin again. "It's good you came to see me; I can help you with your journey when it's time. Remember that."
She waved them away. "I will see you again—sooner rather than later, I think."
Annabel, Rayliss, and Shaun left the cottage. When they were outside and the door shut behind them, Rayliss shuddered. "She gives me the creeps when she does that. I mean, you'll be talking to her one minute and she just seems like a harmless old grandmother, and then the next thing you know, she's predicting stuff, or she'll do some bit of magic just to frighten you a little."
Rayliss shook herself, as if she could shake off the chill of fear. "I'm done. Let's go back and get started."

Rayliss kept everyone hopping all afternoon. She put Shaun and Annabel in charge of supervising smaller parts of the party preparation while she managed the overall picture.
The banquet hall had too few tables and chairs in it, so some had to be brought out of storage. But before that could happen, the tables and chairs in it had to be moved out of the way so that the chandeliers could be lowered, cleaned of wax, polished, and fitted with fresh candles.
Decorations began arriving and had to be unpacked and put out of the way while the ball room was dusted and couches and chairs were brought in to line the walls.
"What do you think?" Rayliss asked Shaun and Annabel as she contemplated whether to bring in candle stands or not. "Should we go with a lot of light or dim lights?"
Shaun considered the question a moment. "I think you should have most of your light up high so it's not too dark for people to see one another, but otherwise it should be like dusk. That's more intimate. It also makes things like color and flashes of gold or silver or jewels stand out more."
Rayliss clapped her hands. "That's a wonderful idea!" She smiled at Shaun. "You're good at this."
A call to dinner finally halted their work for the day.
"Grandfather will probably make me play my harp," Rayliss said unhappily as they left the ballroom. "I always get so nervous because I know I'm not very good."
"Why don't you play a duet with Princess Annabel?" Shaun offered. "You'll be less nervous if you're not alone and mistakes aren't as obvious when there are two instruments."
Rayliss looked at Annabel pleadingly. "Oh, Annabel, will you play with me? Please?"
Annabel looked at Shaun and noticed he was smiling. She knew immediately that he hadn't made the offer for Rayliss's benefit; he had done it so that Annabel would be forced to perform before all of her would-be suitors.
He was just as bad as her father.
"Shaun plays the flute," Annabel countered. "He could play a duet with you. He's done one with me before." She looked back at him in triumph.
"Unfortunately my flute is still in Nevara," he quickly countered, smiling even wider.
"I have a flute," Rayliss eagerly offered. "You can use it. I'm horrible at it. I made my flute teacher cry, and then he quit."
Shaun had to laugh. "Why don't we all three perform a few pieces, then?"
"That would be lovely," Rayliss said happily.
Annabel looked away, silently fuming that he had managed to outwit her. But he and Rayliss paid no attention to her, chatting companionably about what pieces they might play.
Rayliss took them to her room and rifled through a trunk until she found her long-forgotten flute. She offered it to Shaun.
"This is beautiful," he said, as he gently took the flute from her. It was made out of some sort of rose-colored wood that had been polished to a soft, satin-smooth finish and inlaid with fine filigrees of gold.
He wet his lips, then put it to his mouth. The sound was deep and soothing and beautiful—prettier than any flute Annabel had ever heard before—but she was surprised when Shaun made several mistakes.
He finally stopped playing. "Oh, she's finicky," he said, looking down at the flute with interest. "Beautiful, but finicky."
He looked up at Rayliss. "Is this what you were learning on?"
"Yes."
"Who gave it to you?"
"I don't know. It was probably a gift from someone."
Shaun shook his head. "You should have never started out with this. This flute is far too particular for a beginner; it needs someone with a lot of experience. If you had learned on an easier instrument, you probably would have had more success."
Rayliss looked like she had just been given the best present of her life. "You mean I'm not slow-witted?"
"No, Your Highness. And if your flute teacher had been any sort of teacher, he would have realized that this wasn't the flute for you the first time he tried to play it."
He glanced at Annabel. "I wonder if he was the brother of your harp teacher? They sound like they are cut from the same cloth."
"Oh, Shaun," Rayliss said, grabbing his hand and hanging off of it. "You must tell Father and Grandfather that so they know it's not that I'm stupid; it's the flute's fault."
"I will do that, Your Highness."
She looked over the moon. "This is so great!"
"I will have to practice with this, though," he warned. "I can't promise that I'll be able to play with you two next week. This flute might be beyond me."
"I understand."
And, just like that, Shaun weaseled his way out of performing. Game, set, match.
Annabel was exhausted by the time she finally crawled into bed around midnight. It turned out that the king and everyone else hadn't dressed up just for her first night there; apparently they were always formal when it came to dinner. That meant Annabel had to change clothes and get made-up before going to dinner. When her uncle had come knocking, she took his arm instead of Shaun’s. That thrilled Rayliss—who chatted about the party with Shaun the entire time they were walking to the dining room; Adam just looked at Annabel curiously and said nothing.
Dinner had been a multi-course affair that dragged on for hours—hence the late hour in which she got into bed. But despite being so weary, Annabel couldn't go to sleep. She tossed and turned in her huge, empty bed playing everything that she had said and done that day over and over again in her mind.
She had said she didn't treat Shaun well at the beginning of their relationship, but the truth was she still didn't treat him well. She used him as her own personal whipping boy—venting her spleen on him whenever she felt like it. Normally he took the abuse with quiet acceptance, but obviously his patience wasn't endless; today, she had crossed the line.
The more she thought about it, the more obvious the solution became: she had to apologize. And not just a regular, "I'm sorry," sort of apology, but a really deep one. She needed to bend her knee.
The thought of doing that made her toss and turn again. She wasn't sure she could stand the shame. But, as the hours slipped by and her guilty conscience wouldn't let her sleep, she steeled herself to do it.
Having learned her lesson earlier about speaking where others could overhear, she decided to go find Shaun right then, while everyone else was asleep. That way she could at least spare herself some humiliation by apologizing in private.
She threw back the covers and went to the closet where Rayliss had left a selection of her clothes. She found a robe and slippers and, after donning them, she headed for the door.
She quietly opened the door and poked her head out, looking to the left and right. She almost jumped out of her slippers when she saw Shaun sitting in a chair beside her door, his head resting against the wall, his eyes closed.
"What is it with you and sneaking out?" he said without opening his eyes. "Is there something about castles that brings that out in you, or is it something else?"
He finally turned to look at her, a smile on his face.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"The same thing I was doing outside your door the first time we met."
"Were… were you out here last night?" she asked in confusion.
"Yes."
"When do you sleep?"
"I can sleep a little bit right here. And I was planning on taking a nap this afternoon, but your cousin's plans kind of squashed that idea."
He shrugged as if it was no big deal.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked quietly.
"What? Helping your cousin with her party?"
"No, sleeping in a chair outside my door."
"I thought I had explained that: I'm guarding you."
"There are guards aplenty here."
"And who do they answer to?"
She felt a little confused. "The king."
"And who do I answer to?"
"Me?" she asked hesitantly, wondering if this was a trick question.
"Exactly. Everyone here serves the royal family first—as they should; that's their duty. But if something were to happen—if we were attacked, or something of that nature—the king and his family would be everyone's first priority. You would be a secondary concern."
"I don't think we need to worry about that—" she started to say.
"Don't be lulled into a false sense of security, Your Highness," Shaun interrupted. "We don't know what spies Nagadii may have or where they may be placed. I think he has been planning the overthrow of Nevara for some time; he could have people everywhere."
"What if someone here works for him? Would a guard stop a servant he knew from going into your room on some legitimate-sounding pretext? You could be dead before anyone ever figured out the betrayal.
"And don't forget that Nagadii is a magician," he added. "He doesn't necessarily need people to spy for him; he can scry. He may be watching us now."
Annabel shivered and crossed her arms, as if she could close herself off and keep Nagadii from seeing her.
"I've answered your question," Shaun said. "Are you going to tell me why you were sneaking out?"
She blushed a little. "Actually, I was coming to find you."
"What do you need?"
Even though she had vowed to apologize, she found swallowing her pride choked her to the point she couldn't speak.
She finally tried to get at it from a roundabout way. "Shaun, how do you do it?"
He looked confused. "Do what, Your Highness?"
"Humble yourself."
"What?"
"Get down on your knees and apologize—or ask for something. How do you do it? You aren't lacking in pride, but when you do it, you look so effortless—as if it's not mortifying at all."
His look of confusion slowly changed to thoughtfulness, then he smiled softly at her.
"Your Highness, it's not mortifying or shameful."
"But it is," she insisted. "It's very humiliating to get down on your knees and beg. It makes you so low."
He shook his head a little. "Your Highness, you're looking at it from the wrong angle. If I were to bend my knee to someone like Nagadii—not that I ever would—that would be humiliating beyond endurance because he is not my equal—much less my superior. To put someone unworthy above yourself will always grate.
"But when you respect someone to the point you feel they are your superior, then it is not humiliating. I'm happy to show that I respect you and hold you in high esteem; I want to demonstrate my devotion.
"Make no mistake; my knee doesn't bend to or for just anyone. But when it does, I am not ashamed to do it."
She looked at him sadly. "What have I ever done to make you feel that I am superior to you? I have treated you unjustly. I have expected you to do everything while I do nothing. I have insulted your honor. I have not been grateful for all the sacrifices you make for me."
Suddenly, she found it easy to kneel on the floor next to Shaun’s chair. He was right: it wasn't hard to do when you respected someone and wanted to show it.
"I am not worthy of your respect," she whispered, looking up at him.
He looked horrified and tried to pull her to her feet. "Your Highness, please, get up," he said in a low voice, looking around to see if there was anyone nearby.
"Not until you give me your forgiveness for what I said this morning," she argued. "And… forgive me for not trusting your motives. I trust you most of the time, and if someone sprang up right this minute to kill me, I trust that you would save me. But… sometimes I don't trust you. I don't know why; you have certainly done nothing to make me feel that way. It's some flaw within me."
He looked at her kindly. "Your Highness, you grew up in a royal family; I'm not surprised you don't trust anyone completely. I'm not saying that your father didn't love you, but his love was always tempered with politics. While I don't think he would have ever married you to someone who would have been repellant to you, neither was he open to marrying you to someone who had no political advantage, either. Hence his problem with me.
"You are used to getting only part of someone's love. And you are used to people intriguing and spying and backbiting to curry favor. I don't fault you for not being able to understand someone who doesn't play those games—someone who loves you without reservation—someone who gives to you with no strings attached."
Tears welled up in Anabel’s eyes. She had never thought about it like that, but Shaun had hit the nail on the head: she had grown up knowing she was a pawn—that others held her fate in their hands. Being around her grandfather had only brought those feelings of helplessness and forced obedience back to the surface—not to mention the knowledge that any affection he had for her was, as Shaun said, mixed with her usefulness to his political ends.
Shaun gently took her face in his hands and looked her in the eyes. "Your Highness, you are my monarch and I serve you. I think this party will be helpful to your cause, but if you can't abide the thought of it, then I will support you in calling it off. But, know this: no one controls you. No one will marry you off against your will—not even your grandfather. You are your own person. You are a queen."
What Shaun said caused a flash of insight. He was right; no one controlled her anymore. She could play whatever political games needed to be played all day long, but at the end of the day her person—and her heart—were her own.
"I will do the party," she said with resolve.
He smiled at her and tried again to pull her to her feet. But she didn't budge.
"Accept my apology," she demanded.
"This is payback, isn't it?"
"Yes. …But it's also something I need to do. I need to learn a lesson about watching what I say… and why I'm saying it and to whom."
"I will forgive you on one condition," Shaun offered.
"Yes?"
"Promise me that you won't doubt my loyalty again." He looked at her pleadingly. "I can forgive the hurt—because I know that you weren't raised to trust—but more than feelings are at stake. We are caught in a life-or-death struggle. We may be enjoying a reprieve now, but at some point we'll have to march on Nevara. And that means war—and death.
"I trust you; when you lead, I follow you without reservation. But you must do the same when I'm in the lead because it only takes one second—one second of hesitation or doubt—to get you killed."
"And that goes for here as well as on the battlefield. We are strangers here—even if the king and prince are your family—and you're a foreign monarch and therefore a threat as much as an ally. If we present a united front, we'll be able to speak and present ourselves from a position of power. If we're arguing about how to do things, though, we'll seem even weaker than we are.
"And, trust me, King Ranis and Nagadii both will find a way to exploit that. We may or may not be able to tolerate whatever your grandfather plans, but Nagadii will utterly destroy us both.
"Do you understand?" he asked, looking at her earnestly. "I don't ask this for myself, but because I want you to stay safe. If you're angry and want to take it out on me, then do so—just don't doubt my motivation.
"Because, I swear to you, on my blood, your safety and happiness is the only motivation I have."
Annabel hurried to put her hand over his hand before he could pull out his sword and cut himself again; she really didn't need a second blood oath from him.
"I believe you," she said.
"Then I accept your apology."
He helped her to her feet, but, at the last minute, he caught her hand in his and slowly kissed the back of it.
It wasn't the light, courtly kiss that he normally gave her. It was full of love and longing and all sorts of things he normally kept repressed.
She shivered a little.
"Goodnight," he said, looking up at her.
"If I order you to go to bed, you won't, will you?"
"No, Your Highness."
"You really are stubborn, you know."
"Yes, Your Highness," he said without a bit of shame. Then he smiled up at her. "You are too, you know."
"Yes, I know," she admitted with no more shame than him. "It's a wonder we can stand one another."
"It's all a matter of knowing when to fight and when to yield," he said wisely.

King Ranis stood on the study's balcony, looking down into the courtyard. It was a warm spring day and the air was fresh and the sun cheery. It felt good to stand outside after spending most of the winter indoors.
Shaun, Annabel, and Rayliss also seemed to feel so, because they were in the courtyard practicing as an ensemble. The party was the following evening.
"I can't believe Rayliss volunteered to play for the reception," the king said over his shoulder. Prince Adam was sitting at a table just inside the door, going over receipts for the party and approving expenditures.
"That's because she knew we would make her do it," Adam said without looking up.
"Since when has that stopped her from trying to weasel out of it?"
Ranis turned back to look at the three young people. Shaun seemed to be coordinating the music; he kept giving Rayliss—and occasionally Annabel—instructions. Once the two girls were playing together, he would join in on the flute. It was a very enjoyable sound—wholly appropriate to a pretty spring day.
"Rayliss seems to have this reception in hand," the king continued. "Maybe she's just a late bloomer who is finally coming into her own."
"She's a heavy spender is what she is," Adam fussed. "You ought to see these bills."
The king laughed and walked back into the study. He took a seat at the table, relaxing back in his chair. "It's a special occasion; let her spend some money."
"Just so long as she knows not every occasion is a special occasion. She'll bankrupt us if she makes a habit of this."
"This from the man who has… how many outfits is it now?"
A pink tinge crossed Adam’s pale cheeks. "I will admit to having a weakness for fashion," he admitted, "but I'd never bankrupt the treasury for it."
"I also seem to recall you have a weakness for books," the king corrected.
"Well… yes."
Ranis laughed again. He was in an unusually good mood—partly because of the weather and partly because he could smell battle on the air like a hound catching the scent of a fox. He tried to avoid war for the sake of his people, but he would be the first to admit that he secretly enjoyed it. For him, battlefield strategy was like working a puzzle—it was something that engaged his busy, intellectual mind. And nothing could replace the rush of adrenaline and thrill of fighting for one's life and living to tell the tale.
"Well, we'll work with her on that," the king promised. "But, for now, I'm just glad she's managing to coordinate everything. If she pulls this off, then we'll work on budgeting."
Almost as an afterthought, he leaned forward and picked up the bill for the flowers. His eyes went wide. "Good gods!"
"I told you."
He laughed again, then threw the bill back on the table. "Well, it won't be said that we're stingy when it comes to entertaining our guests. Only the best for Annabel’s marriage-quest."
"Are you still on about that?"
The king leaned back again and waved his hand. "No, I suppose not. It seems she and Shaun have made up."
"Good," Adam said firmly. He picked up a quill, dipped it in a pot of ink, and began to sign his name to the bills, authorizing payment from the royal treasury.
"Do you know that he sits outside of her room every night?" the king said, sounding a bit incredulous.
Adam looked up from his writing. "For what purpose?"
"To guard her, apparently."
"When does he sleep?"
"I don't know."
Adam went back to signing bills. "He's a boy after your own heart, then."
The king chuckled. "True enough."
The king was famous for wandering the castle at all hours of the night. It wasn't that he had insomnia so much as he just didn't need but a few hours of sleep; he spent the rest of his time thinking and planning. It was one of the reasons why he didn't need to rely on advisors too much; he did more for himself than any normal monarch would be expected to do.
"It's a strange thing," the king mused—"although I know Shaun’s common, I often forget it. I suppose there's something to that old saying that a few yards of silk will make a commoner noble."
Adam looked up at him. "That's not it at all."
"Oh?"
"I think he has something within him that's noble and would manifest regardless of the situation. You would think the same of him if he was wearing rags."
"Hmm… an interesting proposition."
"What is?"
"Seeing if I think as well of him if he's in rags."
Adam sighed wearily. "Father, you wear me out with your scheming."
"What?" he asked, feigning innocence. "I'm just passing my time with intellectual questions. You do the same."
"Yes, but I keep my questions theoretical; you like to test your suppositions—no matter how many crushed feelings and shattered egos it causes."
"That's because there's only room in Court for one ego: mine. The sooner people learn that, the better off they are. So, really, I'm just helping them adapt." He smiled magnanimously.
Adam just shook his head.

The lack of sleep was beginning to catch up to Shaun. He had managed to put aside his sleepiness through sheer force of will and concentrate on putting the finishing touches on their performance pieces, but when he had followed the princesses back into the castle to get ready for dinner, he had been sorely tempted to beg off and go take a nap instead. But he worried that would make for awkward questions at dinner—questions that might raise Annabel’s temper again—plus make her feel bad for being the cause of his sleepiness in the first place. So, he toughed it out and tried not to yawn behind his napkin too often.
After supper, he changed into his Nevrek clothing—he found it more comfortable than his borrowed formalwear—and took his place in the chair beside Annabel’s door. He put his head back against the wall and quickly went to sleep.
It wasn't a restful sleep because his head would fall over to one side or the other and wake him up—else he would start snoring and wake himself up—but he was so tired, it was better than nothing.
He was in the middle of a strange, disjointed dream about floating meat pies—which no one found surprising, save him—when a scraping noise startled him awake. His hand was on his sword hilt before he even opened his eyes.
Annabel—in her long, white nightgown trimmed in lace—was standing beside him. "Shaun, it's me," she said, reaching out with a steadying hand.
Shaun—half-poised to jump from his chair—relaxed. "What do you need, Your Highness?"
She looked down, seeming embarrassed. "I can't sleep. I'm tired, and I know I need to sleep well before the party tomorrow, but… I can't.
"It's this room," she complained. "It's too big. I feel too alone."
He sympathized with her insomnia. "Is there something I can do to help you?"
"W-will you stay with me?"
"You know I can't do that, Your Highness," he said softly. "Palaces have ears—as you well know. Someone will find out and it will be a terrible scandal."
"So? We're not in Nevara."
He looked at her incredulously. "And you think it won't get back? Or that your grandfather won't have a problem with it?"
She held her hand out to him. "Please, Shaun. I want to sleep, but I'm scared to. But I'm never scared when you're with me."
The last of Shaun’s willpower—and, admittedly, he never had much when it came to telling the Annabel "no"—melted away. Besides, the thought of lying down in a bed to sleep was a siren's call to him.
He glanced around, but saw no one in the corridor. Reluctantly, he took her hand and stood up. He followed her into the bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him.
Annabel was right: the room was far too big. For that matter, so was the bed; six people could sleep in it and never touch each other all night. Shaun wasn't surprised that Annabel felt too exposed to sleep.
Shaun sat down on the edge of the bed and took off his boots, followed by his sword belt and over-tunic.
"I have to be out of here before someone comes to wake you up in the morning," Shaun warned, climbing into bed beside Annabel. "A scandal is the least of my worries; I could lose my head for this. Your grandfather would be well within his right to execute me for compromising your honor right under his nose."
"Didn't you tell me just the other day that you belong to me, not my grandfather?"
"Yes."
"Then you will follow my orders—no one else's."
He smiled in the darkness as Annabel curled up in front of him, and he put his arm around her. "Yes, ma'am."

As usual, the King had too much on his mind for sleep. In the wee hours before the dawn, he took a walk around the palace. He liked the quiet and stillness of the hallways that were normally a hive of activity; it seemed like a different place when everyone—save the occasional night guard—was asleep.
He had a lot on his mind, but Shaun and Annabel took up most of his thoughts.
If Annabel had been his daughter, not his granddaughter, would he have reacted the same if he had been informed that she needed to marry the son of a fisherman? Although it was hard for him to see Shaun as a commoner, he might have felt quite differently if he hadn't known anything about him.
Of course, he had let Adam marry Austina. She wasn't common, but she was the daughter of a knight, which was the bottom-rung of nobility. She had often been at the castle while her father was performing some duty, so she and Adam had been companions from childhood. Even then she had gotten terrible, incapacitating headaches and Adam took care of her, although he was just a child himself.
When Adam confessed his love for her and desire to marry her, Ranis had warned him that she would make a poor queen, simply because of her health problems. Adam—in his usual cool, intellectual style—had retorted that she would be no worse than no queen at all—a jab at his father, who had never remarried after his own beloved wife had died when Adam was just two.
Despite his misgivings, Ranis had allowed the wedding to proceed. And it was true that Austina was an absent princess and that many of her duties had fallen to Rayliss at a young age. But Adam loved his wife with a quiet devotion and never once complained or hinted that he had any regrets. So, Ranis supposed it was for the best; Adam might have married a better queen but gotten a worse wife. And it could be reasonably argued that it was better for Adam to be happy than helped.
Which led to the question: what about Annabel’s happiness? Ranis was certain that Shaun would make a good king, and, if he was judging correctly, Annabel would be happy with him, but what would the people and nobles of Nevara say to their queen marrying a commoner? That was a big—nearly insurmountable—hurdle. Would she give up her happiness for the sake of political peace?
Without consciously thinking about, the king's feet wandered down the hall where Annabel was staying. He was so lost in thought, he almost failed to notice that the chair outside her bedroom was empty.
His first thought was that Shaun must have finally given up and gone to bed—which was a shame, because he wanted to talk to him alone. But then a suspicion began to form in his mind.
Ever so quietly, he opened the bedroom door.
Moonlight was falling softly through the large windows—which were open to the warm spring night—and it illuminated the two figures in the bed. The King moved closer and found Shaun and Annabel curled up together, sound asleep.
For a moment, he didn't even recognize them. When awake, they both carried themselves with a dignity and gravitas reserved for adults; they made Rayliss—who was between them in age—seem like a child. But in the too-large bed, curled around each other and holding on like they might be torn apart, they looked everything in the world like two orphaned children.
For a moment, Ranis was struck with a feeling he didn't often experience: pity.
But, just as quickly as it came, it left—replaced with the pleasing thought that he could finally test Shaun and see if it was true that he was inherently noble, or if it was just a show he managed to put on.
The King poked Shaun rather sharply in the hip a couple of times.
Shaun jerked awake and looked behind him. It took a moment for him to recognize who was standing over him, but when he did, he jumped in alarm and, in his haste to scramble out of the bed, he fell onto the floor.
The King had to repress a laugh. The normally self-confident young man looked everything in the world like a boy who had gotten caught stealing eggs from the henhouse. But Shaun quickly recovered himself and knelt in the floor with his head bowed.
"I could have you executed for this," the King said.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Shaun said demurely. He offered no excuse. He did not beg. King Ranis liked that.
Annabel, on the other hand, was antagonistic. "You will do no such thing!" she said, sitting up and throwing the covers back.
"I am King here," he told his granddaughter. "I will do what I please in my own castle."
"But Shaun belongs to me. He is mine. And you will not touch him!"
The King was rather surprised by the venom in her voice. He had suspected that she might have feelings for Shaun, but apparently they ran deeper than he thought. He decided to press her further.
"He has dishonored my granddaughter under my very roof," he replied. "I don't care if he's your retainer; when you're in my kingdom, you live under my laws. Mine, not yours."
Annabel lunged for her bow and arrows, which she kept stashed beside the bed. In the blink of an eye, she was on her feet with an arrow nocked and pointed directly at her grandfather. "You touch him and I will kill you," she said coldly.
Shaun was on his feet in an instant, standing between her and the king. She slacked off on the bowstring so she didn't accidently shoot him, but she didn't put the bow down.
Shaun held his hands up pleadingly. "Please, Your Highness," he begged in a low voice.
He looked at her silently for a minute, and the king watched as the expression on Annabel’s face changed from cold anger to unhappy reluctance. He concluded they were communicating with each other telepathically. What a gift! They could speak freely and plan all they wanted without ever worrying about being overheard. What he wouldn't give to have such a talent….
"Trust me," Shaun said quietly to Annabel.
Annabel finally relented and lowered her bow. But she wasn't done arguing.
"Shaun has not dishonored me," she said irritably. "I wasn't able to sleep—and haven't been able to sleep well since the first night—so I asked him to stay with me. I feel safer when he's around and I sleep better."
They obviously had a strong bond between them if she felt that much safer for having him around. There was a lot of trust there.
"That is all that happened," she added. "That's all that's ever happened. What sort of people do you take us for?" she accused.
"So his being here is innocent," the king argued. "That's not what it looks like. What if someone else had found the two of you together? Do you know what a scandal that would have caused?"
"I tried to tell her that, Your Majesty," Shaun said with sad resignation.
"And yet you still came to her bed."
"She's not the only one who can't sleep," Shaun said simply.
"Well, now it's my turn not to sleep." He gestured to Shaun. "Since I'm up, come with me."
Before Shaun could move, Annabel reached for a robe that was lying nearby, as if she meant to dress and go with them.
"I did not invite you," the king told Annabel.
"I don't care," she snapped, slipping on the robe. "You're not taking him out of my sight."
"You are very arrogant for someone who is here by my mercy. And you forget yourself; I am monarch here, not you. If you want to rule in your own right, then you can return to your own kingdom."
"Your Highness," Shaun said in a low, pleading voice. When she looked at him, he shook his head slightly. But she was not to be controlled by either man.
"Give me your word that you are not going to take him off and execute him," she demanded. "Swear to the gods that you won't harm him, or order anyone else to harm him, or stand by and allow someone to harm him."
Ranis paused to consider her demand—weighing whether he should simply ignore her—as was his right—or humor her. He knew he was playing with fire, but he always liked a challenge—be it physical or mental. If he refused her oath, would she attack him, and if so, would he be able to overcome it? Shaun had taken his side once, but if he threatened Annabel in any way, it wouldn't be hard to guess what way Shaun’s loyalty would go. If Shaun couldn't stop a fight, he would back Annabel.
But he really wasn't interested in getting hurt—nor in harming either of them. So he took the high road.
"I swear before the gods that I shall not harm Shaun," he finally said. "Nor will I allow anyone else to harm him, nor shall I stand idly by while someone harms him. If I break my oath, then may I and my entire house be cursed for it."
Annabel sat down on the bed again, looking grumpy. "Alright," she said.
Shaun hesitated a moment, as if unsure if Annabel could be entirely trusted, then he reached for his tunic.
"Leave it," Ranis commanded, before sweeping out of the room. Barefoot, and in only his worn pants and loose undershirt, Shaun followed him obediently.
They walked down the deserted corridor silently—Shaun walking beside the king, but a half-step behind him, as was appropriate.
The king glanced at him a few times. Half-dressed and shoeless, Shaun was all but in rags. And yet he still walked with his back straight and his head held high. There was not a trace of fear or self-consciousness about him.
He walked like a king.
"You seem to have no fear of me—or of where I'm taking you," Ranis said.
"No, Your Majesty."
"You know, if I wanted you dead, no oath would hold me."
"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but if you wanted me dead, you would not have sworn it."
"Oh?"
"No, because that would have been a lie, and you are no liar. If you wanted me dead, you would have feigned defeat, left the room, and returned with guards enough to subdue us—not that you would have found us there. We would have been gone before you returned; I would have made sure of it."
The king looked at him in amazement, then suddenly laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "You know, Shaun, I must admit that since I met you, I've been trying to figure you out. But it seems you have figured me out first."
"Don't be insulted, Your Majesty," Shaun said with a smile. "You're hardly the first monarch who has wanted to kill me. I'm rather practiced at avoiding it."
The king led him to the family dining room. "Have breakfast with me," he said.
"Thank you," Shaun said, bowing his head graciously. Ranis noticed, though, that Shaun did not take a seat until he had first taken his.
It took a little longer than usual to rouse the servants—it was still before dawn—but within half an hour, a fine meal was set before them. King Ranis spoke of his kingdom and asked Shaun questions about Nevara, but he didn't discuss anything of importance until the last dish was on the table.
"You may go," he said, dismissing the bleary-eyed servants with a wave of his hand. He started to reach for the frosty pitcher of juice to serve himself, but Shaun was quick to take it first.
"If I may…?" Shaun asked.
Ranis nodded his assent and Shaun stood and poured the king's cup full. He stayed on his feet, personally serving the king until his plate was full. Only then did he sit down and serve himself.
Ranis watched him with an appraising eye. He had had a nagging feeling about Shaun ever since he met him, but he couldn't articulate why; that was why he had been so intent to test him—and, by extension, Annabel. Now it occurred to him that Shaun reminded him of something—or someone—he had known long ago, but he couldn't recall what or who. It was like a puzzle that was only slowly yielding its picture.
One thing was for certain, though: when he invited his advisors to dine with him, they did not treat him with as much quiet devotion as this boy from another kingdom.
He was beginning to see why Annabel had become so attached to him.
"It seems to me that you have feelings for my granddaughter—feelings which are beyond those normally expressed by a personal guard," Ranis said as he tore off a bit of bread—carefully watching Shaun’s face to glean any feelings he left unstated.
But Shaun was no weak-willed man controlled by his passions and easily controlled through them. He knew the game the king was playing and he looked back at him levelly with a pleasant half-smile that was wholly unreadable.
"I will not lie," Shaun said, "I am devoted to Her Highness. She is the center of my world."
Interesting. Did he feel that way because she was his destiny, because Ryu had raised him to feel that way, or had he simply come by those feelings all on his own?
"Are you sure those feelings are not misplaced?" Ranis asked. "Annabel is a strong-willed, temperamental girl; she might be more trouble than she's worth."
Shaun smiled more genuinely. "I like her just the way she is." Then he chuckled. "Besides, I need someone to keep me in line. I can be rather full of myself."
The king laughed. "It happens to the best of us."
Ranis ate a little of his breakfast, then looked at Shaun again. "Why are you so devoted to your princess?"
"Because she's my princess," Shaun replied, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "It is both my duty and my destiny to guard her."
"I daresay it was many men's duty to guard her. Yet I see only you here with her."
"Some men's loyalty runs deeper than others'," Shaun replied.
"I know she doesn't have anything with which to pay you," Ranis pressed. "And if she doesn't regain her throne, she will not be able to reward you with title or land. Are you gambling everything on a chance at the throne?"
Shaun face grew dark and angry; Ranis had finally elicited emotion from him. "I have no such aspirations," he said coldly.
"But what's in it for you? What do you get in exchange for risking your life?"
"Nothing."
"No man risks his life for nothing," the king argued.
"I risk my life for my monarch because it is my duty to do so—not because there's a reward at the end of the day. Pride and honor and a debt owed to those who came before me are what motivate me."
"What men that came before you?" the king asked.
"My ancestors."
The king was confused; what debt could Shaun owe his fishermen forefathers?
Seeing his confusion, Shaun elaborated. "I am a descendant of the Knights of Nevara," he explained.
Ranis was momentarily stunned. Even in Erenrue they knew the history of the Knights of Nevara—the most elite soldiers the world had ever known. They had even trained soldiers in other kingdoms—including Erenrue.
Suddenly, the king remembered what he had been trying to recall. When he had been a very small boy—not more than about four years old—his grandfather had still been on the throne, and he had one elderly guard who accompanied him everywhere. The man personally served the king at every meal, and when the king was ill and on his deathbed, the man never left his side. When the king died, the man calmly rose, bowed, and went out the door.
Ranis's father picked him up and took him to the balcony which overlooked the courtyard. The man appeared there a short time later, dressed in a splendid harness of armor, flashing silver in the sunlight. He took out his sword, carefully placed it between two pieces of plate, and then fell forward onto it.
"You will never see his like again," Ranis's father had whispered, as they watched the man fall to the ground. People rushed over to help, but it was clear from the sword piercing his back that he would not survive.
"He was a knight of the old ways—like the Knights of Nevara," his father explained. "He lived for the king, and now he will go with the king to the Other World and care for him there."
Ranis had assumed his father had been correct; he had never again seen a man who had that bearing, that level of utter devotion. Until now.
The King leaned back in his chair and popped a strawberry into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "I think I understand you now," he said after a moment. "You and I can get along."

Everyone worked hard all morning putting the final touches on the decorations for the party. It was early afternoon before they stopped for a brief lunch then, in the tradition of Erenrue—whose parties tended to last most of the night—the royal family, advisors, and the staff supervisors all retired to their rooms for a nap.
Shaun and Annabel went to their separate rooms.
Annabel was actually asleep—sleeping during the day seemed to be easier than sleeping at night—when a soft knock on her door woke her up.
"Yes?" she called out sleepily.
The door slowly opened and a woman peeped in. "Annabel? It's time to get ready."
"Oh, alright," Annabel said, throwing back the covers and sitting up. She rubbed her eyes.
The woman who came into her room was tall and beautiful. She had thick, dark curling hair that cascaded down her back, nearly to her thighs, and she was wearing a full crown of silver set with mother-of-pearl. She was dressed in a watery blue silk dress, which, as she walked across the room, shimmered in the fading sunlight coming through the western windows. But as she came closer, Annabel could see that she was frightfully pale and thin.
"I'm Austina," the woman said in a soft voice, offering her hand to Annabel. "I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to welcome you before now."
Annabel had suspected that the woman was Adam’s wife, but she had never actually met her aunt before; Austina had been too frail to travel to Nevara with Adam and Rayliss the one time they had come for a visit.
"That's quite alright," Annabel replied, taking Austina's hand in her own; it felt cold. "I'm sorry to hear that you haven't been feeling well," Annabel continued. "Has your headache gone away?"
"Mostly." When Annabel looked at her with pity, she just shrugged and smiled a little with the weary expression of someone who is resigned to their pain, but tries to make the most of life anyways.
"Adam asked me to help you dress," Austina said, gesturing to the maids who were standing at the door, looking in with curiosity. Their arms were full of clothes and jewel boxes.
"You don't have to do that," Annabel said. Helping someone dress for dinner—even if was an important dinner—was a servant's job, and surely the lady of the palace had more important things to do. Besides, Annabel didn't want Austina to exert herself in any way; she looked so weak, Annabel was afraid she might collapse.
Austina smiled sweetly at her. "Adam asked me to. Besides, I'm jealous that everyone else has gotten to meet you and spend time with you and I haven't."
Annabel understood then what she meant: Adam didn't trust Annabel to dress herself. Or, probably more accurately, he wanted her dressed a certain way, so he sent his wife to make sure that it got done.
She sighed inwardly and tried to remember what Shaun had told her: it was all a political game and she was still her own person.
It turned out there wasn't a lot to put on. The linen shift that was offered to her was hardly worthy of being called an undergarment; it didn't cover much of anything. It had straps—no sleeves—and a very low neckline. It had been hemmed up above her knees.
The next garment was a cross between a coat and a robe. It was made from a pale silver silk that was trimmed in thick white fox fur. It had long, bell-shaped sleeves—made heavy by the fur trimming the cuffs. The collar rose up in the back and framed her head, but in the front the v-shaped neckline plunged daringly low. The front of the garment was buttoned with half a dozen large, iridescent mother-of-pearl buttons. The hemline ended just above her knees and swept open and back into a small train.
"It's… um… beautiful," Annabel said, as she looked at herself in the mirror. A maid knelt at her feet, helping her into slippers made of the same silver silk.
"It's… a bit more… grown-up than I'm used to," Annabel said hesitantly, trying to be polite. In truth, she was a little horrified at showing so much skin in public. Her father would have never let her wear such a dress.
"I always wear a dress under it," Austina confessed. "But Adam said you were to wear it this way."
"Why?"
Austina shrugged and smiled a little. "I don't know, but he must have a plan."
The slippers had ribbons attached to the back, and the maid crisscrossed them up Annabel’s calves and tied them just below her knees. This seemed to further accentuate her bare legs.
Annabel sat at the dressing table while two maids—one on either side—quickly piled her long blonde hair on top of her head in a messy sort of a bun. They left streamers hanging down, which they curled with rods heated over a candle flame.
When they were done, it was another maid's turn. She bent down in front of Annabel and began to apply makeup to her face. That was another thing that Annabel had never been allowed to wear; makeup was generally reserved for older, married women.
When the maid was finished, she turned to look in the mirror and gasped as she hardly recognized herself. Her eyes were outlined in black eyeliner and her eyelids painted a smoky, silver-gray that made her gray eyes seem very noticeable. The only color to be found anywhere was the pink of her cheeks and the deeper pink of her lips. A light dusting of some sort of glittery powder had been brushed over her face and down her bare chest and it gave just a hint of sparkle in the candlelight.
The finishing touches were a wide necklace made of white gold, pearls and diamonds, a matching set of dangling earrings, and a half-crown studded with diamonds and pearls, which was placed in front of her bun.
Austina had been silently watching the progress with a smile. Her smile grew wider when the last maid finished.
"You look beautiful beyond words," Austina said.
Before Annabel could thank her, there was a knock on the door. Austina nodded to one of the maids to open it.
Prince Adam breezed in, looking uncharacteristically hurried—although his face was as calm as always. He was wearing a fitted cote of the same watered-blue silk as Austina's dress. It had silver buttons up the front, set with mother-of-pearl centers. His crown matched Austina's as well.
"Ready?" he asked. Before Annabel could answer, he gestured for her to rise. "Let's have a look at you."
Annabel slowly stood and turned to face her uncle. Slowly, he smiled.
"Magnificent," he declared.
"She is beautiful," Austina said, "but she made a good point earlier: don't you think this is a little… risqué for a girl her age, Adam?"
"A girl her age? She is a queen—or will be soon enough. She needs to look the part."
Adam crossed the room to examine Annabel more closely. He looked her over, then he put his finger under her chin and lifted it slightly. "Let me see that pride of yours," he said. "Tonight you are to be charming and gracious and pleasing to everyone you meet, but you must always be every inch the queen. Every man must think he has a shot of winning you, but he must also be intimidated by your greatness and feel unworthy of you."
He looked at her seriously. "Do you think you can do that?"
"I can," she said. She had grown up playing whatever role her father wanted; as long as she knew what was desired, she could act the part.
"And, whatever you do," he warned, "don't favor Shaun. We are putting it around that he's your knight, so it's not as if you have to ignore him or treat him as if he's common, but he is your retainer only. You are here looking for bigger fish—and an army. Shaun can't give you that; our nobles can. Remember that."
Adam offered his arm to his wife and turned to escort her out of the room.
Annabel stood up a little straighter, her chin tilting higher. "Just so long as you remember that I do favor him," she said haughtily.
Adam turned back to look at her and smiled. "How could I forget?" He held up his finger. "One more thing. You're to wait until I send someone for you; I want everyone assembled and waiting for you. You are to come to the back door of the ballroom. I want you to enter alone and walk to the far end where Father will officially greet you. Then we will introduce you to some of the more important people before dinner."
Annabel nodded and, with a parting smile of encouragement from both Adam and Austina, they left, followed by the maids, and Annabel was alone.
She sat down at the dressing table again and watched silently as the last of the light faded from the sky. It was completely dark when she, at last, heard a soft knock on the door.
That must be Adam’s messenger, she thought. "Enter," she said, rising from the stool.
A man entered, hesitating at the door. It was only when he slowly drew closer that she realized it was Shaun.
He was dressed in the finest garment she had ever seen him in. The cote was fitted tightly to his body—it had obviously been made for him; it wasn't one of Adam’s spares—and was made from a silk and velvet brocade. The velvet patterns—which made curling scrolls all over the fabric—were black, but the silk underneath was a rich shade of blue that matched his eyes. The cote was short and he wore fitted black hosen underneath it. It buttoned up the front with what looked like a hundred tiny silver buttons, and there were dozens more lining the edge of each sleeve up to the elbow. It had a collar of solid black velvet that fit close around his neck and over his shoulders was draped a simple collar of estate in silver.
He approached her as if in a daze. Before she could say anything to him, he knelt in the floor and bent down, kissing the hem of her dress.
"What are you doing?" she asked in bewilderment.
He looked up at her. "The first time I saw you," he whispered, "I thought you must be a fairy because you were the most beautiful person I had ever seen. But now I see that I was wrong; you must be the Goddess Nevlia herself." He bent down, kissing her gown again. "And I must worship at your feet."
Annabel chuckled, feeling equal parts embarrassed and pleased. "Shaun, get up."
It took a little encouragement from her, but at last she got him on his feet.
"Your uncle sent me to escort you to the ballroom, but I fear I'm not worthy of such an honor," he said.
She slipped her arm around his. "Funny you should mention that," she replied; "sometimes I don't feel worthy of you."
"How could you ever feel that way, Your Highness?"
"Because I may be pretty on the outside, but on the inside you are truly a good and noble person. …And that is the better quality to have."
"Who told you that you were not good and noble on the inside?"
"I don't feel that I am."
Shaun slipped his hand under hers and lifted it to his lips. "The fact that you don't live up to your own expectations is proof that you have goodness within you. You'll eventually find your balance."
Annabel smiled a little. "Shaun, how did you become so wise?"
"Well, Your Highness, I am a year older than you. When you've lived as long as I have, you'll be as wise. Just know that you'll never catch up to me."
Annabel laughed as he escorted her out the door.

Shaun and Annabel moved down the quiet, dim corridors—empty save the occasional guard, who stood as silent and immovable as an empty suit of armor.
They were almost to the ballroom when Annabel stopped and looked at Shaun. "Shaun," she whispered, afraid of being overheard, "I want you to know that… whatever I say or do tonight… that's… that's not me…."
"I understand, Your Highness. Remember, I'm the one who told you that you need to put on a show."
"Yes, but…." Annabel wasn't sure how to tell him not to worry—that she had no intention of anyone winning her heart. She didn't want him to be hurting on the inside while he smiled and acted as if nothing was wrong.
"Shh," he said, lightly touching her lips with his finger. "When we're alone, we can be ourselves, but now you have to put on your mask and be the Queen of Nevara. And the Queen of Nevara has more important things to worry about than a single man. You have a duty to thousands."
She looked at him sorrowfully.
"You forget that this is a role I chose for myself," he said. "I know what that entails."
He put his finger under her chin, as Adam had done, and lifted it slightly. "Now, make them worship you," he said with a smile.
They resumed their journey. When they turned the final corner, the guards standing outside the ballroom doors gaped a little as they came down the hallway. At the last moment, the guards remembered themselves and hurried to open the doors to the ballroom.
Shaun and Annabel paused on the threshold of the room. People nearby turned to look and a hush suddenly passed up the hall like a wave.
A moment later there was a loud fanfare. The court herald—splendid in blue silk livery with the kingdom's arms in glittering silver embroidery—loudly addressed the crowd as soon as the trumpets were still.
"Sire, Your Highnesses, my lords and ladies: may I present to you Her Most Serene Royal Highness and Sole Heir to the Kingdom of Nevara, Princess Annabel."
Annabel felt Shaun slip his arm from hers and he bowed low as he backed away from her, disappearing into the shadows.
Alone, Annabel stepped over the threshold. She could feel the weight of hundreds of eyes on her, but she kept her head up, walking slowly along the red silk runner like the queen she was born to be.
On either side, people began to sink into bows and curtsies—much lower than was technically required for a visiting monarch. But she paid no attention to them, turning her head neither left nor right. She kept her eyes forward, on the low dais at the other end of the hall. King Ranis sat in his throne on one side, and Adam, Austina, and Rayliss sat to the left.
Rayliss was looking at her in open-mouthed wonder. Adam and Austina both smiled at her in encouragement. But there was a hard smile on Ranis's lips. It was clear that he was pleased with Annabel’s appearance and bearing and he was already calculating the potential of it.
Annabel stopped just in front of the dais and bowed her head slightly—not as a princess or granddaughter, but as one monarch to another.
Ranis gestured to her. "Princess Annabel, on behalf of my nobles and my people, let me formally welcome you to the Kingdom of Erenrue."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. Your hospitality is famed throughout the world and I have found, firsthand, that it is a reputation that is well deserved. Although, I must say, no rumors of the richness of your court could adequately prepare me for it. It is more than could be expected."
There were murmurs of approval from the people around her. Ranis's smile became more genuine.
"Thank you. And I must say your reputation for beauty likewise cannot compare to you in the flesh, but…" he glanced at Adam and the others, "I would like to think that you inherit that from our side of the family."
There was good-natured laughter and even Annabel had to smile. It was true that she resembled Adam—even more than Rayliss—and there was no denying that he was a very handsome man.
The king stood and approached her. "Here, now, let's have no more formality between family. You are my granddaughter, the same as Rayliss."
He bent down and kissed her on either cheek, then he took her hand in his. "Let me introduce you to a few people before dinner."
That was everyone's cue to resume their conversations and socializing—although they did so while keeping one eye on Annabel the entire time.
The king gestured to a stocky-built man dressed all in black velvet. His cote was decorated with nothing but gold buttons, but he was wearing a half-cape thrown jauntily over one shoulder and it was heavily embroidered with gold thread and smooth gold beads. He wore a matching black velvet porkpie hat with a long, sleek, gold-colored feather.
The man looked to be in his mid-to-late-thirties. His hair and beard were both black, but there was an occasional silver hair peeking out.
He looked at Annabel with an enigmatic half-smile, but his gray eyes were as hard and calculating as Ranis's. Annabel knew, even before he was introduced, that he was a relation.
"Princess Annabel," King Ranis began, "may I introduce my nephew, Clark, the Duke of Erenmoor."
Clark doffed his hat in a practiced manner and bent low over Annabel’s proffered hand. His lips pressed a little harder and lingered a little longer than was appropriate for a courtly gesture.
"The pleasure is all mine," he said, looking up at Annabel with a mixture of genuine appreciation and greed.
Her grandfather certainly believed in starting with the most dangerous man first.
"The Duke has made a fine reputation for himself as a warrior," Ranis hinted.
"Against beasts and bandits," Clark said dismissively. "I will not be satisfied until I see a real field of battle; only then can a man truly be tested." He smiled at Annabel. "Perhaps I shall see one in the not-too-distant future."
"Rumors!" Ranis said with false nonchalance. "Nothing has been decided yet."
Clark laughed. It was a deep laugh that held a hint of danger within it. "Uncle, you forget who you're speaking to. I know you; everything is already planned—as always."
"Shh," Ranis said, putting his finger to his lips, but smiling conspiratorially.
"Well, even if I weren't interested in personal glory, how could I fail to come to the aid of such a lovely damsel in distress?" the duke said, turning back to Annabel. He still had not relinquished her hand.
"I know not what the future holds," Annabel replied, "but if you were ever to come to my aid, I would be eternally grateful… cousin." She put just a little bit of emphasis on the word to perhaps give him pause, but either that didn't bother him or he actually found it encouraging that she acknowledged their especial bond, because he smiled more broadly. Annabel hurried to turn away from him and move on to the next introduction; the duke's eyes held a hunger that scared her.
Her grandfather led her to another familiar-looking face. The man favored Ranis so much—complete with untamable gray hair—that she knew he must be a brother.
"Princess Annabel, this is my younger brother, Reginald, Duke of Yarlsmont," Ranis confirmed.
Reginald smiled broadly—it was terribly infectious—and lightly kissed her hand. "My dear, what a pleasure it is to meet you!" he said, looking as if he was truly pleased. If Ranis had inherited all of the guile in the family, his brother had obviously inherited all of the pleasantness. He looked like a man who was perpetually happy.
"Please, let me introduce you to my wife," Reginald said, gesturing to a handsome woman who was easily twenty years his junior. "This is Filippa. And this…" he reached out for a bashful-looking young man and dragged him closer. "This is our son, Nicoli."
The blond-haired boy stole a glance at Annabel, then looked down at the floor again. His face was beet-red.
"I-it's a p-pleasure to m-meet you, Y-your Highness," he stuttered.
She offered him her hand. "The pleasure is all mine, Lord Nicoli."
If possible, he turned even redder. But despite his shyness, he bowed over her hand and kissed it with grace.
"Nicoli just turned sixteen two weeks ago," Reginald said with obvious pride.
"This is his first reception," his mother added.
"Happy belated birthday," Annabel said. "I hope you enjoy yourself this evening."
"I already am—en-enjoying m-myself, that is," he said with a smile, before looking at the floor again.
They were interrupted by an announcement from the herald. "Please, may I have your attention! Dinner is now served. Please make your way to the dining room."
Annabel glanced around, but noticed her grandfather had disappeared. As everyone headed for the two exits, it was hard to pick out anyone she recognized in the press of people.
Duke Reginald gave his son a little nudge with his elbow.
"Oh, um, m-may I escort y-you to d-dinner?" Nicoli asked with a bow.
"Yes, I would like that," she said, smiling at him. He beamed at her—his smile as brilliant and infectious as his father's. It was hard not to like the awkward young man. She could remember when she had been bashful, too.
Nicoli offered his arm to her and she took it; his father and mother fell in behind them.
As Annabel approached the queue, though, people melted out of her way, allowing her and Nicoli to pass through first.
Nicoli glanced around in wonder. "Wow," he whispered to Annabel, "I've n-never w-walked with a qu-queen b-before. People t-treat you d-different."
"I'm not a queen," Annabel gently corrected. "But you are right."
"You're p-practically a qu-queen," he contradicted.
They walked into the dining hall ahead of most people. "Oh, look," Nicoli said, nodding at the tables. "There are n-name c-cards. I-I wonder w-where we-we're sitting?"
"I'm sitting up there," Annabel said, gesturing to the right-hand side of the table, near the head. Part of their morning chores had been putting out the name cards according to Rayliss's elaborate seating chart. Annabel had taken care to remember where her place was.
Nicoli escorted her to her seat and pulled out the chair for her. He wasn't sitting next to her, so he had to take his leave.
"M-may I have a d-dance later?" he asked with pleading eyes.
"Of course. I'd be offended if you didn't ask me for one."
He grinned from ear to ear, then kissed her hand and fairly floated out of sight.
The dining room quickly filled. Annabel noticed that she wasn't sitting beside or across from anyone she knew. King Ranis was sitting at the head of the table, but the rest of the royal family was scattered randomly throughout the dining room. In fact, men and women alternated seats; there were men on either side of Annabel and one across from her.
She quickly realized that the purpose of such an unconventional seating arrangement was to allow individuals to meet and talk to new people.
She also realized that her table partners hadn't been chosen by accident.
To her right was a handsome young man with curly brown hair who introduced himself as Errol, the son of the Count of Medford. To her left was an equally handsome blond-haired man who was a little older—perhaps in his mid- to late-twenties—who introduced himself as Zavier, Baron of Westwood. Across the table was Sir Heinrich, the youngest man ever to be knighted in Erenrue. He had been seventeen at the time, but was nineteen now.
Huge vases of flowers set on the table allowed Annabel to have an unimpeded view of Sir Heinrich, but they generally made conversation with the ladies diagonal from her impossible. Which was, no doubt, the point.
All three men vied to have her complete and total attention. By the second course, Annabel felt a newfound respect for jugglers; keeping the attention of all three men at the same time—never letting one feel neglected or slighted—was like trying to keep three balls in the air at once.
She hardly had time to think about anything else, but just before the dessert course—when conversation slowed because everyone was feeling full—she glanced down the table and, between two flower vases, she saw Shaun on the opposite side of the table. He had a blonde girl on one side and on the other was a girl with curling red hair of such brilliance, it looked as if her head was on fire. Annabel had never see such a color before and she stared at the girl for several minutes.
Both the blonde girl and the redhead seemed to be hanging on Shaun’s every word. In typical fashion, he had waved away the servants and was pouring drinks and dishing up the food for each woman. While he did so, he was animatedly telling them some story, and after a minute, he obviously reached the conclusion because they all erupted in laughter.
Annabel wasn't sure if she was more jealous of the girls getting Shaun’s attention, or the effortless way Shaun kept them entertained. She just felt drained and exhausted by her dinner companions.
"Who do you look at, Your Highness?" Errol asked her, looking down the table, trying to determine where she was gazing.
Annabel felt a little embarrassed; she shouldn't be caught looking at Shaun. "A girl down there with red hair," she said, only lying a tiny bit. "I've never seen hair that color before."
"She must be some of those Redwood people in the mountains to the east. They have red hair, so I've heard."
He looked around Annabel at Zavier. "They're some of your people, aren't they, Westwood?"
"Yes, there's a whole clan of them with red hair up in the glens. Goat and sheep farmers, most of them. During the last war with Shi-Ha, one of the men distinguished himself on the battlefield and King Ranis knighted him. I think that's his daughter. Or maybe it's his granddaughter. I don't know."
He sniffed just a little. "They're not really noble; they still herd goats."
If Annabel had been actually shopping for a husband, Baron Westwood would have just been crossed off her list.
"Well, I think her hair is beautiful," Annanel said, showing as much of her displeasure as she dared.
"I think so, too," Errol said, hurrying to show her whose side he was on.
She would have marked him off her list, too.
Luckily, before either man could get up after dinner, another one came along and asked Annabel if he could escort her to the ballroom. She happily accepted—to the obvious disappointment of a dinner companions.
"How do you find Erenrue, Your Highness?" her escort asked. Annabel noticed that although he was young—probably not more than twenty-five—he walked with a slight limp in his left leg. His face—cheerful and pleasant, if not conventionally handsome—was marred with a ragged-looking scar that cut from his forehead down to his chin and clipped a little bit of his neck above his shirt collar.
"I haven't seen much of the kingdom—save the western lands to the ocean—but Pallis is quite beautiful."
"Ugh, the western lands," he said with a grimace. "There's a reason why no one lives there. We tried some years ago to set up a fishing village, but it didn't survive. No one wanted to live there any length of time. It's like a cursed land."
"I must admit, the barrenness was rather surreal. I wouldn't want to live there, either."
They slowly moved out of the dining room and headed for the ballroom. Others were trickling out of the dining room as they finished their meal and conversations, so there was no rush of people, as before.
"Forgive me for being slow," Annabel’s companion said. "My left leg only moves so fast."
"There is nothing to forgive," Annabel replied. "I am in no hurry."
"I took a wound in it a few years ago and it never healed correctly," he explained.
Annabel sensed that he wanted to tell her what happened. So she gave him the opportunity. "What happened to you, if I may ask?"
"I went out with a small party to take out some bandits that were living in the mountains east of here and raiding some of our shepherds and wool merchants. But they knew—or at least suspected—that we were coming, and they set an ambush for us.
"I took a bad hit in the thigh and another one here," he said, indicating the scar on his face. "Most of my men were killed. I think I was only spared because they thought I was already dead.
"And maybe I was flitting between this world and the next, because as I was lying there, I saw the strangest thing."
"What?" Annabel asked, hanging on his story.
"Tigers. White tigers."
It took Annabel a moment to comprehend what he had said. "Tigers? In the mountains of Erenrue?"
"Yes, it sounds ludicrous, doesn't it? But just as the bandits were finishing off my men, four or five big white tigers came bounding over a hill and they started to kill the bandits.
"It just took a minute, and then it was all over. A couple of them started to sniff around the men on the ground and one came over to me. He sniffed my face, but I don't know what happened after that; I blacked out either from fear or blood loss.
"The next thing I knew, someone was splashing water in my face. It was several hours later and a shepherd out looking for a stray sheep had come across all of us. Only one other man from my party survived, but he had been knocked out early and said he never saw any tigers."
"How strange!" Annabel said.
"There have been rumors since forever that there were tigers in the mountains, but I always thought they were a legend. And maybe they're not real; maybe they're the spirits of the mountain. But whatever they were, I think they saved my life."
They walked into the ballroom. The thrones on the dais had been replaced by two harps and the servants were making the final preparations for the concert.
"I saw you and Princess Rayliss practicing in the courtyard the other day," the young man said. "I look forward to hearing you play again."
"You saw us?" Annabel asked, looking at him with surprise.
The man suddenly blushed. "Oh, forgive me, Your Highness, I completely forgot to introduce myself. How rude!"
He turned and bowed to her. "I am Sir Elgon, the Captain of the Guard."
"Oh, well, that makes sense now," Annabel said, chuckling.
He shook his head a little. "I'd like to blame my denseness on the blow I took to my head, but I'm afraid I've never been the brightest person."
"I think it's more like we were getting on so well, it was hard to remember we hadn't been properly introduced," Annabel said with a smile. Elgon grinned widely in return.
It wasn't an effort to be pleasant to Elgon; he was rather likeable by nature.
"I have been seeing you around the castle for a week now," he said, "and I know who you are; it was easy for me to forget that you don't know who I am."
"Well, I'm glad I have made your acquaintance now."
They idly waited while people began to fill the hall again and a couple of the court musicians tuned the harps.
"Is the flute player going to be playing with you as well?" Elgon said, nodding to the stool that was placed between the two harps.
"Yes."
"His name is Shaun, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"He doesn't trust my guard."
Annabel looked at him. "Why? What has he said to you?"
"Oh, nothing. But I know he's been keeping guard outside your room every night. That means he doesn't trust my men."
"I don't think he means to imply that..." she started to say.
"I think he does," Elgon said, cutting her off. "And if I was in his shoes, I would do no less. If you were my monarch, and we had powerful enemies, and were in a foreign land, I would absolutely do the same.
"I hand-pick every man who serves on my guard, but the servants are a different matter entirely. They're picked based on their skills or who is owed a favor—not on their trustworthiness. I mean, I would hope they're all trustworthy, but would I bet your life on it? No. Loyalty owed to the royal family doesn't necessarily extend to you."
Annabel glanced around the room. It was full of people chatting and laughing happily. It felt surreal to be in such a place and speaking about an imminent threat to her safety.
"Shaun said something similar," Annabel said in a low voice. "He worried that someone might come into my room when I was asleep—someone that no one would suspect."
"That proves he's no idiot. If you want to be a good guard, you have to think like a criminal. That's what I tell all of my men when I train them: look for ways to sneak in here, then figure out a way to keep that very thing from happening. Because if you thought of it, someone else has, too."
Elgon glanced around, then stepped closer to Annabel, whispering to her. "Tell Shaun that I have my best men on your hallway and at night, no one goes down that hallway but him or you or the royal family—no servants—not without an escort.
"The maids that you do have serving you belong to either Princess Rayliss or Princess Austina; they have been handpicked to serve them, so they can be trusted. No one else goes into your room but them."
Annabel was surprised. "No one told us this before."
"Well, I will be totally honest with you: I didn't take the situation seriously enough until I heard that Shaun was stationing himself outside your door every night. That's when I asked myself why he didn't trust us and I examined the situation from his point of view. When I began to see where we had gaps, I started to make corrections."
"Thank you for looking out for me. Maybe Shaun can sleep easier."
Elgon leaned in closer, so that he was whispering directly into her ear. "No one is to go to your room uninvited, either. So you need not worry about someone walking in on you in the mornings."
Annabel glanced at him, wondering if he was saying what she thought he was saying. He perked a brow and then she was certain: he knew that Shaun had spent the night in her room.
Her face felt like it was on fire. Even though she knew that everything had been innocent, it was as Shaun and her grandfather had warned: people would come to the wrong conclusion and talk of it would spread all over the castle.
Annabel couldn't even look him in the eye, she was so mortified. "How did you know?" she whispered.
"His Majesty told me… and no other. He wanted to make sure that such knowledge stays quiet in the future, too. That's why I changed things around a bit—all in the name of your safety. If you want help dressing or something of that sort, there's a bell in your room that you can ring to call for a maid. Otherwise, none will disturb you."
Annabel didn't know what to say. She was so flushed that she wished she could teleport to the balcony to cool off and hide her red face.
"I'm sorry, I've overstepped my bounds," Elgon said, looking at her with concern. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. I only meant to tell you that you need not fear embarrassment."
"You… you mustn't think… that I… that we…."
"Of course not! Your Highness, please forgive me," he said, humbly bowing, "I did not mean to imply that I thought you or Shaun to be dishonorable in any way. I would never think that of either of you. Forgive me. I only meant to give you peace of mind."
He leaned in close again. "Trust me, if I had one precious treasure—the only one of its kind—I would keep it with me at all times—even when I slept—to make sure no one stole it. That's not wrong; that's being smart. And if I were in his shoes, I would continue to do the same."

As if on cue, Shaun walked into the room with Rayliss on his arm. They were laughing about something, but as soon as Rayliss looked at the harps on the stage, her smile faltered.
Shaun spotted Annabel standing nearby and made a beeline for her. Elgon noticed his approach, and before Annabel could say anything, he bowed low and melted into the crowd.
"Everything alright?" Shaun asked, looking at her strangely. She wondered if she was still red-faced.
"Yes, fine," she lied, trying to compose herself.
"It looks like they may be ready for us," Shaun said with a nod to the dais.
"I think so," Annabel said. "Why don't we go up?" She had grown up hating performing almost as much as Rayliss, but at the moment it was a welcome distraction; she didn't want Shaun asking her any more questions.
Shaun offered her his other arm and he escorted both princesses to the stage.
Rayliss and Annabel each took a seat on the low stools behind the harps. Rayliss was almost as pale as her white gown.
Shaun turned his back to the audience, pretending to be doing something with his flute. "Do you feel everyone looking at us?" he whispered to the girls.
Rayliss numbly nodded; she looked like she might be sick.
"All of the men are looking at me up here with both of you," he whispered, "and they're thinking, 'Lucky bastard.'"
Rayliss suddenly laughed and color began to reappear in her face. Shaun grinned at her and gave her a saucy wink.
Rather than feel jealous, Annabel felt a wave of affection and gratitude to Shaun for putting Rayliss at ease. Her stage fright was rather pitiful to see.
Annabel turned to her harp—intending to check it and make sure it had been properly tuned—when she suddenly came to a horrifying realization.
"I can't play," she whispered to Rayliss.
Shaun, who was softly playing a few notes on his flute to warm up, heard her. "What's wrong?" he asked, bending down close to her.
She felt a little embarrassed to say; she hoped he knew she hadn't dressed herself. "I can't play in this dress," she said.
In order to play the harp, she had to put it between her knees and lean it back against her shoulder. In a normal dress, that was no problem, but in the gown she was wearing—split up the front as it was—she risked revealing a little too much of herself to the audience.
"You can't abandon me!" Rayliss pleaded, looking close to tears. "I can't play your part. And it will sound stupid if I just play my part."
"I can't sit with my legs apart, Rayliss," Annabel hissed back at her. "This dress will pull open and everyone will be looking up it."
"Why did you wear it then?" Rayliss demanded.
"Your father made me!"
"Ladies," Shaun said, putting up his hand and stopping them before their argument grew too noticeable. "Give me a minute."
He turned and flagged down a server, whispering in the man's ear. The man nodded, then hurried out of the room at a trot.
Shaun took a moment to pretend to inspect Annabel’s harp, as if there was something wrong with it. A moment later, the server returned with two folded pieces of white cloth. They looked suspiciously like tablecloths.
Shaun took them from the man, then walked over to Rayliss and handed her one. He bent down to say something to her, but Annabel couldn't hear what he said.
He came to her side a moment later. "Drape this over your lap," he said, handing her the other cloth.
She did as he said. She glanced at Rayliss and noticed that she had done the same. With both of them covering their laps, it made it look as if they didn't want the harps to dirty their fine dresses, rather than it looking like Annabel had dressed too immodestly for the occasion.
She happened to glance out into the audience and she noticed Adam sitting on a nearby couch beside his wife. He placed his hands together, as if in prayer, and mouthed the words "thank you" to Shaun. He had obviously not missed the problem inherent in his choice of wardrobe.
Shaun was grinning when he turned around to look at Rayliss and Annabel. "Ready, ladies?" he whispered.
Annabel settled her harp against her shoulder and nodded. Rayliss nodded as well.
Shaun turned to address the audience.
"My lords and ladies, on behalf of Her Royal Highness, Princess Rayliss, I would like to welcome you to tonight's ball."
There was polite applause.
"Despite short notice, she put together tonight's dinner and festivities, and I think she has done a wonderful job," he said, gesturing to her.
There was another round of applause—more hearty this time. Rayliss smiled and blushed.
Shaun addressed the crowd again. "She informed us that she likes to play for her guests, and she thoughtfully invited both myself and Her Highness," he gestured to Annabel, "to play with her."
It was Annabel’s turn to smile—mostly because she found it humorous that Shaun was as good at telling white lies as she was.
"So, without further ado…." He bowed to the audience a little, then turned to face Annabel and Rayliss. He softly counted out a beat, pointing to Rayliss with his flute when it was time for her to come in.
She began to play a slow tune. Annabel could feel the floor of the makeshift dais vibrate as Rayliss struck the bass strings of her large harp.
Shaun counted the beat, but he merely glanced at Annabel when it was her turn to come in; he trusted she knew what to do.
She began to play the second part, which was higher and more complicated. It was no accident that when Shaun rewrote the music for three parts, he gave Rayliss the more repetitive background part.
He turned to face the audience, and when it was his turn, he joined in as well.
Their first piece was slow and haunting—a good warm-up piece. When they were finished, they received strong applause. They followed it up with a second piece that was more upbeat. For their finale, however, they played a complicated piece meant to tell the story of two lovers quarreling, then making up.
Shaun turned to face Annabel and they put on quite a show—and given their sometimes stubborn disagreements in real life, it wasn't hard to act—with Annabel playing one piece, Shaun answering it, and the two of them going back and forth—sometimes separately, sometimes together in an angry dissonance—until, at the end, they began to tone down their calls and replies until they joined together in harmony.
When they were through, Shaun bent down and took Annabel’s hand in his, kissing it with a smile. Then he pulled her to her feet and let her curtsey to the audience—who was clapping wildly.
He turned and did the same for Rayliss, carefully positioning her so that she was equal with Annabel. Then he took a step back, so that he was behind both of them, before taking a brief bow.
They were all swarmed as they tried to step off the dais; everyone wanted to congratulate them and praise them on an excellent performance. Rayliss seemed to be tickled pink; she could have never hoped to play such pieces of music by herself, but she shared equally in the glory with Shaun and Annabel.
After a few minutes, the court musicians began to tune up their instruments, signaling the beginning of the ball. Annabel found herself completely encircled by men, all of whom wanted the first dance. Even she—normally skilled at matters of state and protocol—found herself overwhelmed; she couldn't figure out who she should give her favor to first. She didn't want to show any of them too much favor, but likewise she didn't want to insult the higher-ranked nobles by choosing a man of too little rank.
A moment later, the crowd around her began to part and bow and Annabel saw her grandfather striding forward. "Look at you young rascals!" the king teased. "Are you so besotted with my granddaughter that you forget it's my prerogative to get the first dance?"
There were some embarrassed chuckles, then the crowd began to fall away as the men looked for other partners.
Annabel had never truly felt grateful to her grandfather until that moment.
He led her to the center of the dance floor and held her rather stiffly at arm's length; it was clear he didn't care for dancing, but he did it because it was expected.
The musicians—seeing the king was ready—began to play a waltz. Thanks to the court magician, a soft snow began to fall from the rafters—to the delight of the spectators. But unlike real snow, it wasn't wet; in fact, it disappeared into thin air when it touched anything.
"Well, Annabel," King Ranis said in a low voice, under the cover of the music, "I must say that I have been impressed by you. You are the talk of the evening. Of course, that was the intention, but even I'm surprised by the response. You would think that this kingdom was completely bereft of women, the way my nobles are falling all over you. I've had several already make inquiries into who holds more sway in your marriage decision—you, me, or your own people. A couple of married men have even hinted they would not be adverse to putting aside their wives for you."
Annabel was horrified by such a thought and it must have shown on her face, because King Ranis laughed. "Don't worry; I would never condone you marrying such scoundrels. But it does, I think, speak to your charms."
"It does nothing of the sort." Annabel said testily. "They just want a throne—my throne."
He looked at her carefully. "Assuming you don't choose to remain a virgin queen, what will you do about your future husband? Will you share your power, give it up completely, or refuse to crown him king and keep it all for yourself?"
"I don't know. I suppose it depends on the man. …But I doubt seriously that I will give it up completely. I have been raised to be queen, and even though that's not a task I would have ever accepted if I had had the choice, it's the one that has been given to me, so I feel obligated to do it. To give away the responsibility would not only be contrary my destiny, but also to my people, who expect me to be their ruler—not some man they don't know."
"Well spoken," he said with a little smile.
When the dance was finished, he gave her a little bow of the head, then disappeared. He was quickly replaced by another man, eager to claim Annabel’s attention before someone else.
And so it went for hours. She only got a break from dancing when the musicians took a break, and when she sat down to rest, she found herself wedged between two men and surrounded by more.
While she recognized a few who danced with her—including Nicoli and Duke Clark—most of the faces began to blur into sameness and she quit trying to keep up with names and ranks; she just mindlessly danced and tried to smile and make engaging small talk.
"Your Highness, may I speak to you regarding my daughter?"
Annabel startled out of her stupor. Everyone had been talking about her or themselves for hours; she was caught off guard by a question about someone else for a change.
"Certainly," she said, curious as to why her dance partner wanted to talk about his daughter.
"My daughter, Leisbet, is quite taken with that young man—Sir Shaun. He is your retainer, is he not?"
Annabel was so floored, she couldn't answer the man. It was only when he began to look confused by her reaction that she managed to find her voice.
"Um, yes. Yes, he is."
"I don't know how you do things in your kingdom: do you control your nobles' marriages, or are they free?"
Annabel stared at him blankly for a minute. "I… don't understand."
"We are interested in exploring marriage arrangements with Sir Shaun," he said more simply. "I didn't know if I should do that through you or deal with him directly."
Annabel felt as if the room was spinning. Here Shaun had worried that he would have to watch while other men vied for her hand, when in reality there were women who wanted him.
The man looked at her expectantly, so she tried to plaster on the same fake smile Shaun used to mask his pain in such situations. "Um… he's free to do as he chooses."
"Excellent. I have heard good things about him through the rumor mill, but do you vouch for his honor?"
"I know no one more honorable," she said honestly.
She did briefly consider telling the man that Shaun actually wasn't noble—just to put the man off the idea of marrying Shaun into the family—but she knew that would be jealous and petty, so as much as it burned inside, she held her tongue.
"Ah, here's the gentleman now!" her partner said, just as the music ended.
Annabel turned around to see Shaun approaching them. He looked concerned.
"Sir Shaun, I have some business that I would like to discuss with you," the man said.
"Certainly," Shaun replied. "May I attend you shortly?"
"Yes, please do." The man walked off, looking pleased.
"What's wrong?" Shaun asked Annabel in a low voice.
"Nothing."
"You look ill," he pressed. "Do you need to rest? I don't think anyone expects you to dance with every man in Erenrue."
"No, I'm fine," she insisted.
He looked as if he didn't believe her, but he let the matter drop. "In that case, may I have the next dance?"
She nodded numbly.
When he took her into his arms, everything changed. She felt a wave of peace come over her and her troubles seemed to recede into the background. He didn't hold her stiffly or awkwardly like some of the younger, self-conscious men, and he didn't hold her at arm's length, as was appropriate for strangers or more casual acquaintances; he held her so close their bodies touched, and instead of his hand being on her upper back, it was around her waist.
He held her like a lover.
The music began and he took the lead, waltzing them confidently around the room.
"I wish you would tell me what's wrong," he said, looking at her with a worried frown.
"That man wanted to marry you to his daughter."
Shaun glanced around him. "What man?"
"The one I was dancing with before you."
"He wanted to arrange a marriage between me and his daughter?" Shaun asked incredulously.
"Yes."
Shaun looked thoughtful for a moment, as if he had never considered the idea that he might marry. "Which one was she?"
"I don't know. I didn't ask."
"Well, don't you think that's kind of important? I mean, if I'm going to marry someone, shouldn't I at least know who she is first?"
If anything, Annabel felt a little sicker. It took a minute before she realized Shaun was trying not to smile.
"You're terrible to tease me like that," she said, looking away with a fake pout. "It's a wonder I have anything to do with you. I should marry you off to some Erenrue girl, just to be rid of you."
"It's not that easy to get rid of me," he said with a smile. Then he leaned in closer.
Annabel found her breath catching her chest as she thought he was about to kiss her right there in front of everyone.
But, instead, he whispered in her ear. "Your Highness, I would rather die a bachelor and end my family's line than give myself in marriage to a woman I did not love with my whole heart. And there is only one woman who has it."
He pulled back slowly, letting his cheek lightly brush hers, like a kiss.
She looked at him, feeling her old burning desire to be kissed by him. She didn't care if there was a room full of people watching her every move; she wanted it more than she wanted anything else in the world.
Her longing was mirrored in his eyes. "If I could stop time," he whispered, "I would freeze it now and live in this moment forever."
For a moment, it seemed to Annabel that he had gotten his wish. Time seemed to slow down and the room full of people faded into the background. In the dim candlelight and softly falling snow, there was only Shaun—the glint of his silver collar and buttons; the shimmering blue silk in his cote; the strength and safety in his arms; the warmth of his body; his tousled, sandy-blonde hair; the look of utter adoration in his eyes—adoration not for her beauty or her title, but for who she really was. He had seen her at her worst: when she was feverish and throwing up and ranting at him; when she was being rude and temperamental; when she was wearing ratty clothes and hadn't had a bath in weeks; when she had been stripped of everything and left hiding in fear for her life.
He had seen it all—lived it all—and despite everything, he still worshipped the ground she walked on.
"Shaun, I…."
Before she could find words to express what she was feeling, his face changed. His eyes grew more distant and his brow furrowed in confusion. His footsteps faltered and they came to a halt on the dance floor.
"Shaun, what's wrong?" Annabel asked.
He held up his finger asking her for a moment. She stood in confusion and watched as his own confusion gave way to a look of horror. She began to feel a cold fear rising inside her.
After a minute, his eyes came back into focus, but it took him a few more seconds to reorient himself; he looked like he had just woken up from a dream and didn't know where he was.
"Shaun, what's wrong?" Annabel asked anxiously.
"Where's the king and Prince Adam?" he asked, looking around.
"I don't know. What's wrong?" she asked again.
"We need to find them," he said, taking her by the hand and leading her through the crowd. People looked at them curiously as they passed by.
They found both men standing on the far side of the room, watching the dancers and talking quietly. They quickly turned their attention to Shaun and Annabel, though, when they came hurrying up.
"Your Majesty, I need to speak to you," Shaun said, somewhat breathlessly. "Privately," he added.
The king glanced behind him, at the balcony. He stepped outside and shooed the people standing there back inside. Then he gestured for Shaun and Annabel to join him.
"I think you need to hear this, too, Your Highness," Shaun said to Adam.
Adam followed him and Annabel onto the balcony, then shut the doors behind them. He casually leaned back against them to make sure they stayed closed.
"What's the matter?" the king asked.
"We're going to need your army sooner, rather than later, Your Majesty," Shaun said. "Nagadii is marching here."
The king didn't move for a moment; it looked like he didn't understand what Shaun had just said. For that matter, Annabel wasn't sure she had heard him correctly.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Shaun looked at her. "Nagadii has drafted every man in Nevara between the ages of sixteen and forty and pressed them into service—military service. He is marching his army here as we speak. They'll be here in a week or so."
"Wait, how do you know this?" King Ranis asked, looking more perplexed than ever.
Shaun turned to him. "You remember that I told you Annabel and I can speak telepathically because we're Nevreks?"
"Yes."
"Well, I have that ability with someone else—someone who died."
King Ranis looked floored. His mouth actually fell open. "What?" he finally gasped.
"I can speak to Master Gardamon. He was a great scholar and magician back when Master Ryu was just a boy. Because he's in the Other World, he can see things that we cannot, and he can pass that information on to me telepathically.
"Apparently Nagadii has some sort of magic spell on Nevara which blocks Master Gardamon's ability to see, but tonight the army marched out of Linnens and away from the spell's protection. As soon as Master Gardamon figured out what was happening, he told me."
"How many men?" Prince Adam hurried to ask.
"I don't know; Master Gardamon said they were still filing out of the city. But if he's right—if Nagadii has pressed every man in Nevara into service—then it will be a very large army—much larger than what you normally field."
King Ranis looked down at the ground, obviously deep in thought. After a couple of minutes, he looked up. There was a steely resolve in his gray eyes. "Even if they bring more men, they will be inexperienced. And no conscript ever fights as well as a volunteer—and that will go double for men who are fighting against their lawful monarch. That should balance the numbers—if not sway the engagement in our favor. I've seen green troops run before; they got tangled up with their regulars and caused the entire line to collapse. So sometimes they harm their own side more than they help."
He suddenly threw his head back and laughed. Annabel didn't see what was funny at all. The only thing worse than thinking about going to war, was fighting—and killing—her own people.
"So Nagadii thinks he is powerful enough to fight me here?" the king asked. "We shall see how well he beards the Lion of Erenrue in his own den!"
He marched past an astonished Shaun and Annabel; Adam had to hurry to get out of his way.
Ranis threw open the glass doors, and people all over the hall turned to look at him in curiosity and wonder. The musicians stopped playing mid-song.
"I have just received word that the king-slayer Nagadii is marching an army on Erenrue," the king announced. "Perhaps he means to kill me and take my throne. Perhaps he means to put the royal family into flight. Or maybe he means to exterminate, one-by-one, the nobility of Erenrue who are a threat to him and enslave everyone else.
"Is there any among you who would allow such a thing to happen while you draw breath?!" he demanded.
"NO!" was the universal reply.
King Ranis pointed to Elgon, who had hobbled to the front of the crowd. "Sir Elgon, put out the call: the army is to muster in one week's time!"
A deafening shout went up in the hall.

The party descended into chaos. Servants were running everywhere—trying to prepare rooms in the castle for people who were suddenly staying in town longer than anticipated; going out to wake every blacksmith in the city; bringing in the best spies and scouts in town; making Prince Adam a pot of extra-strong tea.
King Ranis was in his element, barking out orders for staff and nobles alike. He called for his generals and advisors, then whisked off to the War Room. Men who were called away kissed their wives and daughters goodbye, then entrusted their safety to those who were staying behind.
Annabel was surprised to see that, while a few women were tearful, most seemed as proud and happy as the men. A few even talked about going to war with them.
It seemed she had accidentally stumbled on the national pastime of Erenrue.
She had always heard they were a rather war-like nation, but having some from a kingdom that hadn't seen war in over a hundred years, it was still a bit of a shock.
"Do you want to sit with the king's War Council?" Shaun asked her.
Annabel shook her head.
"Shall I escort you back to your room, then? It looks like the party is over."
"Yes, please," she replied. She didn't know if the night was finally catching up to her, or if the news of an imminent war was just so overwhelming, but she was suddenly exhausted.
Shaun took her arm in his and they tried to get through the press of people who were likewise leaving. But now there was a general feeling of every man for himself, so Annabel had to wait in line like everyone else.
The hallways were full of loud people talking about war or trying to find out where they were staying. But as Shaun and Annabel moved through the castle to the wing for royal guests, it grew quieter and they saw fewer people. Eventually, they were alone—save the posted guards, who quickly stopped their curious, speculative whispering when Shaun and Annabel came into view.
They stopped outside Annabel’s bedroom door and Shaun opened it for her. "Do you want me to find some maids to help you get ready for bed?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No, I'm fine."
She took him by the hand and tried to pull him into the room with her, but he resisted.
"Your Highness," he whispered, "if the king finds me in here again, he really will have my head."
"I need to talk to you about that."
With some reluctance, he followed her into the room and shut the door behind him.
She turned to him. "Sir Elgon, the Captain of the Guard, wanted me to tell you that he has his best men guarding my hallway and that no one but us or the royal family can come through it without an escort. Also, no servants are allowed in my room uninvited, and the only ones that are allowed to serve me are Rayliss or Aunt Austina's personal maids."
She actually saw him breathe a sigh of relief. "Good."
"He also said that no one was allowed to disturb me in the mornings."
Shaun looked at her the same way she had looked at Sir Elgon: was she saying what he thought she was saying?
She just nodded.
He put his hand over his face in embarrassment.
"He said he would do the same thing—and continue to do the same—if he was in your shoes," she hurried to add. "Do you think… do you think he's worried that something might happen? Does he suspect someone?"
"I don't know. Did you ask him that?"
"No, I didn't get a chance."
"I will find him tomorrow and talk to him about it. I would have talked to him about your security earlier, but most men in his position don't like to have their procedures questioned—especially by a nobody like me."
"You're not a nobody," she declared.
"Just because I've been playing the knight this evening, Your Highness, doesn't actually make me one. I daresay the king's Captain knows the truth about me."
"Well, even if he does, he spoke well of you—as if he respected you."
"That's nice to know; it'll make things easier. I'll talk to him about the situation tomorrow."
She looked at him expectantly.
"And I'll stay with you tonight," he added with a sigh. "With everything in disarray and extra people staying here, it seems especially prudent to do so."
He sounded as if he had to convince himself.
Annabel stepped into the closet to change into her nightgown. When she came out, Shaun was already lying in bed, his arms behind his head, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully.
"Tomorrow you're going to have to join the War Council," he said, as she crossed the room to her dressing table. "Obviously Nagadii's defeat is in your best interest."
"What about you?" she asked, pouring herself a basin of water from the ewer on the washstand.
"Oh, I'll be there, too. You and I are the only ones who have seen Nagadii and know the strength and weaknesses of the Nevaraian forces."
Annabel made a face. "That bothers me."
"What does, Your Highness?"
"The thought of going to war against my own people."
"I know," he said sadly. "That's been weighing on my mind, too. What will I do if I have to fight against the very men I once trained with?
"I would like to think that none of them would be a party to this, but what if Nagadii has their families? What if it's a choice between fighting for him or having their families killed?
"I'm not sure which thought wounds me more: my comrades being traitors, or me taking the lives of men who had no other choice."
Annabel sat at her dressing table and began to wash the makeup off her face with a cloth dipped in the cold wash water.
"You know," she said after a minute, "you don't have to fight. I would never force you to. I wouldn't even ask you to under these circumstances."
"Yes, but my honor compels me to fight," he replied. Then he began ticking off reasons on his fingers. "Nagadii killed my sovereign. He has stolen the throne from you and would kill you if he had the chance. He has committed heinous crimes against the citizens of Nevara, and, if you get right down to it, everyone in the world. Releasing those demons is a crime against humanity itself.
"For all these things, I should fight him every hour of every day until he is defeated.
"And even if he is invading Erenrue, and it is, technically, their fight, what would the people here think of me if I refused to help them in their hour of need? How can we ask for help, but give nothing in return?
"If I were in their shoes, I wouldn't think very well of me if I was suddenly nowhere to be found when our problem showed up on their doorstep."
Annabel was thoughtful as she finished cleaning up and took off her jewelry and let down her hair.
She blew out the candles, then crawled across the huge bed to Shaun’s side. He chuckled at her as he pulled back the covers.
"You could have come to the other side," he said, as she settled down next to him and nestled her head in the hollow of his shoulder. "I would have gotten up and let you in," he added as he tucked the covers around her.
"Oh, well."
He laughed softly. "You'll do it your way or not at all—is that it?"
"Pretty much."
They lay together in the darkness for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.
After a while, Annabel spoke. "Shaun, I think I should fight, too."
He looked at her. "What?"
"Everything you said is right. But you're not the only representative of Nevara here. If people would think badly of you for not fighting, what would they think of me?"
"That you are a princess and that's why you have me."
"I don't think so. Besides, I think it's cowardly of me to send you out, alone, to fight my battles. The entire fate of the kingdom shouldn't rest on you alone."
He sighed. She could already tell he didn't have a counterargument to that. As a man who was strictly controlled by his sense of honor, he knew all too well what her honor dictated for her as well.
"I would prefer that you didn't," he pleaded.
"I know. But you also know that I'm right. I have to earn my title—you said so yourself many months ago."
He sighed unhappily again. "I know."
She hesitated, then made a confession. "Even though I know I must do it, I'm… I'm afraid of war. I've never been in a battle before. I've never even seen one."
"Neither have I."
"But I thought…?"
He shook his head. "I've trained for it, drilled for it, even practiced killing wild beasts, but I've never killed a human being before. Fought, yes; killed, no."
"How will we do it?"
"We will practice as much as we can and hope that when the time comes, fear for our own lives will motivate us to strike before the other man." He glanced at her. "I think I wouldn't hesitate to kill to protect you."
"I think I'd be more likely to kill someone to save you than to save myself," she admitted.
"Then we will stick together and just concentrate on keeping the other person alive. I think that's what it boils down to for everyone, anyways: you fight for the man standing next to you, not for yourself."
They grew quiet again, but Annabel still didn't fall asleep. It was strange that, as tired and drained as she was, she really wasn't sleepy; she had far too much on her mind. And given Shaun’s quick breathing, he was no closer to sleep than she was.
And the longer she lay there, the more she became conscious of something nagging her—something other than thoughts of fighting and death. She thought it had something to do with her and Shaun; it felt as if something had changed between them, but she didn't know what, when, or how. It took her a long time to figure it out.
There was no longer any gulf of class or position between them.
She had felt it—although she hadn't been able to identify it—earlier that evening when they danced. Shaun had not intentionally held her close, feeling possessive and jealous; he had done it subconsciously because it felt natural and right. And she had let him do it because she felt the same sense of rightness when they touched.
Not only that, but dressed in his finery and collar of estate, Shaun had looked every inch the nobleman that evening; no one would have ever suspected—or even believed—that he had been born the son of a fisherman.
In a strange way, it was as if she was looking into some alternate future—the one she would have had if Shaun had been born noble, or if her father had approved of him.
Dancing close together; talking openly of their fears and weaknesses; making plans for the future; lying together in comfortable silence: this is what it would be like to be married to Shaun.
The idea surprised her a little, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized it didn't surprise her as much as it ought to. She had always avoided thinking about her future husband because she knew that she would have no real choice in the matter, so it did no good to speculate or get her hopes up. She had never thought about what qualities she would want in a partner or what she would expect.
But as she lay with Shaun, she realized that what she had with him was everything she could possibly want. She wanted someone who was intelligent and quick-witted; she wanted someone who would challenge her and who could match her stubbornness, but also—as Shaun had said—know when to yield; she wanted someone she could speak to openly and get an honest, well-reasoned answer; she wanted someone who inspired her to be a better person.
She wanted just what she had at that moment.
"Shaun," she said quietly, "you said earlier that you wanted to freeze time."
"Yes…."
"I want to do that, too. I want to freeze this moment right now."
"Why now?"
She felt embarrassed to tell him exactly what she was thinking. So she said the next-closest thing. "Because… the future is full of darkness and uncertainty and pain. But at this moment, everything is perfect. I'm safe and warm and comfortable; I don't want for anything. For the moment, we can pretend there's nothing wrong in the world; that safe and warm and comfortable is all there is; that it's normal. That this is normal," she added with a hint.
He turned his head and slowly kissed her hair. "I wish this was normal as well," he said quietly. "I wish it with my whole heart. …I have always wished it," he added.
And Annabel knew that he understood what she was really trying to say.

There was a palpable tension in the air—not just in the castle, but in the city of Pallis. Talk of war was on everyone's lips, and young and old alike hurried through everyday tasks, as if they were afraid they were going to be caught unprepared at any moment. Blacksmiths throughout the city were working day and night to repair, refit, and construct armor for horse and man.
When they announced their intention to fight, King Ranis generously offered to have suits of armor constructed for Shaun and Annabel. Their armor—as fine as any made for the royal family—was being made in the armory at the castle. They were frequently called in for fittings and adjustments—Annabel more so than Shaun. As she was curvier than a man, it took more work to shape her body armor. In fact, the Master Smith was making hers personally.
The castle was full of guests, and messengers and generals were constantly running in and out. Occasionally, a message would come in from one of the scouts who were watching the movements of the Nevarian army, and it would send everyone running into the War Room to hear it being read.
King Ranis practically lived in the War Room. He had a huge map spread out on a table, and it showed the entire known world. He had gold-colored blocks that represented units of the Nevarian troops, and as every report came in updating the troop numbers or movements, the blocks would be added to or scooted farther up the map.
Every morning, Shaun and Annabel went to the War Room and looked at the map, watching as the Nevarian army slowly marched their direction.
"There is no land between them and us that gives us any sort of height or landscape advantage," the king said one morning, as he looked at army that was halfway to Erenrue. "So I think we should just plan on taking a position between them and the city," he said, using a wooden pointer to indicate the exact spot on the map. "That will at least keep them from getting behind us, and we can always retreat back into the city, if necessary."
"Should we just stay inside the city itself?" someone asked.
"No. If they besiege us, we'll almost surely lose. The longer we're pinned up here, the weaker we'll be."
"Yes, but we could always surprise them by coming out at night." The man pointed to the mountain above the city. "There's the passage into the mountains. Can we not go through that, then come down, out of the mountains, on their flank?"
The king shook his head. "No. I mean, if we were trapped in the city and had no other choice, that would be an option, but that passage is narrow; we couldn't move many men through it. And we couldn't take horses through it because there's no trail down the side of the mountain; everyone would have to climb down."
He shook his head again. "No, that is only an option if we need to break a siege. That should not be our first plan of action; it totally negates our best advantage, which is the size and experience of our army."
"Will you take a defensive position?" Shaun asked, studying the map. "Dig in and force them to go through you to get to the city?"
The king shook his head again. "We are an offensive army, not defensive. We can hunker down behind fortifications, but what good will it do us? We have no way to attack them; it would be the same as being sieged inside the city."
Shaun looked at him, startled. "Do you have no archers?"
"No, we're almost exclusively heavy cavalry. Which isn't to say we can't fight on foot, but we don't do archery."
Link blanched. "Nevara has archers."
"How many?"
"I don't know; we've never been to war in my lifetime."
"We've not been to war in over a hundred years," Annabel said, speaking up. "But archery is a common pastime among our people. Any man who can draw a bow could be an archer."
"And how many do you think can reasonably do that?"
Annabel thought about it for a minute. "I'm not sure; I've never been allowed to mingle with the common people."
"If the palace guard is any indication, I'd say half or better," Shaun said. "We often had shooting competitions when we were off-duty, and we usually gambled on them. I would guess that there were additional men who could shoot, but weren't very good, so they didn't bother to compete.
"I happen to know that the armory has hundreds—probably thousands—of bows. It wouldn't be hard to outfit a large number of men with bows.
"And if Nagadii has any sense, that's what he will do. Most of his men are not soldiers and will not be able to fight well—if at all. And many of them will probably be reluctant to fight when they see Princess Annabel anyway. Turning those men into archers would be his best strategy because it means they won't have to fight hand-to-hand, and they can shoot in the general direction of our army without feeling like they're shooting at the Princess."
"What would you recommend?" the king asked, looking at him seriously.
"For starters, fight on foot. I'm not saying you can't have a unit or two of armored cavalry for quick movements and attacks, but the majority of your men need to be on foot. Horses go berserk when they're hit by arrows and they can turn around and trample your own men in terror. Under fire, they're worse than having no horses at all."
The king nodded.
"Secondly, the quicker we engage them, the less time we'll be under archer fire. Once we run in and commence battle, their archers won't be able to fire for fear of hitting their own men. Also, we know Nagadii isn't a general; he will probably be slow to react to anything we do and may not even know how to counterattack. So if we hit them fast, we will not only negate the advantage of their archers, but will probably cause confusion. We'll also force those archers, who don't know how to fight, to fight. And that's where your men have a distinct advantage.
"If you're going to have an offensive army, then be aggressively offensive. Control the tempo of battle. Nagadii has a plan all worked out in his head; if you attack faster than he can implement his plan, then he will constantly be trying to catch up or rewrite it; you will control the engagement and he will only be able to react."
The king nodded thoughtfully. "A very wise assessment." He looked at his generals. "We will have only two divisions of cavalry: mine and Adam’s; everyone else will be on foot."
"Will they have cavalry?" one of the generals asked, looking between Shaun and the king, as if he wasn't sure who should be giving him an answer. "Should we arm some of our units with pikes to break up a cavalry charge?"
Shaun thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "I doubt they will have much, if any, cavalry. For one thing, Nevara isn't outfitted for war; we don't produce war horses. Horses have to be specially trained to charge people, don't they?"
The king nodded. "Yes."
"Then there will be no cavalry," Shaun said with confidence. "Even if they conscript every horse in Nevara, those plow horses and cart horses aren't going to run us down. The men and animals both will not be trained to move in formation, much less break our lines."
"What about a shield wall?" the same general asked.
Shaun shook his head again. "Even if they attempt it, it will not hold. A shield wall takes a high level of discipline, courage, and trust of the man beside you—all things they will not have gained even in a month of practicing."
"Everything hinges on us getting inside their lines as quickly as possible," the king said. "Once we're closely engaged, then they can't shoot us. So take your men in fast and aggressively. Punch a hole in their lines and then start destroying them from the inside out.
"I don't imagine there will be too much fighting before they began to run."
"And then?" the general asked.
"We attempt to take Nagadii, but we allow everyone else to escape. Remember, these people are not our enemies; Nagadii is. Once he is finished, then Annabel will reclaim her throne and everyone will go home in peace."
"I certainly wouldn't ask any man here to endanger his life," Annabel said, "but I would prefer to take as many of my people home as I can. So show them as much mercy as you can without risking yourselves. Allow them to surrender or retreat and don't finish off anyone who is wounded."
"What about ransoms?" someone else asked.
Annabel frowned a little. It was traditional for anyone who captured an enemy soldier to demand a ransom for his return. If anyone bothered to take common men, their price was set low. The higher in rank the person, the higher their ransom. Kings were worth, well, a king's ransom.
Ransoms—in addition to plunder—were how most men made their money from war. The king didn't pay his noblemen at all—they owed him military service as part of their fealty—and the noblemen paid the soldiers under them only a small wage.
There would be no plunder, since they were defending their own territory. That left ransoms as the only real form of income.
"I will pay ransoms for my people," Annabel said. "All of my people."
"You will do no such thing," King Ranis replied gruffly. Then he turned on his generals. "Gentlemen, this is not a war for glory or riches. This is a war to defend your homes and families. If we fail, your wives and children will be forfeit. That is your motivation—not money."
"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but what about the husbands who don't come home to their wives and children? No offense to Her Highness, but Nevara has brought this war upon us. Should they not compensate us for our losses? Should they not help support the widow and the orphan?"
"There is a difference between paying a ransom to get back our people versus paying war reparations to your people who have suffered," Shaun said. "One goes to the people who have suffered and died; the other to the people who have triumphed and lived."
"What do you think I do with my ransoms, sir?" the general said, sounding a bit offended. "I distribute a portion of the spoils of war among my people who have suffered—the wounded men and the families who have lost a son or husband."
They went around and around for several minutes, but it was finally agreed that Princess Annabel, once she was returned to her throne, would pay war reparations to the families who lost someone on the field of battle. King Ranis himself volunteered to act as surety, promising to take care of the affected families until Annabel could regain her throne—which, admittedly, might take some weeks, or even months, depending on whether Nagadii was taken or killed, or if they had to hunt him down.
When Shaun and Annabel left the War Room, a servant was waiting anxiously for them. "Your Highness, Sir, the Master Smith asks you to come to the armory for your final fitting as soon as you are available."
"We haven't even had breakfast yet," Shaun said, sounding slightly annoyed.
The servant bowed. "If you'd like, I can have breakfast brought to you."
Shaun sighed and looked at Annabel. She just shrugged her shoulders, not caring either way.
"We better go," he said, as much to himself as to her. "They're working on a tight deadline as it is."
They followed the servant through the castle and into a long, narrow room that stretched across the far-end of the courtyard. Tall windows looked out over the grassy lawn and let in a lot of natural light. Inside the room, there was a deafening cacophony of noise as rows of armorers hammered metal plates against anvils, shaping them into various pieces of armor.
They found Prince Adam standing in front of one of the windows, looking out as if he was contemplating some great philosophical question. He was sipping a cup of tea with his right hand while, seemingly without his notice, an armorer and his apprentice were working on a gauntlet on his left hand and two more knelt in the floor working on pieces that covered his shoes.
"Good morning," he said pleasantly as Shaun and Annabel came to stand near him, waiting for their fittings.
"Good morning," Annabel replied. "Why weren't you at the meeting this morning?"
"Because Father goes over everything with me in excruciating detail for the rest of the day. I decided there wasn't much need to hear the same news twice. Besides, it takes me a little while to wake up in the mornings. I like to drink my tea and have a think before I try to tackle anything."
"Is that why you seem so calm all the time?"
"Do I?" he asked. Then he laughed. "It must be working, because that was the effect I was going for. Someone has to counter-balance Father, you know. Otherwise, he'd work everyone up until they have a heart attack."
Two armorer's apprentices dressed both Shaun and Annabel in their armor under the watchful eye of the Master Smith. He must have found the final look acceptable, because he nodded when they were done.
"Now, time to try it out and see if it pinches or binds," the smith said.
Shaun and Annabel clanked out into the courtyard—the Master Smith, Prince Adam with his cup of tea, and nearly a dozen curious armorers and apprentices following them.
"Let's try your bow first," Shaun told Annabel. "We have to make sure you can shoot while wearing all of this."
A servant was sent hurrying off to Annabel’s room to retrieve her bow and arrows. There was already an archery target set up in the courtyard; she had been showing off earlier in the week to impressed onlookers.
The servant came back and, with his help, she managed to get her quiver strapped across her back. She fumbled a bit with pulling an arrow out, though, because of the leather gloves under her fingered gauntlets. She struggled even more to nock it. When she tried to pull the string back, she dropped the arrow.
She tried to unfasten the strap holding down the visor on her helmet, but the gloves made that awkward as well. One of the apprentices hurried over to help her.
"Alright, two problems," she said, as soon as her visor was lifted: "one, I can't manage with these gauntlets. I mean, I might be able to, if I had time to practice with them on, but I don't."
The Master Smith came over and pulled the gauntlets off her hands. "Roderick, go get a pair of demi-gauntlets and let's see how they work."
One of the apprentices ran back into the armory.
"What's the second problem?" the smith asked.
"When I draw my bow back, I pull my fingers back to my cheek," she said, demonstrating. "With the helmet on, I can't do that. I can compensate, but it will decrease my accuracy.
"Also, I think it's going to seriously hamper my sight. I can't shoot what I can't see."
The smith reached up and put her visor down. Then he pulled out a pin on the central hinge and removed it completely.
"Try that," he said.
She grabbed for an arrow, nocked it, drew her bow, and shot it at the target rapidly. It thudded home in the bull's-eye, just to the right of dead center.
"That's much better," she declared.
"A lot of men who fight on foot don't like visors for the very same reason: they impede their vision," the smith said.
"With the Nevarian army bringing skilled archers and unskilled soldiers, I would strongly recommend men wear the visors," Shaun said. "They're more likely to die of an arrow to the face than a sword blow."
The smith nodded. "I will warn people of that."
The apprentice brought back a pair of demi-gauntlets, which covered the wrist and back of the hand up to the base of the fingers. The smith put them on Annabel himself and she tried them out.
After sinking three more arrows into the target—all within the blue bull's-eye—she nodded her approval. "These will work. I just need an archer's glove for my right hand and I'll be set."
"What does that look like?" the smith asked.
"Well, they vary, but it's basically a leather glove that only covers the first three fingers."
"If that's all it is, I can cut up a leather glove for you and make it work."
"Mind it's a small glove," Shaun said. He took Annabel’s hand in his and showed it to the Master Smith. "A man's glove will be too big, and you don't want a lot of bulk in the fingers."
"Never you worry, Sir Shaun," the smith assured him. "I'm one of the few armorers in this kingdom who can armor a woman. I customize everything because women's proportions are completely different; it's not a matter of just scaling pieces down to a smaller size. I'll get her a glove that fits perfectly."
"Very good," Shaun said. Then he took a step back. "Let's try this armor out for real. Princess, put on your full gauntlets and visor again. And if someone will bring us a couple of practice swords…" he hinted, before snapping his visor closed.
One of the boys ran back into the armory while the Master Smith helped Annabel change out her gauntlets again and reattach her visor.
The boy brought out a couple of rebated steel swords and handed one to Annabel, then the other to Shaun.
Shaun stretched a little, twirling the sword around in his hand a little to get the feel of it. Annabel felt a little nervous to be fighting against Shaun; she recalled the last time she did so, he pinned her against a wall with his sword to her neck. So rather than waste time and energy moving around, she planted her feet and took up a defensive stance.
"Ready?" Shaun said from behind his visor.
She nodded her head once.
He held his sword up in front of his face, saluting her, then launched into an attack. It was so quick and furious, he managed to ping Annabel three times—once on the left arm and twice to the back of the head—in less than a minute.
The blows to the head made her helmet ring to the point she felt like her eyes were vibrating.
Shaun backed off. "Were you not ready?" he asked.
"I thought I was," she said. Her words sounded too loud inside the closed helmet.
"Come at me like you did that night in the castle," he instructed. "Get mad."
She laughed instead. "I can't just get mad; I have to have a reason."
"Well, whatever motivates you, come at me like you intend to kill me. You need the practice."
She remembered what they had talked about a few nights before: they had to train so that, when the time came, they would hopefully be able to kill before being killed.
She launched into an attack, but Shaun deflected her blows easily—almost lazily. Part of it was that he was left-handed, so when they faced each other, they were holding their swords on the same side—which made it easy for him to block with his sword and that much harder for her to land a blow. But part of it was that he was right: she needed anger to motivate her.
"You're not killing me," he said.
She tried to step it up a notch, throwing blows faster, but he blocked everything she did.
Then he suddenly switched and went on the offensive. She was forced back as he rained blows down on her; it was everything she could do to block them with her sword.
And then he did something completely unexpected: he hit her in the face with his right fist.
It didn't hurt her, as she had her visor on, but it did stun her and cause her to stagger back, dropping her guard. The next thing she knew, her sword was flying through the air and she was falling. She got the breath knocked out of her a little bit as she landed flat on her back.
She had no idea how she had gotten there.
Shaun jerked at the strap on his visor and threw it up, looking at her angrily. "Your Highness, the men you're going to be facing in a few days' time are not going to show you any quarter. They're not going to play with you, like your guards at the castle did. They're not going to fight by any rules or have any code of honor. They're going to try to kill you.
"If you can't do better than this, then you're not going out."
Annabel flushed, angry and embarrassed at being scolded—especially in front of so many witnesses. While she would admit (probably) that Shaun was a better sword fighter than she was, she wasn't totally useless. But he was making her look like a fool.
She pushed herself to her feet and flipped up her own visor—the better to yell at him.
"Who are you to tell me where I can and can't go?" she demanded.
"I'm only the person who has to keep you alive," he retorted. "My best isn't going to be good enough when we're outnumbered three-to-one. You have to help me out—not be a stone around my neck. If you're stumbling around the field like you're drunk, you're going to get both of us killed."
That really burned her up. With an angry half-scream, she launched into an attack, hitting him with everything she had, holding nothing back.
She had caught him a little off-guard, so he had to go on the defense and had no time to change tactics. Annabel controlled the engagement, throwing blow after blow and chasing him around the courtyard as he tried to backpedal out of her reach for long enough to regroup.
She gripped the sword hilt with both hands, changing to a centered attack—as opposed to one to the right side—and made him work harder to defend the right side of his body.
Then she swung high and he tried to duck, but he was just a little slow and her blow caught him in the side of the head, near the top of his helm.
The blow unbalanced him and he fell to his side. Annabel brought her sword up with both hands and plunged it down into the ground beside him, demonstrating she had the ability to make the final, mortal blow.
She flipped her visor up and glared down at him. "Now who looks like he's drunk?" she taunted, panting for breath.
He flipped up his visor, too, and she was surprised to see him laughing. "See, I knew you could do better," he said. "I just had to find the proper motivation for you."
"You did that on purpose," she accused, her anger becoming replaced by annoyance.
"Yes, well…" he said with a shrug, before pushing himself to his feet. "It worked, didn't it?"
"I really don't know why I don't hate you."
"Because you know I'm right."
"That should just make me hate you even more."
"But you're smart enough not to cut your nose off to spite your face."
"If you're trying to soften me up with compliments, it's not working."
"Would it make you feel better to know that you've given me a ringing headache?"
"Maybe. You were asking for it."
"Yes, I was."
They turned to leave the courtyard, but stopped—both of them surprised to remember they weren't alone. The audience was looking at them in open-mouthed astonishment. Even Prince Adam was standing there with his teacup half-raised to his mouth, as if the shock of what he had just witnessed made him forget it.
Annabel wasn't sure if the men were agape because the fight had been so vicious, or if they were astonished that Shaun and Annabel argued with each other like an old married couple.
This is going to be all over the castle, she warned him.
What? That we had a practice fight?
That you insulted me, then I beat you up.
Shaun laughed out loud. Well, the best thing to do is to keep them guessing—so act like nothing happened. Then they'll not know what to think about us.
This is just a ruse to get back into my good graces.
Do you want me to beg your forgiveness on my knees? I'll do it, he threatened.
No, that's not necessary, she hurried to say. She knew Shaun’s display of abject humility would only get the wags' tongues gossiping even more.
"Um… Sir Shaun?" one of the armorers asked tentatively, as if he was afraid of getting in the middle of something.
"Yes?"
"You, um… have a dent," he said, pointing to Shaun’s helmet.
Shaun took off his helmet and looked at it. There was a noticeable crease in the side where Annabel’s last blow had struck.
"Were you trying to take my head off?" Shaun asked her.
"Oh, first I was supposed to try to kill you, and now you're complaining I tried too hard."
"Well, there is a difference between acting like you're going to kill me and actually trying to do it."
He tossed the helmet to the armorer; the man was startled, but managed to catch it. "Hammer that out for me, please," Shaun said. Then he turned to Annabel. "I'm starving."
"We never did have breakfast."
"Wasn't someone supposed to bring us some?"
They walked back into the armory together, talking about food as if nothing had ever happened. The men in the courtyard stared at them in wonder.

When Shaun and Annabel weren't shocking everyone at court with their public fights, they spent their free time in Rayliss's room. Rayliss was one of the few Erenruites who wasn't enthusiastic about the idea of war, and she seemed to need to be distracted from the incessant talk of it as much as Shaun and Annabel wanted to forget it.
They alternated between talking, gaming, and playing music. In the short time they had been there, Annabel had noticed an improvement in Rayliss's playing. Just as he had done for Annabel, Shaun helped Rayliss relax and enjoy playing for her own amusement. With the pressure off her to be perfect, Rayliss started trying more complicated pieces—and usually succeeded at them.
One afternoon, the three of them were playing together when the door burst open and Nicoli came rushing in carrying a helmet under his arm. He and his parents had been staying in the castle since the reception, and he had started gravitating to Rayliss's room as well. He still held Annabel in a certain amount of awe, and it was clear that he hero-worshipped Shaun, who was so much of what he was not but wanted to be: charming, quick-witted, self-confident, brave, and an excellent swordsman.
"G-guess what?" Nicoli said excitedly. His stuttering was actually getting better, as he grew more comfortable and confidant around his royal cousins, but it still came out when he was agitated in any way.
"What?" Annabel asked.
He held the helmet up for all to see. "M-my f-father said I c-can fight! He had armor m-made for m-me and everything!"
Annabel frowned, which was clearly not the response he was hoping for; he visibly deflated.
"Nicoli, I really wish you wouldn't go," she said.
"Why? I'm old enough. I-I want to p-prove myself."
"What do you have to prove? Of all the men I met at the reception, I rank you as one of the most honorable in Erenrue. You don't have to risk your life to prove that."
He swelled back up. "Y-you think I'm honorable?" he said with a spreading grin.
"Yes. You're honorable because you're honest and your intentions are pure. I heard a lot of false flattery from a lot of power-hungry, gold-digging men and that attitude completely overshadowed whatever accomplishments they had on the battlefield. You, on the other hand, stood out—not because you're a great warrior, but because you are already a great man. You don't need to go to war to prove that."
Nicoli seemed to float across the carpet to a nearby seat. He kept the same broad grin on his face while Annabel and the others resumed their music.
Late in the afternoon, while the four of them were playing cards, Sir Elgon opened the door and limped into the room.
He had been joining them regularly as well, whenever he could snatch a few minutes of free time. He said he enjoyed listening to their music, but Annabel suspected he was there for the same reason she and Shaun were: he wanted to forget the impending battle for a little while.
But when he hobbled into the room, looking grave, Annabel immediately knew he was not there to be social.
"What's wrong?" Shaun asked him.
"Tomorrow," was all he said.
A silent chill fell over the room. It was as if someone had extinguished the sun and a long winter night had settled in.
"When do we go out?" Shaun asked in a quiet voice.
"We're to leave a couple of hours before dawn. The king has asked everyone to be in position and ready to go by first light."
Shaun abandoned his cards and went out onto the balcony that overlooked the field in front of the city. Everyone silently followed him.
In the far distance there was a black mass spread across the plain. As the minutes ticked by, it became clear that the mass was slowly moving towards them.
"Is that them?" Rayliss whispered.
"Yes," Shaun replied.
"His Majesty thinks it will be better to meet them a little ways out from the city," Sir Elgon explained. "One, they might be expecting to get closer before meeting resistance, so that may surprise them a little. Two, he wants to give us room to feign a retreat if we need to."
"He's a master of that maneuver," Shaun said. "If anyone can pull it off, he can."
"Hopefully it won't be necessary. There are a lot of them, but the scouts agree with your assessment: many men appear to be carrying bows and have little, if any, armor. If we hit them quickly and avoid the arrow-fire, they should quickly collapse."
"I would like to think that Nagadii will prove to be an incompetent general," Shaun said, staring out at the army moving towards them, "and I'd like to think that his attacking Erenrue is a mistake of pride, but I'm beginning to worry that he has something up his sleeve. I know he scrys, and he had the forethought to put up spells to block our own magical spies. And he was smart enough to make King Drake’s death look like an accident caused by Princess Annabel, rather than a planned and intentional attack on his part. I fear that this may be a similar case: he may act like a fool, but in reality it's a well-planned trap."
Annabel turned to look at him. "You haven't mentioned this before. The other day you actually sounded confident that we could defeat him."
"Well, for one, I've had some time to think about it. And the longer I think about it, the more nervous I become. Maybe that's just nerves setting in ahead of the battle, but maybe it's not; maybe it's a premonition.
"But wrong or right, it's not something I should make widely known. King Ranis has forgotten more about war that I'll ever know; if there's a way to avoid a trap, he'll find it. He doesn't need me to tell him to be cautious.
"That, and it's best not to say anything for morale reasons. Battles more often hinge on morale than numbers or weaponry. If Erenrue's soldiers go out nervous and fearful, expecting something that may not happen anyways, they will not fight aggressively. And everything hinges on them being aggressive. Otherwise, they will be slaughtered by the arrowstorm."
"You are right not to say anything," Sir Elgon agreed. "I have seen the difference morale can make to both sides of the battle. Ours must stay high in the face of three-to-one odds."
They were quiet a long time as the sun set behind the mountains and it grew too dark to see the Nevarian army. The city below began to softly glow as torches and street lanterns were lit. Orange sparks flew high into the deep-blue sky as forges around the city continued to work through the night to arm as many men as possible.
Shaun took out the flute Rayliss had given him and he began to play something slow and melancholy. It seemed to Annabel—as the notes drifted on the wind and echoed down through the streets of the city—that he was playing not just for them, but for all of the people of Erenrue who were spending one last night with their families. Come the following evening, some of the chairs at the dinner table would be empty.
"What song is that?" Annabel asked quietly when he finished. She didn't recognize it.
He cleared his throat a little and began to sing the tune. Annabel had never heard him sing before, but he actually had a very sweet voice.
"Of all the money that e'er I spent,
 I've spent it in good company.
 And all the harm that e'er I've done,
 Alas it was to none but me.
 And all I've done for want of wit,
 To memory now I can't recall.
 So fill to me the parting glass;
 Good night and joy be with you all."
"A man may drink and not be drunk;
 A man may fight and not be slain; 
A man may court a pretty girl
 And perhaps be welcomed back again. 
But since it has so ought to be,
By a time to rise and a time to fall, 
Come fill to me the parting glass; 
Good night and joy be with you all."
"Of all the comrades that e'er I had,
 They are sorry for my going away.
 And all the sweethearts that e'er I had, 
They would wish me one more day to stay.
 But since it falls unto my lot
 That I should rise and you should not,
 I'll gently rise and I'll softly call,
 Good night and joy be with you all. 
Good night and joy be with you all."
His voice softly faded away. Annabel found herself wiping away tears in the darkness. She noticed that Rayliss—who was standing beside her—had to do the same.
"Beautiful," Sir Elgon said, his own voice sounding choked with emotion.
"Thank you," Shaun quietly replied. "I actually learned that from some of the palace guards in Nevara. It's traditionally sung the night before a battle, or at the funeral of someone who served as a guard, or upon someone's retirement."
"I wonder if they're singing it now?" Rayliss asked, looking out into the darkness at the army that could not be seen, but was there nonetheless.
"Something tells me they're not," Shaun replied. "I don't think Nagadii has given them anything to sing about—not even bittersweet songs."
They fell into silence for a while, then Nicoli spoke. "I'm going tomorrow," he said quietly. Rather than sound enthusiastic, as he had before, he sounded almost resigned.
Annabel looked at him. "Nicoli…" she started to beg.
He held up his hand, cutting her off. "Maybe I d-don't have anything to prove. B-but that doesn't mean there's not a g-good reason not to go. They have come here to enslave us and disp-possess our royal family. If I don't fight and we lose, what have I g-gained? Not much, since I'm a m-member of the royal family, and Nagadii has been k-killing off everyone in Nevara with a claim to the throne. I-I'll be one of the first to go if he gets in here."
Annabel started to argue with him again, but it was Shaun who interrupted her. "What he says is very wise. And very right."
He offered his hand to Nicoli. "I will be honored to fight beside you tomorrow, m'lord."
Nicoli smiled and took Shaun’s hand. "And I beside you, Sir."
Rayliss sniffed. "I wish you two would stop. I feel like we're all saying goodbye."
"Maybe we are, Your Highness," Shaun replied. "That's the nature of war: some people don't return."
"Why did this have to happen?" Rayliss wailed. "Why?"
"Because some people want more than they deserve," Shaun said. "When they think they are smarter than the gods and can write their own destiny—when they get corrupted by pride and greed and ambition—it spills out onto everyone else. Evil is never contained to one person; it spreads."
"But why does it have to exist?
"Because the gods gave us free will. We are free to be good or not. If we weren't free, then we would be like animals, living and dying without an original thought or human emotion or great deed. Yes, we have evil, but we also have good. We have noble ideals like honor and self-sacrifice and loyalty. Those things only exist because we're free to choose to be good or evil.
"You can't have one without the other."
They fell back into silence, each of them digesting Shaun’s words. But they were interrupted a few minutes later by a page.
"Your Highnesses, M'lords, the king requests your presence at dinner tonight. It will be served in one hour in the family dining room."
He bowed, then left, obviously not expecting any of them to protest.
Annabel was a little surprised. Not only was it early for dinner—especially in Erenrue, where they liked to eat quite late—but since the war preparations had begun, all formal and family dinners had been cancelled. People wandered into the dining hall whenever they had time to eat and just ordered something. The kitchen was running nearly twenty-four hours a day.
Shaun looked at Sir Elgon. "Join us tonight," he said, offering a rare invitation to dine privately with the royal family.
Sir Elgon smiled a little. "Thank you, Sir, but I'm afraid I must get back to my duties. There is a lot to do before morning."
"Understood."
Shaun escorted Annabel back to her room, then left to get changed in his own. When he returned a little while later, she noticed that he was wearing the same beautiful silk and velvet brocaded cote he had worn to the reception. He was even wearing the silver collar of estate.
"You look very handsome in that," she said as they walked through the quiet halls together.
"Thank you," he said, sounding pleased. "I thought I might not get to wear it again, so why not make the most of it?"
Annabel felt a chill come over her. "Are you that certain we're going to lose?"
"No, not at all. But I would rather prepare for the worst and be pleasantly surprised than prepare for the best and wind up horrified at the results."
"So you don't think of yourself as an optimist?" she asked, feeling rather surprised. No matter how bad things had gotten, Shaun had always shown great poise and confidence, so she just assumed it was because he was naturally optimistic and expected a favorable outcome.
"I think of myself as a realist," he corrected. "You don't live your life under the shadow of a death sentence and not think constantly about the worst that could happen. I like to think that I can do a lot to change a situation for a better, but I know I am no god; sometimes even doing your very best, you cannot overcome the odds."
Despite the fact that it had been less than an hour since the page announced dinner, Shaun and Annabel were the last in the dining room. Annabel was a little surprised to see the entire extended royal family there: King Ranis, Prince Adam and Princess Austina, their young sons, Philippe and Castor, and Rayliss, the king's nephew, Duke Clark, and his brother, Duke Reginald, and Reginald's lady, Duchess Filippa, and their son, Nicoli.
Shaun was the only guest who was not related to anyone.
Dinner was a rather somber affair; there was little conversation and, surprisingly, none of it was about the battle on the morrow. After dessert had been cleared away, the servants brought each person a single glass of wine. Even Philippe and Castor—who were nine and five, respectively—were given small goblets.
King Ranis stood and raised his glass. "Our cause is a just one. May the gods grant our kingdom victory, and I pray that my family—and the families of all my people—are reunited tomorrow evening, whole and happy."
"May it be so," everyone replied gravely. Then they all drained their cups.
"Sleep well everyone and I will see you in the morning," Ranis said.
They began to rise from their seats to leave, but the king put out his hand. "Shaun, Annabel, I need you for a few minutes before you go to bed. And you, too, Rayliss."
Curious, but slightly confused, Rayliss, Shaun, and Annabel followed King Ranis and Prince Adam out of the dining room. They went through the quiet halls and entered the empty, echoing throne room. It was almost ghostly. Moonlight came through the windows and caused the white marble floors to softly glow all around them. At the far end of the room, two bowl-torches had been set up on the stairs in front of the thrones, and they cast a small, orange circle of light.
They stopped in the middle of the circle of light. Adam went up the stairs and picked up a sword that had been left lying across his throne. Ranis turned to face Annabel and Shaun, but gestured to Rayliss. "Rayliss, come here."
Looking even more confused, Rayliss went to her grandfather and he positioned her on his left side.
Adam took his position on the king's right, holding the sheathed sword before him. He was trying to look as serious as the king, but the corners of his mouth kept trying to creep upwards into a smile.
Shaun looked at Annabel in confusion, but she just shrugged; she had no idea what they were doing, either.
"Shaun, kneel before me," Ranis said.
Despite his bewilderment, Shaun didn't hesitate to do as commanded.
"Shaun, Adam and I have spent a lot of time discussing you over the past two weeks," Ranis began. "You have impressed us beyond measure. You have carried yourself with a nobility that I sometimes find lacking in born-nobles. You have taken care of your princess with selfless devotion and, really, with more self-sacrifice than any royal has reason to expect. And your information and tactics have been invaluable to us for planning our counter-attack tomorrow.
"No offense meant to those present, but we find it appalling—utterly appalling—that we have had to lie about your nobility because you lack a title you so rightly deserve. …Although I think it says something about your character and bearing that not one person has ever questioned that lie.
"Adam and I have gone round and round with how to fix the problem and make the lie a truth. And while we would gladly give you land and a title of nobility here in Erenrue, we know that your loyalty to Nevara and Princess Annabel is far too deep to ever consider swearing allegiance to us.
"So, we have come up with something new to hopefully alleviate the problem."
Adam dipped the pommel of the sword towards his father and the king withdrew it from the white leather scabbard. It was a handsome sword with a gold cross-guard and pommel, set with glittering sapphires.
The king raised it up, then brought it down on Shaun’s right shoulder, then his left.
"I, King Ranis of Erenrue, do dub thee Sir Shaun, honorary knight of Erenrue."
He put the point of the sword against the floor and crossed his hands on top of it. "The position of honorary knight does not carry an oath of allegiance, but it likewise carries no weight; there is no land or political position that comes with it. We are no more bound to you than you are to us. But, for as long as you are within this kingdom—now or in the future—you will be treated with the same respect and courtesy as any of our knights. …And should anything ever happen and you find yourself unable to live in Nevara, come to us and we will happily convert your honorary title into a full one."
Annabel saw Shaun trying to blink back tears. "Your Majesty… Highness… I don't know what I have done to deserve such an honor. I…." He couldn't go on.
The king gestured to him. "Rise, Sir Shaun."
Shaun pushed himself to his feet and Ranis clapped him on the shoulder. "Shaun, the very fact that you don't feel you deserve this is the reason why you deserve it. For you, unwavering loyalty and devotion are as natural as breathing. But among us mere mortals, we have to work very hard to develop those traits—thus why we give out rewards for those who accomplish it," the king said with a teasing smile.
He turned and re-sheathed the sword, then took it from Adam and offered it to Shaun. "For the service you have rendered to our kingdom and for the service I know we will receive from you on the battlefield tomorrow—service we have no right to expect—I present this sword to you. Wear it when you go into battle, Knight of Erenrue."
Shaun didn't take the sword. "Your Majesty," he said, looking pained, "this is a very great honor, and I am… I am grateful beyond words. But I fear I cannot wear your sword at this time."
He unsheathed his own sword and held it across his hands, showing it to the king. "This blade has been passed down through my family for countless generations. It is said to have been the sword of Sir Laertes, one of the last Knights of Nevara, and my direct ancestor."
"Say no more," the king said, interrupting him. "I understand. I would never ask you to set aside such a priceless heirloom."
Shaun re-sheathed his sword, but reached out, offering to take the other sword from the king. "Although I can't wear your sword, may I have it anyways?"
"Certainly," the king said, looking a little surprised. He placed it in Shaun’s hands. "It is yours to do with what you wish."
Shaun bowed his head. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
He turned to Annabel and knelt before her. "Your Highness, I swore my sword to your protection and service, and I swear this one as well." He kissed the crossguard of the Erenrue sword, like a blessing, then offered it to her. "Please wear it for me, and if my arm is slow in your defense, may this sword be quick in it."
Annabel was deeply moved. She took the sword from Shaun. "I will wear your sword and I will not be afraid. I know wherever I go and whatever happens, it will protect me just as if you were with me."
He smiled at her. "Although, admittedly, it will work better for you if you add in a little anger."

After the knighting, everyone parted ways and headed to their respective rooms. Shaun and Annabel went to her room and she changed into her nightgown in the closet while he stripped down to his undershirt and pants in the bedroom.
"I think what the king and uncle Adam did for you was very sweet," Annabel said from the closet.
"It was incredibly generous of them," he agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking off his boots. "I truly am honored beyond all words. I have never even heard of anyone who was knighted in a foreign kingdom before."
"I wish they could have done it publicly, but since they've been putting it out that you're already a knight, they can't exactly admit that you weren't."
"Of course."
"But I noticed they included Rayliss."
"Well, she already knew I wasn't a knight."
"Yes, but that's not why she was there."
"Oh?" he asked curiously.
Annabel blew out the lantern in the closet and stepped out. "She was there because they wanted her to see and know—so that when she comes to the throne, she will be obligated to acknowledge the title as well." She smiled. "That will be your title in this kingdom at least unto the third generation."
"They might need to add a generation or two later down the road; Nevreks are known to live a long time, you know," he said with a teasing grin.
Annabel laughed at him.
She started to go around the room, blowing out the candles, but she didn't make it halfway around before she began to feel queer. At first she felt kind of slow and clumsy, but she rapidly became dizzy. The room began to move and the candelabra in front of her split into two.
"Shaun…" she called out fearfully. "Something's wrong with me."
He jumped to his feet, but she saw him stagger sideways, then fall. "I feel drunk," he said.
"That's the way I feel."
She tried to keep to her feet, but the room was spinning and bucking up and down so much, she collapsed to her knees. That she didn't feel anything further indicated something was very wrong.
"We've been drugged," Shaun said, his voice rising in panic.
Annabel tried to make her eyes focus. She saw Shaun—now two Shauns, then back to one—crawl across the floor, towards the bed. With great difficulty, he pulled himself up to his knees and clumsily grabbed the bell that was sitting there. He began to ring it loudly.
"Help us," he called, his voice weak. The bell was ringing out of rhythm, but luckily it was loud. "Help us."
Thank the gods he had presence enough of mind to summon the guards. She couldn't think about anything but lying down on the carpet and resting. It was getting so hard to keep her eyes open.
A moment later, Sir Elgon came bursting into the room, running as quickly as his bad leg would allow.
"Sir Shaun, what's wrong?"
"Drugged…" was all Shaun could manage to say. His voice was thick, as if his tongue didn't want to work properly. "Help…."
But instead of becoming alarmed and summoning help and sending off the guards to check on the rest of the royal family to see if they had likewise been poisoned, he smiled.
"Oh, I'm afraid you've discovered Erenrue's secret," Elgon explained. "It is our custom to take a strong sleeping potion the night before battle to ensure we get a good night's rest. Otherwise we might be up for hours tossing and turning and worrying ourselves sick. Only a few men don't partake in order to watch over the rest. That would be my lot tonight.
"I daresay His Majesty expected you both to be in bed before it kicked in, so you wouldn't notice it; you would just fall asleep. But now that you know, you mustn't tell anyone; if it got out, we would be terribly vulnerable to a night attack. You understand?"
Annabel couldn't tell if Shaun nodded or not, but Sir Elgon must have been satisfied with his answer, because he started to pick Shaun up from the floor.
"P-princess…" Shaun slurred.
"Oh, yes, of course," Elgon said. He hurried to Annabel and scooped her up.
"Don't worry," he said, as he carried her to the bed. "You'll feel great in the morning."
Annabel felt so drunk, she highly doubted it, but it was far too hard to say so, so she remained mute.
He carefully put her into bed, then he picked up Shaun and put him in bed beside her and pulled up the covers. Annabel felt like a sleepy child being tucked into bed.
"Goodnight. See you both in the morning."
He went around the room, blowing out the remaining candles, but Annabel was asleep before he left.

Annabel was in a deep, dreamless sleep when someone gently shook her awake.
"Your Highness, it's time," Shaun whispered.
Annabel sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. She blinked a few times, clearing them, then glanced to the window. It was still dark outside.
A coldness overtook her as she realized that the day they had talked about in the abstract was finally upon her. No longer would war be theoretical or something that happened to someone else. Today, she was going to war.
But even though her insides felt like ice, she forced herself to push back the covers and put her feet on the floor.
Shaun was already dressed in his gambeson and the pants and heavy boots he would wear under his armor. He obviously had been up for several minutes.
"I must admit," Shaun said: "I slept like a rock last night. Maybe there's something to that Erenrue custom."
"I just wish they had warned us about it ahead of time," Annabel said with a frown, "instead of letting us think we had been poisoned."
"Yeah, their execution definitely left something to be desired." He shook his head. "I have found much to admire about the Erenruites—and I am proud to fight beside them today—but I must admit, I prefer our culture of peace. I'd much rather sleep well because I have no worries than drug myself to forget about them for a night."
Shaun left to get Annabel’s armor from the armory and, after standing up and stretching a little, Annabel got dressed. She tried not to think too much about what she was doing or what was coming.
She put on heavy canvas pants—not unlike what Shaun wore all the time—and a padded gambeson and sturdy boots. She was sitting at her dressing table, just finishing braiding and pinning her hair up on her head, when Shaun returned. There were two armor attendants behind him carrying the various pieces of Annabel’s armor.
They bowed to her as she turned around on her stool to face them. "Your Highness, if you will permit me—" one of the attendants started to say.
"No," Shaun said, interrupting him. "I'll do it. You may go."
The man looked a little surprised. "A-are you sure you don't want help, Sir?"
"I will need it later when I need to get ready, but not now."
"Yes, sir," the man said with a bow. They laid the armor out on the bed. Then they both bowed and hurried out of the room.
Shaun picked up the maile shirt first.
"What do I need to do?" Annabel asked in a quiet voice.
"Hold your arms up," he replied.
She did as he said. A moment later, he pulled the maile shirt on over her head. It was a heavy, solid weight on her shoulders. She tried to take comfort in knowing that it was between her and a sword edge.
"Stand up," Shaun said, his voice barely above a whisper. He offered her his hands and she let him pull her to her feet.
He knelt in the floor at her feet and carefully buckled each strap on her leg armor. He seemed to take extra pains to make sure everything was secure. He didn't speak except to ask her if something was too tight or uncomfortable.
He moved slowly and methodically as he continued to arm her. She felt as if he was preparing her for her funeral—that he was dressing one last time. And yet, at the same time, there was something so intimate in his actions that she felt as if he was touching her body with all the reverence and awe of a lover who had finally obtained his heart's desire. It was simultaneously a first moment together and a last.
He buckled the strap of her sabatons under her foot, then stood up. There was a brief moment when their bodies were touching and he was looking into her eyes. Annabel expected him to kiss her, but, after a few seconds, he slowly turned away and reached for her body armor.
He buckled the breastplate and back plate together at her shoulders and sides, then he put on her arm harness. He handed her a pair of gloves to put on. The left glove was full, but the right one had the pinkie and thumb cut away.
"I think I like this better than my normal archer's glove," Annabel said, breaking the silent tension in the room—full of desire and sadness.
He took her hands in his and slid the two half-gauntlets on over her gloves. "I'm glad," is all he said.
He picked up a linen coif next and put on her head, covering up her hair. He tied it under her chin, but instead of turning away again, he held her face in his hands and leaned in, kissing her.
Annabel felt a chill run through her body as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her head. Then, all too soon, he was pulling away from her. She didn't want him to pull away.
"Shaun, I love you," she heard herself saying. She shocked herself with the words; it was as if, for a moment, she didn't have control of her mouth. Or, perhaps, it was that she had been holding in the words for too long and they finally had to come out.
He smiled softly—a little bit of the old cockiness on his face. "I thought you might—given that you were ready to kill your grandfather over me. …But I like to hear it nonetheless."
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, and looked into her eyes. "And I love you, Your Highness," he said with a whisper.
"You can call me by my name," she offered.
"I don't think that would be wise, Your Highness."
"Why not?"
He pulled away. "Because love or no love, I am not your equal. And I already take enough liberties with you. I'm lucky your grandfather is a more tolerant man than your father, or I'd be dead by now—several times over."
She took him by the hand, not wanting him to leave. "You can do it when we're alone. It'll be our secret."
"It's a habit I don't need to get into. What if I slipped up when someone was within earshot?"
"What if I want you to?"
He smiled at her. "Your Highness, don't you know by now that there's no point in taking up this argument with me?"
She let go of his hand, frowning at him. "You are really quite stubborn, you know."
"That's the pot calling the kettle black," he retorted.
He picked up a blue surcoat and slipped it over Annabel’s head, then he began to lace it up the sides.
She looked down, expecting to see Erenrue's silver arms on the blue, but was surprised to see the gold heraldry of the Nevara royal family on it instead. She was suddenly reminded of Shaun’s shield. It had a very similar stylized bird—albeit it in red—with a gold Nemeck above it. She wondered if his ancestors had just altered the royal arms slightly when they passed out of the inheriting branch of the family.
Then she noticed something was missing. Normally, when she was wearing the royal arms, she had to wear a mark of difference—in her case a black bar with triangular points hanging from it—just above the main charge. There were several marks of difference, each indicating the status of the person who bore them—be it royal heir, child, or sibling of the king. Only the king and queen were allowed to wear the heraldry without a mark.
Her surcoat, however, had no mark of difference on it. It was the surcoat of the Queen of Nevara.
"I wonder if the person who made this knew they were supposed to give me a mark of difference?" she asked, still looking down at the coat.
"Oh, that was done quite deliberately, Your Highness," Shaun replied. "If it wasn't, then your helmet wouldn't match."
"What do you mean?"
He picked up the helmet that was lying on the bed and showed it to her. Two blue plumes and one longer gold-colored feather had been added to the top of the helmet.
She looked at Shaun, still confused.
"They use feathers to identify people on the battlefield," he explained. "Otherwise, you might get confused about who you're supposed to be following and who you need to protect.
"Generals wear a single feather. Here, it's white, but in Nevara, it's blue. Members of the royal family—like Prince Adam—wear two feathers of the same length: in Erenrue, one white and one blue, but in Nevara it's one blue and one gold. The King wears three, though: two shorter ones and one longer one. His Majesty will have two short white ones and one long blue one, but you have two short blues and one long gold."
"So… they're dressing me as if I am already Queen of Nevara?"
"Yes."
"But I'm not. …Not officially, anyways."
"But that's the statement we want to make. Nagadii is saying you are illegitimate—a traitor and a king-slayer. We're saying that he is a usurper and that he—not you—killed the king.
"If you show up dressed as queen, the Nevarian soldiers might have some reluctance to fight against us. They may wonder what will happen if Nagadii is proven wrong and it turns out they've taken up arms against their rightful monarch."
Shaun picked up the sword he had given Annabel. During the night, someone—probably Sir Elgon—had firmly strapped its scabbard onto a white belt. Now, Shaun buckled the belt onto Annabel over her surcoat. Lastly, he buckled her quiver—stocked full of fresh arrows—across her back.
She was as ready as she would ever be.
Shaun handed Annabel her helmet. "I believe everyone is meeting in the War Room. Why don't you go ahead and join them and I will be along as soon as I can get ready."
"Alright," she said, tucking the helmet under her arm. She picked up her bow, too, then headed out the door.
When she walked into the War Room, she found it full of servants, generals, and advisors. The king was at the far end of the table, looking at the map, while two attendants hurried to dress him. He paid them no mind, though—being too busy talking to his generals. Annabel looked at the helmets scattered over the table and counted plumes; it looked as if there were six generals.
Prince Adam was nearest the door, looking—as always—serene in the midst of chaos. Annabel had expected that he would be awkward and ill at ease—being too studious and gentle for war—but he stood tall and handsome in his armor and actually looked quite capable. He seemed to approach warfare the way he approached everything: with quiet determination and precise application.
He noticed Annabel enter and he gave her a slight bow of the head—an acknowledgment of the rank she now bore.
She walked to his side.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning."
"Are you ready?" Adam asked, looking at her carefully, as if searching for some sign that she wasn't.
"Ready as anyone ever is, I think."
"A wise answer," he said approvingly.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you…" she started to say.
"Yes?"
"What was my mother like?"
He smiled softly, but a sadness came over his face. "She was a wonderful person—so sweet and loving—even as a child. And she was always charming and gracious. No person who was with her for more than five minutes could fail to fall in love with her. From kings to the lowliest page or common person, she could make everyone feel at ease and as if they were her dearest friend."
"Was she a lot like you?"
"I'm afraid you give me a compliment I'm not worthy of."
She looked up at him critically. "No, I don't think so."
They were interrupted a moment later by the king.
"Ah, Annabel, there you are." He gestured for her to join him.
She walked slowly to the head of the table—the generals and advisors stepping back out of her way, carefully looking her over, sizing her up.
She walked with her back straight and her head up, moving through them like a monarch. If she was going to dress the part, she felt she needed to act the part as well.
King Ranis gave her a quick look over, then nodded his approval. "That looks fine on you."
"Thank you."
"Where is Shaun?" he asked, looking around the room.
"He's getting ready."
"Running late on the morning of a battle?" one of the generals snickered.
"Actually," Annabel said, in her best haughty voice, "he helped me get ready first, then he went to make himself ready."
King Ranis nodded. "As he should do. There is no greater honor for a monarch than to have one of his noblemen personally serve him."
The general at least did them the courtesy of looking embarrassed; the king was being dressed by some of the common men from the armory
"Actually," Annabel said, "I think the greatest honor is fealty given in blood."
King Ranis looked at her sharply. "Has he done this?"
"Yes."
He got a faraway look in his eyes, then he nodded approvingly. "Yes, he would do so." He looked back at Annabel. "Shaun is worth more to you than entire treasury full of money and gems. Anyone can accumulate wealth—and it can be stolen from you—but the loyalty that he gives you so unconditionally is a rare thing indeed. It cannot be bought or traded, nor can it be taken from you, unless you do something to deserve to lose it.
"When you are on your throne, you must make sure to put him above all your other advisors because you can trust that he will never act for his own gain—only for your good."
"Yes, sir," she replied. He wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know, but she felt better hearing him confirm what she felt. Her father certainly wouldn't have given Shaun so much credit, simply because he was common-born.
"I don't like to speak ill of the dead," Ranis continued, as if reading her mind, "but Drake was a fool. He could have asked for no better son-in-law—nor one more noble. He certainly would be a welcome addition to my family," he hinted.
Annabel pretended to be busy studying the map, oblivious to his hinting. Despite the fact that she had, just a few minutes before, confessed to being in love with Shaun—despite the fact she had glimpsed a possible future with him in her life as her partner, rather than as her retainer—that didn't mean she had any plans to marry him in the near future. She felt too young, too inexperienced, and her life, at the moment, was far too chaotic to even begin considering such a weighty decision.
Besides, Shaun would be the first to tell her that she needed to concentrate on being a queen first. And given that she didn't even have a kingdom at the moment, that might take quite a while to accomplish.
A moment later, Shaun strode into the room. He stopped a respectful distance from the table and bowed low to everyone assembled. He was carrying his helmet, too, and Annabel noticed that he had been given a blue plume to indicate that he was a Nevarian general. Someone had even been considerate enough to make him a blue surcoat with his family's arms on it.
He wasn't doing too badly for a fisherman's son. It was sad, but perhaps he should have been born in Erenrue instead of Nevara. They certainly seemed more appreciative.
"Just the man we need," the King said, gesturing for Shaun to come closer. "Let's go over our strategy one more time."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Shaun said, coming to stand beside Annabel.
The king tapped the map. Blue blocks had been added to the map to represent the Erenrue divisions. There were six major divisions—one for each of the six generals—plus two half-divisions—one for Prince Adam and the other for the king—which were made up exclusively of noblemen and which served as the Crown's most elite fighting force.
"As we discussed," the king said, pointing to the larger blocks, "the bulk of our army is on foot. Only mine and Adam’s divisions will be mounted."
Shaun nodded.
"We know you and Annabel will be their main target," the king continued. "If she falls or is taken, that's the end of Nevara. If they get you… well, I think we can assume that your ransom would cost a kingdom."
"I am not be ransomed," Shaun said firmly.
The king nodded.
Shaun looked at Annabel expectantly. She didn't want to think about what would happen if Shaun ended up in Nagadii's clutches. But she knew that the king was right: Nagadii would demand her kingdom in exchange for Shaun. And while she would willingly give up everything she owned for him, Nevara wasn't hers to give away. It belonged to all of its citizens; she had no right to sell them into darkness—not even for someone as dear to her as Shaun.
She swallowed, then nodded her understanding. No ransom.
The king continued. "I think it would be best if you two stayed with either me or Adam." He pointed to a small block in the front of the formation, which was decorated with a large gold crown. "I will be leading the attack. While that may not sound very safe, my vanguard is made up of the best of the best—all of them hand-picked by me and all of them devoted to this family. If anyone can protect you, it's my men. And since we're riding in hard and fast, we should take less archer fire.
"But if you think it better, you can stay with Adam." He pointed to a block with a smaller crown, which was behind the main line. "His division serves as our shock troops. He can watch the tide of battle better from the rear, and if he sees our line weakening, or if they make an attempt on our flank, he will send in his men to help us regain control.
"It's the safest place to be… for most of the battle. But, of course, when you're sent in, it's because things have become rather desperate. It can be hard work to regain control."
Shaun looked at Annabel—clearly deferring the decision to her.
Annabel knew that Adam was in the back was because he was the heir; should the king fall in battle, it would be important for him to be able to escape alive. Which wasn't to say that his role in the battle was unimportant; she could see where his intellect and cool head would make him ideal for protecting their rear and giving them aid where it was most needed.
But despite the fact that she was the only heir that Nevara had, she felt that everyone would think less of her if she took the rearward position. This was her fight. She couldn't ask others to fight for her throne but be unwilling to put her own life on the line for it when the time came.
The room was silent and all eyes were on her, waiting for her decision.
"We will fight with you," she told her grandfather.
"Good," he said with approval. She may have just been imagining it, but she thought she saw something like pride in his battle-hardened old face.
She definitely saw a change in the other men present. They all nodded in agreement and looked at her with new respect. It was as if she had passed their test.
"With us in the front," Shaun said, "I think it makes sense for Her Highness to use her bow to take out as many of their generals and leaders as she can to add to their confusion. I doubt Nagadii will get too close, but Her Highness has more range than most and she's accurate. If he slips up and comes too far forward, or if we push forward quicker than he can retreat, she may be able to get him. If he's wounded or dead, the entire army ought to fall apart."
"I agree," the King said. He moved the blocks around so that they were in a narrow arrow-shape, with his division at the point and Adam at the base.
"We'll hit them like this," he said. "This presents us with a relatively narrow front, which means we'll take fewer casualties from their arrows, but it will allow us to move a little faster than a single column and we can spread out faster when we hit their line.
"We'll drive the point as deep as we can and see if we can't catch Nagadii by surprise and give Princess Annabel her chance."
He looked around at everyone. "Clear?"
Everyone nodded and there was a chorus of, "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Then, gentlemen, let us away."
There was a scramble for helmets and sword belts; the servants from the armory helped adjust a last few straps. Then everyone moved out—clanking loudly down the normally quiet, peaceful corridors.
The hallways were lined with servants, all waiting in silence. As the procession passed them, they bowed.
Outside, the palace courtyard was filled with people holding horses and trying to calm them; the animals were prancing and tossing their heads in anticipation. Even the horses of Erenrue seemed eager to prove themselves on the field of battle.
Near the bottom of the steps, Rayliss, Austina, and Sir Elgon stood, each holding a magnificent white horse clad in heavy armor. Rayliss's younger brothers, Philippe and Castor, were also standing with their mother.
King Ranis gestured to Shaun and Annabel to stay with him and Prince Adam. The other generals went off into the crowd where their own wives and children were holding their horses for them, ready to make their final farewells.
Ranis put his hand on Rayliss's shoulder. "Rayliss, you are Regent while I and your father are gone. Do whatever may be necessary for the defense of the city until we get back. Sir Elgon is staying behind and will advise you."
She nodded a little, as if too overcome with emotion to speak. He kissed her on the cheek, then whispered in her ear. "You can do this."
On Annabel’s other side, Adam was kissing his children goodbye. His younger son, Castor, was crying and Philippe looked close to tears, although he was trying valiantly to hold them back.
"I'll be home shortly," Adam assured them both, giving them an extra kiss.
Austina threw her arms around his neck and he embraced her as tightly as his armor would allow.
"Come back home to me," she whispered.
"Always," he promised fervently.
Annabel had to turn away; tears were stinging in her eyes.
"I'm glad I'm going with you," she whispered to Shaun. "I couldn't stay behind."
"It does seem to be harder to stay than to go," he agreed, looking at the scenes of parting sadly.
The King was the first to mount up. All over the courtyard, other men—the generals, plus all the noblemen who were riding in the mounted division—took that as a sign and began to get on their horses as well.
Shaun put on his helmet, then Sir Elgon stepped forward to help. "If I may, Sir?" he asked.
Shaun nodded. Sir Elgon tucked the horse's reins in the crook of his arm and buckled Shaun’s helmet for him so he didn't have to fumble with the strap while wearing his gloves.
Then Elgon turned to Annabel. "May I help you as well, Your Highness?"
"Yes, please," she said, handing him her helmet; she was still carrying her bow in her other hand.
He put her helmet on her head and buckled it for her. Shaun stepped up onto the mounting block beside the horse and got on. Annabel stepped up next.
"Let me hold that for you," Sir Elgon said, taking her bow from her.
Shaun offered her his arm, and she grabbed it with one hand and the back of the saddle with the other. Between her and Shaun both pulling, and Sir Elgon giving her a little push from behind, she managed to get onto the horse.
She panted a little from the exertion. Getting onto a horse without the aid of stirrups was never easy, but the awkwardness and weight of her full plate armor made the exercise ten times more difficult.
Sir Elgon handed up her bow, then gave Shaun the horse's reins.
"Thank you, Sir Elgon," Shaun said. He offered his hand. "It's been a privilege."
Sir Elgon gripped his hand firmly. "Likewise, Sir. Likewise."
"Take care of my city while I'm gone, Elgon," the king said, pulling his horse up beside him.
Elgon bowed a little. "Yes, Your Majesty."
The king moved off through the crowd. Adam came up next.
"Take care of my family," he said quietly.
"On my life," Elgon promised.
Adam nodded to him, then clapped down his visor and followed the king through the crowd.
Shaun gave Elgon one last nod goodbye, then clapped down his own visor and nudged the horse into a walk.
Annabel put out her hand to Elgon and he briefly pressed it between his. "May the gods keep you both," he whispered as she pulled away.
Annabel turned back one last time to look at the families who were being left behind. She waved goodbye to Austina and Rayliss and they both lifted their hands in farewell. It looked they were crying.
The generals fell in behind Shaun and Annabel, then the other men began falling in behind them. The gates to the palace were thrown wide open and the guard standing by the doors threw a smart salute as they went by.
The streets were lit with torches and lanterns and everywhere people gathered along the edges, in doorways, and hung out windows to watch the royal divisions pass by. Except for the clatter of the horses' hooves on the cobblestone as they wended their way down, the city was eerily silent. It was as if everyone was watching a funeral procession pass.
Annabel repressed a shudder.
Now she understood why many people in Erenrue rejoiced when war was announced; the alternative was a sad resignation or else uncontrollable fear. And as much as she had inwardly cringed from the cheers at the reception, now she wished the silent crowds in the city were cheering. It would make her feel better about where they were going.

The royal mounted divisions went out the front gate of the city and kicked their horses into a canter. Above, the black night sky was fading into a deeper blue; in the east, there was a pale glow of lighter blue and green behind the mountains. The wind was chilly on Shaun’s face, but it held the promise of a warmer day to come.
Out of the darkness, a black mass appeared on the grassy plain. They were nearly on top of it before Shaun was able to discern the Nevarian army.
As soon as the Erenrue foot soldiers saw the king and the mounted knights, they let out a cheer that echoed across the wide stretch of plain.
The king rode with his right hand up, saluting his men as he rode past.
Half of the mounted men stopped in the rear of the main body of troops. The other half—including the king, Prince Adam, and Shaun and Annabel—rode to the front.
The king pulled his horse to a stop. "What news?" he called out.
An unarmored man on a light horse rode up and threw a salute. "Your Majesty, I have just returned from reconnoitering the enemy's lines."
"And?"
"They are arrayed in a single, square block, all on foot; no cavalry. It looks as if eighty or ninety percent of the army is archers. But, if I'm judging correctly in the darkness, there is at least one division of Shi-Ha mercenaries in the front row, two—probably three—ranks deep."
"HA!" the king shouted in triumph. "So, he thinks to use our old enemy against us. Well, we'll show him we know a thing or two about fighting the men of Shi-Ha!"
The generals around him laughed. The tension that had permeated everything all morning—hanging like a pall over the enterprise—broke. Nagadii was an unknown element; he might prove quite dangerous. Even the army of Nevara, with their hundreds of bowmen, was somewhat frightening just because of their strangeness. But troops from Shi-Ha…. The men of Erenrue knew quite well how to put their eastern foes to flight.
From their standpoint, things suddenly became much easier.
However, Shaun grew more worried; this was not what he had planned for. "Your Majesty, do we have to worry about them breaking our charge?" he asked. "I said that Nevara would not have the ability to repel cavalry, but what about these mercenaries?"
"They've tried to break us before. And they've not yet succeeded."
There was laughter from the other men.
"But we'll be going in with far fewer horses than you're accustomed to," Shaun argued.
"True, but you must account for their morale. What's the likelihood they'll stick firm to their pikes when they know that every previous formation has been mowed down like wheat under a scythe?"
Shaun glanced back over his shoulder. "Your Highness, if we were riding towards the line, do you think you could hit a few men directly in front of us?"
"Well, I don't know about directly in front—since you're directly in front of me—but when I'm in range, I should be able to hit the people more or less in front of us."
Shaun looked at the king. "If she can take out just a few, that will make a hole in their line."
"And we will ride right through," Ranis said with a smile.
The king turned to face the men. "Those of you in my division: we're going to go in the same wedge formation that the main army will assume. Like an arrow, we will pierce through the chink in their armor that Princess Annabel will create for us. Understood?"
There were nods and a general clamor of approval.
"Very well, then—generals, to your divisions. May the gods smile on us all."
The six generals broke out of the press of men and horses and rode to their own divisions. They must have then addressed their troops because shouts of one kind or another—here a "yes," there an emphatic "no," plus the occasional burst of laughter or a cheer—came from the various ranks on either side of the king's division.
Adam stepped his horse up to his father's side. "I really should lead from the front, you know," Adam said.
"Someday," the king promised. "But it will not be today. It will not be today!"
He laughed and offered his hand to Adam. The prince clasped it firmly, then leaned in, giving his father a one-armed hug.
"Cover my ass," the king instructed, as Adam pulled away and took up his reins again.
Adam laughed. "Just like I do every other day of the week."
He moved over to Shaun and Annabel. "Be safe—both of you," Adam said, looking at them seriously. Then he leaned in and kissed Annabel on the forehead. "I do hope we can return you to your throne," he told her quietly. "I think you will make a wonderful queen."
She smiled at him. "Thank you."
He shook Shaun’s hand, then kicked his horse into a trot and rode for the back of the lines. The men gave him an appreciative cheer as he passed. Hardly anyone could be found in the entire kingdom who had an ill word to say about their prince.
The king nudged his horse out in front of his division. "Alright, form up," he commanded. "Shaun and Annabel with me at the front; the rest of you by rank."
There was a lot of jostling and some discussion—even mild argument—about who went where, but the king sorted it out quickly enough and got everyone into the wedge shape that he wanted.
The standard bearer—whose banner carried the royal arms of Erenrue—was placed in the center of the formation, as he was simultaneously the most vulnerable and the most important person in the ranks. Because he had to carry the standard with one hand, he had a harder time defending himself. But the banner itself not only identified the division—something very necessary for Adam to know if he needed to command others to reinforce them—it also served as a form of communication on the battlefield. The way it was waved could signal victory, a request for reinforcements, or retreat.
The king turned to address his division. "Do I need to give you men a pep talk, or do you already know you're the best of the best?"
"We're the best of the best!" came the reply.
"Good. I'm not one for motivational speeches."
Everyone laughed.
"You are the most skilled, the most fierce, and the most experienced warriors in all of Erenrue. Do I need to tell you how to do your job?"
"No, Sire!"
"I never ask any man to go where I won't go, but, by the gods, you better follow me. Will you follow me?"
"Yes, Sire!"
"Good. That's all I expect."
He pointed to Shaun and Annabel. "One last thing, in case you were confused about what do with our Nevarian allies: although Princess Annabel is the monarch of a foreign kingdom, she is also my granddaughter. I expect you to guard and defend her the same as any other member of the royal family. And because Sir Shaun knows more about the weaknesses and capabilities of the Nevarian army than any of us, if he sees a need to change tactics and he gives you a command, you are to follow it the same as if he was your general. He is to only be overruled by me, Adam, or my regular generals.
"Clear?"
"Yes, sire," came the reply.
The king made some signal with his hand and from all around the army came the beat of drums.
Shaun looked around, seeing boys and young men lined up along the edges of the army and behind it, beating a dark tempo.
"The war-drums of Erenrue," he muttered to himself. He had heard great tales of the Erenrue drums, which played before the commencement of battle, but he had never thought he would hear them for himself. They were legendary.
"That ought to make those Shi-Ha mercenaries tremble," the king said, retaking his position beside Shaun and Annabel. "They know the ass-whipping is coming."
He laughed joyously. It was clear he was a man born and bred for war; it was his greatest talent. And like a person with a talent in any art, he was happiest when he was able to apply it.
The drums steadily grew louder and faster as the sky began to lighten. Slowly, the lines of the Nevarian army became visible. They were drawn up about 200 yards away.
Priests walked through the ranks, offering blessings on everyone. They dipped a sprig of mountain laurel—the sacred flower of Erenrue—in holy water, then used it to flick water on the troops as they moved past.
The drumbeats grew louder and more intense.
"At what point do we go in?" Shaun asked the king, leaning closer so he could be heard.
"When the drums stop," he replied, as if this was the most obvious answer in the world.
"Won't that be a bit obvious?"
"Were you expecting to catch the other side by surprise?" Ranis retorted. "It's not like they won't see us coming."
Shaun had to admit he had a point.
The beat of the drums seemed to sink into Shaun’s body, making him feel, at first, restless. But the longer they played and the faster they got, the more he felt like he needed to do something, until he felt an overwhelming desire to do something violent—be that hit a drum or hit someone over the head with his sword.
When it came to making war, the Erenruites certainly knew what they were doing.
The drums were nearing their crescendo when, in the dim early-morning light, the middle of the Nevarian line began to move and ripple.
"Get ready," Shaun shouted to the king over the noise of the drums. "They're preparing to loose the first volley. We should go in after the first round."
The king held up his right hand, warning the men behind him to make ready.
But no arrows came. Instead, several people—dressed as civilians—were pushed out in front of the Nevarian army.
The king lowered his hand as the drums stopped mid-beat and everyone stared across the field in worry and confusion.
"What is the meaning of this?" the king asked.
"Oh, dear gods," Shaun said breathlessly. "Gods, please, no."
"Shaun, what is it?" Annabel asked anxiously, leaning close to him.
"It's… it's my family," he said, trembling.
"Surely not," Annabel said, horrified.
But Shaun had no doubt. Although they were too far away to see their faces, there was no mistaking the short, heavyset figure of Uncle Alfon. There were three women, also—two slender and blonde, one with dark hair—plus one dark-haired boy. They all appeared to be wearing the clothes of Marlin Village.
A voice—magically amplified—came across the field. "Greetings, King Ranis of Erenrue."
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then Shaun breathed out, between gritted teeth, "Nagadii."
"I have come here to retake the traitor Shaun, who is wanted for many heinous crimes in our kingdom—not the least of which is bewitching our princess and forcing her to attack and kill her own father," Nagadii declared.
"I never attacked my father!" Annabel said indignantly.
"But I believe that I have the power to lift his dark spell," Nagadii continued. "I only pray that you and yours have not been taken in by his lies. …Given that I see your army arrayed before me, I am afraid that is not the case. But if you will lay down your arms, I will give you what aid I can.
"This is very dark magic, Your Majesty," Nagadii warned in his smooth voice. "In Nevara, Shaun put it around that he was educated and trained in the military arts at a school in the East, but I have it from my Shi-Ha allies that such a school is notorious for its education in only one thing: black magic.
"If Shaun will come to me unarmed and without any trickery, I will grant mercy to these traitors who harbored him and helped him escape justice. I have no doubt that they knew the truth about him all along, but three of them are barely more than children, and I am not without compassion for them; they have never known anything other than lies and trickery. One cannot blame them for their upbringing.
"Indeed, I think perhaps even Shaun’s family was fooled by that greatest trickster of all, Ryu. It is no secret that he was demoted because the king suspected he had a hand in Shaun’s dark education—although it couldn't be proven at the time. But Ryu has already been executed for his part in this plot, which resulted in the death of our king and has threatened the very existence of our kingdom and even our relationship with our long-time ally, Erenrue."
Shaun’s pain and desperation turned to anger as Nagadii spoke lie after lie. He became so enraged that it felt like his blood was boiling. Oh, to be able to meet the liar in single combat! He would unleash such a fury on him, it would make Annabel’s temper look like a mild annoyance.
King Ranis obviously felt the same. "Enough of these lies!" he shouted to everyone around him. "He insults my intelligence. If Shaun was a wizard, he would not dupe me, and this wizard shall not play me the fool either!"
There was a chorus of angry shouts behind him.
"No man needs an entire army to capture one outlaw," the king said. "Nagadii has come here to take my kingdom, as he took Annabel’s. And I will not stand for it! Better to die free than live as another man's slave.
"Drums!" he ordered.
A moment later, the drums began again, picking up their rhythm where they left off. Nagadii had his answer.
Shaun’s family was pushed forward, then forced to kneel.
"One last opportunity," Nagadii said, his voice louder than even the drums. "Will Shaun not turn himself over in exchange for his family? If he will not, then I think you have your proof of his character."
The drums continued to beat.
"Shauuuuun!" came Uncle Alfon's deep voice across the empty divide, unmistakable even over the pulse of the drums.
He slowly lifted his hand to his forehead, then raised it high in the air. A moment later, everyone else in the family did the same thing.
Shaun knew what they were telling him: they did not want to be ransomed. They were willing to sacrifice themselves for him and his mission. Nagadii had to be defeated at all costs.
Shaun was crying as he ripped off his helmet. He unsheathed his sword and stood up in the stirrups, returning their salute with his sword held high. He would avenge their deaths. That was the only promise he could make them.
One of the soldiers pushed Alfon's head forward, then stood behind him and raised his sword, ready to strike.
Shaun sat down in saddle again, crying so hard, he couldn't see what was happening. He didn't want to see it.
In his grief, he never noticed what Annabel was doing behind him, although all the other men—and even the king—turned to look at her in astonishment.
She laid back against the horse's rump and drew her bow, aiming it at the sky. With a fervent prayer, she loosed her arrow, sending it shooting just over Shaun’s head and across the field.
The drums suddenly stopped as everyone on the Erenrue side watched in fascination as the arrow arced through the air and began its rapid descent towards the Nevaraian line.
The only person who didn't seem to be aware of it was the executioner who was preparing to land his blow on the back of Alfon's neck. He never saw it coming, but he surely felt its impact as it struck him deeply where his neck joined his collarbone.
There was a moment of stunned silence on both sides as they watched the man stagger sideways, then fall.
King Ranis broke the silence with a primal scream of triumph and defiance, his sword lifted high. Everyone in his division, then every man in the army picked up the cry and suddenly they were moving forward—the cavalry galloping ahead with the men running behind.
Shaun shoved his helmet back on his head and kicked his horse forward, his vision red with rage. He would personally guarantee anyone who tried to harm his family would meet with a swift, messy end.
Behind him, Annabel leaned out and began shooting the men in the front ranks of the Nevarian line. Her aim was clearly not steady, because instead of picking them off in line, her arrows hit men randomly—sometimes two or three ranks deep. But it was enough to throw them into confusion.
Shaun’s family was gathered up and pushed back through the ranks, to keep them from being rescued. But this only served to further weaken the center of the front line; they had no time to set themselves and their pikes to repel the cavalry charge.
The archers managed to get off a volley of arrows, but the cavalry division was moving so fast, the arrows fell behind them, amongst the heavily armored foot soldiers. A few fell—despite Shaun’s warning that they should wear visors on their helmets, most did not have their faces covered—but the vast majority of the army continued their charge uninterrupted.
Shaun and the king plowed into the weakest part of the line, their heavy horses knocking down men and trampling them underfoot—causing greater damage than either Shaun or the king could do alone.
The rest of the division was on their heels and they widened the gap in the front lines further and passed by the Shi-Ha mercenaries, plunging deep into the poorly armored bowmen behind them.
Shaun was slashing with his sword on both sides and Annabel was firing her bow with a frightful rapidity, taking out standard bearers and anyone who dared to issue an order or try to rally the Nevaraian troops.
Nagadii and Shaun’s family were nowhere to be seen.
The Nevaraian archers dropped their bows and switched to their side swords, but it was clear that they were unsure what to do and they offered little resistance to Shaun. In fact, on several occasions, he found himself in the center of a little clearing; no one dared come close to his lethal blade.
"Would you fight against your Princess?" Shaun shouted at them. "Do you dare bear arms against your rightful monarch?"
There was a little pocket of silence around them, then many of the archers began to drop their swords and kneel.
Like a stone thrown into a pond, the effect rippled out and more and more archers began dropping their weapons and kneeling in surrender. Anyone who was left on his feet, looking around in confusion, or who tried to force the men to rise, was shot by Annabel.
The surrender spread like a wildfire; no man wanted to be caught standing against his monarch—especially when his monarch was exacting total revenge.
There were shouts of joy among the cavalry division and general congratulations. The foot soldiers following behind them had hit all across the front line and were engaged with the mercenaries who were still struggling against their age-old foes.
"To their rear!" the king shouted, pointing his sword at the back of the Shi-Ha lines. The cavalry turned and hit them from behind, catching them "between the hammer and the anvil"—a favorite tactic of King Ranis.
Shaun and Annabel stayed where they were. "We have our kingdom back," he said with breathless relief.
And then, from the Nevaraian rear—where everything was confusion and some men were trying to surrender and others were running over their comrades in their haste to flee the battlefield all together—there came an awful chorus of high-pitched screams. Men who were on their feet suddenly turned and began running back towards the battle. Men who were on their knees half-rose in confusion, then soon began to run, too.
"Look to our front!" Shaun shouted, wheeling his horse around to face the cavalry, who had their backs to the main force of the Nevaraian army, which they had accepted as subdued. "Look to our front!"
The king and several others paused in their fight against the Shi-Ha mercenaries and turned to look. A dark cloud rose from the rear of the Nevaraian army and shot high into the air. It hung there for a moment, then it swooped down and sped over the battlefield, covering it with an unnatural darkness.
"DEMONS!" Shaun shouted as the demon-birds swarmed over them.
The demons did not distinguish between friend or foe; they attacked Nevaraian soldier, Shi-Ha mercenary, and the army of Erenrue in equal measure.
Suddenly, men who had been fighting each other were trying to fend off attacks by the demons. Sometimes, in the confusion, they even turned to helping one another—their deep-seated animosity forgotten in the attack. When it came to a choice between a man and a creature of darkness, no one had to stop to question which side they should be on.
But as men were attacked by the birds, they began a horrible transformation. They collapsed to the ground and writhed in pain, then their armor began to burst off their bodies as they swelled up and changed shape to that of an inhuman dog-like beast nearly as large as a pony.
These unfortunate souls then turned on their companions and leapt upon them, taking down two, three, and sometimes even four men at a time.
And just when it seemed that it could get no worse, a large volley of arrows arced overhead. It seemed Nagadii had found the motivation he needed to make his archers attack.
"Arrows!" Shaun shouted. "Get down!"
A moment later the air was filled with the sound of whistling arrows as they rained down like a deadly hail. Those who weren't struck by the arrows were distracted by them and the demons took full advantage of their inattention. Although the demons were struck more often than the armored combatants, they showed no fear whatsoever; they continued their relentless attack on every human they could find.
Shaun struck at the demon-birds relentlessly while Annabel shot as many as she could. He wasn't worried too much about the demons, since neither he nor Annabel could be turned, and there was little harm the birds could do since they were both wearing full armor. It was the arrows that concerned him, since they had no shields and no real means of defense. They were well within range of the bows now, and an arrow fired from one of the heavy Nevaraian bows would penetrate most armor, at least to some degree. And since Nagadii didn't seem concerned about hitting his mercenaries or demons, they were all sitting ducks.
And then, from the midst of a great melee of men and demons, came one of the huge, dog-like creatures, bounding towards Shaun and Annabel on their right side. Annabel shot it, but it didn't even slow down, and before Shaun could turn the horse or switch his sword to his right hand, it leapt up and struck them. Its weight and momentum knocked both them and the horse to the ground.
Luckily, Shaun and Annabel were thrown clear of the falling horse, so while they made rather painful landings on the ground, they were at least saved from being crushed under the horse.
The demon savagely ripped open the belly of the horse, turning its whinnies of panic into deep, screaming-groans that made Shaun’s skin crawl.
He stumbled to his feet—his helmet lost in the fall—and he grabbed a stunned Annabel by the arm and pulled her up, too. "Start moving back," he told her in a low voice. "Slowly."
They began walking backwards, sometimes stumbling over bodies of men and horses and demons on the ground, but they managed to stay on their feet and stay defensive in case the demon-dog decided it was through with the horse and needed to eat on them instead.
Another hail of arrows came flying through the air. Shaun grabbed Annabel by the back of the helmet and forced her head down. "Protect your face!" he said, covering his own unarmored head with his arm. The arrows began to whiz by them, thudding into the ground and the bodies lying there.
Somehow, they managed to escape the hail, and Shaun decided to take the opportunity, between rounds, to retreat further out of range.
A moment later, they were surrounded by a wall of soldiers wearing blue. "Protect the Princess!" a general on horseback shouted. "And find the king, damn you! Gods! Where is our standard? The king's standard has fallen!"
Shaun looked around. There was a little knot of men holding steady around him and Annabel, but the rest of the field was in disarray.
Some of the archers had run back to their own lines, hoping that siding with Nagadii would save them from the scourge of the demons. Others were running off the battlefield entirely—in many cases, still being pursued by demons.
The Shi-Ha and Erenrue lines both had collapsed into an indistinguishable jumble of men from both sides and demons. Some were fighting the demons, some were trying to flee, some were already down from either an arrow or a bite, but were trying valiantly to crawl away.
"Get down!" one of the soldiers shouted at Shaun and Annabel.
Shaun grabbed Annabel and pulled her down, crouching behind the soldiers. A moment later, arrows began to thud home and two of the men standing in front of them fell—one dead instantly from an arrow through the throat, the other screaming from an arrow in the thigh. Two more men took their place as if nothing had happened.
"I see the king!" Shaun said, catching a glimpse of the king through the legs of the men surrounding him. The king was lying on his back a little distance away; he was half-buried under a pile of bodies, and he had lost his helmet, but he still had a sword in his hand and was fighting as fiercely as ever.
"Stay here!" Shaun ordered Annabel, before pushing his way through the guard and running doubled-over, trying to dodge yet another volley of arrows. A couple of men followed him.
They found the king surrounded by his noblemen—all dead or dying. The king himself was gravely wounded and unable to stand.
Shaun and the other two men stepped in and beat down the remaining bird-demons, then, while one man shoved aside bodies to make room, Shaun and the other soldier grabbed the king under the arms and hurriedly dragged him across the field to where the remnant of their army remained on their feet.
"Ah, gods!" the king exclaimed in pain when they laid him down on the ground. It looked as if he had been bitten in the left side by one of the demon-dogs; his armor was mangled and there was copious amounts of blood over what remained of his surcoat and armor. What could be seen of his body beneath the metal looked like so much raw meat.
Annabel tried to remove his armor, but he waved her away. "Don't. It's mortal."
"Your Majesty, what can we do for you?" one of the soldiers kneeling at his side asked.
"Find the standard. Signal the retreat."
There was a moment's pause. In all their long history, the Erenrue army had never retreated from a battle. They liked to joke that the only reason why the standard bearers practiced the horn-call at all was so that the men could learn the sound of the enemy's defeat.
"Do it!" the king barked.
"I'll go," Shaun said, before dashing out again.
The arrows continued to fall in a never-ending rain. Men screamed and fell and died all around, but no one seemed ready to leave. The idea of retreat seemed to be so impossible for them to comprehend, it made more sense to stand there and die.
"Get Adam and Annabel and Shaun back to the city," the king commanded, his voice growing weaker. "Barricade yourselves in and… do what you can. Get… get Annabel and Shaun… out. Mountains…."
His body relaxed and he closed his eyes. The he breathed out and did not breathe in again.
Annabel watched him expire with a shocked numbness. How could her grandfather—the Lion of Erenrue—be dead, when such a short time before, Shaun had declared the battle won and their kingdom saved?
There was a sound of a distant horn. Slowly she looked up. Amidst the fleeing and fighting men, she could see Shaun some fifty yards away, holding aloft the king's standard and waving it from side to side twice, then back and forth twice: the signal for retreat.
And somewhere farther back in their lines, someone saw him and began blowing a horn, signaling to all the men to retreat.
Then, before Annabel’s little band of protectors could move her out, they were bombarded by a swarm of thirty or more demon-birds, which seemed to come out of nowhere.
The men screamed and lashed out, knocking the birds out of the sky. Annabel drew her sword and began hacking at them, too, but a moment later, the man standing in front of her cried out and staggered backwards into her, causing her to drop her sword.
She started to bend down to grab it again, when she saw the face of the wounded man. There were three long gashes down his forehead and across his nose, but that's not what startled her; it was that she recognized him. And it caused her blood to run cold.
"Nicoli!"
She caught him as he started to sink to the ground, and she knelt with him, holding him in her arms, as she stared in horror at the gashes on his face.
"Oh, Nicoli, no," she moaned.
Maybe it wasn't enough to turn him. Maybe it only worked if a person was bitten. Surely claws alone weren't enough to turn someone.
"A-Annabel," he gasped. "It… it got me… clawed me."
"I know."
"So fast. Didn't… didn't see it."
"Shh, it's alright, Nicoli. You did good. You took down so many by yourself."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. "I didn't even know it was you standing in front of me. I thought you must be a man. You are a man."
There was the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. "Proved myself?"
"I told you, you had nothing to prove. This only highlights everything that is good and noble about you."
The smile lingered for a moment, then his face began to contort in pain.
"It burns," he moaned. "My face is burning."
"Just hang on," Annabel begged, tears rolling down her face. "Hang on and we'll get you back to the city and bandaged up."
"It burns." His voice—so weak a moment before—became louder and more insistent. "It burns! I'm burning! Oh, gods, I'm on fire! My insides are on fire!"
Annabel clutched him tighter to her, sobbing and rocking him. "I'm sorry, Nicoli. I'm so sorry. I'll make it better. I'll find a way to make it better."
"I'm burning! I'm burning!" he repeated. Then his words were lost in screams.
"Princess, let go of him!" someone commanded.
But Annabel ignored him, holding Nicoli tighter. If she didn't let go of him, nothing bad would happen to him. She could keep him safe.
"Princess!" the voice insisted.
She didn't let go, even as Nicoli's screams deepened and began to sound more animal-like and his body convulsed in her arms.
Then someone shoved Nicoli away from her and grabbed her by the shoulder, throwing her back.
She landed on her backside and sat there, watching in disbelief as the man raised his sword high, then plunged it down into the contorted face that Annabel no longer recognized.
She couldn't make a sound. She couldn't move. She paid no attention to the men around her who were falling and not being replaced, exposing her. All she could see was the back of the soldier as he, in slow motion, sank to his knees beside Nicoli's half-transformed body. He slowly removed his helmet and dropped it on the ground beside him. It was only then that Annabel realized who the man was: Duke Reginald, Nicoli's father.
He collapsed onto the ground, as if all the energy had drained from his body, and he could do no more than sit there and stare at what remained of his only child.
Annabel likewise sat immobile—too numbed to do anything. Or to care.
Then Shaun was beside her, grabbing her by the arm and hauling her to her feet. "We have to go!" he shouted.
All around them, the Erenrue line was collapsing as men fought a little, retreated, then fought a little more. Those who made it far enough behind the lines, turned and ran for the city.
Shaun bent down and grabbed her sword and bow, thrusting them into her useless hands. "Take these," he said. "We need them."
The general who had first ordered his men to protect them, rode up beside them. It was Duke Clark, the king's nephew.
"Shaun, take my horse!" he said, throwing his leg over the front of the saddle and dropping to the ground. "Take it," he said again, holding the reins out to Shaun. "Get her out of here. We'll try to buy you a little time."
Shaun dragged the battle-shocked Annabel to the horse and picked her up, throwing her into the saddle. He stepped back for just a moment, to give himself room to jump up behind her, when an arrow shot between him and the horse and struck the duke directly in the left eye.
He made a strangled, gasping sort of noise, and half-raised his hand to his face, before he fell backwards.
Annabel screamed. Even Shaun was momentarily stunned and unable to move.
Then the duke weakly raised his hand a little, trying to give Shaun the reins.
Shaun snapped out of his shock. "Gods bless you," he told the duke, before snatching the reins from him.
"Take these!" he commanded Annabel, thrusting them into her hands. She managed to regain enough sense to sheathe her sword and throw her bow across her back, then she took a firm grip on the reins.
Shaun grabbed onto the back of the saddle, and through sheer adrenaline strength, he pulled himself up onto the horse behind Annabel.
He was no more seated, however, than something struck him in the back, knocking him forward into Annabel.
He looked down and was shocked to see the bloody-red tip of a bodkin-point arrow protruding from his left shoulder where his arm harness and body armor didn't quite meet.
It took him a moment to comprehend that he had actually been shot, and that the arrow had gone all the way through his shoulder.
And then the pain hit all at once and daggers shot down through his arm, burning in a flash of white-hot fire. It was so intense, he couldn't breathe, much less make a sound.
He didn't notice that he was leaning to one side until Annabel put her arm back, catching him before he fell off the horse.
"Shaun!" she screamed as soon as she saw the arrow embedded in his shoulder.
Another arrow shot past them, missing Annabel’s unprotected face by mere inches.
Shaun mustered the strength to put his right arm around her waist. "Go," he said through gritted teeth. "Go!"
Annabel turned around and kicked the horse into a gallop. But they only made it about a hundred yards before an arrow struck the horse in the side of the neck, just below its armor.
The horse stumbled, then fell to its knees, pitching Annabel and Shaun off over its head.
Shaun hit the ground and rolled several times before coming to a stop on his back. He barely managed to roll over onto his right side before vomiting in pain. The arrow shaft in his back had broken off, driving the point almost all the way through his shoulder in the front.
"Oh, gods! Oh, gods!" he screamed in agony, rocking back and forth. Surely having his entire arm cut off couldn't hurt any worse.
Annabel was at his side a moment later. "Shaun, are you alright?"
"Do I look alright?!" he demanded, nearly screaming at her.
"I mean, can you get up?" Her eyes darted back to the line, where the last of the Erenrue defenders were falling. There was now no one left between Nagadii's army and the retreating Erenrue soldiers. He who was slowest would die first.
"I… guess," Shaun replied through gritted teeth. Annabel tried to help him sit up, but when she touched his left arm, it made him scream again as all his nerve endings caught on fire.
"Don't touch me!" he yelled.
Annabel jerked away and watched helplessly as he struggled to push himself upright with his one good arm, panting and groaning with pain.
Annabel transformed and lay down next to him. He grabbed a fistful of her mane and somehow managed to drape his body over her back.
She carefully rose to her feet and gave Shaun a moment to get himself seated. Then she took off.
Shaun rode hunched over, unable to sit up straight. The shock was rapidly wearing off, and with it the initial numbness. He had only thought he hurt when the pain first set in. Now it felt a hundred times worse—not the least of which was because the jarring thud of the Princess's galloping hooves seemed to make the arrow vibrate inside his shoulder. It felt like it was going to saw his arm in two from the inside.
He held on for as long as he could, but after a couple of minutes, he could stand no more. "Stop! Stop!" he yelled.
She skidded to a stop. He fell off, landing on his wounded left side. He must have blacked out, because the next thing he knew, he was on his back and Annabel was lightly smacking his face.
"Oh, Shaun, wake up! Wake up!" she begged.
He moaned a little.
"Shaun, can you hear me?" she asked desperately. "You've got to get back on. We have to get out of here. They're coming."
Their flight had bought them several minutes, but no more. Nagadii had somehow managed to regain control of his Shi-Ha mercenaries, and they had regrouped and were actively hunting down the fleeing Erenruites. They were exacting a terrible revenge for all the times the Erenrue army had forced them to ignobly flee the battlefield.
And it appeared that the mercenaries had not missed seeing Annabel and Shaun trying to make their escape; a large detachment—nearly half of the remaining men—were running their way.
"I… I can't," Shaun panted. "It hurts too much."
"Shaun—"
"Princess, go," he pleaded. "Find a way out of the city tonight. Travel east, as we planned. Get the Shadow Sword and do as Master Garamond said. You're the only one left who can defeat the demons."
"That is not an option!" she said fiercely, even as tears began to run down her dirty and blood-splattered face. "I will not leave you behind!"
"Please, Your Highness… if you have any love for me at all, leave me here and save yourself."
"No!"
"You promised me: no ransom. You promised me that you would leave me behind."
"I promised I wouldn't trade my kingdom for you. This is not the same thing!"
"You're trading me for your own life. It is the same thing."
"It is not!" she argued hotly. "I can give up my life, whereas I can't give up my kingdom."
"Annabel, for the love of all the gods, quit arguing with me and leave!" he said, practically yelling. "Now is not the time to be stubborn!"
"I wouldn't have to be if you'd just try!" she shouted back. "Don't lay down and die on me!"
"I'm going to die just to spite you!" he threw back.
She knew he wasn't going to die; he still had too much fight left in him. But what he didn't have was hope. Or a plan.
Annabel glanced up and saw the mercenaries rapidly gaining on them. They only had a minute or two left.
Annabel racked her brain, trying to come up with a solution to their problem. She couldn't believe that the situation was hopeless. No matter how many times things had seemed hopeless before, Shaun had found a way to save them. Now it was up to her to save him when he had no hope.
For some reason, her memory flickered back to when she was shipwrecked. She had given up and was prepared to die, but he had somehow found her and pulled her back from the brink.
"Shaun… how exactly did you get to me after we were shipwrecked?" she asked, feeling like she was close to an answer.
"Princess, please—"
"Tell me how you did it!" she demanded, raising her voice. Didn't he see that the answer to their problem was in that magic?
"I teleported to you."
The glimmer of hope in her started to rise.
"How does it work?"
"The other person must think of you—must want you to be there," he replied. "And you must want to be with them. Then, it just happens. …But it only works with Nevreks," he added.
Annabel already knew who she needed to contact—the only other Nevrek she had ever bonded with—the woman who had warned them that they would need her help.
Kara? she asked tentatively.
Yes, my child? Kara didn't seem at all surprised to hear Annabel’s voice.
The battle is lost and Shaun is badly hurt; I can't get him off the field. We're going to be overrun any moment. Can you help us?
I don't know what I can do from here.
We can teleport to you, but you have to want us both to be there. You have to concentrate on bringing us to you.
I can do that.
Annabel lay across Shaun, wrapping her arms around him. The soldiers were so close, she could feel the thud of their feet vibrating through the ground.
"Shaun, we're going to go to Kara," she told him. "She will help us teleport there."
They both closed their eyes and imagined the old woman with all their might, wanting desperately to be with her inside the safety of the city.

"How bad is it?" Kara asked. "Are you both hurt?"
Shaun opened his eyes and saw that he was lying on the floor in Kara's house. She was helping Annabel to her feet.
"I'm fine," Annabel replied. "It's Shaun who's hurt. Badly."
Kara knelt down beside him—surprisingly agile for her advanced age. She frowned as she looked at the arrow in his shoulder.
"It went all the way through," Annabel said anxiously.
"That's good," Kara replied. "That will make it easier for me to pull out. If it hadn't gone all the way through, I would have had to push it through myself, and that's much more painful than it going in fast."
Shaun groaned at the mere thought.
"I can fix this," Kara said with confidence. "Let's get him into bed."
She and Annabel tried to pick Shaun up. He screamed as the arrow grated against bone and pain streaked down the entire left side of his body like lightning, setting him on fire.
He blacked out before they could get him off the floor.
Sometime later, he woke to a dim light shining near his head. Annabel was sitting beside him, looking anxious.
"Oh, Shaun, I was hoping you wouldn't wake up," she whispered.
"Why not?" he whispered, his throat raw from screaming in pain.
"Because we don't have the arrow out of you yet. Kara went to find something she could use to pull it out."
A cold sweat broke out all over Shaun’s body and he began to tremble. He tried to raise his right hand to his face, but was stopped by something around his wrist. He looked down and saw that a strip of cloth had been tied around it. He reflexively jerked his feet, as if to get up, but found them tied down as well.
"Why am I tied up?" he asked, his voice rising in panic.
"Kara said we had to keep you from moving when she… when she pulls it out," Annabel said in a horrified whisper.
Tears began to roll out of Shaun’s eyes. "Oh, gods," he said breathlessly, "I can't do this. I can't do this."
"You have to. We have to get it out."
He cried more. "I can't. Oh, gods, I can't bear it. Please don't. Please…."
Annabel began to cry, too. "Oh, Shaun, don't… shh…." She held his face in her hands and kissed him. "Shh… don't cry. It'll be alright. You'll be alright," she said between kisses.
Her tears dripped warm onto his face, mingling with his, and for a moment, he forgot everything but her. She had never kissed him before; he had always been the one to initiate it.
He knew then, without a doubt, that he did not love in vain. She did truly love him in return.
Kara came in a few minutes later, interrupting them. She was carrying a pair of what looked like blacksmith's tongs in her hands.
As soon as Shaun saw her, panic began to rise in him again.
"He woke up," Annabel said anxiously, turning to Kara. "Can we drug him so he won't feel anything?"
"I'm afraid not, Your Highness; there's no time."
"What do you mean?" Shaun asked anxiously.
"There are demons in the city. Even if the Nevaraian army doesn't breech the gate, everyone inside will soon be demons anyways. We are locked inside with our own death. I only hope that the Prince will quickly realize that and offer our surrender and save who we can."
Shaun and Annabel stared at her in open-mouthed horror. How could the great kingdom of Erenrue have fallen so quickly?
"But we have to patch you up, best we can, and get you out," Kara said with calm practicality. "The two of you are the only hope we have now. You must get the Shadow Sword and clear away this demon-scourge and free Erenrue."
She climbed onto the narrow bed and stood above Shaun, her feet braced on the bed's side rails.
"Princess, lie across him and hold him down," Kara commanded. "Those ties might not hold someone with his strength."
Annabel kissed Shaun one last time, apologetically, then put a stick in his mouth for him to bite down on. Then she draped herself across his body, her weight pinning him to the bed.
Kara gripped the shaft of the arrow with the tongs, causing Shaun to give a muffled cry as she wiggled it in his arm. "Alright, young man, on the count of three. One… two…."
Before Shaun could tense up, she gave a hard jerk, ripping the arrowhead and what remained of the shaft out of his shoulder. He screamed—every muscle in his body rising up and straining against the ties and Annabel’s weight.
And then he was sinking back into blackness.

Shaun awoke a second time to find someone gently wiping his forehead with a cool, wet cloth. The pain in his shoulder was still a throbbing burn, but at least it was more or less localized to his wound; the toes on his left foot were no longer curling in pain.
Annabel looked at him anxiously. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I'd be better off dead," he croaked. But he managed to give her a weak smile, to show he wasn't serious. At least not entirely.
"Don't joke about that," she said, frowning at him. "I nearly lost you."
She leaned in so close, he could see the unshed tears in her gray eyes. "I don't ever want to lose you," she whispered.
Then, before he could say anything, she was softly kissing him. As her lips lingered, and her warm tears once again fell onto his face, she grew more passionate, showing him just how much she had worried about him.
"Alright, I'm quite glad I didn't die," he said breathlessly when she, at last, pulled away. He could feel his rapid heartbeat throbbing in his left shoulder, but he didn't care; at that moment, he'd trade a lifetime of aching for another kiss like that.
She smiled a little.
He tried to move his right arm and found he was no longer tied up. He reached up and touched her face, gently wiping away the last of her tears with his thumb. "Thank you," he whispered.
"For what?"
"For saving me."
"It's only fair after you've saved my life so many times."
"It's my job to protect you."
"And what's my job? What do I owe you?"
"You don't owe me anything, Your Highness."
"But I must. Even if you are my knight and are oath-bound to take care of me, I must have something to give you in return."
"Your presence is enough for me."
"Really, Shaun, I'm being serious."
"So am I."
She looked at him dubiously.
"Your Highness, you don't have enough gold in your kingdom to pay me to endure what I just went through, so there's no use in trying to give me something in return.
"I am here—and willing to suffer—because my soul is bound to yours. I am both compelled to serve you because of it, and made utterly whole and contented in doing so.
"If you want to give me something that is valuable and means something to me, then give me a place in your life. I don't care if I'm to be your knight, or your advisor, or just the boy who entertains you with songs and stories. Just don't send me away."
"I could never send you away," she whispered. "You… you are a light in my life. I like talking to you and doing things with you—even arguing with you. You make my life so much more… full."
He smiled. "Then we understand one another perfectly."
A moment later, they were interrupted by a hard, rapid knock on the door. Annabel jumped, her eyes widening in fear.
"Where's your sword?" Shaun whispered. During one of his unconscious periods, she had stripped out of all of her armor and was wearing only her padded gambeson, canvas pants, and boots.
She started to rise to get it, but Kara hurried into the room a moment later, carrying a large pack; she was bent under the weight of it.
"Don't worry," Kara said, dumping the pack in the floor beside the bed. "The enemy doesn't knock."
Shaun relaxed again; he hadn't thought about it that way, but she was right.
Kara hurried to open the door, but didn't look at all surprised when Prince Adam strode in. He was helmetless, with his black hair a bit disheveled, and his surcoat was rent in a few places, but he otherwise looked unhurt.
"I got your message," he said, before noticing Shaun and Annabel nearby.
"Thank all the gods you're safe," he said, hurrying over. He clasped Annabel in a tight embrace. "I sent Clark in to find you and Father, but I lost track of him when the retreat was signaled. The demons were on us, and there were so few left in my division, I couldn't send anyone else in to help get you out. I've been looking for all of you since."
"Duke Clark died trying to get us out," Shaun said gravely. "And… and the king is gone as well. He told us to signal the retreat and that was the last order he gave."
"Actually, he told the men to get us and you back to the city and defend it," Annabel corrected.
Tears welled up in Adam’s eyes. "It is as I feared. I knew Father would never order a retreat while he had life left in him."
He sighed heavily and looked away, as if embarrassed for them to see the tears running down his face. "We can't hold the city," he said sadly. "There are demons everywhere; I would have been here sooner, but we've had to fight our way here, up every level. I'm going to have to surrender if we're to save anyone. Otherwise, we'll all be demons by tomorrow morning."
There was a heavy silence as his words sank in. It was as Kara had thought, but it was still hard to hear it coming from the person who would actually make the decision.
Adam jerked off his gauntlets and quickly wiped the tears from his face, then he turned back to Shaun and Annabel, a firm resolve on his face. "We need to get both of you out of here before I surrender. Shaun, can you walk?"
"I'll have to," he replied, throwing back the covers.
Adam and Kara both went to the side of the bed and, together, pulled Shaun into an upright position. He groaned as his wound pulsed with pain and he felt warm blood gush out front and back.
"Where are we going to go?" Annabel asked anxiously.
"There's a door into the mountains," Adam replied. "From there, you can walk all the way to Shi-Ha."
"Hold him there, Your Highness," Kara said, before hurrying to the other side of the room. She returned a moment later with a couple of canvas strips. She tied one around Shaun’s body and upper arm, pinning it to his side. He had been stripped of his armor, too, but unlike Annabel, he was still wearing his maile shirt over his gambeson.
"You can't move this arm before it heals up," Kara warned him. "You might bleed to death."
"I'm bleeding now," he said. "I can feel it."
She put her hand down the front of his shirt, then the back, checking. "Your bandages are still in place," she said. "As long as they're in place, you should be alright, although you'll continue to bleed for awhile.
She glanced at Annabel. "I put fresh bandages in the pack. Your Highness. You'll have to change them out for him until he stops bleeding. Then, after that, the wound will probably seep pus for a time. Just keep changing out the bandages until it scabs over good and hard and it quits weeping."
Annabel looked faintly disgusted by the description, but she resolutely nodded.
Kara tied the second piece of canvas across Shaun’s chest, then put his left wrist in the makeshift canvas sling.
"I also put pain medicine in the pack," Kara continued. "You need to steep it in hot water until it turns bright green—like the color of spring grass. But I recommend you only use it at night because it will make you sleep. It will give you strange dreams, too, but other than that, you shouldn't have any problems with it."
"There are many caves in the mountains," Adam told them. "You shouldn't have trouble finding a place to shelter. But the snow will be deep and rotten at this time of year, so it will be a very hard climb. And it's still early enough in the spring that the weather might turn cold again and blow up a blizzard. If you feel the temperature dropping suddenly, find shelter immediately; you will freeze to death if you get caught outside."
"I've packed you food and some firewood; both are nearly impossible to come by in the mountains, so if you find either, take advantage of it," Kara instructed. "There's barely enough here to get you to Shi-Ha if you make good time, so be conservative."
"It is an arduous journey in the best of times," Adam said, looking at both of them seriously. "With Shaun’s wound… you will need to be extra careful."
Everyone could hear what he had carefully avoided saying: with Shaun’s wound, it would be a miracle if the trip didn't kill him.
"I'm sorry we can't do more for you," Adam added. "I wouldn't send you that way if there was any other way out. Actually," he corrected, "I wouldn't send you out in your condition at all. But you will surely die if you stay. This is the only hope you have—it's all I can give you; Erenrue has exhausted her supply."
Kara and Adam lifted Shaun to his feet. He swayed drunkenly and his vision darkened. The next thing he knew, his face was pressed against Adam’s hard breastplate.
"He'll never make it," Kara said—although Shaun couldn't tell if she was whispering or if his hearing was as weak as the rest of him.
"Is that prophesy or just old-fashioned speculation?" Adam asked, sounding slightly annoyed.
"It's realism backed up by years of taking care of badly-injured people," she retorted. "Is there nowhere we can hide them, even for a few days? The longer he is able to rest, the better his chances."
"I don't dare—not with a wizard powerful enough to summon demons. Summon demons!" he repeated in disbelief. "Gods!—if he can do that, is there anything beyond his ability?"
Shaun pulled away from Adam, managing to stand on his own two feet without help. "I can make it," he said, even as he doubted his own words. But Prince Adam was right: it was their only chance, so they had to take it.
Adam clapped Shaun on the shoulder, then turned to Annabel and helped her hoist the pack onto her back. Shaun frowned, because he could see how heavy the pack was; it would severely hamper her movement, and, at the moment, she was the only one of them who had a reasonable chance of defending them. Shaun had only the use of his right hand, and he wasn't very good with it at all.
But he couldn't very well carry the pack himself—not in his current condition—and they couldn't go without the food, medicine, and supplies, so he bit his tongue.
"Don't worry," Kara said, whispering in his ear, as if she could read his mind, "it will grow lighter soon enough. And before your trip is over, you will wish it was heavy again."
Shaun shuddered a little. He was afraid she would prove right.
Adam wedged Annabel bow between her back and the pack, then he managed to lash her quiver to the outside of the pack. It was more that she was carrying her bow and arrows because she would want them in the future, rather than having them easily accessible in the event they were needed. She would have to rely on her sword for quick defense.
Adam rummaged around in the pile of armor in the floor and pulled out Shaun and Annabel’s swords.
"You need to burn these," he told Kara, grabbing up Shaun and Annabel’s surcoats as well. "And these," he added, ripping the colored plumes from Annabel’s helmet. "You do not want to be found with these."
"I'll take care of it," Kara said, taking them from him.
"You need to hide the armor as well. It's not nearly as obvious, but someone with a keen eye might notice that it's not common-made."
"Wait, shouldn't we take it with us?" Annabel asked. "I mean, it would be helpful if there are demons in the mountains."
"There's no way you can make it all the way to Shi-Ha wearing all of that," Adam replied. "It will be hard enough to walk in the snow with the weight you have—not to mention that metal conducts cold; it would be colder for you to wear it than not."
Annabel watched sadly as Kara carried out their beautiful suits of armor. Shaun felt the same sort of sadness; they were leaving Erenrue with little more than they had when they entered it, and they were leaving nothing but death and misery in their wake.
While Kara was secreting away their armor, Adam buckled Shaun and Annabel’s swords on them, then took up the hooded, fur-lined cloaks that Kara had laid out, and fastened them onto each in turn. Then he gave them furry mittens.
Kara came out of the back room. "Can you think of anything else they need?" Adam asked her.
"Strength and more than a small amount of favor from the gods."
Adam actually smiled. "I think they have both in plenty."
"Oh, one other thing," she said, suddenly remembering.
She retrieved a tall walking staff from one corner of the room and handed it to Shaun. "I think you will find a need for this."
"Thank you… for everything you have done for us," Shaun said.
"I told you that you would be going to the East—but not the way you had planned."
"And you also told us that we would need you—and we did."
She smiled a little. "I know; that's why I had everything ready for you in advance; I knew you would come back." She grinned, showing her toothless gums. "You will not question me now, eh?"
Shaun managed a faint smile. "No, ma'am."
She hurried to open the front door for them. Standing outside were six anxious-looking guards.
"Your Highness, we need to go," one of them told Adam fearfully. "The screams are getting louder and coming this way; I'm afraid we might have trouble getting to the Eastern door."
"We're ready now," Adam replied. He turned to Kara. "Thank you for your help."
She reached out and touched his arm. "Be careful," she said. Then she suddenly jerked upright, getting a faraway look in her eyes.
Adam recoiled from her as Rayliss had. "What in the name of the gods…?" he muttered, looking at her nervously.
"She's getting a vision," Annabel said.
A moment later, Kara's body relaxed and she came back into the present. But Shaun could clearly see tears welling up in her eyes.
"What did you see?" Adam asked anxiously. "Was it about Shaun and Annabel?"
"Yes and no," she replied evasively.
"What do you mean? Did you see something happening to them? Do we need to change our plan?"
"Your Highness, by the time I see the future, it is already set in stone; there is nothing you can do to alter it. So don't worry about it."
Adam sighed a little. "Well, I suppose you're right. Besides, I don't have any other plan."
He thanked her again and walked out. Shaun and Annabel followed, but then Shaun glanced back at Kara; she looked at him with unshed tears in her eyes.
"What was it?" he whispered to her.
She just shook her head. "May the gods be with you—for they are no longer with us," she said sadly. Then she shut the door.
Shaun didn't think he could feel any worse than he did about the enterprise, but Kara's ominous blessing made his insides go cold.
Shaun immediately made use of Kara's walking stick as they quickly wended their way through the darkened, deserted streets of Pallis. He leaned on it for support as waves of dizziness and weakness in his knees came and went. Luckily, they didn't have to climb any stairs.
They rounded one corner and came face-to-face with a small flock of the demon-birds. Adam and his troops, however, dispatched them quickly and resumed their course. Shaun was grateful that, for once, not everything was on him and Annabel to do; it was a shame that wasn't going to last more than a few minutes.
Soon they reached a non-descript wooden door set in the wall that separated the city from the mountain itself.
"This is it," Prince Adam said. He stepped forward and, pulling out a key which hung from a long chain under his armor, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. On the other side was a narrow pass that wended between two vertical walls of stone.
"There is only one path through the mountains," he told them, "so you don't have to worry about getting lost. But there are places where it comes dangerously close to a sharp drop-off, and sometimes the snow sticks so well to itself that it actually hangs out over the precipice, fooling you into thinking there's ground there. When you're in doubt, use your walking stick to probe the snow and make sure you're where you think you are."
He looked at them sadly. "I am sorry we can't do more. You came to us for help, but we couldn't even help ourselves. Now we're just another mess you have to clean up—another burden for you to bear."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Annabel said firmly. "If anything, I'm sorry we brought our problems upon you all. But we will never forget that you tried to help us in our darkest hour, and one day we will return to lift Erenrue out of her darkness."
"We promise you that," Shaun agreed. "We will not abandon your kingdom."
Adam smiled a little, looking close to tears, then he offered Shaun his hand. Shaun clasped it and Adam gently pulled him in, clapping him on the back in a one-armed hug. "It's been a pleasure getting to know you."
"And me, you, Your Highness."
Adam turned and gave Annabel a hug.
"Come with us," Annabel whispered, holding onto him tightly. "I'm afraid Nagadii will kill you if you stay."
"I can't," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I must surrender to Nagadii to spare what's left of my people. Besides, I could never leave my wife and children behind to suffer in my place."
He handed the door key to Annabel. "Once you go through the door, it will lock behind you," he explained. "Father, Sir Elgon, and I are the only people with a key, and this door was made by our greatest wizard many generations ago; there's no forcing your way through it, or cutting it up, or burning it down—at least, no normal person can do so. I can't speak to what Nagadii can or can't do, so I would suggest you get as far away as possible, just in case he figures out how to circumvent its magic."
A moment later, their goodbyes were interrupted by the clatter of soldiers coming around the corner at the end of the street.
There was a moment of surprised silence, then the Nevaraian soldiers whipped out arrows and raised their bows.
Shaun grabbed Annabel and pushed her down, covering her body with his. A second later, the arrows found their targets.
Some men went down screaming; others fell silent, dead from arrows to the face or throat.
Shaun glanced back just in time to see Prince Adam lurch as he was struck. His eyes went wide in surprise, but he made no sound.
"Your Highness!" Shaun shouted, letting go of Annabel and catching Adam as he staggered forward.
Annabel screamed as soon as she saw her uncle. "NO!"
He opened his mouth to speak, but blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. Shaun knew immediately that he was wounded in a lung. It was mortal.
"G-go," Adam managed to whisper. A second later, three more arrows struck him from behind, causing him to jerk. He would have fallen if Shaun hadn't been holding him up.
"Go," he whispered again, trying to wave them off.
Shaun looked at him sadly, then shoved Annabel towards the door, even as more arrows came whizzing past them.
He dove through the door after Annabel, and the last sight they saw, before he kicked the door closed with his foot, was Prince Adam of Erenrue collapsing face-first on the ground with half a dozen arrows sticking out of his back.

Shaun and Annabel walked along the narrow mountain pass as fast as Shaun could manage. It was already late afternoon, and the mountains cast such deep shadows, they were in an artificial twilight for an hour or two before the sun actually set and the sky began to darken.
The pass opened onto a narrow, rocky valley devoid of vegetation. The trail clearly crossed the valley and started up the slope of the next mountain peak, disappearing into snow about halfway up.
Shaun felt his heart sink as he looked at the upcoming climb. He had trouble enough walking on the relatively flat path in the pass; he had no idea how he was going to climb a mountain.
He dismissed the worry from his mind, deciding to concentrate only on one day at a time. Perhaps, after some pain medicine, food, and a good night's sleep, he would have more stamina.
They found a little hollow next to where the trail went into the pass. It looked as though it had been enlarged by human hands, and there was a black spot in the middle of the floor that suggested a fire had been burned there before. It looked like sentries might have been stationed there in the past to guard the pass.
"Let's stay here tonight," Shaun said. "I don't see anything else around the valley, and I don't think I'm up for tackling that mountain tonight."
Annabel didn't say anything—she hadn't said anything since they had fled through the door into the mountains. She just shrugged off the pack and threw herself onto the floor of the cave. Then she curled up with her back to Shaun and began bawling.
Shaun slowly sat down beside her and leaned back against the cold stone wall. As he listened to Annabel’s sobbing, his own tears began to flow until he was crying nearly as hard as she was. Images of King Ranis mortally wounded, Prince Adam being shot, and the once-mighty Erenrue troops fleeing the battlefield in terror, pursued by arrows and demons, passed before his eyes. And he cried for his family, whose fate was unknown.
But after a time, the ache in his arm grew so great, it replaced all other thoughts. His entire left arm ached—all the way to the tips of his fingers—until it was quite unbearable.
He reached out and touched Annabel on the shoulder. She was still crying, although not with the racking sobs that had seized her before.
"Your Highness… I hate to bother you," he said apologetically, "but I need that medicine."
It took Annabel a minute to compose herself and wipe her face and nose dry with the sleeve of her gambeson. Finally, she pushed herself to her feet and started rummaging through the pack, pulling out firewood and packages wrapped up in cloth or parchment.
"Do you think this is it?" she asked after a moment, showing him a small parchment envelope.
He took it from her and opened the flap. There was a small amount of some sort of dried herb in the bottom.
"Since I doubt Kara gave us spices to cook with, I'm going to say yes," he replied, handing it back to Annabel.
She turned back to the pack and began to drag everything out of it. "What I'm not seeing in here is a pot," she said."There is a bowl, but not a pot. We can't very well steep your medicine in hot water without a pot."
"Yes, we can," he said.
"How?" she asked, turning to look at him.
"Start a fire first," he instructed.
While she made a pile of tinder, Shaun pulled out the fire-making kit that lived permanently in the pouch on his belt and handed it to her. She soon had a small fire going.
"Now, find a few rocks about the size of your palm and put them in the fire," he told her.
She looked a bit dubious, but she went outside and soon returned with five rocks of the appropriate size.
"Put them in the fire?" she asked, as if not sure she had heard him right the first time.
"Yep—it doesn't much matter where, so long as they're getting direct heat.
She put the rocks in the fire while Shaun eyed the bundle of firewood sitting nearby. When she was done, he pointed to a likely looking stick. "Get that," he told her.
He pulled the abbot's knife out of his boot—it had a permanent home on his person, too—and handed it to Annabel. "Split that stick lengthwise about halfway down."
She wrestled with the knight and stick for several minutes while Shaun silently squirmed with pain and impatience. If he had the use of both of his hands, he could have done it in a matter of seconds, but he bit his tongue and refrained from complaining or lecturing her because he knew she was trying her best. …But it wasn't easy.
She finally had the stick split more or less up the middle. "Now what?" she asked.
"Find a small piece of wood—a chip or a little branch or something—and wedge it down into the split so that the two pieces are held apart. You're making tongs."
Annabel looked at the stick with an expression of confusion, then realization dawned on her face. "Alright, I see where you're going with this." She hurried to find a wedge and finish it.
"What are we going to use it for, though?" she asked, as she completed the tongs.
"You're going to put some water in the bowl and wet the tongs, so they don't catch fire. Then, when the rocks are hot enough, you'll roll one of them out of the fire and put it in the bowl of water. After a few minutes, you'll exchange it for another hot rock. Every time you do that, the rocks transfer their heat to the water, until the water is hot enough."
Annabel looked a little amazed. "Where did you learn that?"
"At the monastery. In fact, when I was nine, I had to go out into the forest for three days with nothing more than a sword and a flint and take care of myself. What you hadn't learned in the classroom, you quickly learned through experience."
Annabel made a face. "That sounds harsh. What if something had happened to you? I mean, you were still just a child."
"Well, it wasn't unknown for someone to be attacked or hurt or even killed—although nothing very bad happened while I was there."
Annabel continued to look at him in horror, but he just shrugged. Then he grimaced in pain as his wound burned as hot as a fire. Moving it had definitely been a mistake.
"It's not the life for someone who is weak," he said through gritted teeth. "But you have to admit, it's come in handy."
"Yes, that's true; I don't know what we would do if you weren't strong enough to do this."
"I mean the survival skills have come in handy," he corrected. "I wasn't talking about myself."
"But that's true, too."
Between building the fire, waiting for the rocks to heat, heating the water, and then letting the medicine steep until it was the proper color, the entire process took about an hour—by which time Shaun was in so much pain, he was nearly in tears, and his hand shook so badly, Annabel had to hold the bowl while he drank out of it.
He made a face as he finished off the dregs. "Gods, that's bitter."
Annabel found the hard leather water bottle Kara had packed for them and helped him drink from it.
"That's better," Shaun said with relief after drinking a few mouthfuls of cold mountain spring water.
Drinking the medicine and water, however, set his stomach to growling. He realized that he had had nothing to eat all day.
"What do we have to eat?" he asked.
Annabel began unwrapping the cloth-wrapped packages. Her face fell when she found the contents were the same in all of them: a dry, rigid, brownish-colored patty made out of some ground up things and what looked like a bit of fruit.
"What is this?" she asked, holding up a cake.
"Pemmican."
She looked at Shaun. "What's that?"
He held his hand out for it. "Dried meat, rendered fat, and sometimes fruit minced up and mixed together. As long as you keep it dry, it'll last nearly forever, and you don't have to worry about cooking it, so you can eat it when you don't have a fire."
"It sounds nasty," Annabel said bluntly.
"It's better than nothing. Besides, it's good when you need a lot of energy."
Reluctantly, Annabel put the patty in Shaun’s hand. She watched him with a look bordering on disgust as he bit into it.
It took a lot of chewing, because it was tough—almost as tough as jerky—but he finally swallowed. "This is actually pretty good," he pronounced. "I think Kara added a little honey to it, so it's kind of sweet—like a sweet sausage."
With a great show of reluctance, Annabel got one for herself and nibbled a little on one edge. Apparently finding it tolerable, she began to eat it in earnest.
"How many of these do we have?" Shaun asked, as he finished his patty and wiped his hand on his pants.
Annabel finished her own, then opened up all of the packages and began to count. "Fifty-eight," she finally said.
"Sixty, with the two we just ate," Shaun calculated. "So that's thirty apiece. Did Kara mention how long this trip was supposed to take?"
Annabel shook her head.
"Surely we can't be expected to eat fewer than two per day. That's fifteen days—or two weeks from today. That sounds about right, considering it took us nearly that long to get from the ocean to Pallis, and Pallis is roughly in the center of Erenrue.
"So," he concluded, "that means Kara packed two for us to eat today, so hand me another one, will you?"
Annabel shook her head, but handed him another cake. "You went to all that trouble to justify eating a second one? If you had just said you were still hungry, I would have given you one."
He began to munch on it. "Well, problem is," he said, trying to talk between bites; it seemed the more he ate, the hungrier he became, "even if we know it's supposed to take two weeks, we still don't know how far we're supposed to travel per day. We'll have no idea if we're falling behind or not."
"It doesn't matter how fast we should be going; we can only move as fast as you're able to move. So there's no use worrying about it," Annabel said practically.
"But I will anyways," Shaun replied.
By the time he finished his second pemmican cake, he was starting to feel sleepy. The pain in his shoulder had dulled slightly, so he didn't feel like cutting off his arm to make it feel better, but drowsiness threatened to overtake him, pain or no pain.
"Are you still hungry?" Annabel asked.
He shook his head a little. "No, I'm good." He wasn't full, as he would have been after a good meal, but he didn't feel hungry, either. That was probably the best that could be hoped for during the trip.
He took a few big drinks from the water bottle then handed it to Annabel. "We need to be careful about refilling that every opportunity we get," he warned. "Once we're high in the mountains, most of the water will be frozen. If worse comes to worst, we can fill it with snow or chunks of ice and carry it against our bodies for heat, but snow is more air than water, and ice melts slowly; we will not get very much water from either."
He yawned, fighting to stay awake while Annabel repacked the backpack. As soon as she was done, he nodded to the fire. "Put that out."
"Why?" she asked, looking surprised.
"Because we need to conserve our fuel. It's not so cold that we have to have it, and there's no need for it to burn while we sleep. Just sprinkle a little water on it, then use the bowl to smother the last of the flames. In the morning, we can pack what remains and use it for tomorrow's fire."
Annabel did as he instructed, plunging them into darkness, save a little light coming from the stars and sliver of moon outside.
Shaun laid down on his right side—it was the only side of him that wasn't injured—tucked his cloak around him, and tried to get comfortable. But whether he actually did or not was irrelevant; he went to sleep within seconds.
All night long, he had strange, somewhat disturbing dreams—starting with one in which he was dead and was sitting in a great hall in the Other World with King Drake, Prince Adam, and all the men of Erenrue, discussing what had gone wrong and what, if anything, they could have done differently.

The next morning, pain woke Shaun. His right shoulder—which had been against the stone floor all night—was almost as bad as his left. The rest of his body felt like he had been soundly beaten all over.
"Oh, gods," he moaned, as he struggled to open his eyes.
"Shaun, what's wrong? Is your arm worse?"
He finally managed to open his eyes. Annabel was kneeling beside him, looking at him with concern.
"All of me is worse," he replied.
"Do you want more medicine?"
"Kara said to only take it at night; otherwise I won't be able to stay awake."
"What are you supposed to do for pain during the day?"
"Live with it, I guess." He gestured to her. "I think you're going to have to help me get up."
"I don't know how to do that without hurting you more."
"It doesn't matter. I need to get up and I can't do it by myself."
Annabel frowned, but took him by the right shoulder and pushed him up into a sitting position against the wall of the cave.
Shaun let out the breath he had been holding. "Oh, gods, that hurts!" he said between clenched teeth.
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
He shook his head a little. "No, I don't think so."
"Do you want water? Or something to eat?"
He shook his head again. "I hurt too much to eat," he said, feeling his stomach turn ominously; it would not approve of anything at the moment. "Eat if you're hungry," he told her.
"I can wait."
"Well, let's see about making a little progress, then we'll stop and eat something when we get tired."
Getting Shaun to his feet was even harder than helping him sit up. By the time it was managed, he was doubled over, panting with pain, a bitter taste in his mouth. He was very glad he hadn't eaten anything first.
"I feel like an old man," he complained, leaning against his walking stick, while Annabel packed up what remained of the previous night's fire.
"Shaun, you have a hole all the way through your body," she replied. "What did you think you would feel like?"
He actually laughed—but only a little, since that made him ache even more. "Good point," he conceded. But he still looked at her with something approaching jealously as she hoisted the pack onto her back with the sort of strength and youthful energy he was accustomed to having.
Outside, they took stock of the situation. The morning sun was rising, promising a slightly cool, but pretty spring day.
"I could ride you as far as the mountain," Annabel said, pointing across the rocky valley that cut across their path.
"I think that would be a good idea," Shaun said, already feeling despondent about his chances of walking so far.
Annabel transformed into a horse and lay down beside him. He climbed onto her back and she carefully got up again.
She had to slowly pick her way through the rocks—every time she took a misstep or stumbled, it jarred in Shaun’s shoulder, causing tears to well up in his eyes—but they made a steady pace as the sun slowly rose higher.
On the other side of the valley, the rocks gave way to a more compacted dirt trail. Annabel continued up the path—Shaun leaning forward, nearly lying on her neck, to shift her center of balance forward, making her more sure-footed on the steep path.
At the snowline, she finally stopped. I don't think I can go any farther like this, she told him. The trail had been getting progressively steeper until it was about to the point that it needed to be climbed.
"Understood," Shaun said. He managed to get off her back without any help, and he sat down on a flat rock on the side of the trail. With a flash of white light, Annabel returned to her normal form and sat down beside him.
"Ready for something to eat?" she asked.
"Yes, please."
"How are you feeling now?" she asked, as she slipped off the pack and began rummaging through it.
"Slightly less stiff and achy," he said. He didn't mention that the hole through his shoulder felt like it was burning from the inside out.
Annabel fished out a couple of pemmican cakes and they ate them in silence, looking back over the valley whence they had just come. They could just make out a part of Pallis, hiding behind a mountain peak. It was strange that it looked perfectly normal from that distance—as if nothing bad was happening within its walls.
All too soon, their cakes were gone, and there was nothing left to do but climb.
Shaun soon came to realize that he had not truly known pain and stiffness; what he had felt that morning was but a shadow of what was to come on the mountain. His weakness made every action that much more difficult, until every step up became agony. It got to the point that he had to pause to catch his breath after every single step.
"Why don't we rest?" Annabel said, when they came to a relatively flat spot on the trail. Shaun was all too happy to throw himself onto the ground, panting heavily.
She pulled out the water bottle and handed it to him, but his hand was shaking so badly from exertion, he splashed the water down his chin, and it ran icy cold down the front of his gambeson.
"Damnit!" he cursed. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to fling the bottle down the mountainside in anger.
Annabel reached over and wiped his face and neck dry with a corner of her cloak. "If you need help, just ask," she said, taking the bottle from him and holding it up so he could drink from it.
He sighed when he was finished, then used his sleeve to wipe his mouth. "I'm not used to asking for help," he admitted. "I'm not used to being helpless at all. I feel… so frustrated. I should be helping you, not the other way around. I'm a burden," he added shamefully.
She sat down beside him. "Now you know how I feel when you're doing everything and I'm doing nothing."
"You're a princess," he said, as if that explained everything.
Annabel laughed; it sounded rather harsh. "I am princess of nothing right now—as my grandfather pointed out when I first arrived in Erenrue. I have no kingdom of my own, and now I don't even have any family or allies. Everywhere I go, I am run out again, like some loathsome animal with an unbearable stink.
"I am princess of nothing," she repeated.
Shaun looked at her with pity. "Even if you don't have a kingdom at the moment," he said, "that doesn't change the fact that you are a princess by birth. No one can ever take away your nobility."
"Weren't you the one who said it had to be earned?"
"I think you've earned it."
"I don't." She looked out over the mountains with a hard light in her eyes. "I won't earn it until I have made Nagadii pay for what he's done. I want him to feel what I felt when I held my cousin in my arms and watched as he was turned into a demon—while I listened to him scream in pain. I want Nagadii to know what it's like to see everything he cares about hacked down in front of his eyes. I want him to hurt, as he's made other people hurt.
"I will not be worthy of my throne until I have done that," she said with hard, bitter anger.
Shaun looked at her for a moment. He understood the anger she had festering within her, because he had felt it, too. But he also knew that, like him, she didn't have the luxury of being that angry. As he had been taught over and over again, emotional people—including those who were angry—made mistakes. Life-threatening mistakes.
"No, Your Highness," he gently corrected, "you will not be worthy of your throne until you have erased the pain he's caused. It's easy enough to cause pain, but much harder to alleviate it."
"I can make a start on that by getting rid of him," she said, unshaped from her plans for revenge.
And Shaun couldn't argue with her on that point; everything hinged on getting rid of Nagadii.

Shaun and Annabel’s days began blending into one another as they trekked up and down the monotonous mountains that separated Erenrue from its southeasterly neighbor, Shi-Ha. As with their trip into Erenrue, their food was the same day after day, and while they spent all day on the move, it felt like they were making no real progress because the landscape hardly changed.
As promised, trees were very rare and animals just as hard to come by. Instead, there were rocks, followed by more rocks. If they were high up, there was snow, but when they descended into a valley, there was nothing but naked gray stone as far as the eye could see.
Where the trail was not too steep or narrow, Annabel transformed into a horse and Shaun rode for a time. If not for that, they would have barely made any progress at all. Shaun was so weak from blood loss and constant pain that every step was a struggle for him. He didn't tell Annabel that sometimes—especially late in the day or when they were climbing particularly steep sections—his vision would darken around the edges until he could barely see her in front of him.
She must have suspected that he was having serious problems, though, because on their second day out, she suggested that they use some of the rope in the pack to tether themselves together just in case one of them slipped or she found that groundless place Adam had warned them about. As Shaun could barely support himself—much less the weight of two people—it was pretty clear that she was more worried about him falling down the mountain than she was about stepping off into an abyss.
One day, when they had made a particularly steep descent into a narrow pass between two peaks, they found a lone tree growing out of the side of the mountain. There was a trickling brook running down the center of the pass, too, and Annabel took the time to refill their water bottles and gather up all the dead wood she could find.
While they were resting, a couple of birds flew by and Annabel was able to shoot them both down. That evening, after she made a fire, Shaun instructed her on how to skin and gut the birds and put them on little roasting spits over the fire. But by the time Annabel had cleaned them, though, she was so disgusted by the blood and gore that she had no appetite to eat them. They were so small, there wasn't but a few bites of meat on each of them anyways, but Shaun looked at them hungrily, so Annabel insisted that he eat both himself.
She knew he must have been starving, because he didn't even argue with her.
Every evening she changed out the bandages on his wound, and while it did eventually stop bleeding, it continued to ooze yellowish fluid, as Kara had warned. Annabel tried not to gag as she worked, but it was a struggle. She hoped that she would never have to act as a healer to anyone ever again; that was one chore she was quite willing to outsource.
But it didn't take an experienced eye to realize that Shaun was getting worse instead of better. He rarely talked, and every evening he collapsed on the ground as if he didn't have another ounce of energy in him; often, he dozed off before Annabel could prepare his medicine. When she woke him again, he ate his pemmican cake with ravenous hunger, then fell into a deep and troubled sleep.
He talked a lot while he slept—sometimes mumbling incoherently, sometimes speaking quite clearly—and he often called out to people. Sometimes he startled her when he called her by name—usually with great longing and pathos.
At those times, she would sit beside him and stroke his feverish forehead. She felt a little guilty—knowing that his sleep talking was a product of his pain—but she couldn't help but enjoy hearing him call her "Annabel." When he was awake, he strictly referred to her as "Your Highness" or "Princess" and he could not be induced to speak to her more informally. It was only when his conscious self was turned off that he spoke to her—if unknowingly—in an intimate manner. Annabel felt that, at those moments, she was witnessing the real Shaun—the one that he kept buried beneath his sense of honor and duty.
And, when he was awake, it was that sense of honor and duty that kept him moving, even though Annabel begged him daily to take a day off to rest.
"We don't have enough supplies," he said stubbornly.
"You don't know that. Kara may have given us extra."
"She told us that we would need to make good time to get out of the mountains before our supplies ran out," he countered, "and I know we're not making good time."
"You don't know that," she insisted.
"I do know that," he said, looking a little angry. "I've known one-legged men who move faster than me. We're going to run short of supplies before we get out; we don't need to make that worse by extending the trip by another day. I've gone hungry before, Your Highness; it's not pleasant."
"But if you don't make it out of here alive, what's the point?"
"I can still walk," he said stubbornly.
Annabel sighed. She wondered if she came off as unbelievably pig-headed when she was in one of her stubborn moods. Gods, she hoped not. If so, she owed him a tremendous apology. …Although, perhaps, he preferred to just barter in kind—annoyance for annoyance.
When they were above the snowline—and even some nights when they weren't—they had to burn a fire all night long to keep warm. Annabel worried about their firewood supply more than she worried about their food. She knew they could go hungry for some days and still manage to travel—and hopefully reach the end of the mountains—but she knew Shaun wouldn't make it if she wasn't able to make the pain medicine for him every evening. She could look at his face over the course of the day and watch as the pain medicine from the night before gradually wore off. By evening, he was miserable—although he never said anything; he kept it all in.
Then early one afternoon—barely an hour after they stopped for a midday rest—the sky began to darken.
Annabel looked up, watching as gray clouds began to roll in. The wind was picking up, too, and it blew cold and from the north; it was a winter wind, not the mild spring winds they had grown accustomed to.
"I think a storm is blowing in," she said as she continued to scan the sky.
Shaun was hunched over, his head hanging like an overworked mule. It seemed to take him a moment to gather his strength and slowly raise his head to look up, too.
"We need to find shelter," he said after studying the sky for a moment.
Annabel pointed off to the left. About a quarter of a mile up the slope, there was a jumble of fallen rock near the base of particularly high peak; it looked a likely place to find a little cave or some sort of shelter.
Shaun nodded a little, then put his head back down, ready to trudge on.
Annabel moved away from the path and began to break a new trail. As Adam had warned, the snow was rotten from the spring thaw, and instead of carrying most of their weight, it collapsed under them, so they were left to flounder in it to the tops of their knees.
Annabel tried to clear a path as she went so that Shaun wouldn't have to struggle so much, but it quickly exhausted her and she made less and less headway. Worse, the snow soaked through her pants, then her leather boots, and in addition to being weak, her legs and feet grew numb.
But while they were moving slower, the storm was moving faster; in the blink of an eye, the sky grew dark with heavy gray clouds. Then ice began tinkling onto the snow around them and the wind drove the little shards against their exposed faces.
"We need to get somewhere now," Shaun said more urgently, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.
Annabel redoubled her efforts and made a final push for the rocky outcropping. She found one place where the fallen rocks more or less created a little cave. It wasn't very deep, and the opening was rather wide—which meant it would be hard to heat—but it at least kept the wind and ice off of them.
Annabel and Shaun both collapsed onto the ground and lay there panting with exhaustion. Outside, the wind drove the ice harder, until it looked like the air was filled with tiny knives flying sideways. Then the occasional snowflake could be spotted. Soon, the snow replaced the ice and the afternoon became nearly as dark as night as a proper blizzard descended on the mountain.
Annabel was stirred out of her lethargy by her cold, wet pants and her numb feet that were rapidly beginning to pain her.
"Build the fire in the back corner," Shaun said, wearily pointing to the deepest part of the stone shelter. "Put it against the wall. The stone will help reflect some of the heat back on us."
That sounded like a good idea to Annabel, and she hurried to comply.
While she was waiting for the rocks to heat up so she could make Shaun’s medicine, she pulled off her wet boots and stuck her feet close to the fire. But instead of feeling good, the heat was painful on her frigid skin.
Shaun slowly scooted over to the fire and Annabel helped him get out of his boots, too. She laid both pairs near the fire, to dry out.
Shaun pulled off his mittens. "Could you put these on my feet?" he asked, handing them to her.
A bit perplexed, she pulled his mittens over the ends of his feet, as far as they would go; everything but his heels were covered.
"That's better. Thank you."
Annabel, feeling a bit curious, did the same with her mittens. Her feet instantly felt better. The fur-lined leather mittens were warming, but didn't provide direct heat, as the fire did. They allowed her feet to thaw out more slowly, which lessened the pain. Her hands, which had not gotten to the verge of frostbite, were fine close to the fire.
Even though it was still early afternoon, Annabel went ahead and made Shaun’s pain medicine and doled out their supper rations.
"How much food do we have left?" Shaun asked, taking the pemmican cake from her. "I've lost track of the days."
Annabel knew they didn't have much left; the pack was so light, she barely noticed carrying it anymore.
She pulled out the remaining cloth bundles and counted. "Four days, plus today."
She tried to sound upbeat—as if running out of food signaled the end of the journey, but she had no idea if they were four days away from Shi-Ha or if they were still two weeks away. She didn't know how fast they were supposed to travel, but she secretly agreed with Shaun: he had been moving at a snail's pace. There was no way they could be on time.
Shaun sighed unhappily, but didn't say anything. There was nothing they could do about it, regardless; they just had to wait out the storm, then press on.
The temperature steadily dropped all day, and when the last dim light of day faded away, it grew colder still. Annabel kept the fire fed, although she resented the use of every precious stick of wood. But even with the heat from the little fire, she stayed cold. Shaun curled up on the ground next to her—his head resting on her leg, his body as close to the fire as he could get without burning himself—and he went to sleep.
Annabel had nothing to do but sit and think. She wondered what had happened to her aunt and cousins. Did Sir Elgon get them out of the city or find a place to hide them, or had he died trying to protect them, as Adam had died for her and Shaun? And if Nagadii had them, what would he do with them? Would Rayliss, like Annabel, pose an obstacle to him—an obstacle he would be all too glad to remove? What of Rayliss's younger brothers, who were next in line for the throne after her? Would he spare them, or would he use them as hostages for the good behavior of Erenrue's surviving population?
And what of Shaun’s family? Had Nagadii gotten his revenge on them for their defiance and Shaun and Annabel’s escape? Or was he yet holding them hostage, hoping for another opportunity to use them against Shaun?
Who were the men who were leading Nevara’s divisions? They had not been dressed like the other Shi-Ha mercenaries, but were they really from Nevara? Who could Nagadii have found in Nevara who wanted to make war on Erenrue?
It had been clear which men had been pressed into service against their will; those were the men who surrendered to their Princess. But the generals had not bent their knee. Maybe that meant they weren't from Nevara. Or maybe greed motivated them more than anything—greed for whatever Nagadii had promised them.
If that was the case, then she didn't feel so bad about shooting them.
Eventually, her boredom became drowsiness, so she put a few more sticks of wood on the fire and curled up behind Shaun. He blocked the heat from the fire, but his body warmth made up for it. Besides, she felt that he needed her heat more than she needed his.
The next morning, the blizzard was still howling. Even in their shelter, gusts of wind would sometimes find their way in, causing their fire to gutter—threatening, at times, to blow it out completely.
After breakfast, Annabel girded herself for a walk outside. She hoped to find a large rock or two that she could push or roll in front of the shelter opening to keep out the worst of the drafts and keep in the heat, but all of the rocks were too big for her to move, so she ended up back in the cave colder than ever with nothing to show for it.
The day passed by slowly—agonizingly so. Shaun stayed hunched up against the cold, sitting so close to the fire, he was practically sitting in it. He didn't speak at all unless spoken to, and then only short, single sentences.
Annabel worried that he was much worse off than he was showing her, and she contemplated pressing him to be honest, but then she considered what she would do with the information. She couldn't make him warmer. She couldn't feed him more. She couldn't ease his pain. Even if he was on death's door, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
So, in the end, she didn't say anything to him. That was the only thing she could do for him: allow him to maintain his pride.
Night came early and things were no better. Annabel made Shaun’s medicine and they ate their meager supper in silence, then he lay down to sleep again.
At least he was finally getting the rest that she had begged him to get She just wished he didn't have to be so cold; that surely made it harder for him to heal.
She slept poorly. She was so cold, it made her body tense, which, in turn, made her ache after a while. And every so often—probably not less than once an hour—she had to put more wood on the fire. The drafts that blew through the shelter seemed to make the fire burn faster—or maybe it just seemed that way because the woodpile was disappearing at such a frightful rate.
Annabel reckoned it was sometime in the wee morning hours when she put the last stick of wood on the fire. It was as she had feared: the wood hadn't lasted as long as the food. She had been worrying about not being able to make Shaun’s medicine, but with the blizzard still raging, she had an even more pressing concern: freezing to death.
She went ahead and made up some more of Shaun’s medicine; he would at least have one more dose before having to go without. Then she sat there, despondently, and watched as the fire died down to coals and, eventually, even those began to fade out to gray and black.
When there was no more heat coming from the pile of ash and charred wood, she swept it away with her mittened hand, then scooted over to the spot where the fire had been. She could feel the heat in the rock—both under her and behind her—seeping into her clothes, and while it wasn't as warm as the fire, it kept her from shivering.
She drew Shaun to her; he moaned in his sleep, but didn't wake. She pulled him into her lap and carefully tucked his cloak around him. His face was pale with bright spots of pink on his cheeks, so she took off her mitten for a moment and touched his forehead; he was feverish—more so than usual.
"We're a mess," she whispered to him. They had no heat, almost nothing left to eat, no medicine to treat Shaun’s wound or his new fever, and it was storming so badly they couldn't leave. They were also out of family members and allies.
They had reached the end of their rope; there was nothing below them but a yawning chasm.
Annabel wrapped her cloak around Shaun, sheltering them both from the drafts, holding in what little heat their drained bodies could produce.
She began to quietly sing the song that Shaun had sung for them the night before the battle. She couldn't remember all the words, but she did remember one part.
"But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not,
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call,
Good night and joy be with you all."
She bowed her head, tucking it down close to Shaun’s, mingling their breath so that it helped keep their faces warm.
She had faced death before when she had been adrift on the sea, so the thought of dying now didn't really bother her. In fact, she was glad that this time she had Shaun with her. Even if he was unconscious, she still wouldn't die alone—and neither would he.
No one would ever know what happened to them. Nagadii's demons were going to conquer the world and kill everyone who remained. Then, when there was nothing left, the gods would finally step in and wipe everything out and start fresh.
How many years in the future would it be, Annabel wondered, before the new race of people—perhaps recreated Nevreks—came into the mountains and found her and Shaun’s frozen bodies, still locked in a final, desperate embrace? Would they look upon their remains with the same curiosity that she had when she studied the long-dead ancients and their wonderful machines? Would they ever know that she and Shaun had died trying to save the old world? Or would their purpose for being in that cold, forbidding place forever remain a mystery?
Somewhere in her thoughts of the future, her present faded into black.

Shaun slowly awoke to find himself in a strange place. He was lying in a huge bed in a room that looked as if it had been hewn out of rock deep inside a mountain. A fat pillar candle sat on the table beside the bed. It dimly illuminated the ceiling, which sparkled with water frozen in patches across it.
Although his face was cold—the room had no source of heat—he was quite warm under layers of blankets—the topmost of which appeared to be made from two or three giant wolf pelts.
He spent several minutes trying to figure out if he was dreaming or not. His shoulder was aching, but that didn't mean anything; he often dreamed that he was in pain. And the surreal nature of the place was certainly consistent with his frequent weird dreams.
However, he finally decided that he wasn't dreaming simply because he questioned whether he was dreaming or not. When he was dreaming, he was never aware that he was doing so.
Once that was settled, he immediately turned to the next problem: he was alone.
"Princess?" he called out in a loud whisper. But the room was empty save him and the few pieces of furniture.
He pushed the covers aside and got up. He was woozy and he had to put his hand against the wall to steady himself. The stone was icy cold beneath his palm.
He lurched to the bedroom door and pulled it open—nearly running headlong into a massive white tiger on the other side.
Shaun staggered back, stumbled, then fell to the floor.
The tiger stood up on its hind legs, drawing itself up to its full height. Shaun—too terrified to even breathe—tried to scoot back.
"Little man-cub, what are you doing out of bed?" the tiger asked.
Shaun couldn't reply; he was too shocked to speak.
"You nearly died from exposure. And I smell blood on you; I know you are wounded. You should not even be out in the mountains in your condition."
The tiger scooped Shaun up with one large paw and deposited him back on the bed. He probably meant to be gentle, but Shaun was still rather roughly handled.
"Why are you traveling through our mountains, anyways? Few humans dare to venture here."
It took Shaun a few tries before he found his voice again. "Princess Annabel… where is she?" he asked.
"Who?"
"The girl who was with me. Where is she?"
"I don't know anything about a girl. You were the only one I was given to care for."
Shaun tumbled out of bed, barely able to stay on his feet. "She was with me when I went to sleep! I was lying right next to her. You couldn't have missed her!" he insisted, his voice rising in panic.
He tried to make it to the door on his weak, wobbly legs. He managed to grab the doorknob, but he fell before he could get the door open.
"What are you doing?" the tiger asked in alarm, looking at him as someone might look at a person who was having a fit of madness.
"We have to find her. We have to!" Shaun began to cry, his fever and brush with hypothermia making him completely irrational.
"Alright, alright," the tiger said, trying to placate him. "Let me go look for her; maybe someone else has her."
"We have to find her. I can't… I can't…."
"Shh," the tiger said, picking him up and placing him on the bed again. "I'll go look for her," he promised.
He looked down at Shaun with something close to compassion. "Is she your mate?" he asked quietly.
Shaun wasn't sure how to answer that. "Sort of," he replied.
The big tiger nodded knowingly, then headed out of the room.
Shaun rocked back and forth, trying to hold in his panic; tears ran freely down his face. What had happened to Annabel? Had she gone out alone to try to find food or wood, only to get lost in the blizzard? Or had the tigers simply left her behind because she had already frozen to death?
If only he had stayed awake and made sure she didn't attempt any heroics on his behalf! What if she had died trying to find supplies for them? Or, worse—what if she had sacrificed herself to keep him warm?
If she had died because of his weakness—his inability to take care of her—he would never forgive himself.
Somewhere in the middle of speculating and beating himself up over Annabel’s fate, the tiger returned.
"She's here," he told Shaun. "She's just in a different room."
Shaun hurried to get out of the bed. "Take me to her. Please."
"I will if you'll be quiet; you're making yourself worse, you know."
Shaun managed to wait until the tiger came to pick him up. He hoisted Shaun up, carrying him upright in the crook of his arm as if he was a small child.
The hallway outside the bedroom was also carved out of stone and lit with candles. There were a number of doors set along either side of the hallway. The tiger opened one and took Shaun inside.
Inside, there was a bedroom almost exactly like the one they had left—only this one had another tiger in it, sitting beside the bed, and a blonde head lying on the pillow, barely visible for all the blankets heaped on top.
"Princess!" Shaun said with relief.
"She is still asleep," the other tiger said. It had a voice, which was softer and kinder; Shaun thought it must be female.
As soon as the male tiger put him down beside the bed, Shaun reached out to touch Annabel’s face, just to reassure himself that she was alive.
Her face was cool, but it had color and she was clearly breathing.
Shaun pulled back the covers and crawled into bed beside her. He gently kissed her forehead, a few tears leaking out of his eyes in relief.
"She is his mate," he heard the male tiger whisper to the other one.
As Shaun began to drift off to sleep, he didn't bother to correct him. Besides, it seemed as apt a description of their relationship as any.

Shaun’s much-needed sleep was rudely interrupted sometime later.
"Did you think I wouldn't find out, Anne-Marie!" someone was roaring.
Shaun’s eyes flew open. There were two tigers standing next to the bed; one was noticeably larger than the other.
"Please, Tarsus…" the female tiger begged.
"You're harboring murderers!"
"Lord Long Fang told me to take care of them; that's what I'm doing. It's not for me to know any more than that," she said firmly.
Shaun glanced at Annabel and found her awake and staring wide-eyed at the feuding tigers; she had apparently not seen them before.
"Long Fang is a traitor to his people," Tarsus spit out.
Anne-Marie gasped. "That's treachery, Tarsus."
"So be it."
He reached for Shaun with a massive paw. Shaun automatically went for his sword, but his entire sword belt was missing. He was unable to stop the large tiger from grabbing him by the shirt and jerking him roughly out of the bed like a bundle of washing.
"Shaun!" Annabel cried out, reaching for him. A moment later, though, another tiger stalked into the room and jerked Annabel out of the bed, causing her to scream.
"Please, Tarsus, they're just cubs," Anne-Marie pleaded, following him with her paws held out, begging for their return.
"They are murderers and they are going to pay for it." He glared at her. "You are either with me, or you're against me."
Anne-Marie pulled back a little, looking afraid. "I follow our leader," she said with a trembling voice.
"I will remember which side you chose when I am leader," he growled, before giving her a hard shove. She stumbled back and fell into the table beside the bed, snuffing out the candle, leaving the room dark but for the dim light from the hallway.
"How dare you touch my mate!" roared another tiger as he came onto the scene. Shaun wasn't sure—they all looked alike to him—but he thought that it was the tiger who had been taking care of him earlier.
"Get out of my way, Growder," Tarsus said, swaggering towards him. To his credit, Growder didn't flinch, blocking the doorway with his body.
"Not until you apologize to my mate and put those cubs back," Growder commanded. "Lord Long Fang gave them to us to care for, and we will do as he says until he tells us otherwise."
"I'm sorry," Tarsus said. "…Sorry that you picked a feeble old leader to follow."
He made a whistling-type noise. Suddenly three more tigers ran in from the hallway, shoving Growder into the room.
"Lock them both in here," Tarsus said. "We don't want them whining to Long Fang."
The next thing Shaun knew, he was on his back and being dragged briskly down the hallway by a foot.
"Princess?" he called out, trying to look behind him. Everything was upside down, but he saw a flash of blonde hair; it looked as if she was being carried under the other tiger's arm.
"Shaun, where are we?" she replied. "What's going on?"
"I don't know."
"You will soon know," Tarsus growled, a menacing smile on his face.
They were taken through a series of hallways until they came out on a balcony overlooking a large cavern full of more tiger-people—two hundred or more.
Tarsus dragged Shaun down the stairs. He cried out when his wounded shoulder jolted against the first stair, shooting a stabbing pain through his upper back and tingling down to his elbow. He strained to sit up enough to keep it from hitting every stair on the way down.
Tarsus pulled him into the center of the room, where there was a large clear area, and dropped his leg. A moment later, Annabel was unceremoniously dumped beside him.
"Shaun, are you alright?" she whispered, trying to help him sit up.
"Not really," he said through gritted teeth, cradling his arm.
"What's going on?"
"I don't know. The other tigers were kind; they were taking care of us."
"Sir Elgon told me that he had been saved by some tigers after he had gotten wounded in an ambush in the mountains. Why are some of them good and these are not?"
Shaun looked around as more and more tigers filed into the room. Their voices were dark and menacing; the room sounded like a hive of angry bees.
"I think we might be in the middle of some sort of power struggle," he whispered.
"What are we going to do?" she whispered, her eyes wide with fear.
"I don't know. My sword is gone."
"Mine, too. And my bow."
Shaun took a quick look around, but no one seemed to be watching them; all eyes were on Tarsus. He slid his hand down to his boot, but found that his knife was missing, too.
"I've got nothing," he told Annabel.
Tarsus held up his hands and, after a minute, the assembly quieted down. "Friends, you have no doubt heard why I have called this assembly," he announced.
"We have before us a simple case of murder. These two humans," he pointed a sharp claw at Shaun and Annabel, "were caught trespassing in our hunting range… with this!"
He held up a cloak so everyone could see the lining.
Shaun’s eyes widened. He knew immediately it was his cloak, because it was made of white wool; Annabel’s—which he had followed day after day as he climbed the trail behind her—was blue.
He had never paid any attention to the cloak—being more concerned with mustering the energy to continue moving; he had never noticed that the inside was lined with white tiger fur.
The assembly began to boo and hiss and a few even called out for death.
"Why don't we pay them back, hide for hide?" Tarsus asked.
There was a moment's pause when it seemed every breath in the place was held—Shaun and Annabel in fear, everyone else's in anticipation.
"Strip them and string them up!" Tarsus declared.
The assembly cheered as half-a-dozen of Tarsus's henchmen bore down on Shaun and Annabel. They tried to struggle, but they were no match for the strength of the big cats, and Annabel was dragged off to a spot about twenty feet away. Shaun was left surrounded by three cats.
"Princess!" Shaun called out, trying to see around the tigers.
The tigers around him roughly tore off the sling and canvas strip that had been holding his left arm in place, causing him to grunt in pain.
A moment later, Annabel began to shriek and, through a momentary gap between two of the tigers, he caught a glimpse of another tiger ripping the front of Annabel’s gambeson open, sending buttons flying through the air.
"Leave her alone!" Shaun shouted, but he was only met with a shove in the back that nearly sent him face-first onto the floor.
The tiger in front of him grabbed his maile shirt by the shoulders and jerked it off him. He screamed and fell to his knees as a red-hot, searing pain flashed down the left side of his body.
But the tigers were indifferent to his suffering and he was grabbed by the arms and jerked back up to his feet.
He must have blacked out from the pain, because when his vision began to fade back in, his gambeson was gone and he was being pushed to Tarsus.
They stopped and tied a rope around his hands. Another shriek snapped Shaun’s attention to the left. Annabel had also been stripped out of her gambeson and she was wearing nothing but a cloth band around her chest. Her hands were also tied together and the end the rope had been thrown up over the chandelier that hung in the middle of the assembly hall. A tiger was holding the end of the rope, pulling on it until the tips of Annabel’s toes were barely touching the floor.
Shaun began to tremble with fear as they tossed the end of his rope over the chandelier. Then, with a hard jerk, he was pulled off his feet. His scream echoed around the cavernous room, drowning out the gleeful shouts.
They were going to pull his arm off. It was barely attached anyways—at least that's what it felt like—and they were going to rip it off completely.
He wished they would just get on with it, because surely it couldn't hurt any more, and there was a small chance that it would hurt less.
"Please," Annabel begged, "someone gave that cloak to us; we don't know where it came from."
"A likely story," Tarsus mocked. The audience booed and hissed again.
"We have never harmed any of your people," Annabel continued to plead. "We had never even heard of your people before we came to Erenrue a few weeks ago. We are from Nevara, far to the west."
"Nonetheless, you have benefited from this murder. That makes you just as guilty as the person or persons who committed it," Tarsus replied.
He slowly stalked around Annabel.
"It's mine!" Shaun shouted, as he watched Tarsus ready himself for an attack. "It's mine. I was wearing it. She had nothing to do with it. Let her go. Please!"
"She is your mate," Tarsus said, looking at Annabel with hungry eyes. "Therefore, there is no difference between you both; what you do, she does also."
"No, please, for the love of the gods, let her go! I will bear whatever punishment you want to inflict—kill me, if that's what you want. But, please, don't harm her."
"Justice demands equal punishment," Tarsus proclaimed. Then, before Shaun could beg again, he swiped his claws across Annabel’s back, shredding the cloth band and leaving deep, red cuts from her shoulder to her waist.
She screamed loudly, but her cry was drowned out by the roar of approval from the crowd.
Tarsus dropped to all fours and moved over to Shaun with all the fluid grace of a snake slithering through the grass. And when he stood up and looked at Shaun with a cruel smile, that's exactly what he reminded Shaun of: a snake preparing to strike.
"It looks like someone has already used you as a pincushion," Tarsus chuckled. Shaun’s chest was covered in old, dried blood, but fresh blood was steadily running down his chest and back from the re-opened wound.
Tarsus held out a single claw, and Shaun watched in horror as he slowly moved his big claw towards the wound. Ever so slowly, he poked his claw into the hole made by the arrow, then steadily pushed it in.
Shaun screamed until his throat was raw and he was left coughing and gasping for breath. He must have lost consciousness again, because the next thing he knew, water was being splashed on his face and Tarsus was standing back a few paces, smiling cruelly.
He could hear Annabel crying and calling his name, but her voice seemed very far away. His vision was dark around the edges and he couldn't see or hear much beyond Tarsus. He hoped that he would pass out again and stay out.
But he wasn't that lucky. Instead, Tarsus stepped up again and put his paw against the left side of Link's face. In an ironic twist, his paw actually felt soft.
Then he flexed his claws and slashed Shaun’s face open from the corner of his left eye to his throat.
Shaun cried out hoarsely, then began coughing and choking again.
Tarsus turned back to the cheering crowd. "I still see flesh on their bones, don't you?"
The crowd roared.
"Let's take a little more, shall we?"
Annabel’s crying became louder; Shaun could just make her out squirming at the end of her rope, trying desperately to get away. But a tiger in front held her still while another positioned himself behind her, ready to make another swipe at her back.
Tarsus put his paw against the other side of Shaun’s face.
Shaun steeled himself for the next slice, but before Tarsus could mark him again, a single roar echoed through the cavern, silencing the spectators and causing them to cow down as the noise vibrated painfully on everyone's eardrums.
A moment later, a tiger stalked into the room. Shaun could see that his black stripes had faded slightly into gray. Behind him came two anxious-looking tigers; Shaun thought they might be Growder and Anne-Marie.
"What is the meaning of this?" the older tiger demanded, his powerful voice clearly angry. As he stalked through the crowd, tigers cowered before him until their bellies were on the ground. A few slunk out of the room once he had passed them by—clearly too scared to stay.
"Do you know who these humans are?" the older tiger asked.
"Yes, murderers," Tarsus replied, holding up Shaun’s cloak.
The older tiger stood up on his hind legs. "Wrong. They are the hero who has been foretold," he said, pointing at Shaun, "and the Queen of Nevara," he pointed to Annabel. "I know you think you will be the next leader of this streak, but is this really the foreign policy you want to set? To attack the sovereign of the largest nation in the world and to cut up a boy favored by the gods themselves?"
"They have done murder!" Tarsus said, shaking the cloak in the other tiger's face.
The leader—presumably he was Lord Long Fang—jerked the cloak away from Tarsus. "Then they must stand trial for it. Since when have we ever punished someone who has not been convicted of a crime?"
"The crime is right under your nose, old one," Tarsus said with contempt. "Perhaps you are beginning to lose your eyesight."
"That is what you think," the Long Fang replied, casually tossing the cloak aside. "You think I haven't seen you whispering in ears and gathering the young males to your cause, but I can see farther than you can imagine. The stars not only tell me the future, but they allow me to see into the hearts of others. And I do not like the blackness I see in yours."
Tarsus lowered himself to the ground—not in fear, but in preparation for an attack. His tail twitched angrily back and forth.
Long Fang got into the same crouch and the two of them began to slowly circle one another, waiting for one to get distracted or flinch.
A few more tigers took the opportunity to run out of the room, but most stayed, watching the fight anxiously.
The two tigers who followed Long Fang into the room managed to get around the crowd and they came to Shaun and Annabel.
Annabel began to struggle, pulling against the rope and crying again, but the tiger who sat down beside her whispered reassurances. "Shh, it's me," Anne-Marie said. "I won't hurt you."
"Princess, it's alright," Shaun whispered, his voice nearly gone from all the screaming. "These are the ones I told you about. They were taking care of us."
"I fear you have been the catalyst for a coup that's been coming for some time," Growder whispered, sitting beside Shaun. "Tarsus has been gathering power for a while with the intention of dethroning Lord Long Fang."
"Can you get us down?" Shaun begged. His left arm was tingling all over with little pricks of pain, but, overall, it was steadily growing number—which meant it was getting little or no blood circulation. Given a little time to think about it, he had changed his mind about losing his arm; he definitely did want to keep it.
"I'm sorry, little man-cub; I cannot," Growder apologized. "We are forbidden to interfere in any way with a challenge for succession. Taking you down might be viewed as a distraction. We are only here to make sure that no one for the other side takes advantage of the distraction to de-hide you a few more times."
"And if Tarsus wins, we will put you out of your misery before he can make you suffer anymore," Anne-Marie whispered.
"Thank you… I think," Shaun replied.
"It will be quick and painless, little man-cub," Growder promised.
They were interrupted by a sudden cry from the combatants, followed by a gasp from the crowd. Tarsus sprang onto Long Fang, and the two rolled around on the floor, tufts of white fur floating through the air as they bit and scratched and kicked each other.
After a minute, they separated, but it wasn't clear—at least to Shaun—which one was winning; they both got into their crouches and stared at one another, making wild noises in the back of their throats that sounded like a child screaming.
Then Tarsus flicked an ear and Long Fang pounced and they proceeded to roll around on the floor in an indistinguishable mass for several more minutes.
When they separated again, they were both looking worse for wear. Tarsus had a bloody, half-chewed ear. Long Fang's fur was standing up in all directions and there were a few obvious bald spots.
And so they continued—lunging together, fighting viciously, then taking a short break to stare at one another and growl.
Shaun began to feel light-headed and his vision started to fade in and out. By the time the fight was over with, he couldn't see more than a foot or two in front of him. He had no idea who had won and he didn't much care. He only hoped that if Tarsus had won, Anne-Marie and Growder would keep their promise to finish him and Annabel both before Tarsus could devise any new tortures.
"Release them!" a voice shouted.
Suddenly the pressure on Shaun’s arms was released. But he wasn't able to stand on his feet, and he fell forward, into the strong arms of a large tiger, before everything went completely black.

Annabel stood in the bedroom, one hand clutching what remained of her breast band to her chest, her other hand over her mouth as she sobbed. Anne-Marie and Growder were trying to save Shaun’s life.
"Here, hold this on his wound—hold it tight," Anne-Marie instructed. "We have to stop the bleeding."
Shaun was lying in the bed on his right side. Growder had bandages pressed to Shaun’s wound, front and back, and was holding them tightly, like a vice. But even so, Annabel could see blood beginning to seep through them.
Shaun’s face was as white as the sheets. Annabel had never seen anyone so white before.
"You killed him," Annabel said, sobbing harder. "You killed him."
"He's still alive," Anne-Marie said anxiously, as she hurried to mix some medicine.
"He's dead. You killed him." Annabel insisted.
What was she going to do without him? How would she ever manage to find the Shadow Sword and defeat all the demons by herself? Even if he was left permanently crippled—even if she had to do everything herself—she still needed him, if only so she didn't have to do everything alone.
She couldn't go back to being alone. She had grown up surrounded by people day and night, but was emotionally isolated. It wasn't until she had met Shaun that she knew what it was like to have a friend and confidant—someone who supported her; someone to be her sounding board and give her advice; someone to share her burdens.
She couldn't go back to being alone.
No one said anything for a half-hour or so—except for Anne-Marie, who gave Growder the occasional instruction.
After a time, Long Fang came into the room, his face grave. He had bandages over a few of his wounds, and his hair was still ruffled in places, but he looked in far better shape than either Annabel or Shaun.
"How is he?" Long Fang asked.
Anne-Marie—bent over the bed, trying to apply some sort of medicine—stood up with a weary sigh. "This is beyond my skill to heal," she admitted sorrowfully. "I don't know much about humans, but I do know he's lost a lot of blood—too much. I don't know what else to do."
Annabel began to wail.
Long Fang looked at her. "Do you know anyone who could heal him?"
Annabel shook her head without thinking.
"No one?" Long Fang pressed.
It took her a couple of minutes to regain control of herself and stop sobbing. "Um… Kara helped him before—when he was first wounded," she said with a sniff. "But she's in Erenrue; that's more than a week away."
Long Fang began to think aloud. "We can travel much faster than a human. If I sent a runner, he might be able to get there in three days. He'd need a day to rest and eat, then he could ride her back in three days."
"If he survives it that long, a healer won't be necessary," Anne-Marie said. "He needs help today."
Suddenly, Annabel had a flash of inspiration. "Wait… I can bring Kara here!"
She reached out in her mind. Kara? she asked hesitantly. What if the old woman had not survived the invasion?
Yes, Your Highness?
Annabel breathed a sigh of relief.
Shaun is dying and we need your help.
What's wrong with him? Kara asked sharply, suddenly all business.
He's lost too much blood. He's as white as snow.
Did he reopen his wound?
Yes. …Well, actually, it got reopened for him.
What do you mean?
I don't have time to explain. I can teleport you here, but you won't have any way to get back to Erenrue… unless you are bonded with someone there?
Not anymore. But I think I would prefer to be away from here anyways. Things are quite bad. I can always call in my favor with the Akira Tribe and live with them until Erenrue is freed, she added, almost as an afterthought.
Annabel was confused—why had Kara not mentioned that people lived in the mountains?—then she began to wonder….
Who is the Akira Tribe? Annabel asked.
The tigers, Kara said, as if Annabel should know that. Then she added, I told you about them, didn't I?
No, you didn't.
Oh, gracious, I meant to tell you! Kara said, sounding utterly appalled. I don't know where they live, but they have a tendency to find you when you need them most. I gave you my cloak so that you could call in my favor, if you needed it.
Annabel was silent for a moment as what Kara said sunk in. …A cloak? One lined with tiger fur?
Yes.
…That's the reason why Shaun is dying, Annabel said, feeling numb from sheer disbelief. They were going to kill us both for it because they thought we murdered one of them.
Oh, no! No!
Annabel didn't reply. She couldn't believe that Shaun was going to die because an old woman forgot to tell them the purpose of a cloak.
Call me there at once, Kara said.
Annabel willed for Kara to be teleported to her side. A moment later, in a flash of white light, the hunch-backed old woman appeared, carrying a large bag of what looked like medical supplies.
"What's this?" Kara demanded. "Who tried to kill Shaun and Princess Annabel over my cloak?"
"The cloak is yours?" Long Fang asked, looking at her in surprise.
"Yes. That hide was given to me by Lord Rufus the Third—or, rather, it was given to me after he died."
Long Fang's eyes widened until they looked like they were going to pop out of his head.
"You are that Kara?"
"Yes, I am."
"But… that was so long ago! Lord Rufus was my grandfather."
"Yes, and I'm Nevrek; we live much longer than normal humans."
Long Fang continued to look at her in shock, then he bowed to her. "Forgive me."
"I think it's Shaun and Princess Annabel’s forgiveness you need to get," she said tartly." Although I have committed my own sin against them. I only hope that I can undo the damage."
She quickly took Anne-Marie's place and began to work at a feverish pace. She put Growder to fetching supplies and heating water, while Anne-Marie turned to Annabel’s wounds.
"I need to put medicine on your cuts or they will fester and you'll get a terrible fever," Anne-Marie warned.
Numbly, Annabel lay down on the opposite side of the bed. She found she couldn't even look at Shaun; he looked so bad, it made her heart ache.
Anne-Marie gently blotted the dried blood off Annabel’s back, then she began putting some sort of thick salve over the cuts. It made the cuts sting even worse at first, but once the salve sealed them off from the air, most of the pain actually went away.
Anne-Marie was just finishing when Long Fang walked back into the room; Annabel hadn't even noticed that he had slipped out.
"How is he?" he asked anxiously.
Kara continued to work for a couple of minutes, then she sighed, stepping away. Tears were in her eyes. "He's lost too much blood," she said quietly, although her voice seemed to ring through the silent room. "There's nothing more I can do."
Annabel buried her face in the pillow and began wailing again.
"He can't die," Long Fang insisted, his voice carrying over Annabel’s loud crying. "I have foreseen in the stars that he will defeat the evil now stalking through the world."
"Stars show destinies, not the actual future. Destinies can always be circumvented."
"It was Tarsus who did this," Anne-Marie said. "He is the one who tortured these cubs in order to incite everyone to turn against Lord Long Fang. Perhaps it was he who went against his destiny."
"That's possible," Kara said. "If he was trying to go against his destiny and seize power that he was never meant to have, it can have negative consequences on other people—even to the point that it interferes with their destinies."
She shook her head. "But that's neither here nor there. Nothing short of magic will save him now, and I know no one with the skills necessary."
"Magic?" Long Fang said, looking thoughtful.
"Do you have someone who can perform magic?" Kara asked hopefully.
"No, but there's a Great Fairy who lives in a cave on a nearby peak."
Kara stood up straighter. "That would work! A fairy's magic will cure anything this side of death."
Annabel jerked up. "There is hope?"
Long Fang shook his head a little. "Not much. There was an avalanche sometime back that caused the mouth of the cave to be covered up. My people can no longer get inside, but you are small; perhaps you could find a way in or move enough stone to get in. It's worth trying, at any rate."
"But there are monsters on that trail now," Growder warned. "It will not be easy to even get to the cave, and then there may be no way in, and it will all be for naught."
"I'll take the chance," Annabel said without hesitation. She jumped to her feet. "I need something to wear and my weapons."
"We have nothing here for humans to wear," Long Fang said, "but we can return your things to you."
Growder and Anne-Marie hurried out of the room and returned a few minutes later carrying Annabel’s gambeson and all of her and Shaun’s weapons.
She put on her gambeson, but found all of the buttons were ripped off; she had no way to keep it closed. "Do you have pins of any kind?" Annabel asked.
Anne-Marie fetched a few long pins and Annabel managed to pin the front of the gambeson closed. She slipped on Shaun’s maile shirt, as a layer of protection, then belted her sword around her waist and fastened her cloak around her shoulders.
When she tried to strap her quiver on, though, she found that it put too much pressure and caused too much rubbing on her sore back—a soreness that was bound to increase as the canvas gambeson rubbed the salve off and exposed her cuts again.
She thought about the problem for a moment, then tried something novel: she hung her quiver from her belt. Crossbowmen kept their bolts in a quiver on their waist, but archers typically didn't because the longer quiver got in the way of running. But Annabel was more concerned with pain slowing her down than the quiver.
Lastly, she grabbed Shaun’s knife—the one he had taken from the Abbot's house—and slid it into the top of her boot.
"Growder, carry her to the cave," Long Fang commanded. "Do anything and everything you can to help."
"Yes, m'lord."
Kara looked at Annabel. "Hurry, Your Highness. He's not long for the world, and once he crosses to the other side, no amount of fairy magic will bring him back."
Annabel nodded.
Growder hurried through the elaborate system of hallways that the tigers had carved into the mountain over generations; Annabel had to jog to keep up with him.
Finally, he stopped in front of a door. He looked down at her seriously. "Do you wish to go out? It is very dangerous."
"I'm going," Annabel said firmly. It never occurred to her to do anything less.
He nodded a bit. "I would do the same for my mate," he said. Then he opened the door.
Outside, the air was bitterly cold and the sky, above the multitude of snow-covered peaks, was covered in leaden clouds, but at least it wasn't snowing. There was a snow-covered trail ahead of them and to the right and left sudden drop-offs that seemed to go down into nothing. Near the door the trail was wide, but it narrowed farther up, where it went up and around the side of a peak.
Growder shut the door behind them carefully, then dropped to all fours. "Get on my back," he told Annabel. "But mind the fur; I'm not a horse that you can pull on."
Annabel climbed onto his back and got herself situated. She went ahead and nocked an arrow against her bow, holding it in place with her left hand, and used her right to steady herself against Growder.
"I'm ready," she said.
Growder took off with a great leap, then went running up the trail. Annabel quickly came to appreciate the speed at which he moved over the snow. He was almost as fast as a horse, but his wide paws kept him from sinking too deeply in the fresh, soft snow that lay atop the deeper, but rotting old snow underneath.
As the trail narrowed and grew steeper, Growder barely slowed down. He clearly knew the trail well, but more than that, he had claws that he could use to keep traction on the slippery, narrow path.
They went around a curve and suddenly Growder skidded to a stop. Annabel had to grab his fur to keep from being thrown headfirst off his back.
"There's one of the monsters," Growder said.
Barely thirty feet ahead, there was a black bat with red eyes hovering over the trail. As soon as it saw them, it began flying towards them.
Annabel lifted her bow and shot; she struck it in the body and it fell to the snow.
"Good," Growder said. "Be ready; there are more ahead."
Annabel readied another arrow and he took off, running up the trail.
The trail twisted and turned as it wound its way up the mountain—so much so, they could never see very far ahead. They would just round a corner and suddenly there would be a bat or two right in front of them. Luckily, Annabel was a fast shot, and she was able to bring them down so quickly, Growder barely had to slow down.
And then, around one corner, they ran into an entire flock. For a moment, everyone was stunned—Annabel, Growder, and the bats. Then Growder snarled, "Down!" and he leapt forward.
Annabel barely managed to duck under the flock of bats, as Growder dashed under them. She could hear them clicking and flapping as they pursued them.
Annabel drew her sword. "Turn around and let's face them—otherwise, they'll be attacking us from behind."
Growder made another couple of powerful leaps forward, then whirled around to face the oncoming bats.
Annabel gripped tightly with her knees. "Now!" she called out, and Growder bounded forward, right towards the bats.
Annabel swung her sword left and right, causing the bats to shriek as they were struck down. There were so many of them, she had to use her bow like a cudgel and strike a few out of the air with it.
Suddenly, there was a black fuzzy body in her face and tiny claws scratched down her right cheek. She jerked back and swatted the bat away. She wasn't sure if it had actually attacked her, or if it was just tumbling out of the air and caught her on the way down.
For a moment, she froze—the horrible memory of what happened to her cousin, Nicoli, flashing before her eyes. But more bats swarmed in and she immediately resumed cutting and stabbing and beating.
A minute after it began, all of the bats were down and Annabel was left panting from exertion and adrenaline.
"Are you alright?" Growder asked, trying to look behind him.
Annabel put her sword away and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. There was a little bit of blood there, but not much. It was only a small scratch.
"I'm fine," she said. It did seem that she was immune to the demons' dark magic, even if they could physically harm her.
"Then let's go on," Growder said.
They continued up the winding mountain trail, but the remaining bats were alone or in pairs and Annabel was able to easily bring them down.
Then they went around one last corner and there, in front of a pile of fallen stone, lay a wolf.
As soon as it saw Growder and Annabel, it slowly rose to its feet, growling and bristling.
"Get off my back," Growder told Annabel in a low voice. "This one is mine."
"But, if it hurts you, you will turn into a demon," Annabel warned.
"I am not human; those rules don't apply to me. Besides, this wolf is no demon. He's just trying to poach in our hunting range and we don't allow that."
Annabel slid off Growder's back and retreated a safe distance. She wasn't sure if she should have her bow or her sword ready; both seemed inadequate to deal with the huge wolf. It was easily as large as the one that attacked her and Shaun on the plain. It was certainly as large as Growder.
The wolf growled louder and Growder got into a crouch—his tail twitching angrily—and he began to growl and make wild noises in the back of his throat.
Annabel immediately saw a problem: the wolf had the height advantage. The wolf must have realized that, too, because it suddenly launched itself down on Growder, and the two of them rolled around in the snow, savagely snapping at each other.
Annabel had to retreat a little farther down the trail to stay out of the way. She watched the fight anxiously as they rolled close to the edge of the cliff. She wanted to warn Growder, but she was afraid if she shouted at him, it would distract him.
She slung her bow across her back and drew her sword, resolved to run in and stab the wolf if it looked like he was going to get the better of Growder. And, at one point, she thought she was going to have to do so; Growder rolled onto his back and the wolf got on top of him.
But it was all a clever ploy on Growder's part. His hind legs were tucked underneath the wolf and, with the power of a heavy spring, he kicked up and sent the wolf flying over his head and into the abyss beyond.
Growder got to his hind feet and roared triumphantly. "And don't come back!" he shouted into the dark chasm.
He finally turned to Annabel. "The fairy's cave is there," he said, pointing to the pile of fallen stone.
Annabel scrambled up the steep trail. She looked all around the rock—even climbed up to the top of the pile—but she could see no opening.
"It's closed off!" she said in a panic. Would she be able to shift enough rock to get in? Maybe if Growder helped….
He interrupted her thoughts. "Here is a place. Can you get in it?"
She looked down and saw him sniffing around one corner at the base. She half-climbed and half-slid down the pile and got down on her hands and knees and checked out the hole. It was small and she couldn't see in it more than a foot or two, but she could feel warmer air coming from it—air that smelled sweet, like flowers.
"I think I can get in," Annabel said, even as she repressed a shudder. "But you might need to give me a bit of a push."
"Just say when," he said.
"Do you think I will need a weapon?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No; there is nothing in there but the Great Fairy.
Annabel took off her bow, quiver, and sword belt, then got down on her belly and began crawling into the tunnel using her elbows.
Oh, gods, I hate this. Oh, gods, I hate this. Oh, gods, I hate this, she said silently to herself over and over again. She had no Shaun to help her through her claustrophobic spell—and she would never have Shaun’s help again if she didn't go through with it, which is the only reason why she kept on going.
"Give me a push," she shouted back to Growder once she felt she was mostly in the little tunnel. Using her elbows to pull herself along was quite tiring.
She felt his large paw against the bottom of her feet and a second later, she was sliding across the stone.
The fresh, spring-like air grew more intense, and then, suddenly, her head popped out of the little hole and she looked around.
She was inside a large cave. There was a faint light glowing and swirling in the middle of the room, and it shifted color from yellow to green to blue, then back to yellow.
Annabel pushed herself out of the tunnel and got to her feet. She could then see that there was a shallow pool in the middle of the cavern.
Come closer.
Annabel looked behind her, but there was no one in the cavern that she could see.
Come, the voice whispered again, but Annabel wasn't sure if she was hearing the voice in her head or with her ears.
Drop your cares and enter my pool.
Without being told, Annabel knew what was expected. She took off her cloak and then bent over and wiggled out of the maile shirt and gambeson both. Then she kicked off her boots and dropped her pants. Naked, she stepped over the edge of the pool, and onto a set of stairs.
The water was as warm as bath water and as soon as it covered her feet, she realized how very tired and worn they had been, because the water instantly made them feel wonderful and new. Surely her feet had not felt so perfect on the day she was born.
She hurried to step in deeper, and with every step, the water came up higher and restored her body, removing fatigue and soreness she hadn't even realized she had.
The pool was deeper than it had first appeared—or maybe it was all some sort of strange illusion, because the steps continued down until she was up to her neck in water. Then she took a deep breath and took another step down.
But there was no step under her feet; she was left floating in a dark, silent nothingness.
But she wasn't afraid, as she had been when she was lost at sea. The water that surrounded her was warm and comforting. She felt as if she was back in the womb—safe and untroubled by the world outside. There was only the steady beat of her mother's heart softly pulsing all around her, in rhythm with her own heartbeat.
Princess Annabel, you come to me in a dark time, the strange voice said. Two of the great kingdoms have fallen, and Shi-Ha will follow them soon.
You will get but little help from here on out. You must rely on Shaun, and he on you. Neither of you can defeat this evil alone; neither of you can be replaced.
"That's why I'm here," Annabel said… or maybe she just thought it. "Shaun is dying."
I know. You must not let that happen, or your world will be lost.
There were stairs under Annabel’s feet again. She walked up them, slowly emerging from the water.
The light of swirling colors was glowing brighter, and when Annabel turned around, she saw a woman of unsurpassed beauty. She was wearing a skirt that looked as if it was made from the mist that surrounded the mountains. Her wings were as transparent and iridescent as those of a dragonfly. Her greenish-blue hair cascaded in loose curls over her shoulders, hiding her bare chest.
"I have cried many tears for this world," the fairy said, speaking aloud in her soft, but sad voice. "Even now, it is not clear to me that it can be saved. But if it is to be saved, you and Shaun must suffer for the sins of others; it is only through your self-sacrifice that there is any hope of redemption."
The fairy reached up to her cheek and caught a glistening tear on the tip of her finger. Then, as if in slow motion, she gently pushed the tear through the air, towards Annabel.
It sparkled in the air as it slowly floated to her—a diamond flashing in the dark. But when she reached up to catch it, her fingers closed around a small glass bottle filled with a liquid so clear, it was all but invisible.
Annabel looked up, meaning to say something, but the fairy was gone. There was only the dim, swirling light hovering above the pool.
Annabel hurried to pull on her clothes again and she carefully tucked the little bottle into her left boot.
She was still feeling a strange surrealism as she crawled through the tunnel—so much so, she completely forgot to be claustrophobic.
When she got to the end, Growder took her by the hands and pulled her out and set her on her feet. But he took a step back, looking at her as if he was a little afraid.
"You look… strange," he said.
"Strange? How?" she asked.
"I… don't know. But your eyes are different. You… look different. And you smell different. You smell of the perfume coming from the cave. It's… an otherworldliness—as if you came close to death, but were brought back."
"I didn't die, but I feel reborn… sort of." Annabel couldn't describe what she had felt when she had stepped into the fairy's spring, but she did feel like a new person, even as she felt like she was the same person she had been before. Something about her had been permanently changed, but she wasn't sure what.
"Anyways, I have what Shaun needs. Let's get it back to him," Annabel said.
Growder nodded a little and dropped to all fours. Annabel put on her sword belt and quiver and grabbed her bow, before hopping onto Growder's back.
He bounded down the trail—going much faster down than he had up.
Annabel felt a calmness inside herself. She had never noticed before that she had been nervous and tense, but now she felt perfectly at ease. It was as if she knew nothing bad would happen to her, so she had no fear. She didn't know why she felt that way—certainly the fairy had not promised that; in fact, she had promised suffering—but nonetheless, she faced running the gauntlet with no more worry than she would have had walking across her bedroom to go to bed.
The first bat they encountered on their way down still had Annabel’s arrow sticking out of it.
"What sorcery is this?" Growder said, skidding to a halt. "Why isn't it dead?"
"We can't kill them with normal weapons; only the Shadow Sword will send them back to the Dark World. We can, at best, only stun them for a while."
"Then fighting them is a waste?"
"It depends on if they stand between you and your mission—which this one does."
The bat flew closer. But rather than shoot it or knock it aside with her sword, Annabel reached out and grabbed it by the shaft of the arrow. It clicked and squeaked and flapped its wings, but it could do nothing more than that, impaled as it was on the arrow.
It was so ridiculous looking, Annabel actually laughed. Then she flung the arrow out in a cutting motion. The bat flew off the end and sailed down into the empty chasm, disappearing into the dark.
She and Growder continued down the trail—Annabel easily capturing the skewered bats and throwing them off the ends of the arrows—either into the chasm or dashing them against the rocks.
The large flock of bats delayed them less than a minute. Although Annabel had to work hard to knock them all down, she did so with a practiced ease and calmness—very different than before.
Before long, they were back at the door into the mountain.
Annabel got off Growder's back. "Who would have thought I would have gotten all of my arrows back?" Annabel said, tucking a handful back into her quiver.
"I'm glad; you may yet have need for them."
"I know I will have need for them," she replied.
Growder opened the door and the two of them hurried through the passageways—Annabel’s calmness draining away and her anxiety growing; what if she was too late? It was a possibility she hadn't considered before because they had always managed to pull through every difficulty somehow, but the Great Fairy had said that it wasn't certain that they would succeed. There might come a time when their luck would run out.
Annabel prayed that it wasn't now.
When they walked into the bedroom, Annabel felt her heart stop. Had Shaun’s face been that white when she left? She didn't remember his lips being tinged with blue.
She felt as if she wasn't quite in her own body anymore. She seemed to float across the room to Kara. She tried to ask if he was still alive, but when she opened her mouth, no words came out.
"Did you get it?" Kara asked anxiously.
Annabel numbly pulled the little bottle from her boot and handed it to Kara.
"I pray this works," Kara said, pulled Shaun’s mouth open and pouring the potion in. "I can't tell if he's still breathing or not. If he's already gone, this will not work."

Shaun was somewhere dark, but in front of him stood a woman who radiated a soft, warm light. She had her back to him, so he could clearly see her wings.
You nearly died, Hero, she said in a soft voice.
"Did I?" Shaun asked in surprise. He racked his brain, trying to remember what had happened to him, but the last thing he could remember was passing out when he had been released.
He hadn't felt that he was dying; it sort of snuck up on him.
Yes, the fairy replied. Princess Annabel risked much to save you.
He frowned. "She shouldn't have done that."
It is admirable that you want to insulate her from all the hardships of the world, as much as you are able, but you must resist that impulse.
"Why?" Shaun asked.
Because, in order to be a good queen, she needs to experience those hardships. If she is to have empathy for her people, she must know what it's like to struggle and suffer and lose. In order to rebuild her kingdom, she must have the courage and confidence to make bold decisions. And, if you are to have any hope of truly winning her heart, you must let her realize, on her own, how much she truly loves and needs you.
She has been isolated from the real world all her life; she has never connected with other people. You must allow her the opportunity to do so. She must become your partner—someone who shares the work and hardships and trials that this quest will heap upon both of you.
If you deny her this, you will deny her the ability to reach her full potential; you will deny Nevara the chance to have its best queen ever.
Shaun bowed his head. He had been raised to one purpose: to serve his monarch. And from the first moment he had seen Annabel, he had put her up on a pedestal—something that Master Ryu had only encouraged.
He both loved and worshipped her.
It would be hard to let her struggle with things on her own—to let her take her lumps, the same as him. It didn't feel right not to serve and protect her.
The fairy spoke again. As a reminder of this, Annabel shall bear her scars for life—as shall you. They will set you apart from others and tie you both together. When you look upon them, remember what you and she suffered together. It is a bond between you both, and it is one that no one will ever be able to take away.
Slowly, the fairy turned around. Shaun gasped when he saw that she was, in fact, Annabel.
Then, suddenly, the light was gone and the room came into focus. Annabel was standing at the foot of the bed, topless. Kara was looking at her back. "You are completely healed, Your Highness. But… I'm afraid you have scars."
"What does it matter?" she said dejectedly.
"I always knew you must be a fairy," Shaun whispered, as he looked at her. "You are too beautiful to be anything else."
Annabel and Kara both jumped, then looked at him with astonishment. A moment later, Annabel grabbed her gambeson and covered her chest.
"Shaun! You're awake!" she said with relief. She hurried to sit beside him on the bed. Tears of relief began to flow down her cheeks. "We weren't sure you were going to make it."
"You're a fairy," he said, intent to getting her to admit it.
She brushed his hair away from his forehead. "I can't understand you. What did you say?"
He realized then that he had not really spoken the words he was thinking; he had only mumbled them.
He licked his lips and cleared his throat a little and tried again. "I saw you. You're a fairy."
Annabel looked at him in confusion, then chuckled a little. "You must have been dreaming."
"You told me that you saved my life—only I didn't know it was you when you said it."
Annabel looked more confused. "Shaun, you're not making any sense."
Kara shuffled over to the bed. "You were crossing into the Other World," she told him. "Princess Annabel managed to get some Fairy Tears for you and that saved your life. Between being so near death, and the magic of the Tears, I'm not surprised that you had strange dreams."
"It wasn't a dream," Shaun insisted. If it had been a dream, how could the fairy have told him that he had nearly died and that Annabel had saved him? That was obviously true.
"Shan, I'm not a fairy," Annabel said gently. "If I was, don't you think you would know it by now?"
Well, when she put it that way, it seemed true enough; she certainly had no wings.
"I guess you can't be," he allowed, "but it still didn't feel like a dream."
"Maybe the Great Fairy was speaking to you through her tears," Kara offered.
"Maybe so."
"If she was, then you should listen to her," Kara said. "Fairies know more than the most accomplished seer or astrologist can ever know. The gods tell them things they never tell us. Her advice will be sound."

Even though Annabel thought Shaun had been dreaming about the fairy, he found one thing to be true: he and Annabel both had scars, as the Great Fairy had promised. His shoulder wound had turned into a scar that was a near-perfect circle the size of a large coin. It was completely white, as if it was several years old.
"How does your shoulder feel?" Annabel asked anxiously. She had put her gambeson back on and was sitting on the bed beside him.
Shaun tried to lift his arm, but didn't make it very far before he winced. "Like it doesn't work," he said, massaging the scar. "It feels all knotted up—like the broken pieces got glued back together in the wrong order. "
Annabel frowned. "I wonder why? I don't hurt where I got cut."
"I don't hurt, either—except when I move." He sighed. "I'm afraid my muscle is scarred on the inside—just like my skin is scarred on the outside. I've seen other people with the same problem; the muscle is hardened and doesn't want to stretch because of the scar tissue."
"What did they do to fix it?"
He made a face. "They forced it to stretch and become supple again." He waved his hand dismissively before she could ask any more questions; he didn't even want to think about it at the moment. "The brothers at the monastery will fix it for me," he said. "For now, I'll not move it and enjoy it not hurting for a change."
"Maybe if you went to the fairy's cave and got into her pool, that would fix it," Annabel suggested. "I felt so much better after I got in."
"I doubt it."
"Why?"
"Because she told me that I would have to keep my scars. I suppose that goes for the ones on the inside as well as the outside."
"But… why? I have scars as well; why would we have them if she was able to get rid of them?"
"She said we would need them." Annabel looked dubious. "We will have to trust she's right," he said. "We still have a long road to travel; who knows what we may need before we're through."
"That's true," Annabel allowed.
A moment later, there was a knock on the door.
"Enter," Shaun said.
Lord Long Fang walked in. Long Fang was carrying a rolled-up bundle under one arm and he looked especially grave.
"Ah, Hero, I see that you have made a full recovery." He sounded rather relieved.
"I'm alive," Shaun corrected. "My recovery is a little less than full."
"What still ails you?"
"I don't have full range of motion in my left arm. But the brothers at the monastery will be able to fix that," Shaun said dismissively, not wanting to go over the same subject again with a new audience. "The question is, will Princess Annabel and I be free to go there?"
"Free?" Long Fang said, looking perplexed. "Well, I suppose you are free to go there, if they will let you go there."
"I meant are we free to leave here?"
Long Fang looked even more confused. "Certainly."
"Well, the last thing I remember, we had both been convicted of murder and were set to be executed," Shaun pointed out. "Obviously you are not sadistic, like Tarsus, but I wasn't exactly sure where we stood…" he hinted.
Long Fang sighed. "Yes, about that…."
He pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. "I have had a talk with Kara and I understand things now," he explained.
"Many, many years ago," he started, "when my grandfather was young and in his prime, he was caught in a rockslide and half-buried. Unfortunately, the same slide also blocked the path, which kept the rest of the streak from coming to his aid.
"He lay there, trapped, for more than a day, and had already given up hope of surviving, when a young woman—barely more than a girl—came up the path from the Erenrue. She was out gathering healing herbs, and as soon as she found my grandfather, she helped him. She gave him water and pain medicine, and then, little by little, she was able to move enough rock off of him that he was able to crawl free. Then she stayed with him two more days until the tribe was able to clear the path and carry him home.
"He swore a great oath, before all his people, that the young woman—Kara—was to always have the protection and friendship of the streak. If she ever petitioned them for something, and it was within their power to grant it, then it would be granted.
"Furthermore, he bound his descendants to his oath and declared that when he died, Kara was to be given his hide. In that way, even those who may never have seen her would recognize her when she came forward and presented his hide by way of proof.
"Kara gave you that hide so that you could use it to call in her favor, if you needed to, but it's my understanding that, in the haste to get you out of the city, she forgot to tell you the purpose of the cloak.
"Had Tarsus not been here—or had he not played for control of this streak when he did—then it would not have mattered anyways. I read the stars; I knew who you both are. I know what it is that you must do.
"It was I who dispatched a party to rescue you, and it was I who sent word to Growder and Anne-Marie to take care of you. If I had not been so far away, at my observation post—had I been here when you were brought in—I would not have been worried about the cloak. Curious, but not unduly worried. For one, I would doubt persons such as yourselves would murder anyone. And secondly, I know there is no one missing from our streak. You couldn't have murdered anyone and turned them into a cloak, because no one is unaccounted for.
"But Tarsus was looking for an excuse to turn this streak against me and seize control. It was easy for him to use the cloak to whip everyone into a frenzy and enrage them to the point that no one stopped to think, 'Who does the hide belong to?' If they had stopped to think, they would have come up with the answer: it couldn't belong to anyone in living memory."
Long Fang sighed again. "I am very sorry that you were caught in the middle of our politics. This is a shame from which I fear we can never recover."
He leaned forward and placed the bundle on the bed. It slowly unrolled itself across Shaun’s lap, revealing a tiger skin. When Shaun reached out to touch it, he found it was warm and slightly damp.
"This is the only apology I can give you," Long Fang said. "That, and the promise that whatever you ask for, I will fulfill it. I swear that oath to you both. And like my grandfather's oath, it will pass down to my heirs—for as long as any of us rule this streak."
Shaun looked at Annabel, and her eyes mirrored his horror. They didn't have to be told who the hide had belonged to; it was pretty obvious that it was what remained of the would-be usurper, Tarsus.
"Um… I think the only thing we need is to be on our way," Shaun said. "We are on a quest for the Shadow Sword, and the sooner we get it, the better."
"Where is it located?"
"I have been told that the brothers at the West-eastern Monastery have it. That is where I was raised; I know the place and the brothers there quite well."
"That is not far—less than a day."
Long Fang stood up. "I will have you carried to the edge of our domain, and then you can travel the rest of the way yourselves."
"Thank you."
"When do you wish to leave?"
"I don't even know what time of day it is."
"It is late afternoon."
"How long will it take to get to the edge of your domain?"
"We can have you there before nightfall."
"Then we'll leave now, if that can be arranged."
"Certainly."
Annabel looked at Shaun. "Are you sure you should push yourself so soon?"
"I feel fine. In fact, I'm tired of lying around; I want to be up and moving."
"Give me a few minutes," Long Fang said, "and I will make everything ready."

Fifteen minutes later, Shaun and Annabel followed Lord Long Fang through the maze of hallways and to a door that led outside. The sun was shining brightly and the wind had a warmth to it, although the air around them was still a little cool. Already the snow was receding from the rocks and turning to slush.
Two tigers and Kara were standing there, waiting for them.
"Anne-Marie and Growder will carry you to the foot of the mountain," Long Fang said.
Shaun offered his hand. "Thank you for all your help."
Long Fang touched his paw to Shaun’s hand. "I am ashamed of the way you were treated. I hope that someday, when your questing is done, that you may do us the honor of returning and we can extend our real hospitality to you both."
"Maybe we can."
Annabel offered her hand and he bowed over it. "Your Highness, I hope our two people may be allies."
"I think that can be arranged… once we regain control of my kingdom."
"I pray that it will be so."
Kara was holding the pack that Annabel had worn through the mountains. Shaun took it and, with some help from Annabel—and some pain in his shoulder—he managed to get it hoisted onto his back. Once he quit moving his arm, and the pack was settled into place, his shoulder stopped burning. The pack itself wasn't very heavy, but then, they didn't have far to go.
"I'm sorry I let you down," Kara said, looking at both of them sorrowfully. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you about the cloak."
"It's alright," Annabel said soothingly. "It probably wouldn't have mattered anyways; Tarsus would not have believed us, even if we had known the truth about it."
"But he would not have had an excuse to hurt you if I had not given it to you in the first place."
"I don't think he needed much of an excuse," Shaun said. "If he hadn't had the cloak, he would have made up some other reason—our trespassing, or something like that."
"Well, I suppose that's true," she said reluctantly. Then she reached out and touched Shaun on his left arm. "See to your arm as soon as you can. It will need all its strength if it is to wield the Shadow Sword."
"I will. The brothers will fix it for me. I won't particularly like it, but they'll fix it."
Kara smiled at Princess Annabel. "Take care of yourself, Your Highness." She stepped in closer, whispering. "And take care of Shaun. He needs you, you know."
Annabel smiled a little. "Yes, I know. And I will."
Kara stepped back. "If either of you need me, you know where to find me. Just call to me and I'll bring you here and patch you back up again."
"Hopefully you will not have to see us again until we come back to liberate Erenrue," Shaun said.
"I will pray for that day," she said fervently.
Their goodbyes made, Shaun and Annabel hopped onto Anne-Marie and Growder, respectively. They waved farewell one last time, then the two tigers sped them down the trail and out of sight.

Growder and Anne-Marie carried them to a place where the trail widened and split off. They had descended far enough down the mountain that there was no longer any snow; where there were tenacious plants clinging to the sides of the rocky mountain, they were leafed-out in tiny, bright green leaves and pink and white flowers.
In front of them, to the south, there was a narrow valley that cleaved the last two peaks of the mountain chain nearly in two. They were still a hundred feet or so above the valley, and looking down into it, they could see the lush, green tops of a bamboo forest.
To the west, the valley widened out into an expanse of impenetrable-looking bamboo for as far as the eye could see. The sun had almost slipped behind the horizon, so the shadows across the forest were long and made it look dark.
Growder gestured to his left. "There is a hot spring at the end of the trail that we use for bathing."
"Oh, thank the gods," Shaun said, climbing off Anne-Marie's back. "I'm so nasty, I disgust myself."
"Have a soak and enjoy yourself," Growder encouraged. "You can stay the night here and finish your journey down in the morning. Nothing will disturb you here; nothing dares to enter our realm."
"That sounds like a good idea," Shaun agreed.
Annabel got off Growder, and he stood up, offering his paw to Shaun. "Take care of yourselves."
"We will. Thank you for all your help."
"I wish we could have done more."
Growder held his paw out to Annabel, and when she put her hand on it, he bowed over it. "M'lady, it was a pleasure to fight with you."
Annabel smiled; she seemed to have earned Growder's respect. "Thank you for helping me."
"We take pride in keeping our range free of danger—aside from natural dangers, which we have no control of. Those demons have been a source of great vexation for me. They're an affront to our people."
"Well, they will not go away until we get the Shadow Sword. But when we do, we will come back and kill them once and for all."
"Then we will look forward to your return," Anne-Marie said in her soft, sweet voice.
They made their final goodbyes, then Anne-Marie and Growder headed back up the mountain and disappeared.
"Let's see what we have to work with," Shaun said, sounding rather eager, as he turned off the trail and headed for the hot springs.
The trail passed through a wide place between two ridges—there was plenty of space for camping and even green grass on the ground—and then it disappeared around an outcropping of stone. When they rounded the corner, they found the trail dead-ended into a large, crystal-clear pool that had a faint mist rising from it.
Shaun squatted down and dipped his hand in the water. "Ah, that's going to feel good—like really hot bath water."
"Why don't you go first; I can make a fire while you wash up," Annabel offered. "I think I got pretty clean when I went in the pool at the fairy's cave."
"Thanks."
He slipped off the pack and Annabel helped him get out of his gambeson—his stiff shoulder making it hard for him to shrug it off.
She could see why he was eager for a bath. His gambeson was stiff with dried blood that had soaked through the dozens of layers of quilted linen, and blood had dried on his skin like an orangish-brown paint. In the effort to save his life, no one had bothered with niceties like washing the blood off of him.
"I'm going to see if I can't soak some of this blood out," Shaun said, taking the gambeson from Annabel. "Then I'll hang it up to dry and maybe it will be wearable tomorrow."
"I doubt all those layers will be dry by tomorrow," she said.
"Well, I'd rather be damp than dirty," he said.
He turned around and caught a glimpse of his face in the still water. "I see I have Tarsus's scars as well," he said, turning his face to view them.
Annabel frowned. "Yes, I'm afraid so," she said unhappily. She didn't mind having scars on her back—she couldn't see them, and few other people would ever have the opportunity to see them, either—but she didn't like the fact that Shaun’s face was marred by four thin, white lines that went across his left cheek from the outside corner of his eye down to his jaw. There was even one line that crossed his throat just under his chin.
He had been quite a handsome boy, but now his beauty was permanently marred. And he no longer looked like a boy; he had the makings of a grizzled old warrior, although he was not much past his eighteenth birthday.
Shaun made a few faces in the water—all of them grim or angry. "Hmm, they might actually come in handy," he said after a moment, touching his scarred cheek.
"Handy? How on earth would scars come in handy?" Annabel asked in disbelief.
He looked at her. "Because I don't look like someone to be trifled with. I look like someone who will fight—and put up with pain. Maybe that will give people pause before they try to mess with us. Given that we have almost exhausted our list of allies, we may need the ability to look threatening."
Annabel supposed that was one way of looking at the situation. But then, Shaun had always had a way of finding something good and hopeful in any situation—no matter how grim or seemingly impossible. Besides, the only alternative was to be bitter forever, and that would only be a waste of energy—energy neither of them had to spare at the moment.
Annabel picked up the pack and took it around the outcropping of stone, leaving Shaun to take his bath in private. She rummaged through the pack and took stock of their supplies. There were a couple of linen towels—apparently Kara had known about the hot springs being on the way—and plenty of firewood and a hunk of half-frozen meat. That was one thing about the tigers: they only ate meat. Annabel had never thought it possible, but she would have killed to have some vegetables and green things to eat.
She was trying to light the tinder when she heard a loud splash from the other side of the rocks. She waited a moment, listening, but didn't hear anything else.
"Shaun?"
She waited, but still didn't hear anything.
"Shaun?" she called out again, a bit louder.
Still nothing.
She began to grow worried; what if he had fallen in and hurt himself?
"Shaun?" she called out again, taking a tentative step towards the path.
When he still didn't answer her, she hurried around the outcropping of rock.
She could see Shaun’s naked body in the clear water; he appeared to be facedown, near the bottom of the pool.
"Shaun!" she cried, jumping down into the pool. But, before she could wade out to him, he suddenly darted up, breaking the surface.
"Ah! That feels good!" he said, throwing his head back and running his hands over his hair, squeezing the excess water out. He turned around a moment later and saw Annabel standing knee-deep in water, staring at him.
There was a moment of awkward silence. "You should have said you wanted to get in, too," Shaun said. "I would have left my pants on."
Annabel felt her face heating up. "I... um… heard a splash, and then you didn't answer me, and… I was afraid you had fallen in and hurt yourself."
"No, I just jumped in."
They were silent another moment, as Annabel stayed frozen in place.
"So, are you going to get in, or just stand there and stare at me?" he finally asked.
Annabel felt as if her face was on fire. She finally shook herself out of her shock and she hurried to get out of the water. "Sorry," she mumbled, before fleeing to the other side of the rock.
She sat down with her back to the rock and fanned her face, trying to cool down—and trying to tell herself that she was only hot because of the water.
She heard the occasional splash on the other side of the rock, then Shaun began to sing something cheerful in a low voice. The wet-slapping noises sounded as if he was trying to do his laundry.
She finally took off her soaking wet boots and got back on trying to start a fire. She just had it going good when Shaun returned. He was wearing his pants, but carrying his boots and dripping-wet gambeson.
"I feel so much better," he said, as he spread his gambeson out on a low bush near the fire.
"That's good," Annabel said, concentrating on feeding the fire—feeling too embarrassed to look at him at the moment. She hoped he wouldn't say anything about earlier.
She dared to glance up at him for a moment, while his back was turned, and she noticed there was still something on his back.
"I think you missed a spot," she said.
He tried to look over his shoulder. "Could you get it for me? I thought I was never going to scrub all that blood off; it was glued on."
Annabel fetched a towel and tried to wipe it away, but he was right: it was glued on.
She put more force into it, rubbing vigorously. Shaun had to put his hand out against the rock and brace himself so she didn't push him down.
"If you keep rubbing like that, you're going to bring up fresh blood," he said after a minute.
"Sorry. I think I have it," she said, stopping to look. The blood was indeed gone, but his skin—already pink from the hot water—had turned an angry red.
She rubbed the spot lightly with the palm of her hand, trying to soothe the rawness.
He closed his eyes and let out a rather contented-sounding sigh.
Slowly, she began running her hand over the rest of his back—across his shoulders, down his spine, and to his waist. He wasn't very big—he was barely taller than she was—but there was a hardness to his lean frame. His wiry muscles bespoke of someone who had lived a life of manual labor or, at the very least, constant training.
She slowly slid her hand around his waist. She could feel the muscles in his stomach contract under her hand as he inhaled sharply.
Then he stood up straighter and put his hand on top of hers. "Stop," he said firmly. He turned around and looked at her with an odd expression that she couldn't read.
"Um… if you want to clean up, I'll cook dinner," he offered after another long, awkward moment of silence.
"Alright," she said, suddenly glad for an excuse to get away.
While she had a soak in the pool, she tried to sort out her confused thoughts. Shaun had seemed to like it when she had touched him, so why had he so suddenly asked her to stop? Was he angry with her for carrying things too far? He hadn't seemed angry, but then… she wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling. It wasn't often that she looked at him and didn't know what he was thinking. As he had once promised, he wasn't too hard to understand; now was a rare exception.
Finally, she decided she had to face the music—whatever that might be—and she got out and dried herself off and dressed.
"I think the meat is ready," Shaun said when she reappeared.
"Good, I'm hungry," Annabel said, her stomach suddenly reminding her that she hadn't fed it all day.
She sat down beside Shaun and they ate in companionable silence, occasionally punctuated by musings about their future plans. Annabel was, for the most part, glad that Shaun seemed willing to ignore their earlier awkward moments and act like nothing had happened.
"Once we have the Shadow Sword," she said as she finished her supper, wiping the grease from her hands on her still-damp towel, "what do you think we should tackle first?"
"Hmm, I've been thinking about that," he said, leaning back against the rock wall. "I was kind of thinking that we might retrace our steps—from the monastery, back across the mountains, into Erenrue, then across to the sea. We know there are demons all along that route. Of course, there may be more elsewhere that we will have to get, so we may not make the same trip that we made here; we may have to deviate our course."
"How are we going to take out all of the demons in Erenrue? Do you remember how many of those birds there were on the battlefield?"
"Yeah, I don't know about that," Shaun said unhappily. "It looked like Nagadii had actual control over them—unlike these that we've encountered that are just running loose. It may be that they're not all in Erenrue; maybe he took them with him or sent them back to the Dark World."
"Even so, think about all those people who were changed into demons," Annabel pressed. "They're probably not under his control, since he didn't call them up. They've got to be in the city or on the plain somewhere."
"Yeah." He sighed. "I don't know what to do about Erenrue. I mean, even if we didn't owe it to them, we still have to take out all of the demons there anyways before we can close the rift in Nevara. But there will be a lot of demons for us to take out—especially since there's only one Shadow Sword."
He sighed again. "I don't know. Maybe we should plan on dealing with it last—right before we go home—and maybe by then we'll have a plan or some help or more weapons or something."
He moved over to the pack and dug around in the bottom of it. He pulled out the tiger pelt that Long Fang had given them. "He really didn't want us to leave without this, did he?"
"No, it doesn't seem so."
"I was kind of hoping we might be able to accidentally 'forget' and leave it behind."
Annabel chuckled a little. "I was hoping the same thing."
"Oh, well," he said, then he spread the pelt out beside the fire. "To the victor goes the spoils, I suppose."
He pulled out the blue cloak that had been Annabel’s and folded it up, making it into a pillow. Then he stretched out on the fur. "I suppose there is a dark part of me that's rather glad Tarsus ended up as my rug," he admitted. "I think about him poking me in the wound just for the hell of it, and I don't feel the least bit sorry that I lived and he didn't."
"I'm not sorry that you lived, but I still think carrying his skin around is creepy."
"You wear fur on your winter dresses," he pointed out.
"Yes, but I never knew any of the animals personally before they got sewn onto my dresses."
Despite her initial reluctance, though, Shaun managed to coax Annabel to lie down beside him. She had to admit, Tarsus did make a decent ground cover; it was more comfortable than lying on the bare ground.
She curled up beside Shaun, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder, and he put his arm around her. It felt good to lie together companionably, watching the fire at their feet flicker and dance in the cool evening air. They didn't have to worry about food or staying warm, and Shaun wasn't in pain or weak from blood loss. It was certainly the most pleasant moment together they had had since they had left Erenrue, and one of the best evenings camping out.
"You know," Shaun said, after some time had passed, "all my life, I have been trained to be without emotion. It's not that I don't feel; it's that I wasn't allowed to show it. I was never allowed to show true myself.
"Even though I have always loved my family and have been proud of them, I have had to remain silent about who they are and where I'm from. Even though I like talking, I was told to always guard my tongue; silence was the best policy. Even though I like people, I was encouraged to remain separate and not have any close friends.
"But I'm not one of the ancients' mechanical wonders; I do have feelings. I get angry sometimes. I feel pain. Sometimes I feel sad. And at other times, I feel love… and desire."
"Sometimes," he continued, "I feel too much."
Annabel knew what he was alluding to: the moment when she had touched him and he had made her stop.
"Is there such a thing as feeling too much?" Annabel asked. "I mean, I can understand feeling too much anger or too much sadness, but can a person ever feel too much love?"
"Yes."
"How so?"
"You can get so consumed with it, you see nothing else—can do nothing else. Not only that, but if you feel love too strongly, it can overwhelm your good sense."
Annabel laughed a little. "Something sounds wrong with having good sense while being in love."
"There's nothing wrong with being sensible," he argued. "Especially when you love someone as dangerous as a princess."
"I wasn't aware that princesses were dangerous."
"They are the most dangerous creature a man can love. He must never, ever lose control of himself—not even for a moment."
"Why not?" She turned her head to look at him. "Why can't you be your real self around a princess—at least every once in a while, in private?"
"Because that wouldn't be proper."
"Princesses have emotions, too, you know."
"I do know."
"But princesses rarely have real friends—because people rarely show their real selves."
"Yes, that does seem to be a bit of a conundrum."
"You could pretend I wasn't a princess sometimes," she offered.
"You could pretend you know who I really am."
"I'd rather know who you really are."
He chuckled. "Your Highness, you know who I am. In fact, you've seen me at my lowest point."
"I don't mean that. I mean… I'd like to see you when you're not being proper. You're worried about rules and things like that all the time—even though there's no one around to know or care."
"You're not talking about rules; you're talking about honor. And I always care about that—both mine and yours. I may show you my anger or pain sometimes, but there are some emotions that I can never show you—that I can never set free—because we both have our honor to uphold. And it doesn't matter if anyone else ever knows or not; I will know, and that's enough. I don't want to do anything that will cause me to feel shame—or bring shame upon you."
Annabel didn't press the matter any further. Besides, she pretty well had figured out what she wanted to know: Shaun had enjoyed it when she had touched him. That he had stopped her was because he felt something so strong, he was scared of losing control of it.
It was probably just as well that he had stopped her; she could see how easy it would be for her own emotions to get the better of her, too. And, despite the fact that she wanted a more normal relationship with Shaun, she, like he, was only willing to take it so far. She had a sense of honor, too.

The next morning, Shaun and Annabel ate cold leftovers and got an early start on their journey. They both felt impatient; their destination was, at last, in sight.
They found the trail into the valley to be a fairly mild slope, so Annabel transformed into a horse and Shaun rode. The day warmed up nicely; in the valley, spring was in full swing.
At the foot of the mountain, the trail wound through the bamboo forest. It was narrow, but level, and Annabel proceeded at a trot.
Eventually, the narrow trail hit a wide, grassy road.
Which way? Annabel asked, as she came to a stop on the road.
"Left."
She turned and proceeded up the road at a canter. It gradually began to rise and the bamboo forest on either side gave way to great forests of spruce trees.
Eventually a building became visible ahead of them. Near the top, the road became so steep, Annabel was forced to drop to a walk. She was breathing heavily by the time the road leveled off in front of a walled enclosure with a wide gate. The structure looked very similar to the Sanctuary outside Linnens, but there were small differences that marked the architectural influence of Shi-Ha. For instance, the roofs, instead of having straight lines, curled up at the edges. And on top of the corners of the wall, there were little pagoda-like structures.
Annabel walked inside the open gate slowly, looking around as she did so. The main building, directly across from the gate, looked rather eastern; it had a deep porch, low to the ground, that crossed the front and wrapped around one side.
To the right, there was a large courtyard where dozens of boys, of various ages, appeared to be practicing their swordplay—or had been doing so before Annabel and Shaun arrived. Now, they were staring silently—their weapons hanging loose and forgotten in their hands—as Shaun rode past.
Several older men—wearing the habits of Nevaraian monks—stepped out onto the porch. One man moved forward from the group and stood on the edge of the porch, watching carefully as Shaun rode up. He had a long white beard, a bald-head, and piercing blue eyes.
"I didn't know if I would ever see you again, young Shaun," the man said, as Shaun and Annabel stopped in front of him. "I have been watching your stars and a great darkness has surrounded them for some time."
"Well, everything has been out to kill me lately, but I've managed to survive. So far," he added.
"I can see that the journey has already changed you; you are not the boy who left here seven years ago."
The abbot gestured behind him, to the open door. "I know you have not returned for personal reasons, so let us go inside and you can tell me all that has happened."
Shaun threw his leg over Annabel’s neck and dropped to the ground. A moment later, there was a flash of light and Annabel resumed her human form.
There was an audible gasp from the boys in the courtyard, as well as from the monks. Only the abbot showed no sign of being surprised.
"Y-you bring a woman into this monastery?" one of the monks sputtered in outrage.
Shaun narrowed his eyes. "This is Her Royal Highness, Princess Annabel—the soon-to-be queen of Nevara. It had not occurred to me that anyone here would deny her hospitality… or have you been so long in Shi-Ha that your loyalty no longer lies with Nevara?"
The monks looked even more shocked. But the abbot replied calmly. "Of course we extend our hospitality to any traveler in need, and most especially to our sovereign. We are honored by your presence, Your Highness," he said with a bow.
The other monks followed suit.
Annabel glanced at Shaun and he gave her a conspiratorial wink, then gestured for her to proceed him.
She stepped up onto the porch and passed through the bowing monks and into a bright, but sparsely decorated reception area.
The abbot followed Shaun inside. "Come, let us have a seat and some refreshments. Have you eaten today?"
"We ate a little breakfast early," Shaun replied, following the abbot down a hallway. Annabel fell in behind him.
"It's nearly lunchtime now," the abbot said. "I will have a meal brought in."
"Thank you."
The abbot led them into a small room that was taken up by a table large enough to seat eight people. It was made in the eastern style and was low to the ground. Pillows, not chairs, were provided for seating.
The abbot gestured for them to take seats, then he closed the door—shutting out the other brothers who had followed behind them and were looking rather curious. Apparently the abbot wanted to hear Shaun’s story before anyone else.
Shaun sat at one end of the table and Annabel sat on the corner closest to him. The abbot took a seat at the opposite end of the table.
"First, let me extend our hospitality," the abbot began. "What do you need that we might be able to provide?"
Shaun glanced at Annabel questioningly. She nodded for him to take the lead. He knew the abbot better than she did; he would know best what they could reasonably expect to get—and how best to ask for it.
"We are both in need of fresh clothes," Shaun said, turning to the abbot. "I'm embarrassed to be seen in these war-weary clothes that we have on now."
He had managed to soak some of the blood out of his gambeson, but there was still an obvious brown stain—as well as holes front and back—where he had been struck by the arrow. And both his gambeson and Annabel’s were held together by pins where Tarsus and his minions had ripped all the buttons off.
"We can clothe you easily enough," the abbot said, looking at Shaun, "but I'm afraid we have nothing fit for Her Highness," he added, looking at Annabel.
"I will wear whatever you give Shaun," she said. "I need something practical and sturdy—not dresses. We still have a lot of work ahead of us."
"Then we can oblige." He turned to Shaun again. "Anything else?"
"We need a room—a private room," Shaun said.
"We have a room for guests, but only the one. You will have to—"
"That's fine; we only need one."
The abbot perked a brow.
"Her Highness does not go anywhere without me," Shaun explained. "There are too many people out to kill both of us; the moment we're separated is the moment someone will take us both out. We never separate."
"That does seem to be a wise course of action, given the situation," the abbot allowed.
"We will also need food for a few days, and then we will need some supplies—mostly food—when we are ready to leave again."
"You need not even ask for that; of course we will feed you."
"I also need some medical help," Shaun added. He tried to lift his left arm, showing the extent he was able to move it. "I took an arrow in my shoulder and, although it is completely healed, I can't move it. It's stiff and begins to hurt when I try to raise it more than this."
The abbot nodded gravely. "That can be fixed. It will be painful, but we can fix it."
Shaun grimaced a little. "Yes, I was afraid of that."
"Anything else? So far you have not asked for anything that we would not have offered you. Surely you did not need to come all the way here for such simple things."
"Well, actually, those things have been a little hard to come by; our list of allies is growing thin. But, you are right: we have a specific reason for coming here."
Shaun leaned forward, looking at the abbot seriously. "We need the Shadow Sword, and I have been told that you keep it here."
The abbot, for once, looked shocked. "That is no small thing you ask for," he said, once he had recovered. "And one I'm not permitted to give to just anyone. I think you had better explain such a request."
Shaun began retelling the story of how they came to be in the abbot's presence—beginning back when Ryu had fetched him from the monastery and installed him as a page at the castle. He omitted nothing—not the fact that he and Annabel both could turn into animals, nor the fact that he and she had been meeting in secret for months before Nagadii caught onto them.
Their lunch had been served, eaten, and the remainders grown cold before Shaun—with some help from Annabel—finished the tale.
The abbot sat in silence for several minutes, taking it all in. Then, he slowly nodded. "Yes, I can see why you need the Shadow Sword. And it would certainly seem that you are the Hero destined to wield it."
He nodded again, looking thoughtful. "Ryu seems to have foreseen most—if not all—of this," he said, more to himself than to Shaun. "That is why he brought you here, specifically, to be trained—to be trained in the arts of the Knights of Nevara."
"He didn't know you have the sword—at least he didn't tell me about it," Shaun corrected. "It was Master Gardamon who told me that not only was it what we needed to kill the demons, but that it was kept here."
"It is indeed kept here. But it is in the catacombs below us. No one here has ever seen it; no one here has ever met anyone who has seen it. It was placed here hundreds of years ago. It is said that the catacombs were specifically built to hold it—and to test the courage and strength of the person who came to claim it. It will not be as simple as walking in and picking it up; there will be a maze of rooms, traps, and possibly foul creatures—all there for one purpose: to keep someone who is not worthy from taking the sword."
"But of course," Shaun said with a wry smile. "Nothing is simple for us. It's not allowed."

Shaun and Annabel were shown to a small room with two narrow beds against either wall. A table—set up to be used as a desk—was between them. Other than a stool and a three-branch candelabra, there was nothing else in the room.
Annabel looked around. The white walls made it seem light, even though the only window was long and narrow and set so high up on the wall that she would have to stand up on the stool to see out of it.
"This will do," Shaun told the monk who led them to the room.
"Very good, sir. I will bring you fresh clothes in a moment. Do you need wash water?"
"Yes, please."
The monk nodded, then left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Shaun set their pack on the desk, then he flopped down on the bed and stretched out with a sigh.
"Why did you insist on a private room?" Annabel asked, sitting down on the bed opposite him.
"Because everyone here stays in a dormitory—the students in one and the monks in another. This guest room and the abbot's room are the only private rooms. I wanted to make sure he put us in here instead of the dormitory. For one thing, I didn't think you would want to stay in a room full of strange men. And secondly, I didn't want you to stay in a room full of strange men."
She smiled a little. "Jealous?"
"Should I be?" he retorted, turning to look at her with a smile. "Actually, I just didn't want to be in an open room with a bunch of other people; there are too many variables; too many things to have to worry about. With so many people, I can't tell who is friend and who is foe. Here, there is only me and you; anyone who comes through that door is an enemy until I determine otherwise."
"Didn't these men train you to fight? Wouldn't someone be crazy to attack this place when everyone here can fight?"
"Erenrue didn't slow Nagadii down, and it had more fighters than any other kingdom," Shaun pointed out.
Annabel frowned, realizing he was right.
The monk returned a moment later carrying a washbasin full of water. Another monk followed behind him carrying what looked to be two folded sets of clothes.
"Thank you," Shaun said, hopping to his feet and taking the washbasin from the monk. He set it on the desk, then took the clothes from the other monk.
"Is there anything else you need?" the monk asked.
"No, not at the moment, thank you."
"Very well. The bell will ring for dinner in a couple of hours." He started to leave, then suddenly turned back. "Oh, and Abbot Winfield said that Brother Guy would work on your shoulder tomorrow morning, after breakfast."
Shaun painted on a smile. "Great," he said with obvious sarcasm.
The monk looked confused, as if he wasn't sure how to take Shaun’s reaction. But when Shaun didn't say anything else, he shrugged a little and left.
As soon as the door shut behind him, Shaun took stock of the clothes. There were two identical tunics made from a heavy, reddish-brown linen. They had long sleeves and fell to mid-thigh, with two slits on either side that came up to the hip. There was no decoration on either.
Along with the tunics were two pairs of beige-colored canvas pants.
"These look to be the same size," Shaun said, comparing all the pieces of clothing.
"We're close to the same size," Annabel pointed out.
Shaun sighed. "That's my father's side of the family for you: short—every one of them."
He handed her a set of clothes. "Do you want to wash up and change first?"
"Thank you."
He headed for the door. "Is there anything else you need?"
She thought about it a moment, then rubbed the linen shirt between her fingers. It was fairly coarse and heavy. "I need a strip of soft linen to wear under this shirt, if you can find some."
He looked at her in confusion. "Why?"
She felt her face warm. "Because this shirt is rough."
"So?"
Her face got warmer. "So… it's rough on parts I'd rather it not be rough on."
He continued to look confused for a moment, then realization dawned on him. "Ah. Um, how much do you need?"
"Enough to go around me two or three times."
"I'll see what I can find."
While he was gone, Zelda stripped out of her clothes and rinsed off. She wasn't very dirty—she had just bathed in the hot spring the night before—but it felt good to wipe off and put on clean clothes anyways.
I could get used to bathing every day again, she thought to herself. She remembered with envy Rayliss's sunken marble tub. It was even nicer than the golden one that she had at home. But either would have been good, so long as she had access to them regularly.
But she knew that bathing would soon become a rare luxury again. And while she planned on enjoying being clean while she could, she didn't worry about what would happen when opportunities to bathe became few and far between; she just accepted that it was the price she had to pay for the job she had to do. And that was the biggest change that had happened to her in the few months she had been away from home: living on the edge of existence—being so near to life and death—had put many things into perspective.
She was just finishing up when there was a knock on the door.
"Your Highness, I have some linen for you," came Shaun’s voice through the door. "See if this is what you want."
The door opened a tiny crack and he stuck his hand through, waggling a long piece of fabric.
She held the tunic to her chest and walked over, taking the fabric from him.
"Yes, this will do," she said.
"Good." He pulled the door shut.
Annabel chuckled. It seemed silly for either of them to worry about preserving their modesty when they had both seen each other completely naked, but Annabel couldn't bring herself to willfully parade around in the buff. That would be like admitting there were no boundaries between them, and once that happened, other things were bound to follow—things neither Shaun nor Annabel wanted to follow… not at the moment, at any rate.
She wrapped the linen around her chest a few times and tucked the end in. With her breasts bound, she put on the tunic and found it comfortable enough to wear. It was rather loose, though, so she unfastened her sword from the belt—she didn't think she needed to carry it around all the time at the monastery, despite Link's constant worry about being attacked—and she buckled the belt around her waist, cinching in the tunic.
She opened the door and found Shaun leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "Your turn," she said.
He pushed away from the wall. "Why do I have the feeling you look better in that outfit than I will?" he said with a grin as he passed her.
Annabel blushed a little.
When they went to the refectory that evening for dinner, Annabel’s presence caused quite a stir. The monks tried to maintain their dignity and not obviously look her way—although their darting eyes betrayed their curiosity—but the boys felt no such compunctions; they openly turned to stare at her.
Part of it was her long, silvery-blonde hair; it seemed to shimmer with its own light against the dark-colored tunic. Almost all of the boys in the room had dark hair, and many of them had the yellowy-tan skin and dark, almond-shaped eyes peculiar to people of Shi-Ha. With the exception of one or two monks, no one was fair-skinned or had light hair or eyes. And no doubt Shaun and Annabel’s ears marked them as particularly foreign.
But the real reason why they stared was because Annabel was so obviously a girl—a creature very rarely seen in or around the monastery. Despite the fact that the boys were all dressed in pants and tunics similar in style to what she was wearing, Annabel still seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. In fact, her and Shaun’s matching outfits only further emphasized her difference. As Shaun had predicted, Annabel looked better than he did in the clothes. The belt that she wore to take in the loose tunic highlighted her curves. And despite binding her breasts, it was clear that she was far from flat-chested.
Abbot Winfield gestured for them to join him at the head of the table where he sat with the other monks.
"Have you found everything to your liking so far, Your Highness?" he asked, once she and Shaun were seated. Shaun had put her at the end of the table, next to the abbot and he sat between her and the next monk—as if he was afraid for any of the other men to get too close to her.
"Yes, thank you for your hospitality," she replied.
"It is yours for as long as you need it."
"Hopefully we will not be here too long. Once we have the Shadow Sword, we need to find all of the demons and kill them, then seal up the rift in Nevara permanently."
"You make it sound simple."
She sighed. "It won't be. As Shaun said, nothing is simple for us."
"I think it is very admirable that you have chosen to take on this quest, too."
Annabel was a little surprised. "Of course I have to do this," she said. "It is my kingdom that I'm fighting for. All of that burden shouldn't be on Shaun, no matter what destiny the gods gave him."
She smiled ruefully. "Besides, where else would I go? I have been exiled from Nevara, and now Erenrue, too. I must stay on the run to avoid Nagadii; I might as well go with Shaun and try to help him as much as I can."
Her smile became more genuine. "Besides, I don't think he'd let me out of his sight."

Something was chasing her. She was dodging and trying to hide behind trees, but it always felt like there was a hand just behind her, trying to snatch her.
Annabel jerked awake and found herself lying on her side, staring at a blank wall. Wherever she was, it was completely dark. And she was alone.
"Shaun!" she called out, looking around frantically.
"I'm here," came a calm—albeit sleepy—voice from the other side of the room. "What's wrong?"
Annabel sat up in bed a little and made out a shape in the bed not ten feet away from her. It was then that everything came flooding back and she knew where she was.
"I had a dream," she said, her panic beginning to ebb. "When I woke up, I didn't know where I was."
"Do you know now?"
"Yes."
She tried to lie down and go to sleep again, but her mind was still too fearful; while the danger had passed, she still felt like it was too near to relax.
After a few minutes of fitful tossing, she got up and went to Shaun’s bed, pulling back the covers. Without being asked, he scooted over—putting his back against the wall—and made room for her to get in beside him.
He sighed as she snuggled up to him and he put his arm around her. "What would Master Ryu say if he could see us?" he whispered.
"I don't know," she admitted.
"We must be careful none of the brothers walk in and see us. It would be a terrible scandal. I would certainly be thrown out on my head, and maybe you as well. I don't know that your rank would save you in the face of such a frightful sin."
"We're not doing anything wrong."
"I know. But you know it's all about appearances." He suddenly chuckled. "I still can't believe your grandfather not only let me live after he caught us together, but he actually made arrangements so we could continue to share a bed."
"He liked you, you know."
"I honestly don't know why."
"I think… I think he saw something of himself in you. He certainly praised your loyalty. He said that it was worth more to me than all the money in my kingdom, and that I should trust you above all my other advisors."
"I should certainly hope that I have earned your trust by now."
"You have."
She looked at him. "Do you trust me? Do you trust me to take care of you—now and when I am queen?"
He smiled softly, then gently leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I trust you with my life."

Luckily it was a bell—not a person—who woke them up the following morning.
"Gods, I dread today," Shaun said, as he slowly pulled on his tunic.
"I dread it for you," Annabel said.
He sighed heavily, then began to put on his boots. "But it has to be done," he said wearily. "I don't dare take on whatever booby traps they have laid out in the catacombs without my sword arm fully functional."
They went to breakfast—Annabel barely drawing less attention than she had the day before—and ate in silence—both of them worrying about what was to come.
After breakfast, they were directed to the infirmary on the opposite side of the building. Annabel and Shaun both balked at the door when they saw a couple of monks laying out equipment around a tall table: heavy wooden cudgels, a ball, and what looked like some sort of leather restraints. There was a rope dangling ominously above the table, too.
It looked like a torture room.
Before they could turn around and flee, one of the monks glanced up and saw them. "I'm Guy," he said. Then he gestured for Shaun to come forward. "Come, let's see what's wrong with you."
With obvious reluctance, Shaun slowly crossed the room. At Guy's command, he took off his belt and tunic, then hopped up onto the table.
Guy examined Shaun’s shoulder scar, front and back. "Hmm, this looked nasty," he said with clinical detachment. "Did it go all the way through, or did they have to push it through to get it out?"
"No, it went most of the way through on its own."
"That's really better. It's faster that way."
He continued to look. "Which side was hit?"
"The back."
"Hell of a shot to get it all the way through. There are boneless places in the shoulder, but it's still thick and tough."
"Not tough enough," Shaun said sourly.
Brother Guy began to press on the scar, probing deep into the muscle. Shaun winced and occasionally grunted with pain.
"I can feel the scar tissue down in there," Guy said, poking harder. "It's a nice hard knot."
Finally he stood back and looked at Shaun. "Normally, I'd work with someone for a month to six weeks, but I understand from the Abbot that you're in a bit of a hurry."
Shaun grimaced. "We don't have anything like that kind of time. The longer we wait, the more demons will be released into the world—not to mention the more likely Nagadii is to track us down here."
"Tell me what kind of time frame you're looking at. Mind you, this is going to hurt. That's why it's normally done very gradually; it spreads out the pain."
SHaun considered it for a moment. "Could you get it working in a week?"
It was Guy's turn to grimace. "That's an awfully short amount of time. I don't know if you'll be able to stand it."
"How much worse could it be than getting shot in the first place?"
"I don't know," Guy said, still sounding skeptical. "I guess you'll find out."
He turned to look at Annabel. "I think you better leave, Your Highness."
"Why?" she asked in surprise. It never occurred to her not to stay with Shaun.
"This is going to be ugly."
"It can't be any uglier than watching Kara pull the arrow out of him."
"I think you better wait outside," Shaun said, siding with Guy.
Annabel was even more surprised. But when Shaun nodded to her to go, she reluctantly left, shutting the door behind her. She felt a little hurt at being dismissed. Why—after she had taken care of him for weeks—did he suddenly not want her around? Even if she couldn't help Guy—and she certainly didn't want to do that; she didn't want to do anything to cause Shaun pain—she could at least be moral support.
She sat down in the hallway, determined to wait until Shaun was finished. Maybe, once they were in private, he would explain himself. It was possible that he didn't want Guy distracted by her presence… or maybe he felt that it was better to humor the man who was about to torture him.
That must be it, Annabel concluded. He's being considerate of Guy. After all, they don't seem terribly comfortable around women.
But she soon came to a different conclusion.
At first, she could hear Shaun’s occasional whimper of pain through the closed door, but that was quickly replaced by yelps. Soon he was cursing loudly—to the point that people walking past the hallway would look down it, half-curious, half-scandalized.
But his curses soon turned into long, drawn-out screams that sent cold chills down Annabel’s spine.
She drew her knees up to her chest and hid her face against them, crying; she couldn’t stand to hear him in so much pain, but she was afraid to leave. What if he called for her?
His screams continued in a fairly steady rhythm: a scream for five seconds, a thirty second pause, then another five-second scream.
No one came down the hall to check on her or the noise. In fact, people stopped passing by the hallway altogether, as if Shaun’s pain might be catching.
It seemed to last forever, but, eventually, the screaming stopped and didn't start again. After a few minutes, the door opened.
Annabel hastily wiped away her tears with her sleeve and got to her feet. Guy was standing in the doorway holding Shaun up.
He looked as bad as he had when his wound was still open and bleeding. His head was hanging and it was clear from his bent knees that he couldn't stand without assistance. He was still shirtless, which only emphasized how incredibly pale he was; he was almost as white as he had been when he was on his deathbed.
"Do you want to help him to bed?" Guy offered.
Annabel hurried to take Guy's place, putting her arm around Shaun’s waist and holding him tight against her side. He weakly put his right arm around her shoulders. She could feel his skin was covered in a cold sweat and he was trembling.
"I gave him something for the pain," Guy said. "It'll knock him out pretty quickly, so he needs to go straight to bed."
"Where did you think I was going to go?" Shaun asked in a weak, hoarse voice. "To fighter practice?"
Guy smiled a little.
Annabel struggled to help Shaun to their room. She had to carry most of his weight; he was barely able to shuffle his feet, much less stand on them.
"Did they move the room?" he asked in desperation, lifting his head wearily to look around.
"No, we're here," Annabel said, pushing the door open with one hand.
She helped him to bed and he sank onto it gratefully. He threw his right arm across his face, shielding his eyes from the light, and didn't move again.
"Remind me not to eat breakfast tomorrow," he groaned.
"Why not?"
"It won't stay down. And that just makes it worse."
He sighed heavily. "I don't know if I can go through with that again," he admitted quietly.
"You're trying to do something in one week that normally takes four to six," Annabel pointed out. "Couldn't you at least do it over two weeks? Or three?"
"We don't have the time."
"Everything's going to be for naught if we can't keep you alive and whole. If we have to take more time to allow you to heal, then we have to take more time. You wouldn't let me do something this crazy," she added.
He smiled a little. "No," he admitted.
"Then why are you allowing yourself to do it?"
His smile vanished. "Because I feel something—something invisible—driving me on. I don't dare stop moving forward, because it's like… like something behind me will catch up. I feel panic setting in when I'm not doing something—when I'm not on the move. It will get us."
Annabel repressed a shudder; she remembered the nightmare that had woken her up the night before. "What will get us?" she asked him.
"I don't know. Nagadii. A demon. Evil." He put his arm down and looked at her. Annabel was shocked to see fear in his eyes. "Evil will get us," he said with certainty. "Evil is following us, nipping at our heels. We're one mistake away—one hesitation away—from falling to it. And once we fall, we will never get up again."
Annabel couldn't repress a second shudder; she felt as if Shaun had spoken a prophecy. And yet, once he had voiced it, she couldn't deny that she had felt something similar—not just in her dreams, but when she was awake, too.
She quit arguing with him then and there about his rehabilitation schedule.

Despite the fact that Shaun’s resolve had seemed to be wavering, when he got up the following day, he got dressed, walked to breakfast with Annabel—but didn't eat anything—and then he walked to the infirmary with a look of sad resignation, but without hesitation.
Annabel waited for him again—waited through the progression of pain that left him wordlessly screaming—and then she helped him stagger to bed. Exhausted, he fell asleep almost immediately.
With nothing else to do for a few hours, she wandered out onto the front porch. In the courtyard, the boys were practicing their swordsmanship with wooden swords. An older boy—he looked to be eighteen or nineteen—appeared to be in charge. He had them paired up so the partners were close in age and size, and they were arranged in two lines. The teacher slowly prowled up and down the lines with a critical eye. He stopped at almost every pair and proceeded to correct them—said correction always involving a sharp hit or poke from him to the offending party.
But, despite the fact that he appeared to be a very strict teacher, he also seemed to know a lot about swordplay. There were several times he did fancy tricks that Annabel had not seen before.
After a while, she wandered over to the group, and when the teacher came to the end of the line and saw her, she spoke to him.
"May I join?"
He sneered. "What for? A woman with a sword is as useless as teats on a bull."
Some of the other boys snickered.
Annabel felt her face flush. "For your information," she said acidly, "I fought at the last battle on the fields of Erenrue. And I have fought against numerous demons. No one who has fought with me has said I'm useless."
The teacher jerked a sword from the hands of the boy next to him and tossed it at her. She barely managed to catch it before it hit her in the face.
"Alright," he said with condescension, "let's see what you've got."
Before she could get set and indicate that she was ready, he rushed forward with his sword held high, ready for the slice.
She knew immediately what he was doing: he was going to try to overpower her with his size and strength. It wasn't a particularly original plan of attack; her instructors at the castle had always warned her that men would try to do that to her.
She quickly backpedaled, just missing the swing of his sword. Then, while he was still looking a little surprised that she wasn't where he thought she would be, she shifted forward and stabbed at him. His swing had left his chest wide open, and that's where she hit.
There was an audible gasp from the other boys as the teacher staggered back and put his hand on his chest, rubbing the spot where she had struck him.
When he looked up at her, his eyes flashed with anger at his humiliation. "Alright, so you can handle the easy stuff. Let's see what else you can do."
Again, before Annabel was ready, he came at her aggressively. He didn't rush in as close as the first time—he had learned that lesson—but he still took big steps forward and made big swings.
It was a style meant to intimidate his opponents—and it probably worked against his smaller, younger students—but it made him slower. Annabel was used to fighting against Shaun, who was very conservative with his motions and was, consequently, a couple of seconds faster with every move.
Annabel kept backing away, staying just out of his reach, while she analyzed his moves. After one particularly big swing, she again shifted her momentum forward and went on the offense. She fought him as if she was fighting Shaun and he was quickly forced to retreat out of the reach of her fast sword.
She smiled a little as she watched his frustration mounting as he parried her blows, took a step back, then parried again.
She went for her favorite high chop—although she aimed lower, at the shoulder, instead of his unprotected head—certain that she had him again. But he suddenly threw his hand out and caught the end of her sword. She was so surprised, he had no trouble jerking it out of her hands. A moment later, he thrust it forward, hitting her hard in the belly with the pommel. Then he flicked the end up and popped her under the chin.
The impact made her stagger back, then she became unbalanced and fell on her backside.
Everyone looked at her in silence. Then one of the boys nervously cleared his throat. "Um, Jas, are you… are you allowed to do that? I mean, with a real sword?"
"You can if you have hand protection," he said.
The boys nodded, looking impressed by his trick.
Jas threw Annabel’s sword on the ground beside her. "I guess you can be taught," he said grudgingly. "As long as you know you'll never be better than a man."
Annabel picked up the sword and pushed herself to her feet. It was her turn to give him a look of anger. "We'll see about that," she vowed. Shaun had demonstrated that she fought better when she was angry, so she looked forward to round three.
Jas nudged the kid beside him. "Go get another sword," he told him. Then he looked at the other students. "Go back to your practice," he commanded. They hurried to oblige; it was clear none of them wanted to get on Jas's bad side.
Jas turned back to Annabel with a condescending smile. "Alright, let's go again."

When Shaun awoke in the late afternoon, he found himself alone in the room. Starving, he pushed himself to his feet and wandered out in search of food. He knew there wouldn't be anything in the refectory between mealtimes, so he looked for someone who might be able to make something for him.
Passing by a window, he caught a glimpse of something silvery moving in the courtyard. He stopped and looked out; Annabel was outside practicing swordplay with the other boys.
Shaun smiled, remembering that Annabel had once seemed envious of his education and had asked questions about his school. Now she was getting to experience it for herself.
He ignored his growling stomach and instead headed out onto the porch to watch her practice.
His smile was soon wiped off his face, though, as he watched her partner. The boy—really, he was a man; he was as large as a grown man, even if his face was still a bit boyish—was needlessly harsh with the other boys; it was clear he intimidated them. And despite his fancy tricks, it was also clear the boys weren't learning much—if anything—from him. He was more concerned with showing off his own talent than passing it on. In fact, most of them seemed to be behind in their skills. Certainly Shaun could pick out several boys who were noticeably less skilled than he was at the same age.
But the way the instructor treated Annabel was especially appalling; it was as if he saved the worst of his insults just for her. She was fighting quite well—well enough that he had to resort to using tricks and feints to best her. And while Annabel certainly needed to learn what to do when people fought dirty, he took it entirely too far—striking her or pushing her down much harder than was necessary to teach a lesson.
Shaun started to step off the porch and head that direction, when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to see Abbot Winfield standing behind him. He was surprised; he had never heard the older man approach.
"Leave it be," the abbot said.
Shaun turned to face him, a little angry. "Why is that guy in charge of teaching everyone?" he demanded. "He is a poor teacher, even if he's decent with a sword. Surely you can see he's a bully."
"Yes, I see," the abbot said quietly.
"Then why are you letting him get away with it?" Shaun said, his voice rising.
"Because they must learn."
"They're not going to learn swordplay from him—not well, at least."
"That's not what they're supposed to learn."
Shaun looked at him, confused.
"They need to learn how to stand up for themselves," the abbot explained.
Shaun frowned and looked back at Annabel. She was standing alone at the end of the line, watching as the instructor worked with another pair of students. He was quick to jump in and show off—hitting one of the boys hard in the shoulder. The boy flinched and rubbed his arm, but didn't say anything. He didn't even make eye contact.
"Come," the abbot said, putting his hand on Shaun’s shoulder again, making him turn around. "I had some lunch made for you. I daresay you're hungry."
Reluctantly, Shaun followed him back inside.

When Annabel returned to the room and found Shaun awake, she was apologetic and she was careful after that to be in the room when he woke up with lunch leftovers waiting on him. She never mentioned that she was practicing while he was asleep—and he took his lead from her and didn't mention it, either—but he knew she must be continuing, because one day she had a faint bluish bruise across her cheek.
He couldn't keep his eyes off her face while he ate. The bruise made his blood boil. He had never gone easy on her when they were practicing—unlike her tutors at the castle—but he had also never left a bruise on her—much less on the face. It would never even occur to him to strike at her head when she wasn't wearing armor.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "You look angry."
He looked down at his plate. "Nothing. Just… still hurting a little," he lied.
He made an effort after that to not stare at her, but he continued to dwell on it. He just couldn't fathom why she was allowing the arrogant young man to beat her. It wasn't a matter of her lacking self-confidence or being weak. She had insulted the King of Erenrue—even threatened to kill him—for gods' sakes; she was capable of working into a towering temper that would cow any man. She wasn't weak. She didn't lack self-confidence. So why would she tolerate a common boy treating her like dirt?
Although Shaun came out of the infirmary every day as pained and weak as the ever, it was not for naught; every day that Guy pulled and pushed on his arm, it went up higher and had more range of motion than the day before.
On the eighth day of his rehabilitation, he finally made it through the session without screaming once—and he kept the yelping and cursing to a bare minimum.
"You've done remarkably well," Guy said, as he held Shaun’s arm up over his head; it only burned a little bit.
He put Shaun’s arm down. "I think that's all I need to do. You'll need to continue to do exercises regularly for a few more weeks, just to make sure it doesn't freeze up again, and to get rid of that last bit of pain, but other than that…" he smiled, "you're good to go."
"Thank you."
"I have to admit," Guy said, "I never thought you'd make it. I thought for sure, after the first day, you'd quit—or at least tell me to slow down and take more time."
"Well, like I said, we don't have a lot of time to spare. And, as Her Highness likes to point out, I'm stubborn."
Guy chuckled. "Yes, I can see that. But sometimes it can be a good thing—it all depends on how you apply it."
"Do you need any pain medicine?" Guy's assistant asked.
"No, I think I'm alright," Shaun said, hopping off the table.
He managed to dress himself without any new pain in his shoulder—there was only a low, lingering burn—and he went to the door.
Annabel was sitting outside, and she jumped to her feet when he came out. "How are you?" she asked, looking at him anxiously. "Today sounded better than usual."
"I think I've finally turned a corner; my arm might actually work again."
"Good," she said with relief.
He let her help him to their room—he acted weaker than he was—and he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.
Annabel left him alone to sleep. Not long after she left, he got up again and went to the porch. He found a bench in the shadows against one wall, and he sat down on it to watch the morning's sword lesson.
The more he watched, the angrier he became—not just for Annabel’s sake, but for all of the boys as well. It was everything he could do to stay in his seat and not interfere. He had to keep telling himself that the abbot didn't want him to meddle, and Annabel had never mentioned what she was doing, so it was obvious she didn't want him to know.
In a way, watching without doing or saying anything was as agonizing as his shoulder exercises.
He sat there, stewing, for more than an hour. The only conclusion he could come to for why Annabel put up with the abuse was because she didn't realize she was being taken advantage of. It was like when her harp teacher constantly criticized her and made her think she was doing poorly, when, in fact, she had already surpassed him in skill. He was her teacher, so naturally she trusted his assessment. It never occurred to her that she might be better than him.
Annabel’s technique and fighting style was better than Jas's, but she was neither prepared to defend or to execute non-conventional attacks. She was still approaching the sparring as just that—sword-on-sword fighting. She was fighting by a set of rules. And while that was normal for a fighter practice, that was not the way Jas was operating; he was fighting as if they were in a no holds-barred fight to the death on the battlefield. There was a time and a place for that kind of practice—and Annabel’s definitely needed it—but it didn't look like Jas had warned her that was how they were fighting. She was still trying to be honorable, even though he wasn't.
It was shortly before noon when Jas—who had been bullying the other boys—came back to the end of the line to work with Annabel. She was looking tired, but when he took his place opposite her, she stood up straighter, obviously resolved to fight on.
They sparred for a minute—Annabel taking advantage of his big, slow movements to quickly get in and throw some short blows and jabs. Shaun was glad to see her taking the offense and being aggressive—something she seemed to have trouble doing when she fought against him.
She got up in Jas's face and they got their swords locked up. She was holding her own—despite the fact that he was a head taller than her and half again as heavy—when he suddenly brought his elbow down on her face.
She staggered back, holding her nose. There was blood on her hand.
Shaun wasn't conscious of rising to his feet; he just stood on the porch, breathless, watching the scene unfolding before his eyes.
And then the unforgivable happened.
While Annabel was standing there, holding her bleeding nose—obviously disengaged from the fight—Jas swung and hit her, hard, in the sword hand.
She dropped her sword. A moment later, he stabbed her in the belly. She staggered back, then fell onto the ground.
"Just because you get hit doesn't mean you can stand there with your mouth open, catching flies," he scolded. "The fight wasn't over."
He moved to stand over her and he pointed the end of his sword at her throat. "You're dead—dead because you stopped fighting before the fight was over."
A moment later, it was his turn to get knocked to the ground as Shaun—running across the courtyard—shoved him away from Annabel.
Jas looked up at him, his eyes wide with surprise.
Shaun pointed his finger at him. "If you touch her again, I will break your sword hand into so many pieces, you will never use it again," he said coldly. "Do you understand me?"
The boy's shock quickly turned to anger. "Who do you think you are?" he demanded. "I'm the teacher here. I'm in charge."
"Not anymore."
Jas pushed himself to his feet. "Yeah? And who, exactly, do you think is going to take my place? You, small fry?"
Shaun turned around. Annabel was still on the ground, looking at him in shock. A trickle of blood was still flowing out of her nose.
He pulled her to her feet and put her hand on her nose. "Pinch it here and hold it until it stops bleeding," he told her. Then he leaned down and picked up her sword with his left hand and turned back to Jas.
"Yes, I'm going to take your place," he said. "Or, rather, put you in your place."
Jas barked with laughter. "You people from Nevara really are arrogant. You think you're best at everything."
"I don't need to be the best," Shaun said; "I just need to be better than you."
"Not likely." Jas assumed a fighting stance and Shaun did as well.
As he had with Annabel, Jas attacked quickly, trying to catch Shaun off guard. But Shaun had been studying his moves for more than an hour; he had seen everything Jas had, so nothing was a surprise. And, really, other than getting a jump on his opponents and appearing threatening, he didn't have much going for him. He was slow and not particularly coordinated and his actual sword-work was merely acceptable.
Shaun blocked everything Jas threw easily, and he kept stepping back, not allowing him to close and bring his elbows or body into the fight. Shaun appeared to be on the defensive, but in reality he was controlling the fight. He was letting Jas get all of his aggression out and use up all of his tricks, knowing that he would be exhausted shortly. Jas had been practicing for a couple of hours; Shaun—aside from the exercise to his left arm more than an hour before—was fresh and well rested.
He watched Jas carefully, even while he backpedaled all around the courtyard, making Jas chase him. As soon as Jas began to swing more slowly, Shaun suddenly threw himself forward, launching himself into a furious onslaught, catching Jas completely off guard.
Shaun had been told, over and over again, to control his emotions in a fight; anger was just as ruinous as arrogance. And normally Shaun approached fighting with the same sort of clinical detachment that Brother Guy had when he was making people scream from pain; it was something that needed doing and there was nothing personal in it.
But as he fought Jas, he felt a cold-burning anger inside himself. He felt a desire not just to win, but to inflict pain on Jas, the way it had been inflicted on Annabel. The fight was personal. He was fighting for revenge. And it felt good.
In a matter of moments, Shaun managed to get inside Jas's guard and deliver a finger-breaking blow to Jas's sword hand.
He yelped and dropped his sword. Shaun jumped in close and elbowed him in the nose. Then, before Jas could even react, he thrust the pommel of his sword into his belly.
Jas doubled over in pain. But Shaun wasn't through just yet. He hooked his sword behind Jas's right leg and jerked it out from under him, sending him tumbling to the ground.
Shaun pointed his sword at him mockingly. "Just because you got hurt doesn't mean the fight was over."
Jas stared up at him in complete disbelief.
"Remember what I said," Shaun said, poking the sword at him menacingly: "you touch Princess Annabel again, and I'll break your hand. And you'll be lucky if I don't do worse. I don't know why the brothers allow you to abuse the younger students, but you will not abuse her. Not while I'm around. Have I made myself clear?"
Jas didn't say anything, but he averted his eyes, unable to look at Shaun.
He took that as sufficient answer and turned his attention to Annabel. "How's the nose?" he asked her, gently pushing her hand aside. The blood on her face was drying and it looked like it had nearly stopped bleeding.
"It's alright," she said, her voice sounding strange and thick, as she tried to avoid breathing through her nose.
"Let's get it cleaned up," he said, putting his hand on her back, guiding her towards the main building.
Abbot Winfield was standing on the porch, looking at him with disapproval. "I told you not to interfere," he said with disapproval.
The cold anger inside him that had been dying down, suddenly flared up again. He fought back an urge to yell at the abbot for letting Jas's abuses go on for so long. Yes, the students needed to learn to take care of themselves, but, in Shaun’s opinion, there came a point when someone needed to step in anyways, because they were so beaten down they would never rise up. And Shaun felt that moment was well past.
He threw the wooden sword at the abbot's feet. "My sword arm is healed," he said coldly. "With your permission, I will go after the Shadow Sword tomorrow. Gods willing, we'll be out of your hair in a day or two, and you won't have to worry about my interfering again."
Without waiting for a reply, he pushed Annabel inside the building.

Shaun had Annabel sit on his bed while he looked at her face. He gently felt the ridge of her nose, but everything seemed to be place.
"Thank goodness your nose isn't broken," he said with relief. "What would people in Nevara say if I brought back their Princess with a nose as crooked as a boxer's?"
He turned to the washbasin on the table and poured fresh water into it. He wet a cloth and turned back to Annabel and gently wiped the blood from her face.
"Why did you do that?" she asked, looking at him with a strange expression on her face.
"Do what, exactly?"
"The abbot said he had told you not to interfere. So why did you?"
"Because that guy is a bully and he was bullying you and everyone else. And because he fights dirty. And because he hit you. …Mostly because he hit you," he corrected. "It's one thing to hit someone in a fair fight, but another to use excessive force, and even worse to hit someone after they're out of the fight. Yes, on the battlefield you can't stop just because you get hit. But this isn't a battlefield and that's not how people normally spar—and I've certainly not seen a fight continue, without pause, after someone begins to bleed. It's common courtesy to stop and see if they're alright and get them medical attention.
"He hit you repeatedly just because he could—because he wanted to look like he was some mighty warrior who can beat opponents to a pulp."
Annabel looked away. Shaun was suddenly struck by the feeling that she wasn't happy with him.
"Are you mad at me for interfering?" he asked.
"No," she said, not sounding very convincing.
He put his hand under her chin and made her look up at him. "Did I… hurt your feelings?" he guessed.
She glanced away. That's when he knew he had hit the nail on the head.
"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you or hurt your feelings. I didn't mean that at all," he said softly.
"I know," she said. Then she sighed wearily.
"Tell me what's wrong," he pleaded. "I know you've been sparring with him for days; I saw you doing it earlier in the week. And I've seen the bruises he's left on you. But why didn't you tell me you were practicing? Why have you been doing it while I was asleep, like it's something shameful you had to hide?"
She looked away. "Because I thought you might not approve."
"I don't mind if you practice with other people—in fact, I encourage it—but no, I don't approve of the way he has been treating you. Why did you put up with it?"
"Because he said I'd never be a man's equal, and I was out to prove him wrong."
"Well, you certainly don't want to be his equal; he's a jackass."
Annabel couldn't help it; she smiled.
Shaun turned her face back to him. "Your Highness, what do you have to prove? You're much better than me at archery. In fact, it was you alone who weakened the lines at the Battle of Erenrue; our entire battle strategy hinged on your abilities with a bow, and no one found you wanting. And when it comes to the sword, you can best me when you really try.
"Look around. Do you see anyone else on this quest? Have I asked anyone else to help? No, because you're all the help I need. You are my partner in this endeavor, and I trust you to take care of me, as I take care of you.
"Why on earth do you need the approval of a jerk? You don't need to take a beating from him to prove you're tough. If I treat you—much less openly declare—that you are my equal as a warrior, is that not good enough? Does my opinion not count for anything?"
Annabel looked equal parts pleased and a little ashamed. "Well… you are partial to me," she pointed out. "You might… overstate."
He laughed. "True, but I think my actions back my words in this case."
She looked at him seriously. "I don't feel that I'm your equal—not with a sword. I don't want to be the weak point that gets us killed when we start fighting demons."
"Your Highness, you are a good swordsman—or, I suppose that should be 'swordswoman'; I just have more experience than you do. I'm decent with a bow, but you have put in many more hours of practice, and it shows with your ability to make difficult shots. It's the same thing with the sword: you have the basics mastered, and you have a good style; I only have a slight advantage over you because I'm more practiced."
They were interrupted a moment later by a soft knock on the door. "Master Shaun?" a timid voice called from the other side of the door.
Curious, Shaun went to the door and opened it. Outside, in the hallway, was a swarm of boys, all looking at him with something approaching adoration.
"Um, Master Shaun," said one boy, who appeared to have been designated their spokesperson, "we were wondering… um… could you… could you show us what you did to Jas?"
"That was the most awesome thing ever," one starry-eyed boy gushed. His words opened up a torrent of praise from the other boys.
"I want to learn!"
"Teach me, please!"
"Can you show me how you did that thing where you, like, blocked on one side, then swept your sword around and… I don't know how you did it, but can you show me again?"
"I can show you whatever you like," Shaun offered.
A couple of boys grabbed his hands and pulled him out of the room. "Let's go right now!"
"It's almost lunch," Shaun said with a laugh.
"You can show us a thing or two before lunch, can't you?" one boy pleaded.
They went into the courtyard. Someone quickly fetched a couple of swords and handed one to Shaun. Then he turned and offered the other one to Annabel. "You were really brave to fight against Jas," he said, looking up at her with admiration.
"Yeah, I would have turned around and run if I had to have him as my partner," another boy chimed in. "He scares me every time he comes near me."
"You were, like, the first person to ever hit him. It was awesome! Thinking about that made me happy all week."
Annabel smiled, looking pleased. She took up the proffered sword and the boys formed a loose circle around her and Shaun.
Shaun proceeded to explain what he knew about Jas's weaknesses and how he planned to exploit them before he even engaged in the fight. Then, in slow motion, he demonstrated with Annabel how he had allowed Jas to wear himself out, before switching to the attack.
The boys hung on his every word and watched with rapt attention until the lunch bell interrupted them.
"Will you come back out after lunch and show us some more?" one of the boys asked, looking between Shaun and Annabel with obvious hero-worship.
"Sure," Shaun said. "And if you ask real nice, Her Highness might demonstrate her archery; she's very good.
The boy turned to look up at Annabel. "Will you? Pleeeease?"
She smiled. "Yes, if you like."
As they headed for the main building—surrounded by the gaggle of boys—Shaun noticed the abbot standing on the porch, watching. He said nothing as Shaun passed, but, at the last moment, he gave him a nod.
Shaun felt that was as close to an acknowledgement that he had been right that he was going to get. But he would take it. He had been very, very close to being wrong.

The next morning, Shaun and Annabel awoke early—before the morning bell. Silently, they pulled on their boots—taking care to lace them tight—and reattached their sword scabbards to their belts.
They debated over who should wear the maile shirt Shaun had worn out of Erenrue. Annabel had put it on when she went to fight the demons, and since it was difficult for Shaun to put on again because of his shoulder, she had worn it when they came out of the mountains. When they arrived at the monastery, she had discarded it and it had lain half-forgotten in their room. Now, however, there was a need for it again.
"You wear it," Shaun said. "Your hide is more precious than mine."
"Don't start that again," she fussed.
"But it's true."
"You should wear it because you're the one who is going to be fighting up close," she argued. "I'm going to use my bow and arrows, so I can stand behind you and shoot anything that's flying or at a distance, and you can do the close-up work."
Shaun frowned, but he couldn't turn down Annabel’s offer to stand behind him and engage any enemies from a distance; that was even better than wearing the maile shirt.
So, in the end, he put it on over his tunic.
Annabel strapped her quiver across her back and slipped her head and arm through her bow, positioning it so the string lay across her chest.
"I wish I still had my shield," Shaun said a bit mournfully, buckling on his sword belt. "I feel kind of naked without it."
"Is there not one you can borrow?"
"You know, I hadn't thought about that," he admitted. "I'm sure there is."
"Ask at breakfast."
By the time Annabel had her hair braided, the first bell of morning was ringing.
They went to breakfast early. The few boys who were already there turned to look—not just at Annabel, but at Shaun, too. Their eyes widened when they saw both of them dressed for combat.
The abbot looked a little surprised when he came to the table and found them sitting there, waiting.
"Are you… going to practice your archery today, Your Highness?" he asked Annabel. She had put on a good show the day before that thrilled all the boys.
Annabel looked confused. "I wouldn't call it practice, exactly."
It was the abbot's turn to look confused. "What do you call it?"
"Fighting?" she offered.
It took him a minute, but realization finally dawned on his face. "Did you mean to go with Shaun into the catacombs?"
"Of course."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you can't; you will have to wait outside."
Annabel looked outraged. "Why?"
"Only the Hero destined to wield the sword may go. He must prove himself worthy of it."
"Who made that rule?" Shaun asked.
"I don't know. But it is written down, so obviously whoever put the sword there thought it was important."
Shaun looked at Annabel, then sighed. "I guess I'll have to go in alone."
Annabel didn't look happy, but she didn't say anything. The monks were the keepers of the Shadow Sword, so she and Shaun would have to play by their rules.
Neither Annabel nor Shaun ate very much breakfast. When everyone at the table was done, they rose and escorted Shaun and Annabel out of the building. The boys tried to follow them, but one of the brothers shooed them away.
They crossed the courtyard to the chapel dedicated to the Goddess Faro. The altar, at the far end, was on a raised platform, accessible by half a dozen stairs that ran across its front. In the middle of the stairs, though, a place had been carved out. There were a couple of stairs that led down to a door set under the altar. Everyone stopped in front of the altar.
Annabel nudged Shaun. "Ask about a shield," she whispered.
"Oh, yeah," he said, remembering; his mind had been so focused on the upcoming trial, he had forgotten to ask.
He looked at the abbot. "I left my shield in Erenrue. Do you have one that I can borrow?"
"Actually, we have armor for you."
Two brothers brought over pieces of armor and began to arm him. It wasn't a full plate-armor suit, like his Erenrue harness; instead, it was a few strategic pieces of hardened leather. There were vambraces—not unlike the ones Annabel had given him, which had also been left behind in Erenrue—shin guards, a breastplate, spaulders that covered half of his upper arm, and fingerless gloves. There was also a shield—one painted with the national arms of Nevara.
"You'll need this," one of the brothers said, offering him a small lantern. Shaun hooked it onto the back of his belt, where it would be out of the way, but easy to access.
When Shaun was ready, the abbot stepped down to the door and unlocked it with a key he wore around his neck. Then he handed it to Shaun. "You will need this for the door inside the crypt and there might be other doors; I don't know."
Shaun paused at the top of the steps, aware of dozens of eyes on him. He suddenly felt an enormous weight on his shoulders. Everything—everything—hinged on him getting the Shadow Sword. The entire world and every person living in it needed him to succeed. There was no room for failure.
Which only made Annabel’s absence all the more striking. He hadn't realized, until that moment, how much he really had been relying on Annabel throughout their quest. Even when he was doing the lion's share of the work, he had always known, in the back of his mind, that he could count on her help. She had proven her ability to lead their quest and care for him while they were crossing the mountains; she had even fought demons by herself to get medicine to save his life.
Now, he would be on his own. There would be no one to watch his back; no one to take care of him if he got hurt; no one to provide encouragement or moral support; no one to take over should he fail.
He had never felt more alone.
Annabel stepped up beside him. She must have seen the anxiety written on his face, because she took her hand in his and squeezed.
I'll be here if you need me, she said telepathically. If something happens—if you're badly hurt or trapped—call to me and I'll teleport you out.
Suddenly the weight upon him broke and melted away. He wouldn't be completely alone; if he needed reassurance, Annabel’s voice would be in his mind. And if he got into serious trouble, she could get him out of it. He wasn't without help, after all.
He wanted to kiss her, but didn't dare do it with so many people watching. So, instead, he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. Their eyes met for a long moment.
Thank you, he said.
Be careful.
I will.
He slowly let go of her hand, then he went down the stairs through the door into the dark catacombs.
Immediately inside the door was a large crypt full of tombs. The walls were lined with niches where coffins and—in some places—bare bones were stacked. It was very similar to the crypt under the Sanctuary in Linnens. The fact that it looked familiar made Shaun feel a little better—or, at least, that's what he told himself. He tried not to dwell on the fact that passing through the graves of the dead was a rather ominous beginning to his journey.
Opposite the entrance was another door—the only other door in the crypt. Shaun tried the key the abbot had given him and, although he met with some resistance—as if the lock had rusted up—he finally managed to get it unlocked.
He had to tug hard on the door; it had rusted on its hinges, too. The air that greeted him smelled stale and old.
He looked inside and saw a narrow passage that sloped down. He couldn't see any more than that, because it was pitch black inside. There was only a dim amount of light in the crypt—coming from the open door behind him—and obviously none at all in the catacombs.
Shaun unhooked the lantern from his belt and set it on the floor. He used his flint and steel to light it, then he cautiously held it up, looking down the passageway again. For as far as the light shone, there was nothing to be seen but the downward passage.
Shaun felt as if he was walking into a trap. "Goddesses protect me," he whispered, then he slowly began to walk down the passage.
He steadily descended until he felt that he must be quite far under the earth. Just when he was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to reach the end, he noticed a dim light shining up ahead. He had to stop himself from running towards it. Instead, he pulled out his sword and proceeded with caution.
The passageway suddenly leveled off and opened onto a small stone platform. When Shaun stepped onto it, his eyes went wide.
He was in a huge natural cavern—the platform some ten or twelve feet above the floor. There were torches—obviously a magical fire that burned forever—high up on the walls, and they cast a dim light over the thing that amazed and horrified Shaun the most: a huge labyrinth.
"They weren't kidding when they said it was a maze," Shaun said to himself, looking over the scene in disbelief.
At the far end of the room—at least a hundred yards away—there was some sort of elevated platform and many torches illuminating it; it was more brightly lit than the rest of the cavern, so it seemed obvious that was his destination.
He took a moment to think about what he knew about mazes. He had been told that if he ever got lost in a cave, he should put his hand on the wall while he walked. Even if he had to walk the entire perimeter of the cavern, eventually he would come back to the entrance.
He thought that advice would work well here, too. Guessing which way to go and taking turns at random would probably just lead him to going in circles or taking the same wrong turn multiple times.
He also remembered an old story about a hero who went into a maze and he rolled a string out behind him so that he wouldn't get lost on the return journey.
Shaun considered what he had on him that could act as a marker, but couldn't come up with anything. He briefly though about going back up and asking the abbot for something, but he was afraid that coming back out so soon after going in might look bad—as if he was cowardly. Besides, the hike back up the passageway would be exhausting; he wanted to tackle the maze—and whatever booby traps might be in it—while he was still fresh.
Finally, he hit on an idea. His maile shirt was made from butted—not riveted—links. He was able to pull individual links apart far enough that he could unweave them from the rest. He could drop those along the way, like breadcrumbs.
He was about to start down the stairs when another idea struck him like a bolt of lightning.
"Dumbass," he chided himself. "Fly across."
While he took Annabel’s ability to transform into a horse for granted, he was still unaccustomed to having an animal form of his own, and he usually forgot that he could turn into a bird and fly, when necessary.
But now his heart lifted at the thought that he could just fly across the maze, pick the Shadow Sword up in his claws and fly back.
He laughed to think about how easy it would be. And maybe that's what the original monks who built the maze had intended: the maze was there to discourage normal people, but when the Hero came for the Sword, he would be able to easily get it.
Shaun unfastened his sword belt and reconfigured it so that his scabbard lay across his back. He resheathed his sword and hooked his shield onto the back. Now his hands were free, but he would still have his weapons with him in case there was something waiting for him on the platform on the other side.
He picked up the lantern and blew it out—no need to waste the oil—then he transformed into an eagle and launched himself off the platform.
He had barely flown a few feet when, just as he was going to cross over the first wall of the maze, he crashed into an invisible barrier. He hit it so hard, he was unable to recover before he fell to the ground.
He transformed back into a human as he was lying on the stone floor, and groaned in pain. It was a few minutes before he sat up and rubbed his nose, which felt like it had taken the brunt of the impact. He checked his hand three times to see if there was blood on it; he couldn't believe that his nose could hurt so much without bleeding or being broken.
After a while, he got up and dusted himself off. He looked up, but he could see nothing above the walls; there was no indication there was a barrier above them. It must have been placed there, though, to keep people from climbing up the walls and sneaking a peak at the maze's layout, or running along the tops of them as a shortcut.
So much for the idea of taking his own shortcut.
With a sigh, he climbed back up the stairs to the platform to get his lantern. Then he walked back down and entered the maze through the only entrance.
As soon as he entered, he was confronted with a choice of directions: left, right, or straight ahead. He thought straight ahead was too obvious a choice and sure to contain traps. Besides, he had decided to walk around the walls.
He turned to the passage to the left and stopped to drop a link from his maile shirt. Then he put his left hand on the wall and began to walk. After a distance of about 20 yards, the passage made a hard right.
Shaun dropped another link, then proceeded forward with caution. The torches were so high up on the walls and so widely spaced, the light down in the maze was dim, like a perpetual twilight. He considered lighting his lantern, but he didn't want to encumber his hands if he didn't have to. Besides, the oil wouldn't last forever; he wanted to save it in case he really needed it.
After a few dozen feet, he came to an opening on his left. Following his rule of lefts, he dropped a maile link, then went through the opening.
It had two passageways: one to the left and one to the right. The passage to the left, however, was so dark, he couldn't see more than a few feet down it. He looked up and noticed that it had a roof over the walls. It had been made dark on purpose. That heightened his worry.
He dropped another link just to be on the safe side—if he ran into a dead end and had to double back, he wanted to be sure he knew where he came in—then he lit his lantern and proceeded slowly down the passage.
It made a sharp right, and he was about to make the turn, when he glanced down and noticed there was nothing but blackness.
He pulled up short and held his lantern down close to the floor. Only there was no floor at all; there was only a pit that had no visible bottom.
That's why this passage is dark, he thought to himself. If I hadn't had my lantern—if I had been feeling my way down it—I would have fallen in.
He visualized turning the corner in what had nearly been a literal dead end, then he turned around, put his left hand on the wall that had once been to his right, and he returned to where he had dropped his last link. He continued forward, taking what had been the right-hand passage when he entered through the opening.
And so it went for hours. He began to wish he had packed himself some food.
There were plenty of dead ends. Sometimes he would get off on a branch of the maze that had numerous smaller dead ends, and it wasn't until he had explored all of those that he discovered that the entire branch was one giant dead end.
He thanked all the gods multiple times that he had been smart enough to leave himself a trail because, when he had to double back, that always showed him where he had been. Otherwise, he might have gotten turned around and confused as to which wall he was supposed to have his hand on. Because, although the rule for being lost in a cave was to put your hand to the wall and never take it off, he didn't have that luxury because there were numerous traps.
He learned to be suspicious of anything that was out of the ordinary. If there was a tile in the floor or a decoration on a wall, he stood as far away from it as possible and poked it with his sword. Darts or spears would suddenly shoot through the walls or spikes would come up through the floor, or else the tile would crumble like a dry leaf, revealing another bottomless pit.
He came across one tile that he wasn't able to spring with his sword, although he was certain it was rigged somehow. He couldn't go around it, and it was too wide to jump over; there was nothing he could do but wait until he had figured out its trick.
It wasn't until he sat down to take a break that he realized there was a pile of stones stacked against the wall. Nothing in the maze was there by coincidence, so he picked up a stone and threw it onto the tile. It landed with a thud, but nothing happened. He really didn't have anything better to do, so he continued to throw stones at the tile.
Then, suddenly, when the eighth stone hit it, it sprung up into the air, launching stones in all directions and scaring the daylights out of Shaun.
"So, that was your trick," he said, after his heart had calmed down a little. He was glad he had sat down and toyed with it for a while; he would have hated to have gone flying through the air, only to smack into another invisible wall somewhere.
He pushed himself to his feet with a sigh and looked at the tile hovering on top of its spring ten feet or so in the air above his head. "I don't know who built this place," he muttered, "but they're out to kill me."
Only slightly less awful than the traps were the creatures that prowled through the maze. Shaun was sitting with his back against a wall, taking a break, when something moved in the corner of his eye. He looked up to see a huge spider—as big as his head—crawling on the wall, making a beeline for him.
Shaun practically teleported to the other side of the corridor. "Mother of all the gods!" he gasped. A moment later, he was fumbling to pull out his sword, and the next moment, he was running the spider through as it turned around on the wall, as if trying to figure out where its prey had gone.
It made a little clicking noise when he stabbed it. When he pulled his sword out, it dropped to the floor and its legs curled inwards, twitching. Then it disappeared in a puff of black smoke. Obviously it had been made from magic, but that didn't mean it wasn't as dangerous as a real spider—if a real spider could ever grow to such hellish proportions.
There were a total of three kinds of monstrous creatures in the maze: the oversized-spiders, rats as large as small dogs, and snakes. Luckily, the snakes were normal-size, but they were the worst of all to fight because they were close to the ground; it made it hard to swing or stab at them—especially as he didn't like to strike his sword against the stone floors and walls; that would blunt the edge and tip very quickly. Worse, the stress on the old sword might break it altogether.
The snakes also had the nasty habit of coming at him from different sides, all at the same time. In a turn down one dead-end, he quickly found himself surrounded by more snakes than he could deal with.
While he was turned, trying to kill one, another one struck his foot, sinking its fangs through his soft leather boot and into the top of his foot.
"Damnit!" Shaun shouted, jerking his foot up and shaking it, trying to get the snake off of it. The snake's tail whipped a couple of its fellows across the face, driving them back, but it didn't let go of Shaun’s foot. In fact, its fangs just seemed to wiggle in deeper.
Finally he put his foot down and sliced the snake's head off. The other snakes were pressing in on him, so he had to return to fighting them. It wasn't until the last one was defeated that he was finally able to grab the severed head and pull its fangs out of his foot. As soon as it was out of his foot, it disintegrated into black smoke, like all the rest of the monsters.
"Oh, now you vanish," Shaun said sourly.
His foot was throbbing and it quickly began to swell—to the point he had to take off his boot to relieve the pressure.
He tucked his boot down into his belt and took a look at his foot. It was swollen to nearly twice its normal size. Two puncture wounds in the top oozed blood. The skin around them was blue and white, while the rest of his foot was an angry shade of red.
He debated calling on Annabel to get him out of the maze. What if the snake had been venomous? How long did he have until it started to affect him? More importantly, how much time would an antidote need to work?
At the same time, he was loathe to leave the maze, because that would mean starting all over again. He had left his trail of maile links, so he wouldn't have to re-find the correct route, but it was still a long walk and who knew if the monsters and traps might regenerate after a time? They were all magical, so one could never be certain.
He finally decided that he would wait a little while and see what happened. If he began to feel sick or incapacitated in any way, he would leave. Just to be on the safe side, though, he warned Annabel.
I just got bitten by a snake. Would you make sure Guy or someone has an antidote or medicine or something available in case it was venomous?
Do you want me to bring you out? she asked anxiously.
Not just yet. I don't want to lose everything I've gained.
Are you sure? Maybe you shouldn't risk it.
Trust me; I do not want to go through this again, if I can help it.
Is it very bad? You've been down there nearly five hours.
It's not pleasant, was all he would say. Have some medicine ready for me, in case I need it. But, otherwise, I'm going to stay here.
Be careful. Don't wait until the last minute. You don't want to pass out; I can't teleport you if you're not conscious, you know.
I do know. Believe me, I won't wait; this worries me more than it does you.
I don't know about that.
I do. I can see my foot where it bit me and you can't. Trust me; I'm more worried.
Shaun, just come back, she pleaded.
No, not right now.
Shaun….
Shh, I have to go. I have to concentrate on what's around this next bend.
Shaun was actually still a little ways from the next turn—and hobbling slowly on his sore, swollen foot—but he knew Annabel wouldn't stop begging him to come back if he didn't fudge the truth a little. And if he let her beg, he was afraid she might just talk him into leaving.
But, it seemed that the snakes—or at least the snake that bit him—wasn't venomous. Painful and annoying, to be sure, but not venomous.
Quite by accident, when he had worked his way over to one side of the maze, he noticed that the snakes didn't follow him when he retreated. He studied the situation for a while, but the only difference that he could come up with was that it was brighter close to the side of the cave where the torches were mounted. He tested his theory with his lantern and found he could drive the snakes back with the light from the lantern.
After that, he kept the lantern lit constantly, ready to thrust it out into the face of an advancing snake.
By the time he had been in the maze for six hours, he was starving and tired and his foot was killing him. His mind began to concentrate on his suffering, not on his surroundings, and he began to get careless. That was why he walked, obliviously, past a series of holes in the walls that suddenly shot a bevy of little darts at him.
He threw his right arm up, just barely managing to block his face; several darts stuck in his leather vambrace instead. Several more hit his body armor. But one managed to hit him in the tender underside of his upper arm, just past where the sleeve of his maile shirt ended.
"Ah, gods!" he said, hopping in pain down the corridor, out of the way of the dart holes.
He reached up for the dart. It wasn't deep enough to cause any major damage—not like a regular arrow—but it hurt all the same.
"Damnit!" he cursed, as he ripped it out, leaving a burning, bleeding hole in his arm. He pulled the rest of them out of his armor, throwing them viciously to the ground, as if he could punish them for the pain that had been inflicted on him.
He was careful to crawl under the dart holes, in case there were more still in there, waiting to be fired.
And then, after more than six hours in the maze, he turned a corner and suddenly saw brightly lit steps that led up to an altar.
He looked around cautiously, sure there was one more trap waiting for him, but as he inched forward, nothing happened.
Slowly, he climbed the steps—all the time looking around and above him, sure something was going to drop on his head or come zooming in. He occasionally even stopped to poke the stairs with his sword to make sure they weren't spring-loaded.
Finally, he reached the top of the platform. There was a lone table standing on it, and on the table, sparkling in the torchlight, was a golden box inlaid with jewels.
He forgot his caution and, in awe, he stepped forward. He held his breath as he reached out and opened the lid.
Annabel hadn't heard from Shaun for more than an hour, and she was way past being worried for him. What if he had been suddenly overcome by venom and had blacked out before he could call for help? What if he had become confused and couldn't remember that he was supposed to call to her?
She debated asking him if he was alright, but she was terrified of interrupting him if he was in the middle of something. What if she caused him to get hurt because he was distracted?
So, against her inclination, she stayed quiet. But it was an agonizing wait.
And then, like a ghost, Shaun emerged from the crypt. She was so surprised by his sudden appearance, it took her brain a moment to realize that he was really there. She hadn't expected him to walk out; she thought he would just have her teleport him out.
He was moving slowly, hobbling on one shoeless, swollen foot. There was blood on the right sleeve of his shirt, nicks and tears in his tunic in places, and his hair was disheveled; he looked like he had just come out of a hard fight. In his arms he carried a long, beautiful box. Annabel wondered if the box was why he had not asked her to teleport him out; maybe he was afraid it wouldn't come with him.
She stood up and started to take a step towards him, but something made her stop.
As Shaun limped up the stairs, he didn't glance her way—didn't acknowledge her presence at all. Instead, he was looking at the abbot. No, "glaring" was a more apt description.
Annabel was suddenly shocked to realize that Shaun’s face was contorted in a burning, murderous rage that was so frightening, she actually took a step back. She had never, ever been afraid of Shaun—or of anything else while he was around—but she was afraid of him now. He looked as if he was going to kill someone.
The monks seemed oblivious to his silent rage, and they all hurried forward to see him.
"Did you get it?"
"What was it like?"
"You were gone so long."
"Can I see it?"
Shaun said nothing, limping slowly past them to the abbot. The abbot, like Annabel, looked a little frightened; he knew something was wrong.
"What is it?" he whispered.
Shaun held the box up high, for everyone to see, then he turned it over.
The lid flapped open and a sword fell out. Everyone watched it as it fell—seemingly in slow motion—and clattered to the floor.
The rusty old sword was broken in two.