Him

England, 1631. The Castle D'Artagnan.

Cobalt eyes, lit with arrogant boredom, glinted in the mid-morning sun. Their owner, tall
and proud, sat with careless and yet still elegant grace upon a tan destrier waiting,
patiently, with twelve of almost similar guise and certainly of similar air, for the
thirteenth Rider. I say ‘patiently’ for D’Artagnan is always patient. Particularly when he
is intent on being especially brutal. If I were to be found here my life would be almost
forfeit for he would not show me a whit of consideration. And I am his favorite.

‘Here’ is in the shadows of a column with a shaft wide enough to hide three men and a
base large enough to sit on. This column is in the courtyard of the ‘De Quatorze’ and by
the king’s law I am forbidden to set a foot of mine upon its paved floors. I am standing on
the column’s base.

I know, however, that the king will not consider this an adequate option. The law forbids
all females and is thus fair and just. He would not hesitate to uphold this law, even as I
am wed to him, for he is fair and he is just and he, most importantly, has taken a strong
dislike to my character; he has found some previously overlooked flaw which he feels he
must correct. Thus far be it from me to give him one more opportunity to assert his
authority, to show himself my master. Or perhaps not.

You might think me foolish for placing myself in such a risqué position and you will
think me excessively so when you discover that I have done this, in part, for the mere
purpose of seeing the man I love. For love itself is a foolish thing. Is it not? In any case I
admit to foolishness on all counts. I will say, though that I do not act on mere impulse but
have been pushed here by circumstances far beyond the precincts of my control. I could
say this began the moment I was conceived but in truth it began the day I was wed to
Alixir D’Artagnan, M. le Duc du Verte, High King of all Charliste and the only man for
whom I would willingly die and, without question, kill.

Know now that this man enthralled me the second I laid eyes on him. You have not met
him; you do not know why. But you will for I will begin at the beginning and then
perhaps an end will emerge. The riders still wait and I wait with them.

xx

1625, The Castle D'Ervonne.

It was the feast of the Phoenix and I was to remain in my chambers for the duration of the
pleasantries, showing myself only once the guests were settled for the night. It was the
feast of the Phoenix; not one of the guests besides the babes will retire before the morn.
My circumstance was one I was accustomed to under my father’s roof and yet in my
twelve years upon the earth I had yet to concoct a scheme brilliant enough to free myself
from my prison. I had tried many things in the hopes of stealing out of my chambers and
had been caught and thrashed soundly. I had feigned intense melancholy and when
ignored I had thrown myself into a fit of rage that none but my mother’s soothing arms
could bring me out of.

But I was full twelve and could not resort to such childish tricks. Doubtless if I did I
would not have even been heard over the raucous laughter of our visitors. If I was to be
heard one of my fourteen brothers would surely have been sent up to silence me. And
then He would know and I would risk earning His interminable scorn. Alixir D’Artagnan,
Prince of the South East, was our guest that festive season and I was yet to catch even a
glimpse of him. I had heard only garbled versions of his looks, his voice, his dressing. All
unimportant things. All from the mouths of scullery maids.

I wished to speak to him and hear his accounts of the war in the west for he was six years
my senior and had experienced battle. I wished him to hear my opinions and perhaps be
astonished at my knowledge for I fancied myself a rather precocious child. I wished him
to look upon me as an equal in intellect at the very least but he could not look upon me at
all for I was locked away and would doubtless be watched with circumspection by the
males of my family once I emerged on the morrow.

It was my fault that I was there some would say but I preferred to blame my predicament
on my ‘fault’. I had a fault you see. It had been with me since I could speak and nothing
my father, my brothers and even, upon occasion, my mother had done had made any
significant impact on me; I was incorrigible to them and incurable to myself. My fault. It
was a strange, inherent desire to antagonize those who held power over me despite the
obvious detrimental effects of my actions. And the effects were detrimental. I was not on
speaking terms with my eldest brother, Fernance, and would have to leave every room
upon his entering. I was not on speaking terms with my father and on pain of certain pain
must not attempt to address him. I was not allowed to partake in a feast which I took part
in planning.

I had thought this over considerably, as I usually was in possession of an obscene amount
of time to think, and I believed I had effectively diagnosed my disease. I had come to the
conclusion that until a cure was found, I would bravely bear the consequences of my
frequent outbreaks. None but myself shared this view and all regarded my voicing it as
inexcusable defiance which needed to be crushed unmercifully. I was always being
crushed.

At present I am sitting in the middle of my bed darning or pretending to do so. I do not

know which for both produce the same results. Every ten minutes Madame will look in to
be sure that I am not in the throes of some intricate plan to escape. I have long since
ceased to look up at her when she does this for she has done it for a total of thirty-six
times. Thirty-seven. It is quite depressing really for I do not intend to steal out of here
and even if I did, I would only put her in a morass of trouble with father and I could not
do that.
The bed was appealing thus I let it pull me down into its warmth and closed my eyes for a
second. A second is quite a long time to close one’s eyes at the twenty-fourth hour. I have
heard that fairies steal parts of your life at this hour. What foolish nonsense. This was my
last coherent thought before sleep overcame me and when I awoke it was to the sound of
complete silence. I did not open my eyes for I had an illogical fear of the darkness of the
night. I knew it would be dark for it was cold and surely the fire must have died out. The
thought brought me up instantly. My deduction was true; the fireplace was simply a black
hole. Madame would never let the fire die down. How long had I slept? I rose reluctantly
and made my way first to the fireplace which was visible only through the pale
moonlight. Kneeling beside it, I tentatively touched the ashes. They were cold. The fire
had been out for an inordinate amount of time which meant that I most probably hadn’t
been checked for the same - or even more – time. The urge was strong so I crept to the
door and, opening it, peered out.

I had no real intention of escaping the confines of my room but the empty corridor was
strongly appealing. If I did leave my room, the question of where I would go still
remained. It came to me after some thought. (I was predisposed to the belief that I would
leave my room for it was always easy to convince myself of such things.) The Deck. It
would indeed be perfect.

It was not really a deck but I referred to it as such as it was not only constructed
completely of wood, mahogany, but it was built in such a way that, in the form of a
balcony, it encircled the highest regions of the grand hall. If you were to look over the
side, a wealth of space, almost as vast as the sea would greet you and, at times, a strange
nausea would turn your stomach and perhaps even drive you back.

I stepped out cautiously, attuned to the slightest sounds that might mean the presence of
another. The corridor was lit with many torches but at long intervals so I hurried along,
shying away from the darker places until I reached the north door to the Deck, at which
point I stopped. Perhaps a brother had chosen this place for solace as well? Shaking my
head, I dismissed the notion as the child of nervousness, several minutes after standing at
the door. I let out a long breath and opened it.

The darkness was almost stifling as only a single torch lit the huge place and I had begun
a somewhat frantic search for the others when I heard it. The high-pitched, grating sound
of glass touching gold. I jumped, stilling my frantic movements and wondered if I should
bolt or stay and brave this new situation through.

“Is this castle then filled with nymphs and fairies as well as beautiful women?”

The voice was like vintage wine, strong and heady, with an air of sensuality I was sure I
had only heard of before in my mother’s gallery. There was a condescending note,
though, that I found rankling so I turned to summarily put him in his place. What my eyes
met, who my eyes met…I could not see him, curse the inadequate lightening, but I knew
where he was. A high-backed armchair, stuffed to perfection, – as I knew from sitting
there myself – one of four which surrounded a table wrought of solid gold, was where he
sat. His feet, clad in boots of a dark color and polished to shine were crossed and resting
on the afore-mentioned table.

“I will not ask you if you have lost your manners, sir, for I see that in that you are
obviously lacking. I will however ask, nay tell you to take your offending feet off that
table.”

It was all said scathingly that he would realize my disgust at his behavior but I could not
see how he took it. All he did was pick up his glass, half filled with some liquid, from a
table at his right side I regret to have not mentioned afore hand. It was an exquisite hand
that gripped that glass to be sure, smooth and as though it were carved of a pearl-like
marble, and then it and the glass disappeared into the darkness that shielded his upper
body.

The glass reappeared, some seconds later, held loosely by the stem by long unadorned
fingers. I knew he was watching me and I felt mocked. Goaded I walked forward, to
show my seriousness and my lack of fear for whoever he thought he was.

“I trust you do not intend violence. You see I am not sober enough to resist reacting in
kind.”

That comment, so carelessly made was oddly threatening. I went up to the armchair
opposite this irritating stranger and asked, my arms crossed over my still blooming chest,
“Was that a threat, sir?” I put enough antipathy into the title as to make it an epithet and I
hoped he noticed.

“I should hope so. I would, however, refer to it as a deterrent.”

I was incredulous, certainly, and incensed, of course. For as much as I positively itched to
correct his supercilious tone with a well deserved slap, I refrained from doing so, mainly
because I was now cautious of his promised reaction.

“I will not be threatened by a stranger in my home; you will leave. Now.”

I felt a strange pleasure combined with a surge of power after saying this but his reaction
was severely disappointing. He did nothing.

A/N: I know this was slightly long and i know there might have been some errors but i
hope you liked it anyway. This is my first ever teen story but since she grows up the
ratings might change. I would sincerely appreciate it if you would click on that little
button to the lower left of the screen and review. I really need input.

Cheers!

Starox.
P.S. This isn't a three musketeers story, D'Artagnan, I hope is a relative of some sort. That
was a joke. I merely liked the name.

Cheers! (Again)

P.P.S: Sry bout the thing with italics. I just had it like that on Word. Nehoot. Chow!

My Lord Royale

The silence was broken only by the tapping of my foot upon the flooring and then he
spoke.

“You must be the absent sister. I apologize for I can not bow now; I just might topple
over and that would not do at all.”

“Who are you and what erroneous notion has brought you here?” I asked slowly, not
particularly wondrous of his knowledge of me but wary nonetheless of the haphazard
ease with which he remained in that chair. It struck me that he could be one of our more
randy guests – there was always at least one – and his admission to drunkenness was
what prompted my question and, after a moment, the step which I took backwards.

“Alixir D’Artagnan, Prince of Charliste or, as you of Galla prefer, the South East.”

I swear I felt the blood drain from my face and it was shock alone that made me move
backward further and bring my hands up to my mouth. But one did not address royalty
so; if I did fear for my life it was only to be expected.

“I did…I am…” I have truly never felt so foolish in my life. That I was without words
filled me with self disgust.

“Abjectly penitent?” He suggested blandly even as he took another sip of what I did not
doubt was my father’s finest wine. I replied without thought as usual.

“I did not think so.” There was something akin to a smile in his voice. “Come. Join me.
You do not seem particularly stupid and I would have some stimulating conversation.”

I was torn. Not only had he insulted my intelligence – I was not particularly stupid – but
he hadn’t even asked if I would enjoy conversing with him. And yet this opportunity was
one I had longed for from the time I knew of his coming.

“I would appreciate it greatly if you would sit down and enjoy a glass of claret and
perhaps some conversation that would interest you.” His voice was completely changed;
gone was the mocking condescension. Instead he sounded utterly charming and yet
compelling in a way that made me long to acquiesce. I hesitated though. Why had he
changed his tune? Did he realize I would not have responded to the wording of his
previous ‘request’? Would I have indeed! And why would he care? He was the king’s son
after all.

I suppose I must have waited more than a while simply staring at him for he sighed and
then drawled, “Must I beg then? Mayhaps get on my knees?”

I could feel a smile creep across my face and I knew I had best sit down before he had
used up all of his gallantry.

“No, no. The second was quite sufficient.” I said primly, sitting in the armchair facing
him and already mentally going through all I wished to discuss with him. He made what
sounded like a ‘hmm’ and then came chuckle of sorts that made me really curious about
his face. No such luck unfortunately. He merely finished what remained in his glass and
poured himself some more. He retrieved another glass from somewhere; I confess I did
not see where he got it from but as he poured the amber liquid into it and handed my the
almost full goblet I thought no more of it. I frowned slightly since I still caught no
glimpse of him even when he leaned towards me.

But what is a face to glass of claret at midnight?

The taste was not sweet as the candied sweet meats I enjoyed upon occasion but it was
potent. It was heady, cool and interesting.

“I wish to see your face.” I blurted it out and bit my tongue to keep from taking it back. I
felt him smile and the deck brightened. I mean this literally. In his right hand he held a
box, now open and within it was a…pearl? I looked to be one but it glowed, it actually
gave off light. I looked up to question him but I forgot my question upon seeing his face.
It was a proud face, strong and confident. His eyes, an unusual silver, glittered with a
playful, and yet not boyish, allure and were perfect companions, in their inherent disdain,
for his nose, tilted arrogantly and his mouth, carved to perfection by the gods. His smile
was supercilious but he was…beautiful. I would not call him this were it not true and I
did battle with myself before coming to this conclusion but he was, without exception,
the most beautiful male I had ever seen. I know that I should say handsome or comely but
I am only one step from magnificent so I will stop now. I swallowed, it was difficult, and
tried to look away from this specimen of perfection.

“I trust you will not swoon. I must warn that not only would I not catch you as you slid
from your chair but I would consider it quite trite of you.”

I immediately felt self conscious. Not because of his ridiculous comment; I had never
swooned in my life and I had no intention of beginning then. But it was difficult not to
feel the complete dowd beside this creature and for the first time in my life I worried
about my appearance.

The box closed and we were plunged back into semi-darkness.

“Do you always make such explorations or is this merely a night of surprises?”

I wondered, but not too seriously, if he had felt pity for me and wanted to distract me
from my too obvious distress. His question seemed oddly inappropriate but then did I
expect a comment about his visage. Of course he had gotten in a jab about surprises in
that simple question. I had not expected a monster! That was really unnecessary. He was
far too comfortable as it was. And I was not completely horrible!

“Tonight was special; I was looking for you.”

If I had hoped to disconcert him – of course that was my intent – I failed miserably. If the
silence, lacking in even the smallest gasp (I am quite sure I sounded at least a little
provocative), was not evidence enough of this, his next comment, said with all the calm
of one discussing the weather, put me firmly in my place. Beneath his heel.

“It is a habit of yours then to seek out males, willing and unwilling.” Had this man just
called me a whore?

“It is not a habit; tonight as I have already said was special.” That was not how I hoped it
would sound when it popped into my head but I do not believe the beast needed to
pounce on it as he did.

“I should be proud then. You had not even seen my face and yet were willing to break
free from maidenly sensibilities.”

“I was breaking free from nothing. I merely wished to speak to you. You yourself have
already confessed a need for conversation. You should, sire, thank me.” His mocking
tone forced the heat into my words but I should have known that he was not finished.

“Indeed I am thankful. I have yet to come upon so self sacrificing a wench as yourself.
And now that you mention a need…I believe I do possess something of the kind. Would
you really relieve my need?” Surely, surely he did not mean what I strongly suspected he
did.

“Your crude words do you no credit, sir. You have purposely misunderstood me…”

“Have I? I believe I heard you say you were ‘breaking free from nothing’. Although I
might question the liberties your father has, no doubt, allowed you, perhaps now it is to
my advantage. You could, in actuality, be more experienced that myself.”

“I am twelve! I have scarcely reached thirteen! And you, my lord, are perverted.” I knew
I sounded hysterical, if only slightly, but I was quite prepared to leap up and slap him.

“You will watch your words very carefully, Elissande. I may have jested with you but
you deserved that for acting the flirt. I am very well aware of your age. It appears
however that you are not. Your age in fact is immaterial. Your tone implied experience.
Your words suggested it. My banter was nothing compared to what another man would
have done with an invitation like that. You think me crude? The fact that I am not
interested in children is all that saves you. Your intent may have been to shock me but I
despise flirts only slightly more than I do fools. In you I find a surprising combination.
Do you really believe yourself competent enough to bowl me over with mere words? And
do you really believe me weak enough to allow you that pleasure? That withstanding I
allow no one to insult me and I’ll be damned before I let a babe fresh from the nursery do
it. I will have your apology now or I will wring it from your little neck.”

His voice was so cold I almost shivered from it. I know I shrank into my chair but I have
never been put down so much before. My father, my brothers, they only yelled. He…
he…it was as though he had cut me in half and fed my remains to vultures. I was a fool.
There was nothing else for it. But I was twelve. I was just twelve. He needn’t have been
so very cruel.

My throat was clamped painfully by something and it squeezed and squeezed until my
eyes leaked. I took in ragged breaths and tried in vain to stop my stupid eyes from
shaming me now.

The world seemed to hold its breath and it was just me making those horrid sounds with
and this man, this boy, this prince, as silent as a tome.

“Do not play games with me.” He said it quietly as though he had lost the will to slice me
up some more. And me a babe just crawled out of the nursery still cried in that noisy and
helpless way.

“Merde!” I heard the glass on the table but I refused to look at him. “Don’t…don’t cry for
heavens sake.” I wanted to stop but I was broken so I could hardly have stopped myself.
“I’m sorry I was so brutal, Elissande, but I am not a pervert and I have seen enough to
take serious offence to that label.” This, after his silence of several minutes was
surprising. He sounded angry. Gruff almost.

“You don’t sound sorry.” I said, trying to cover a sniff.

“I’m not. I merely hoped it would shut you up and for that I would say anything.”

“You are unchivalrous and I will not apologize to you. I came here for solitude. I only
wished to talk to you once I realized who you were and all you have done is be
condescending and cruel. You knew I only…oh never mind!” I dried the tears that still
wetted my face and glared at him.

“Don’t apologize. I might actually feel guilty for…”

The sound of the door behind me stopped him and made my heart jump.
A/N: It would have been very satisfying to leave this chapter like that but I must say a
few things. I’m sorry for the absurdly long wait. I had a lot of exams and well I had to
study. About the story…well ‘Alixir’, is pronounced ‘Al-ii-zer’ and Elissande was just a
whim but I liked it. Is he eighteen? He sounds so much older. If you think Alixir does
sound too old to be eighteen well just tell and I’ll work on it. Just tell me what you think
anyway. hint, hint>. Nehoot. They will both grow up as you probably know…what
else…um well…oh right, that’s it.

Cheers!

Starox

Stolen

The knock came again, insistent yet still hesitant to breach the doorway. A doe cornered
by hound could not have felt the trepidation rising inside me. My eyes darted wildly
about but kept returning to the prince. Help me, my eyes pleaded. He frowned but rose.

I sank deeper into my chair, my eyes now firmly on my twitching hands, my thoughts a
myriad of blurry images of my father and my fourteen brothers. The prince’s voice
mingled with another’s to form a low buzz that I could barely make out. A laugh and a
hesitant chuckle came next and distracted me from my apprehension; the thought that the
intruder could very well have been a servant now entered my mind and thwarted the rise
of any more frightening visions. A low murmur and I heard the door close. The silence
was unnerving and after several moments I turned to thank his very royal highness for
expelling the visitor. But he was gone.

My disappointment was secondary to the now acute compulsion to leave the Deck. My
heart slowed its frantic beat too soon however for I quickly argued myself into remaining.
There could be people prowling the halls, I reminded myself wisely. I stood shakily and
moved to the edge of the balcony. The guests, those still awake, were slowly drinking
themselves into a stupor. I myself felt a lazy ease watching them sway in their seats. A
hiccup jumped out of my mouth and I jerked back, hoping the sound hadn’t been heard. If
it had been, the loud clanging I heard next would surely have distracted anyone from it.
Chimes then little bells came next and the cheers and claps of drunken men and their
wives soon joined the ruckus. I edged closer to discover the source of such revelry at
such a late hour and bit my tongue when I did. The Dance. It was a little late but the
traditional dance to bid the visitors good night had now begun with full fervor. I should
have been one of them dancing down there. It was a mere inconvenience which I was not
interested in correcting.

I watched them with mild appreciation, their colorful costumes flashing and whipping
about them as the leaped in tandem around the room. Then the music changed and a
circle formed with one of the dancers remaining in the center. Auria D’Evascus. She
moved like a snake; her body seemed to possess no bones. And all were entranced. I
could almost see the hunger that was now leaping into the eyes of the lords and the
jealousy that now crossed the ladies’ eyes. I forced myself to look away from her
swaying limbs and all that golden skin. My father looked bored which was unsurprising
since he had witnessed this dance several times. My mother’s face was impassive but I
already knew of her feelings for the Dance. The King. The King looked as his lords did:
lascivious.

And the Prince? So he’d been called down to enjoy the ceremony. He was leaning into
his gilded chair, his right elbow resting on the chair’s arm, his chin resting on his first
two fingers. His posture said contemplative but what could he possibly be contemplating?
He must be bored by the garish display. Auria’s dance must repulse him. He was
probably wishing for some escape. He leaned to the right, towards his father, and said
something to him. The King motioned to a boy who stood in the wings. Some words were
imparted and the boy hurried to my father. After whispering something in my father’s
ear, he moved back to his post.

My father turned to the Prince and stared at him for a whole five seconds (I could not
resist counting) before motioning for Samon, the Coordinator. Some words were
exchanged and Samon glanced at the Prince twice, thrice, before he nodded curtly and
left the hall. I itched to know what had just occurred. My mind raced as I considered
possibilities but I couldn’t come up with anything that seemed possible. On my father’s
right side, where my brother’s all sat, there was some murmuring. Roland was in furious
conversation with Ferdinand who looked positively black and didn’t seem eager to
further the talk. The others shifted in their seats and were constantly looking at the two. I
burned with impatience to understand what had just happened.

My concentration was devoted solely to reading the reactions below me thus I can be
excused for not having heard the door open behind me.

“Lissande!” I jumped at the sound of Madame’s voice. “You know you should not be
here.” Her words were stern but her voice was indulgent so I moved away from the edge
of the Deck and closed the distance between us. She put her arms around my shoulder
and led me out, clucking all the while about something. I tried to ask her about what had
happened below but she just shushing me and then tucking me into my bed. I was rather
glad to be in it, I admit; my eyes longed to close and what better place to do so.

xx

The demon! But I truly hated him. I squashed my now cool loaf with a fist I longed to
plant in his highness’ royal face. He was like all the others. He was even worse! I must
control my feelings in order to explain myself. The difficulty of such a task is rather
much but that will be explained as well.

He took her! He has her now. No doubt they’re both still tangled around each other.
The Prince. I sighed then took a bite of the bread. I’ve heard it’s rather hard to feel any
strong emotion while eating. I will test that theory. My Lord Royale. He is no more than a
randy, rutting goat!

Madame woke me late in the afternoon and ushered in a maid with some victuals. My
mind, as is usual immediately after I wake, was fogged and the chatterings of the girl
meant nothing to me. Until I caught the words “Du Verte” and “Lady D’Evascus” used in
the same sentence. I was quick to stop her and to have a repetition. My ears burned. M. le
Duc. Du Verte, his royal highness, had last night, after seeing Auria at her best, requested
that the harlot be brought to him. I must have frowned a little too furiously at the girl for
she fell silent soon after this revelation and scurried out of my room.

So he’d taken Auria. Ferdinand’s pseudo-mistress. It was incomprehensible that he could

be so easily led astray. And by that nitwit! She could barely spell her own name! Auria.
He could not have found anyone else? She was my rival in all things and now she would
hold his attention as I could never capture it.

A/N: Hehehe. Ok I’m really sorry for not posting but I hope it was worth it. It’s a little
short but I’ll try to make updates faster. Elissande fair cracks me up. sigh Yeah. Well…
I’ll really hurry if you review. hint, hint wink, wink nudge, nudge . Tehehe. Alright.
Um…nething? Oh right. Auria’s Eli’s rival despite their difference in age cause there’s
really no one Eli’s age in the castle. Yeah…don’t you just love the title? The Prince stole
Auria from Ferdinand and Auria stole the prince from Elissande. I feel so smart! Yay me!
Lol. Lol. Lol.:) Did you know that that thing actually turns into a smiley face on Word?
Wow. Nehoot:)

Cheers!

Starox!

Friend

I had declared myself inadequate. The foolish seed had been planted and my mind
became weak, my body ungainly and my voice pathetic. I could not be moved from my
bed, could not eat my frozen breakfast, would not eat the steaming bowl of pigeon soup
Madame brought up, would not speak to her, could not voice the uncalled for anger that
was burning up my chest and causing my throat to throb. My mother came. She feigned
ignorance of any plight I might have and asked instead of how I found the morning and if
perhaps I should enjoy riding Versace across the Far Plains. From this I judged that my
father was aware of my sickening and had softened somewhat towards my ‘affliction.’
Well, I would not be swayed by doting; I intended to remain miserable and unless the
Prince himself came before me and I was able to toss a bowl of cold pigeon soup in his
face, I would not deviate from this course. I grew bored of my sickness and of my
mother’s anxious expression as her attempts to coax me out of what she believed was my
Sulk failed repeatedly and I closed my eyes and hailed sleep. It, as usual, ignored my call
and I was forced to eavesdrop on my mother’s fretful exchange with an equally worried
Madame.

“She seems well yet there is a paleness in her skin that concerns me.” Said mother to
Madame.

“Yes, that paleness. Ma petite enfant is never pale.” Said Madame to mother.

“And she refused Versace. When that mare is always able to bring her out of her sulks.”
Said mother to Madame.

“This does not seem to me to be a sulk.” Said Madame to mother.

“To me either. And yet she is neither heated nor does she have any symptoms I know of.”
Said mother to Madame.

“Perhaps if I consult one of my books...” Said Madame to mother.

“Did you notice anything when she awoke?” Asked mother of Madame.

“Well…no…but a maid whispered something to me as she left the room. You know how
these maids gossip.” Said Madame to mother.

“I tend to dismiss the words of servants.” Said mother to Madame.

“I did not consider it worth mentioning as I place myself above such things.” Said
Madame to mother.

“I see.” Said mother to Madame.

“The girl did say that…”

I coughed and opened my eyes. They both turned, identical expressions of concern
written on their faces.

“There is a rich stew Ricard has prepared especially for you, ma petite.” Madame was
quick to say.

The emptiness in my stomach had begun to affect me so I nodded and her face broke into
a wide smile. My mother looked odd for a moment before she too smiled, nodded and left
the room. I closed my eyes when Madame left for the stew and let out a yawn. I felt as
one would feel after a long cry. A relief came over me and I felt a desire to quit my
chamber and take Versace out off to the Far Plains. An unexplained bliss had settled in
my heart and I liked its presence much. A knock came. I frowned and shook my head
deliberately. An uncanny repeat of last night occurred until, irritated, I called for the
intruder to enter.

She slipped into my chamber with a slow caution and curtsied before coming forward
two or three steps.

“My lord, His Royal Highness, requests that you join him in the green library…”

“My father is your lord.” I snapped at the hapless creature. She turned a deep red and
stared at her feet, doubtless unsure of how to continue. She had probably stared at him
while he bid her thus. She had probably imagined herself as the harlot. I gave her a hard
stare, one eyebrow raised in question. She murmured something inaudible and I allowed
myself to frown.

“Speak up, s’il te plait.” I said, coldly, to the girl. She turned a deeper shade before
raising her head.

“His Highness bid that you join him in the green library once you are finished with your
stew.”

“My stew?” I asked, stupidly.

“The stew which…”

“I know what stew it is.” I snapped, distractedly. “I would like to know how he knows of
my meals.”

“I don’t…”

“If that is all, you may leave.” I said before she could claim ignorance. She acquiesced
readily closing the door softly behind her. I frowned.

xx

I entered the green library with the heat of the morning burning hotly in my veins. The
room looked empty, the imposing shelves laughing at my confused state. Then I heard it.
A giggle. It was so distasteful to me, so repulsing, that I would have dragged her by the
hair if I could just have seen her. Auria. It came to me that perhaps she had called me
here. I let my boots, for I had garbed myself for battle, fall heavily on the marble floor as
I took each step. Let her wonder who had come in. I came towards the center of the
library where an odd number of armchairs were settled beside lamps which were
thankfully lit. I noted the lights as I neared the place and braced myself before stepping
into their combined glow.
She sat at his right side on the arm of the chair facing me. A look of complete devotion
tainted by an unsettling stupidity emanated from her face as she continued to stare at him
despite my presence. My stomach rebelled.

And then he turned to me and my knees shook in their loose breeches. He raised an
eyebrow, doubtless at my clothing and I immediately felt conscious of my manly garb
and wished I had opted for my kirtle instead. A slow smile and then he said, “I trust this
was no inconvenience…your coming.”

“Perhaps you already know as you pay such close attention to my movements.” I had
shocked myself here in saying this for it was laced with such sarcasm and contempt as to
never be considered a mere comment. He said nothing but his body no longer smiled.

“Leave us, Auria.” His voice had adopted an edge. She seemed somewhat disappointed.
Had she wished for a view to my fall? Simpleton! I thought this as she sashayed out of
the lighted circle.

“Are addled or merely without common sense?!” He snapped once we both heard the
library door click. I didn’t answer; it is, of course, rather difficult to answer questions
regarding one’s mental state. He rose.

“Do you realize the stupidity surrounding your actions this past moment? Are you able to
comprehend matters of politics or have you grown without any training in such matters?”

“Well?” He pressed. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Which question exactly would you prefer me to answer first?”

He looked, for a moment, blank before reseating himself in the armchair. He gestured,
carelessly, at the seat opposite him, behind which I stood. “Sit.”

Leaning back into his chair, he crossed his arms and observed me with a curious eye.

“You’re a very strange person, Elissande D’Ervonne. Do you deny it?”

“It’s my disease.” I blurted then wished I had never spoken for I knew then that he would
never understand my disease.

“Disease?” That eyebrow rose once more and I shifted under his quizzical gaze. “I trust it
isn’t serious and that you intend to cure it with due haste.”

Had he somehow understood me? It defied logic that he should understand and yet now
that he did I hoped he would not speak of it again. I felt an acute embarrassment at my
‘disease’ struggled to find some intelligent thing to say to raise myself in his eyes. He
seemed to be observing me as one would a silly child! And there was a measure of
reprimand behind those words that hurt more than his indignant questions.
“I was curious at your absence this morning and inquired after you from your au pair.” It
was so simply said. “You needn’t look so awful, you simply insulted me in front of a
peer.” That smile came again and I joined reluctantly.

“Would like to see my mare? She is without doubt the fastest in the realm.”

“I would love to see your mare though I seriously doubt your claim.”

“I apologize.”

“And I thank you.”

A/N: Please don’t kill me. :) Ok not quite the ending I expected but I really love this
chapter because I worked really hard on each part of it. Thank you all so much for your
reviews and for putting this story up under Epic Historical Fiction. I LOVE YOU!!!!!!
Sorry about the long wait. I honestly couldn’t help it. Sorry. :( I’ll try really hard to put
the next one up within the…well sometime before the fifteenth and after the tenth. shrug I
have college apps. To deal with and they all have too many essays. sigh Thank you for all
those reviews! Hope you love this one!

Cheers!

P.S. Lilybet, I’m truly sorry for promising and not updating. I was so sure but since that’s
no excuse I’ll try not to do that.

Cheers!

Starox