Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ The D files: Dryden's Story ❯ Age 9: Lavender ( Chapter 2 )

Sorry this took so long. By all rights, this should be two, maybe three,

chapters. Unfortunately, we had to keep it one LONG chapter due to our chapter

title scheme. Please enjoy and send a review!

We forgot to include this in our first chapter: standard disclaimer applies. We

don't own Escaflowne or any of the amazing characters from that anime. However,

Annette, Trevor, Thor, Indigo, and Lavender are figments of our delusional

imaginations.

Date posted: January 5, 2004

Exquisite. Beauty beyond description.

A vision of milky white and muted gold. The sight set my heart racing. I was

speechless.

Eagerness barely restrained by the bounds of etiquette, I acted.

My fork sliced through the alternating layers of cream, cake, and fruit filling

and delivered my mouth a bite of confectionary bliss.

Umm... so good... so delicious...

It was even better than I had hoped. My tongue wrapped itself around the

delectable morsels, savoring every taste and texture. I closed my eyes to better

focus on the glorious sensations in my mouth.

If my mouth was not already occupied, I would have waxed rhapsodic in epicurean

rapture.

A giggle pierced into my consciousness. I cracked open one eye to spy Indigo and

Eries watching me with amused expressions. "Really, Dryden, control yourself.

You look like you're about to undergo a transfiguration," observed Eries dryly.

Indigo tittered delicately into her lace napkin.

Under normal circumstances, such a comment would have initiated a battle of

barbs between myself and the second princess of Asturia. However, I was too

enthralled to be bothered. Besides, I could not be inciting the ire of the

hostess who had provided me with the source of my euphoria, could I?

Sweets were my weakness. My mother indulged me in many things, but sweets, of

any kind, were not among them. A few years ago, my father was diagnosed with a

health condition which precluded him from consuming all but very minute amounts

of sugar. In turn, he, in his infinite wisdom, determined that if he could not

have any sugar, neither could anyone else under his roof. As a result, candy was

contraband in our household. Meals ended with slices of cheese and bland fruit.

I counted myself fortunate on those days that piscuss was not included in

dessert. Perhaps if I didn't have cravings for refined sugar, it would not have

been such a big deal. But I did. I loved it all--hard candies, ice cream, cakes,

pies, cookies, chocolates. The mere mention of such treats was enough to start

me drooling.

Given my routine of family meals and functions, tutors, and apprenticeship

sessions, the opportunities for me to access any of these sweet delicacies

without being intercepted by a disapproving guardian were few and far between.

Therefore, any time a promising chance to attain these delights presented

itself, I pursued it with all seriousness.

'Nette could well attest to that. She was my chief smuggler, and she was

amazingly adept at it. One time she spirited a berry tart right into my room.

Despite the fact that she had to hide it under the folds of her habayah, she

delivered the delicate treat with nary a bruise on it.

However, she never did it for free.

I felt that she took a perverse pleasure in exacting her fees. And it never was

as simple as currency, which I had plenty of. One time, she had me polish all

the tarnish off of a trunkful of antique Daedalus knives for a raspberry

buttercream trifle. On another occasion, I mucked out all 10 stalls of her

stable. Hard work, but the blisters were well worth the reward, a large box of

expensive Egzardia confections . Another opportunity arose during a visit to our

cousin's to see her new infant twins, Johann and Johanna. I made some offhand

comment--something about boys not needing to learn how to babysit because, after

all, child-rearing was solely a female thing. 'Nette had raised her eyebrows at

that and challenged me to change the twins' diapers all afternoon in exchange

for some goods. The candy won out over my pride. I must say I was dismayed at

all the talc and pins and cloth and learned quickly that you have to be extra

quick when diapering a boy child. But I swiftly got the hang of it and left with

a bag of ambrosial Chingre caramels and a better appreciation for the work that

nannies do.

Occasionally, I, being a merchant, would try and barter with 'Nette. I did not

get very far though. It was a seller's market, and she knew it. But it was all

right. 'Nette's tasks were never as awful as I thought once I got the hang of

what I was doing. And in the end, I always got what I wanted. 'Nette, though she

would laugh as I labored, always kept her end of the bargain and occasionally

threw in a little extra with a wink.

However, when she was away on business, my opportunities all but dried up. My

chances were limited to the very unlikely event I was fortunate enough to attend

a tea or party without a Fassa chaperone shepherding me away from the dessert

tray.

Today was one of those rare occurrences. Our weekly dance class had been

canceled. Lady Miriam, who instructed the class of young blue bloods, had had an

abrupt change in schedule due to the early arrival of a Zaibach envoy. As the

only adult female member of the Royal House, Prince Nueva's wife was the "Lady

of the Castle" or, to put it in simpler terms, chief palace hostess. As such,

Lady Miriam had more important things to deal with that day than to watch a

bunch of youngsters stumble across the dance floor. So it was that when my

fellow students and I arrived in the ballroom we used for lessons, we found

nought but a note that declared that the day's lesson was canceled.

I, for one, was glad at being spared at least one afternoon of mincing about the

ballroom. I had mixed feelings about dancing. While the exercise was nice and I

enjoyed the chance to tease the girls, half the time I spent tripping over my

own limbs. I was in the midst of a growth spurt that had me fitting for new

trousers every month. I was all arms and legs, and sometimes it did not seem as

if I had any control whatsoever over my gangly body. While I certainly was not

above poking fun at my own lack of grace, I unfortunately had a propensity to

crash into other dancers and take down three or four victims with me. The

ultimate result would be mayhem in the ballroom, the onset of a migraine for

Lady Miriam, and, more often than not, the roughing up of my person by irate

classmates.

Upon learning the class was canceled, several of my classmates left, having

better ways to spend their unexpected three hours of leisure time than staying

at the palace. However, the rest of us lingered, turning what was class time

into a social hour. Eventually, the princesses decided that the thing to do was

to play along and act as hostesses. Princess Marlene took the older children

with her to view the new goldfish the groundskeepers had procured for her

private garden. As for me and my agemates, Princess Eries invited us to join her

for refreshments in one of the palace courtyards. Naturally, we all accepted her

offer. The chance to just sit and visit (with pastry to boot!) was just too good

to pass up.

I was so intent on favoring every minutiae, every molecule of my cake that I was

only halfway through my slice by the time Trevor and Thor had gobbled through

theirs. (The spoiled louts! Look at the size of those crumbs left on their

plates! What a travesty!)

"Thank you very much, Princess Eries," Trevor said suavely, the very model of a

gallant in training. "That was delicious. We don't get food like that at the

Squire's Mess ever."

Eries beamed. "You're very welcome, Trevor. So tell me, what kind of slop do

they subject you poor fellows to at the Academy?" At that point, even I diverted

some of my attention from my food to the conversation as it turned towards Thor

and Trevor's new place of training.

Recently, our paths had diverged. Last season, Thor and Trevor started training

at the Squire's Academy. The schedule there was fairly rigorous, and now they

only appeared at the palace for etiquette and dance classes, which were tightly

sandwiched between their Academy activities. As for me, I continued to be

tutored in a number of subjects with Eries and Indigo. However, more and more of

my time was spent at the Fassa business center where my apprenticeship was

beginning.

The more I listened, the more envious I became. It sounded like a high time, at

least the whooping and riding and tearing-up-and-down-fields and making a huge

sweaty mess of things part did. It certainly couldn't be worse than spending

hours with a gaggle of grumpy and grouchy old men, whose greatest pride were

their immaculately maintained accounting ledgers. Their strategy and history

courses sounded very similar to tactics I was learning, with the amendment that

the goal was military, as opposed to monetary, conquest. I began to wonder if

perhaps it might not be too late for me to steer my fate away from the world of

trade....

"And Thor," said Trevor, clapping a hand onto Thor's shoulder," is really coming

into his own at the Academy." Embarrassed, Thor ducked his head down.

"You don't say?" Indigo replied. Our collective interest rose up a notch. Thor?

Setting the bar? This certainly was an interesting development. "Tell us more."

Thor's typically ruddy complexion progressively darkened to the color of a well

cooked lobster as Trevor divulged the details of his achievements at the

Academy. How he was the quickest to master each new skill set the weapons

instructor introduced. How he had impressed the riding master with his

horsemanship astride the most ornery beast in the Academy's Stables. How no one

in their age group, and only a few of the second-year students, could best him

at swords. "He's having a bit of trouble in the tactics and history classes, but

the other lads and I are helping him with that. He might not ever be a

strategos, but give him a set of plain directions, and he'll come through right

certain,eh Thor?" Trevor smacked Thor heartily on the back and received a shy

smile in return.

Thor looked like he was smothering underneath Trevor's copious accolades and our

approving looks. He had never much been on the receiving end of praise, and now

that he had finally won recognition for something he did well, he seemed at a

loss to how to respond to it. From the way he was fidgeting in his seat, he

looked ready to implode any minute from nervous energy.

One bite left. Almost reverently, I swallowed my last scrumptious morsel of

cake. I sighed. My plate could not have been cleaner if I had licked it. Too bad

there wasn't any chance for seconds.

My mouth now freed for conversation, I finally spoke. "Hey Trevor, Thor, why

don't the two of you give us a demonstration?"

"That's a great idea," Indigo seconded.

Thor seemed a little startled at first, but then smiled eagerly at the

proposition. It gave him a reason to leave the table and not have to stammer

replies to the girls' various queries about his feats at the Academy.He always

did prefer action to conversation. Excusing himself, he left his seat to fetch

his bag of training equipment.

Several minutes later, the girls and I were on the courtyard lawn watching Thor

and Trevor swing their swords, each attempting to disarm the other. After

numerous parries and thrusts, Thor's weapon, in a swift, graceful move, twisted

Trevor's sword out of his grip. The wooden sword spiraled into the air and

landed with a clatter onto the marble patio.

The girls and I applauded.

"Nice job, Thor," cheered Eries.

Indigo and Eries were impressed. So was I, but I felt something else as well.

Before I realized what I was doing, I jumped to my feet and headed towards the

two boys, who were discussing the details of their match.

"Dryden, what are you doing?" Indigo called after me.

Ignoring her, I marched right up to Thor and Trevor and asked, "Can you show me

how to do that?"

They grinned widely, delighted at my interest. "Sure!" replied Trevor.

Moments later, I was stepping awkwardly in Thor's practice boots and trying to

imitate Trevor's movements. The shoes I had worn to the palace for the dance

lesson were completely inappropriate for sword practice according to the other

boys. So Thor, whose shoe size was closest to mine, had loaned me his practice

boots. Unfortunately, they were a little cramped and pinched me as I tried to

mimic Trevor's lunges.

"See ? Now you try it."

"OK."

SWOOSH!!!

"HEY! Watch it!"

"Sorry."

"Dryden, have I told you that you're hopeless?"

"Yeah, about 15 times now. So shut up and show me that again."

"OK. But this time, pay attention."

"I am!"

"No, no, no, don't hold it like that. It needs to be higher."

"Like this?" I shifted my stance slightly.

"No, like this." Thor began readjusting my pose. It became clear that there was

a lot that needed adjusting. Thor's hands were firm and sure, and I meekly

acquiesced to his guidance. Our eyes met briefly in mid-correction, and we

laughed. Trevor was right; Thor had come into his own. There had been countless

times where I was the one instructing Thor, explaining things, and pointing out

details he had missed. Now, the tables were turned, but I was very glad to hear

the confidence in my friend's voice as he led me through the basics.

Meanwhile, we were providing ample entertainment for the girls. They were

alternating between whispering to each other, glancing at us, and giggling

behind their hands.

"Hey Trevor!" Our heads turned as one to see Haim approaching, his own bag

emblazoned with the Academy Seal slung over his shoulder. Apparently, the older

children had finished with their socializing in Marlene's garden and were

dispersing. He waved impatiently to his younger brother. "What are you doing? We

need to go! Hurry up and don't forget to thank the princess."

"Awwww--Haim, just a few more minutes," Trevor whined. "We're showing Dryden how

to spar."

Haim was floored. "You're showing who how to do what?!"

My introduction to swordplay was becoming quite the attention-grabber. Not only

did the number of my instructors increase to three, but our audience grew as

well as Lavender and Princesses Marlene and Millerna joined Eries and Indigo on

the lawn to take in the sight.

I suppose it was a spectacle. Bookish Dryden Fassa never did do anything even

close to fighting. Merchants simply did not wield sharp, pointy objects any

larger than pens. And if that wasn't enough, my overprotective, gentle mother

was loath to include me in any overly strenuous or athletic activity which might

cause me bodily harm. The closest I ever got to fighting were the impromptu

games of knights and pirates at Tanglewood where we boys used sticks and rods in

imaginary duels over our fair damsels.

But the sticks I'd used before were a far cry from the sword I now held in my

hand. Although it was just a practice weapon, the grip resembled that of an

actual sword, and it had a weight and a balance to it that none of my pretend

weapons ever did.And our juvenile slashing and waving were truly child's play

compared to the movements my companions demonstrated.

After presenting the most rudimentary repertoire, they offered me an opportunity

to put it into action. Knights-in-training use numerous exercises, ranging from

the disarming game, which Trevor and Thor had demonstrated earlier, to "cat and

mouse," a timed exercise where one duelist is limited to offense while the other

is limited to defense. The game selected was one of the simplest ones. The

object: be the first to strike any part of your opponent's torso. As I was a

complete novice, they leveled the playing field by limiting moves to those which

I had just learned.

As Thor was without footgear, I alternated between sparring with the two Kester

brothers. Even having their skills set reduced to my elementary ones,they

exhibited a finesse that impressed me even as I lost time and again. I did not

mind losing though. Despite the occasional bruising blow, it was great fun.

Plus, my matches lasted longer and longer as I learned with each successive

duel.

"Do you want to take a breather? I can take a turn against Trevor and we can

show you some more moves." Haim asked, as he helped me to my feet after

defeating me handily for a third time.

It was obvious why he was asking. Whereas the two squires had hardly worked up a

sweat, I was winded. I had tossed aside jacket and cravat after my first match.

My shirt clung damply to my skin, and a sheen of perspiration covered my face

and neck. However, I wasn't ready to step down yet.

I shook my head. "Don't know when I'll get to do this again or if I'll get to do

it again so I want to make the most of it while I've got the chance."

"As you wish." He grinned, pleased at my determination. "Trevor! You're up!"

Trevor and I faced off, saluted, and readied ourselves on opposite ends of the

marble patio. At Haim's signal, we rushed full tilt at each other. The impact

resounded in the courtyard. Our weapons locked . For several moments, Trevor and

I struggled with all our might, each trying to get the upper hand . With a great

shove, Trevor forced our blades apart, sending me backwards several steps. I

recovered just in time to block Trevor's slash towards my middle.

Block, parry, thrust, dodge. All my attention was focused on reacting to

Trevor's attacks and the split-second opportunities to counterattack.

Somehow, I defended off a series of blows from Trevor with enough force of my

own to put him uncharacteristically off-balance. Seeing my chance, I charged.

Adrenaline surged through me at the thought of finally besting my opponent.

However, at the last possible moment, he neatly sidestepped my attack and

tripped me.

My momentum sent me tumbling end over end on the paving stones. Although I was

disoriented by his counterattack, I was determined not to let the match end

right there. Gamely, I hung onto my weapon as I rolled out into a more or less

crouching position. Staying low, I used to my free hand to help me instantly

pivot about to face Trevor. Gathering myself, I prepared to return to the fight.

I lunged --

--and tripped over my own feet.

My impact against the unyielding patio surface knocked the wind out of me. I was

vaguely aware of the sound of laughter and then Trevor's voice asking me if I

wanted to continue.

I was about to answer him, to tell him that I was fine and that the match was

still on, but as I started to get up, I was instantly aware that something was

wrong. Terribly wrong.

With an effort, I rolled myself awkwardly onto my side. I looked down and froze.

My sword was embedded in my right calf.

I had been careless. And clumsy.

Later, Haim and Trevor pieced together what had occurred. Following my

unsuccessful charge on Trevor, the tip of my wooden blade broke off as I tumbled

over the pavement. However, in the heat of the fight, neither of us even

noticed. Under normal circumstances, what followed would have injured only my

pride. I sprang up with the intention to leap back into battle, but the

combination of ill-fitting footwear and plain lack of coordination sent me

crashing immediately down again. Because I was woefully unprepared for my fall,

I failed to keep my weapons clear of my own leg. Whereas the rounded surfaces of

an undamaged practice sword would have simply slid off the surface of my skin,

the jagged broken edge proved to be quite proficient at penetrating into my

flesh.

I stared.

It was eriee. I was not screaming. I was not panicking. I was not horrified. I

knew it was not a Good Thing to be bleeding heavily with an object protruding

out of my body, but I felt strangely calm. I felt separate from my body as if I

was observing something happening to somebody else somewhere else.

Fascinated, I watched the blood pooling into patterns onto the smooth surface

beneath my leg as if it were a piece in a contemporary art exhibit.

The dark liquid against the snow white marble was quite mesmerizing.

"Cool effect," I thought.

My reverie was shattered by a strangled noise. Distractedly, I turned my head to

see Trevor completely aghast. With his eyes open wide and his mouth opening and

closing the way it was, he rather looked like a fish out of water. I felt the

urge to snicker and poke fun at his expression--

I stopped myself. I really had to be out of my mind if I was lying here bleeding

all over the patio and the only thing I could think of doing was jest at the

expense of my concerned friend.

Perhaps, because of that, I found it oddly comforting that my friends were

behaving exactly as I would have predicted in an emergency even if I was not.

Beyond Trevor was minor pandemonium. Indigo had taken one look at my impaled leg

and began emptying her lungs at top volume. Princess Marlene, on the other hand,

had simply fainted, very neatly, princess-ily, and might I add, quite

conveniently, into the arms of Haim, who was right beside her. The alarmed

squire frantically set about reviving the unconscious damsel. Lucky her that it

wasn't Thor that was standing next to her. He would have just let her drop. Like

Trevor, he stood transfixed by the sight of my injury, horrified and not knowing

what to do. Meanwhile, Eries, though she had turned three shades paler, was not

about to give way to hysterics. It wasn't in her nature. She intercepted an

over-curious Millerna, who was completely perplexed at the behavior of the older

children and trying to get a better look at the cause of the commotion.

Stammering out something about getting help, Eries gathered her skirts and ran

in the direction of the palace physicians quarters with Millerna in tow.

I found it reassuring that at least one of the Aston girls was not completely

useless in an emergency.

Turned out Eries was not the only one...

"Lie back." Firm hands pushed me down and slipped something beneath my head to

cushion it.

I looked up.

Lavender?

Prince Nueva's elder daughter was studying my wound with intense concentration.

Well, she looked like she knew what she was doing. Which was a good thing

because my own concentration was starting to waver.

She started talking to me. It sounded like a lecture, but for some reason, it

was becoming harder and harder to understand her. I finally gave up trying to

figure it out. Her words became as the lazy drone of flies in my ear--

"EYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!"

Pain ripped through my abused leg. Instantly, I was awake again. Tears stung at

my eyes.

It became painfully clear what she had been lecturing about. In order to

effectively tend to my wound, she had had to remove the sword. Earlier I had

been so focused on my fight I had been near oblivious to its introduction to my

leg. But I was all too aware of it upon its departure. If I had felt like I was

disconnected to what was happening before, I was more than making up for now.

Lavender cast aside the sword and began addressing the blood flowing freely out

of my leg. Despite the splotches and stains of scarlet rapidly accumulating on

her once-neatly pressed yellow linen frock, she remained unruffled and business

like as she worked.

The same could not be said of her sister.

The sight of Lavender pulling a bloody object out of me had managed to unhinge

Indigo even further, if such a thing were possible, and she reacted by

redoubling her volume.

"Indigo, will you please shut it!" Lavender snapped as she juryrigged her dress'

embroidered silk sash into a makeshift bandage. "I can't hear myself think."

Either she did not hear Lavender or was too far gone to comply because there was

no indication of her ceasing.

Lavender made a disdainful noise as she struggled to apply pressure to my wound

while elevating my leg. "Thor!" she barked.

Her call immediately brought Thor out of his trance. "Yes, ma'am!" The way Thor

replied I would not have been surprised if he had snapped a salute. He sounded

more than eager to have someone decisive give him orders.

"Take Indigo and get her out of here now!"

"Where--"

"I don't care! Just somewhere where I don't have to hear her!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"And Thor--"

"Yes?!"

"Calm her down and don't leave her until she's calmed down."

"Yes, ma'am!"

As Trevor said earlier, given a set of plain directions, Thor came through right

certain. In a few seconds, the sound of Indigo's screaming faded off in the

distance.

A wave of nausea passed over me. This was awful. My leg wracked with pain, and

my breath came in ragged gulps. The pale green sash that Lavender was using to

stanch the wound was swiftly being dyed red. The sight of it made me dizzy.

Despite myself, I began to whimper.

Lavender looked at me sharply, quickly taking stock of my overall condition.

Concerned shadowed her features as she mentally apprised the situation.

"Trevor!"

At the sound of his name, Trevor jumped. Up until that moment, he, like Thor,

had stood rooted to his spot, until activated by Lavender's crisp command. "Yes,

Lavender," he said, hurrying to where she kneeled awkwardly, applying pressure

with both hands.

"I need your help. He's bleeding pretty heavily. I need you to..." With Lavender

parceling out instructions to Trevor, the two of them shuffled around me to

switch places.

The dizziness increased. I decided to stop fighting the dark waves buffeting my

consciousness and let my eyelids droop. After all, Lavender and Trevor seemed to

have the situation under control, and Eries would be back soon--

"AYAGH!!! WHAT YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"

Panic flooded through me at the sensation of hands pressing along my groin

uncomfortably close to--

"Calm down!" Lavender yelled. "Quit thrashing around! I can't stop the bleeding

with you moving around like that!"

Her entreaties did little to allay my panic, and it took a minute for them to

force me still. But, though I had ceased struggling, my emotions were far from

settled down. Added to my physical agony was complete mortification at having

someone feel around in that region of my body out in the open. Lavender finally

found whatever she was looking for and pressed hard against my groin.

It took a lot to embarrass me, but this certainly did it. With her hand where it

was, it was impossible for me to look at her. Or Trevor either for that matter.

I did not even want to know what he thought of what was happening. I turned

away, trying not to think about the whole humiliating situation.

"Marlene? Marlene, thank goodness."

My head flopped to the side just in time to Marlene revive from her fainting

spell. She stirred feebly on the grass. Haim, who had spent the last few minutes

attentively calling her name, chafing her wrists, and whatever else it was that

gentlemen did for fair maidens who passed out, was babbling to her in relief.

"Haim, what happened--?" Marlene asked faintly. Struggling up to sitting

position, she made the error of looking in my direction.

The sight of me lying on the ground with Trevor uncertainly gripping one blood

covered limb and her cousin's hands pushed deep into my crotch was probably a

little too stimulating for the delicate princess' sensibilities.

Marlene's pretty lavender eyes rolled back into her head as she lost

consciousness for the second time that afternoon.

"My sentiments exactly, Marlene," I thought.

I'm never touching a sword again.

"... and so the Ispano left the terra firma of Gaia. They departed in great

floating fortresses for a place said to be of Gaia, yet not of it. With them

went the technologies and arts entrusted to them by the Atlanteans..."

Eyes half closed, I allowed my mother's voice, soft and sweet, to surround and

comfort me like the warm, peach-colored blankets we snuggled in. My lax body

leaned against my mother's shoulder. I was content to cuddle , listening to her

narrate through the history of Gaia, watching the graceful way her lovely,

tapered fingers fluttered across the yellowed pages, feeling the occasional

brush of her red curls against my face.

I adored my mother. Although I had a definite mischievous streak, in her

presence, I always tried to to be a good son. In that respect, I had failed

stupendously with my swashbuckling misadventure. The hurt look of disappointment

she gave me after learning how I had been injured was worse than any reprimand

she could have dealt. But she also knew I was contrite, VERY contrite and knew

better than to make the same mistake twice. So she spared me lectures and

instead adopted a coddling mindset.

Once home, Mother installed me into the guest room that was adjacent her bedroom

and canceled all of her appointments for the next several days. That suited the

servants just fine considering that navigating me and anything I might require

into my own more crowded and cluttered room would have been substantially more

difficult. That also suited me just fine. Typically, I would have stifled under

this much maternal attention. Right now though, I was in a mood to be babied. (I

suspected the painkillers I was taking probably were also contributing to my

abnormally clingy state). Being closer to her rooms made it that much easier for

Mother to check in on me throughout the day (and night). Also, my current

quarters featured a bed wide enough to accommodate myself and Mother with room

to spare, a stark contrast to my own narrow mattress.

It had been years since she had read to me in bed like this. I did not realize

until now how much I had missed it. As soon as I had managed my letters, Father,

insisting that he did not want me made soft by my mother's attentions, put an

end to my story time. However, Father was in Egzardia on business so mother was

free to fuss and spoil me to her heart's content --or at least, until he came

home. I was not looking forward to that. At best he would ridicule me for being

a clumsy dolt, at worst...

I shoved those thoughts to the far recesses of my mind and focused instead on

the much more pleasant present. As I lay there, basking in the attentions of one

parent and dreading the arrival of the other, I found myself marveling at the

difference between them and wondering what my father could possibly have done to

convince my mother to marry him.

From the anecdotes and bits of information I had pieced from various relatives,

Father had had plenty of competition for Cassia Nye's hand. Her family,

originally lesser nobles of little renown, rocketed into prominence fifty years

ago, when valuable metal ores, and more importantly, natural gas and energists,

were found on the hitherto worthless swamplands that skirted their ancient

family grain fields. Now, they were the most powerful Asturian family

established outside of the capital. On top of that, Mother was a treasure in

herself. Even without her family's immense fortune, she, with her beauty and

charm, would have attracted beaux from all over Asturia.

For many families, Father's pedigree and widely acclaimed financial genius would

have been enough to secure him a position on the short list for Mother's hand.

However, Grandmother and Grandfather Nye's criteria for a good match extended

beyond making profitable business connections. They wanted to ensure their

daughter's happiness, as well as her position and livelihood; therefore, she had

a definite say in who her future spouse would be. That meant that Father and all

the other young men interested in the young Lady Nye had to work at it. Despite

the distance between their respective towns, Father would make the day long

journey several times a month to join the parade of other suitors for her

affection and the approval of her family. And when he was not there he would

write copiously and frequently, sending his letters with all manner of gifts.

Looking at them now, it was difficult to believe that Father was the same man

who would spend hours in a parlor waiting his turn for chance to talk to Cassia

Nye privately or climb through rows of thorny rosebushes to reach her window for

an evening serenade.

From all I had ever seen, Father was not very attentive to Mother at all. He

traveled for business regularly, but even when he was in town, he busied himself

with work and political functions and other "entertainments" that lasted well

into the wee hours of the morning. The only times he interacted with Mother was

to discuss the reception of dignitaries and key professional associates at our

home. Even in matters concerning me, Father demonstrated very little personal

involvement. There was no doubt that the direction of my future was of great

consequence to him. However the execution and details of my upbringing he left

largely in Mother's hands.

However, if Mother had any regrets about her decision to marry Meiden Fassa, she

never showed it. Although her husband was largely absent from her days, she

filled them by carving out a life of her own in the capital of Asturia. Growing

up in a village whose only claim to national fame was the locally produced

cheese which shared its name, she had always wanted to live in Palas. She loved

people, being with them and getting to know them, and regularly attended social

events and parties with my aunts. She was passionate about the arts and

literature and was continually ushering into her parlors some young aspiring

artist or writer to introduce to her friends and associates.

Father did not share in her interests, but he did not discourage her from them

either. For the most part, he gave her free rein to actively pursue in her

projects and pastimes. Even if he considered most of those activities to be

frivolous and a waste of time, he knew it was to his benefit to have such a

popular and socially visible wife.

His indifference towards her (and me) alternately irked and saddened me. For a

man who spent much of his days assessing the value of goods and properties, I

felt he greatly undervalued his wife's value and was not investing in her as he

should.

A knock at the door interrupted the flow of Mother's words. "Come in," called

Mother, setting aside our book.

I sat up eagerly, anticipating Nette's entrance. Two days ago, she returned from

her last business trip just in time to receive the message from our household

informing her of my injury. Since then, she had been visiting me between her

shifts at the warehouse offices. Her company was greatly welcomed and

appreciated. Without her distracting me and Mother nursing me, I probably would

have gone crazy from boredom and discomfort.

However, when the door swung open, it revealed not one, but three girls.

"Dryden! Dryden! Show me your leg!"

A blur of flying pigtails and lacy petticoats that was the next heir to Asturia

burst into the room. I shrank back with an alarmed yelp. As I cowered against

the pillows, Mother swiftly swept up out of the bed and planted herself

protectively between me and the impulsive child hurtling towards us.

Fortunately for both of us, Eries was faster than her sister and caught her in

five quick strides.

"Sister!" Millerna stamped her feet in protest. "Let me go! I wanna see! Father

said I could!" To my relief, Eries held fast to Millerna's arm despite her

protests.

"Millerna!" Eries was not loud, but her tone was acid. Millerna stopped her

squirming at once. Eries let out a long-suffering sigh. "Millerna, I never said

you couldn't see Dryden, but you can't just barge in here like that." Millerna

bristled under the reprimand, but, judging from the tightness in Eries' voice,

Eries was too fed up with her sister to care. "It's rude. You haven't even

greeted Lady Cassia properly yet. If you're going to be a lady, you must learn

to act like one."

Millerna screwed up her face. From previous experience, I knew that she was

going to either burst into tears or have a temper tantrum right there and then.

Neither boded well if news of it reached Father's ears. Mother and I were all

too aware of Father's aspirations and knew that anything short of a happy,

smiling Crown Princess within these walls would not be received favorably.

"Now , now, Princess Millerna. We know you were just excited, but you should

mind your sister,"said Mother soothingly, her skirts swishing as she glided over

to the two sisters. She smiled warmly at Millerna. Fortunately, Millerna tended

to be responsive to physically attractive people, and when she looked up at my

lovely, elegant mother before her, Millerna's clouded face brightened.

"How about we start all over again, dear?" Mother curtsied before the

princesses. "Good afternoon to both of you, Princess Eries and Princess

Millerna. And good afternoon to you also, Miss Lavender," she said, inclining

her head in the direction of our third visitor, who had remained standing

sheepishly in the doorway during Millerna's antics. Mother's gentle demeanor

defused the situation, and the tension in the room dissipated.

After going through the salutatory formalities, Mother invited our guests to

have a seat and make themselves comfortable. Lavender did so, settling

gracefully onto a divan at the rear of the room. Millerna, however, bounded

towards me with a watchful Eries hovering close behind her.

Millerna leaned up against the bed. "Dryden, might I take a look at your leg.

Please?" Though her voice dripped syrupy sweet, her eyes glittered in a way that

made me nervous. Her behavior a few minutes earlier added to my reluctance.

Plus, her peculiar request confounded me. Visitors regularly inquired after how

my wound with healing, but no one, save the doctors, demanded to actually see

it.

I shifted uneasily under her near predatory stare. "Wh-h-h-h-y?" I asked,

stringing out that single syllable like an elastic band.

Millerna grinned impishly. "Lavender said you cut open your leg and that the

doctors had to sew it shut again! I wanna see what it looks like. Please?"

Curious about my mangled leg... ri-i-i-ight.

What kind of a weird kid was she?

Maybe it was just a ruse. A ploy for revenge. She was trying to con me into

exposing my most vulnerable area while I was down so she could inflict more

damage on it. Like smack it or something. My painkillers were strong, but they

wouldn't shield me from anything like that. My mind raced, trying to recall what

I might have done to incite such malice.

But if that were the case, I was sure that Eries would have suspected it, and I

highly doubted that she and Lavender would allow such mean-spiritedness.

Eyebrows raised, I threw a "Is she for real?" look over to Eries, standing

vigilantly behind Millerna. Eries simply shrugged in response.

I gave a resigned sigh. "OK, but you have to promise not to touch it."

"OK!" Millerna replied with much more enthusiasm than I would have liked.

Mother helped me pull the covers off, and I hiked up my dressing gown to expose

the mass of bandages covering my right leg.

"There you go," I said, feeling like a carnival attraction.

"No, no, no, NO!" The ferocity of Millerna's outburst took me aback. "I wanna

see your leg! Your leg! Take off the bandages!" She waved wildly at the

offending strips of linen.

"Take off the wha--?!" I stammered. Mother was visibly dismayed. I looked back

and forth between Lavender and Eries for help. She couldn't possibly be serious!

Eries placed her hands on Millerna's shoulders to calm her down. "Millerna," she

said firmly. "Don't shout. And ask nicely." She then looked at me

apologetically. "I'm sorry about that, Dryden. And yes, she does want to see

your leg without the bandages. I know it's a lot of trouble, but would you

please do that for her?"

"Yes, she and the rest of us would really appreciate it," Lavender chimed.

I had severe doubts about the wisdom of completely exposing my wound. Especially

since there was a high probability of the capricious four-year-old getting over

excited and conveniently forgetting her promise not to poke me. Mother seemed to

be of the same opinion and looked as edgy as I felt. However, there did not seem

to be any way out of it. She was the Crown Princess after all.

I reminded Millerna of our agreement and after she promised a second time not to

touch my wound, I asked Mother to come over and unbind the bandages . As the

layers came off, I got the sinking feeling that I was about to become the

princess' new plaything.

In a minute, my leg was laid bare for all to see.

It was not pretty. In addition to the wound itself, I also bore bruises and

scrapes from my ill-fated afternoon of sparring. The best way to describe my leg

would be a somewhat misshapen black, blue, and purple mass zigzagged with

stitches and scabs. It also exuded a strong order from an assortment of powders

and medicines that kept the wound clean and promoted healing.

I thought that the grotesque sight would have been more than enough to

sufficiently disgust the princess and bring an end to her curiosity. It

certainly wasn't something I enjoyed studying at length.

I was wrong.

Instead of cringing, like Eries was, Millerna piped, "Wow, Dryden! How many

stitches do you have? Why did they use black string? How long did it take to sew

it up? What's that weird smell? Why is it oozy over there?" A deluge of

questions gushed out of the diminutive princess.

It's one thing to be forcibly put on display, but to be compelled to act as my

own docent on top of that was asking a bit much. Fortunately, Mother stepped in

to field the barrage of questions for me.

"What a loopy kid," I thought, as their question-and-answer session went on and

on and on. Mother was trying to quickly wrap up their discussion so that she

could in turn wrap up my leg. However, every time she finished with an answer,

Millerna peppered her with more questions. If the topic were not so personally

demeaning, I might have been impressed by Millerna's determination to find

answers and perhaps affirmed and encouraged her enthusiasm.

"And what about--" Millerna reached out, her fingers dangerously close to my

stitches.

"Millerna!" Eries' arm darted out, snatching Millerna's hand away.

Millerna was indignant. "What!? I didn't do anything wrong!" she protested.

Eries' eyes narrowed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You promised

Dryden not to get too close but you did." Millerna began a retort, but her

sister cut her off. Huffily, she continued, "He's been very nice to do as much

as he already has. Also, you have to learn to treat people with respect.

Dryden's our friend, not some thing or some toy you can do whatever you want to

with. And, on top of that, he's hurt. At the very least you should be

considerate because of that."

Millerna's frown deepened. She was not taking Eries' reproof very well. Sensing

another impending clash between the siblings, I interjected, "Eries, it's OK. No

harm done. Really." I hoped I sounded more convincing than I felt. The last

thing I needed was a scene in my sickroom.

My words had minimal effect on placating either girl, but before things could

escalate further, Mother spoke. "Yes, Dryden's fine, but it probably is time we

wrap him back up again. It's not good for his leg to be out in the open like

this for too long. Actually, it's about time to change the bandages and put on

some more medicine. Millerna, if you would like, you can be my assistant. I can

show you what we put on the wound and how I bind the bandages."

Millerna's eyes went so wide I thought they were going to pop out of her head.

"Really? Yay!"

Millerna was fairly dancing as she followed Mother out the door to fetch the

salve and fresh bandages. A weary Eries trailed behind them. I could hear their

voices fading as they headed downstairs for the kitchen where the various drugs

from the apothecary were stored and prepared.

"Now, it's very important that everything is clean so we'll start by washing our

hands."

"Mine are clean, mine are clean! I already washed them."

"Millerna, you haven't washed your hands since we left home, and you've petted

two horses and a stray kitten on the way over here..."

With a bedside manner like that, who needs enemies?

I sighed audibly as soon as they were out of the earshot. Even though they would

be back, I was grateful for the reprieve.

"I am very sorry about that, Dryden."

I started, suddenly reminded that there was still one other person in the room.

Rising from her seat, Lavender moved closer to my bedside and settled onto the

damask parlor chair that Mother had just vacated. The present contrasted sharply

with the last time we were together. She looked a fright by the time the palace

physicians arrived and took me off her hands. Her dress had been completely

ruined by grass stains, smudges of dirt, and bloodstains. Even if laundry

science could have removed the stains, various parts of the dress had been

ripped off and torn to make makeshift bandages. Her hair was a complete wreck,

having been hastily knotted and shoved down the collar of her dress. Though the

knot kept the long strands from getting in her way, Lavender was a sight, loose

strands sticking in every direction.

Seeing her now, her thick tresses neatly brushed and plaited with a gaily

colored ribbon interwoven between the lustrous strands and wearing a crisp white

walking costume with matching lace gloves, almost made me wonder if she had been

there at all.

Her dark expressive eyes were apologetic. "Millerna overheard me telling Eries

that I was going to pay you a visit, and she wanted to come, too. I tried to

tell her no because I knew she was going to get like this, but she kept

insisting. Then Uncle Grava heard the fuss Millie was making and..." Lavender's

voice trailed off.

I waved off the rest of her apology. "You don't have to explain. It's OK."

There was no need for further elaboration. I could pretty much guess what

happened: Millerna making a ruckus. Her cousin and sister unwilling to give in .

The King hearing the commotion to find his favorite at odds with Eries and

Lavender and finally bringing it all to an abrupt stop by ordering Lavender to

take Millerna along. Most likely, Eries protesting the decision, and her father

responding by telling her to accompany Millerna as well. I had seen variations

of this scene before.

No wonder Eries was so touchy. Today was a Market Day, and she had no lessons

this afternoon. Her plans for the day were probably ruined by being in the wrong

place at the wrong time.

King Aston, although he was a proponent of discipline in child rearing in

theory, was not quite so quick to put it into practice, at least where Millerna

was concerned. After the Queen's passing, he had charged Millerna's governesses

and her sisters with Millerna's instruction and upbringing and given them

permission to punish her, strictly if necessary, at their discretion. Millerna's

caretakers took their duty seriously and exercised their authority as they

deemed necessary to best mold the character of the future Queen. However,

Millerna quickly learned that the best way to get out of trouble was to go

crying to Father. King Aston could not bear to see his youngest and favorite

daughter upset. Invariably, he would excuse her behavior or grant her what she

had been denied. "Oh, just this once," he would say, to Millerna's effusive

cheers. Just one time turned to just about all the time. If not for the fact

that the King frequently engaged in business that kept him inaccessible to his

daughters for days at a time, Millerna would be spoiled rotten. As it was, the

inconsistency in discipline was bringing out a willful, obstinate streak in her

personality. More than once, I had heard Eries and Marlene complaining about

Millerna's unreasonable behavior, as if she could always get her way if she were

just stubborn enough.

"Great," I thought. "I've been handed over to the mercy of a four-year-old by

the order of the King."

Aloud, I said, "I don't see why she wants to bother me though."

"It's not you in particular she interested in. Though you did get her started.

You just happen to be convenient."

"Excuse me?"

"Millerna has decided she is interested in medicine." I gaped in puzzlement as

Lavender elaborated. "When you got hurt, Eries kept her from getting too close.

She thought it would be too traumatic for her. Still, she caught a glimpse of me

and Trevor working on you right before the physicians came to take you away. I

hadn't even had a chance to clean up before she started pestering me. She wanted

to know what happened to you, what we were doing, why we were doing it, why my

dress was all ripped, and where all the blood came from. Then it turned into why

there was blood and what did it do. She just about wore me out with all of her

questions." Lavender slumped in her chair, as if just remembering tired her. "We

all thought she would forget about it the next day like she usually does. But

she didn't. Marlene told me that the following morning she found one of the

doctors that had tended to you and started showering him with questions about

body parts. He ended up taking her to the kitchen for an anatomy lesson." She

made a face. "He used the pig that the cooks were going to roast for supper to

demonstrate. By the time they were done with their lesson, the only thing it was

good for was sausage."

"Oh. So I guess I'm part of her foray into medicine then?" I gave her a wry

smile. Though I was far from pleased at being looked upon as Millerna's next

specimen, I did find it humorous that the fussy little Crown Princess would

choose to obsess over such a messy subject.

"Afraid so. And don't forget. It's your fault. You just hadn't gone and bled all

over the place, she never would have thought the human body was anything to

wonder about."

"That's fine. Makes her that much more interesting. Just as long as she doesn't

start dissecting ME."

"I wouldn't worry about that. It's probably just a phase. Though Marlene is

getting a bit disturbed by all this talk of blood and guts at the dinnertime."

Well," I said, folding my arms behind my head and flopping back against the

pillows, "now that we've cleared up why Millerna is here, we can talk about what

brings you here this fine day. Not that I mind. Actually, I'm glad you came to

visit. It makes it that much easier to thank you in person for helping me."

Lavender's trademark casual cheerfulness evaporated. "Er...yeah, about that,

uh..."

I bolted upright. "Don't tell me, it's Anita, isn't it?" I groaned, smacking a

hand on my forehead in exasperation. "I told Mother it would be a bad idea to

send her."

The day after the accident, we sent over a letter to Lavender thanking her for

her help. Along with the missive, we had also sent Anita, our family seamstress,

over to fit Lavender for a new dancing frock to replace the one I had ruined.

"I'm really sorry. She means well, she really does, she just gets a bit carried

away. She does really good--"

"No, no, no--it's not that!" Lavender broke in. "That was fine. I mean, she was

fine. And you really didn't have to get me a new dress. That wasn't necessary."

"So what's the problem?" If it was not the obsessive compulsive behavior of the

frill-happy, fashion-hyper seamstress, I had no idea what could be troubling

her.

"I wanted to apologize to you."

Apologize? I looked askance at her.

Her pale face darkened to a rosy pink as it became obvious I needed further

elaboration.

"You know... by t-t-t-touching you..." Lavender broke off abruptly and stared

fixedly at her lap.

I was rarely, if ever, this up to use. I willed my drug addled wits to tell me

why she sat hunched over her chair like that, her hands gripping her knees so

hard her knuckles showed white, as if she were about to be dealt a physical

blow...

Several confused seconds passed before realization finally dawned. "Oh...

that..."

A pause.

"That's OK. You don't have to apologize for that," I said nonchalantly.

Lavender's head jerked up like a puppet on a string . Her face was practically a

flame. "What do you mean I don't have to? Of course I do!" she exclaimed.

"Why?" While I could not say that I was completely unperturbed by the

recollection of Lavender feeling about my nether regions, it was not something

that caused me lingering shame. In dry, medical terms, my injury had required

the compression of the main artery feeding my leg to slow my bleeding. There was

nothing obscene about it. It just happened to be located where it was located.

Granted, it was in a particularly embarrassing location. However, I am a

rational person, and I understand that sometimes certain things have to be done

no matter how uncomfortable. "The doctors explained to me why you were pressing

there. They were even pressing there!" Indeed, I had a bruise there to show for

it.

"But they're doctors! And... I'm a girl, and you're a boy, and it just wasn't

proper--"

"You insisted!. And it's not like it bothered you then."

"That's because I wasn't thinking! Well, I was, but I was so caught up in the

moment, I forgot--" Flustered, Lavender broke off.

If I wasn't so concerned about hurting her feelings, I would have laughed out

loud. Before, I had been near hysterical, and she had been cool as a cucumber.

Now, in retrospect, I was no longer disconcerted. Though, there was a distinct

possibility that my painkillers played a role in my current emotional

detachment. Lavender, on the other hand, was appalled by her actions, as if she

had been one step short of violating me or something.

Taking a deep breath, she continued a more subdued voice. "Emergency or not, it

was inappropriate for me to do what I did. Especially with Trevor there. I

should have had him..."

"Well, you didn't. Lavender, I know I was freaking out at the time, but you were

just doing what you had to. I know you weren't out to molest me or anything."

If anything, my reassurances just made Lavender feel worse. "But you don't

understand," Lavender moaned miserably. "The look Trevor gave me after the

physicians took you away-- it just made me feel like some pervert lecherous

tramp or something. And Marlene--"

I cut short her lament. This infuriated me--not Lavender's actions but

everything around her that was making her feel bad. It was galling, the thought

that someone should be punished for doing a good turn, especially when the basis

of judgment had nothing to do with justice but had everything to do with

arbitrarily chosen guidelines for what was considered "proper." Lavender's jaw

went slack as I railed against those who would abase her.

Hotly, I declared I would defend her from any who would besmirch her reputation.

"-- and if they have a 'breach of decorum problem' with what happened, I'll

slash open their legs and then ask them what they think about etiquette!"

Stunned, she stared at me . And then burst into laughter.

Slightly miffed, I waited for her laughing fit to pass. Well, at the very least

I had cheered her up. I suppose such big words juxtaposed with my current near

invalid state, which I had inflicted upon myself, was rather ridiculous. Though

I didn't think she should have found it quite THAT humorous.

Almost as quickly as it began, her laughter ceased. "That was rude of me. I

shouldn't have--" The anxious stammer began creeping back into her voice.

I made of show of waving away the impending apology. "It's OK. Really." I

assured her. Anticipating another round of protests, I spoke quickly, steering

the conversation in another direction. "And to tell the truth, I was pretty

amazed that you knew what to do. Where did you learn to do that anyway? It's not

like it's part of our tutoring curriculum."

Lavender blinked. "First aid? Oh, that was Father's idea."

"Prince Nueva taught you that?" She nodded. Now I was really curious. "Why?" I

pressed.

She tilted her head to one side as she gathered her thoughts. "You know how I

travel with Father often?"

I nodded. I did not know Lavender nearly as well as Indigo. However it was

common knowledge that she had inherited Prince Nueva's love of the outdoors and

travel unlike Lady Miriam and Indigo, whose world revolved around the events and

people of Palas.

"I think it was four years ago. I was doing some sightseeing near one of the

smaller villages in Freid. The views were spectacular, but the road conditions

were dismal. One of the carriages in our tour group slid off into a ditch. There

were about five people that were hurt, one of them badly. But only one of our

guides knew anything about what to do for them." She frowned at the

recollection. "I wanted to help, but I didn't know what to do and kept asking

Father how I could help. After that, Father arranged for us and the servants we

usually travel with to learn basic first aid."

She paused. "Actually, it was probably a wise decision, considering how active

we are," she added thoughtfully.

She was certainly right about the "active" self-description. Lavender, like

Prince Nueva, was full of energy. If she had been born a boy, she most certainly

would have been an athlete. There was no doubt in my mind she would swing swords

with Haim and the other squires if she could. However, she was born a Prince's

daughter and was too mindful of her position to be a tomboy. She managed,

however, throwing body and soul with complete abandon into those activities

society deemed appropriate for women of the blood. For that reason, she was

unanimously the boys' favorite partner in our dance class. With such liveliness,

every dance was an adventure, especially the rapid pace reales and schontees

that she dearly loved. The only drawback was that she had a tendency to overtake

her partner's lead with her enthusiasm. On summer beach outings, she would leave

the other girls, who splashed around in shallows just enough to cool themselves

off, and plow into deeper waters to actually swim. It was a remarkable feat

considering what she had to wear. Asturian swimwear for females catered more

towards fashion than swimming. Despite the calf length skirts and miscellaneous

trim weighing her down, she would thread tirelessly back and forth through the

water. She also dearly loved riding and would spend hours on horseback during

our visits at Tanglewood.

This vibrancy manifested into her personality as well. Unlike Marlene, who could

be downright moody at times, Lavender exuded an almost perpetual sunniness

fueled by some inner, tireless source. For that, she made great company once we

had pushed beyond the embarrassing events of a few days ago.

At my prompting, she recounted more about her many travels with her father. She

was not quite the storyteller 'Nette was, but her tales had an effervescence and

power of all their own.

Our conversation was interrupted by a rush of noise downstairs. "Sounds like

your father's home," said Lavender cheerfully.

I was less than thrilled. He had yet to hear about my accident. From the sound

of it, the situation was being explained to him by Mother with occasional

interjecting by Millerna.

Lavender noted my sudden sullenness. "What's the matter, Dryden?"

I felt a twinge of envy just then towards this girl who shared so much with her

father. Come to think of it, I had probably spent more "quality time" with

Prince Nueva on my various excursions with my agemates than I had with my own

father.But it was not her fault that my father was such an uninvolved blockhead.

"Nothing," I said. There was no need for me to burden her with my grievances

towards my father. Besides, she was already aware of it, I was sure. Strained

parent-child relationships were not an uncommon theme amongst our circle of

acquaintances. "But I do want to thank you again for coming. It's been fun."

"I am sorry about Millerna though--"

"That's OK. Actually, with her here, I might not get into trouble with Father."

Instead of laughing, Lavender suddenly became serious. "What you think of

Millerna?"

"Well, her bedside manner definitely needs work. And I think that if you aren't

careful, you're going to wind up with a cousin who dissects every meal."

"That's not what I meant, Dryden."

I knew perfectly well what she was getting at. Ever since King Aston's official

proclamation naming Millerna as his successor, nobles had been vying to present

potential candidates for Prince Consort like jockeys jostling for position in a

horse race. Stakes were high, and it was no secret who led the pack in this race

where the odds were proportional to influence and wealth. But, just because my

father had certain aspirations did not mean that I shared them.

"If you're asking me if I want to marry her, I'd say that she's too young and

I'm too hurt right now to answer that question," I responded testily.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was a sore spot."

"No apologies necessary. It's not a sore spot. Well. Not really." Growling in

frustration, I rubbed the bridge of my nose.I could feel pressure building

behind my eyes. This type of talk always did give me a headache.

Slightly exasperated, I explained, "I really don't know what I want right now,

and it really annoys me that some people have already decided. But, if you

really want to know, what I want is what you have. "

Lavender's eyes widened in surprise, but I was too caught up in my tirade to

stop. "I want a family that cares. I want to be with people I care about and who

actually care. Not the sham that passes for marriage under this roof. It could

be Millerna, but it might not. And it's not her, I am not going to marry her for

someone else's convenience." I stopped short, suddenly realizing that I might

have said more than was appropriate.

"I'm sorry. That was improper..." I backpedalled.

Lavender was not offended. Far from it. "No, it's OK. You may not have answered

the question, but I got what I needed."

"And Dryden," she added, "if you keep the attitude you've got, I think that

you'll get what you want." She said the words with so much conviction that, even

cynical as I felt just then, it was impossible at that moment to believe that

anything else could be true.

Then she smiled. Warmly. Looking back now, I'm sure she meant it to be an

encouragement, reassurance. But my reaction to it was completely different.

I met her gaze, and all of a sudden, I felt as if I were drowning in the depths

of her luminous dark eyes. My heart pounded erratically inside me.

I had always categorized Lavender as pretty--everyone did--but her beauty

affected me no more than, say, a finely crafted vase might. Until now. Those

features, so familiar to me, were stirring all sorts of unfamiliar emotions

inside of me. It was as if I were seeing her anew through someone else's eyes.

This sudden attraction that gripped me was awkward, thrilling, and perplexing

all at once.

I felt my face grow warm.

Her forehead wrinkled in concern. "Dryden, are you feeling alright? You look

feverish." My eyes widened, captivated by her perfect features, as she reached

over to check my temperature. I nearly gasped aloud at the cool touch of her

soft hands against my brow.

I had an intense urge to both kiss her and hide under the covers at the same

time.

Is this what happens when you fall in love?

Or maybe it's just the drugs...

"Lavender, I--"

Whenever else might have potentially happened next, enchanting or embarrassing,

was lost, because the next moment, the door slammed open, and Millerna bounded

in.

"Dryden! Dryden! Your father's back!"

Hope you enjoyed this. Since you went through the trouble of reading it, please

send a review! Just so you know, the current outline for this story has six

chapters. However, we have decided that if there does not appear to be too much

interest in this story, we will stop with the next chapter. (We have to write

the next chapter because it focuses on an encounter between Dryden and Eries,

who is hS' favorite character.)

Next up: Eries.