"Who Will Break First?"

Welcome back. I’ve nothing to say in the intro, so let’s jump into the story, shall we?
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Sona didn’t know what possessed her to kiss him the night before. A peck on the cheek, really, nothing most girls would consider when interacting with men, but it was a first for her. And judging from the look on shock on his face, it was Martin’s first time as well. She smiled as she remembered his face; it wasn’t so much shock as it was amazed. Perhaps now he would catch all the hints she had been giving him.

But despite her impromptu kiss, she doubted the Alex would act anytime soon on her advances. It was in his records that he would be cautious when someone treated him with respect; a lifetime of being beaten down had made him weary of kindness. Sona knew it would be a while for Martin to accept that she actually wanted to be with him. He just needed time to get used to the idea, that was all.

That didn’t mean that she hadn’t caught him staring at her or even blushing at her advances. Sona chuckled to herself, imagining just how confused she made the poor spy. Not that she enjoyed confusing him, but that he did at least noticed her.

“You seem happy.”

Sona jumped, realizing that her feet had led her to her office. Queen Abigail was at her own office door, unlocking it. Sona blushed; embarrassed that she had been caught daydreaming.

“My mind is on something,” she said quickly, hoping the queen wouldn’t notice. However, Abigail must have realized who she had been thinking about and chuckled. Sona felt her blush deepen. Unlike Martin, the queen was quick to notice her attraction to the Alex and had offered tips on how to gain his attention. The peck on the cheek being one of the newest of the tips.

“Come in,” Abigail said, her chuckling still in her voice. “We need to talk about our interviews from yesterday.”

“Let me get my files,” Sona started to say when she remembered that she left those files in the queen’s office the night before. The researcher had to shake her head, trying to rid her thoughts of Martin. She shouldn’t be distracted when she was busy trying to find the prince.

“We should keep this short,” Abigail was saying as she joined the queen in her office. “My first interview is in a half hour.” Sona sat down in her usual chair, gathering up the files she had left the night before. “Anything you’d like to report?” the queen asked.

“Not much,” Sona sighed, pulling out three files. “I think we can safely assume that Sean, Robert, and Patrick aren’t your son. They were old enough to know if they felt a need to return to Aeterna and said that they felt no such urge.”

Abigail nodded, sighing. “Let’s not throw them out to the cold just yet. We have to remember that my son’s powers were blocked. It could have been a very subtle push leading him back. He may not have recognized it for what it was.”

Controlling her face to unconcerned, Sona replaced the files, inwardly feeling a bit jaded. She was conducting these interviews to find details of these men’s lives to find the prince. One of her best clues was the Connection the Santers had with the land. The prince would have been drawn to Aeterna and Sona believed that that connection would have dragged the prince back at any cost.

“I’m a bit surprised you mentioned the need to return,” Abigail suddenly noted, leaning back in her chair. “Did someone say that they felt such an urge?”

Sona bit her lower lip, the man she had just tired to push out of her mind coming to the front of her attention. “Martin didn’t deny that he wanted to come to Aeterna,” she whispered. “But he also pointed out that so did all the other urchins who wanted to leave the streets.”

Abigail started chuckling again, causing Sona to blush again. “Yes, I don’t doubt that our Alex wanted to leave that pit. Speaking of him, how is it going between you two?”

Sona wished at that moment that the queen hadn’t noticed her attraction, her face was flaming! But Abigail had given her some good advice; she should at least mention something. “I think he’s noticed me. I’ve just got to wait for him to get the courage to ask me out.”

“I don’t think it’ll be too much longer,” Abigail said, smiling. “Once he’s noticed, it’ll be hard for him to keep his mind off of you.”
*************
Martin noted that Var hadn’t shown up to the first class. After breakfast, the glassmith claimed stomach pains and left clutching his abdomen.

“He’s not sick,” Calvin muttered darkly after when they went to their class.

“Why do you say that?” Martin asked.

“Because I saw him before breakfast with a girl in his arms,” Calvin spat. “He always claims sick when he has his eye on a girl. No doubt that they’re in some secluded place fooling around.” Martin raised an eyebrow, not really surprised to hear of Var taking advantage of the serving girls. But it did surprise him to hear the bitterness in Calvin’s voice. According to merchant rumor, he was just as much a woman’s man as Var.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Jordan laughed, slapping Martin on the back. The Alex stumbled as he tried to regain his footing after such a blow to his back. “Calvin isn’t having much luck in the romance department.”

Calvin scowled darkly. “Oh, sure, announce it to the entire camp.” He snorted. “It’s not my problem that I’m surrounded by uncultured girls. I don’t want anything to do with milkmaids!” Muttering to himself, he picked up the pace and away from them.

“He’s just jealous,” Jordan said, smiling. “But then again, when you’ve seen the most beautiful women of the world, I guess our Aeternan maids look pretty boring.”

Martin said nothing, though he disagreed. Sona was very pretty.

In the politics class, he had to repeat the same introduction. Thankfully the majority of the class had already heard it and there were very few mummers about his profession. Martin tried to pay attention as the noble, Lord Grelend’s oldest son Phillip, lectured on about various nobles. But he had learned it; a spy did not go abroad without knowing the basics of the nobles they might encounter. Leaning back in his chair, he pretended to take notes, but was rather doodling what his next carving project should be.

It wasn’t soon enough when Phillip finally called an end to class and time for the morning break. Martin started putting his supplies away when the noble approached him.

“Master Ghost,” Phillip said, clutching his hands together was if uncertain what to do with them, “a private word with you?”

Giving Jordan a similar confused look, Martin followed the noble to the front of the class where the students had already left. Phillip looked around nervously, making sure they were out of earshot.

“You know Sona Merette?” he immediately asked, wringing his hands together.

“Yes…” Martin said slowly, remembering Thomas’s report and how the young noble had been writing love poems for the researcher. He immediately dismissed the noble as Sona’s type. Tall, thin, and with his father’s square nose and dirty blonde hair, Martin just couldn’t imagine the researcher attracted to that.

“How well do you know her?” The young noble was really nervous now.

“I’m on speaking terms with her.” Though if the kiss on his cheek last night was any indication, she wanted to be on more than just speaking terms. Martin bit his tongue, forcing himself not to think too much on that.

Phillip’s eyes brightened with hope. “Then,” he whispered, pulling a sealed envelop from his vest pocket and handing it to him, “could you deliver this to her? Tell her…” Phillip turned red, a color that clashed with his wardrobe. “Tell her it’s from an admirer. No need to mention it’s from me, alright?”

Martin wanted to roll his eyes. The researcher already knew about the love poems. “If you wish,” he said, sliding the letter in with his books. Phillip looked grateful that he had agreed.

“Thank you,” he said, suddenly shaking his hand. “If you ever need a favor, just let me know.”

After assuring the young noble that he would, Martin finally left the class. Everyone else had already disappeared to enjoy their morning break outside the classrooms. Martin waited until he was a few halls down before he took the letter out. Flicking a knife out, he slide the blade under the wax seal without breaking it, opened the letter, and read it. It was, by far, the worst thing he had ever read. The more he read, the more appalled he was by what he assumed was the noble’s poem. By the time he finished the letter, he wondered if Phillip had gotten any education at all. It was horrid!

Shaking his head, he reassembled the letter, not even bothering to reseal the wax. He was going to be honest with Sona when he delivered it; she wouldn’t mind. Slipping it back into his things, Martin decided to visit his tent for a short nap. Still occupied with thoughts of the horrid poem, he barely noticed where he was going until he reached his tent. Opening the tent door, he stopped in his tracks.

Var stood over his bed, the pack and his things scattered across it. Var jumped, dropping the flute Sona had given him for his birthday.

“What are you doing?” Martin demanded to know, crossing to his bed and stuffing his things back into his pack.

Var’s expression flashed from guilt of getting caught to anger of being disturbed. “I could ask the same of you,” he said darkly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Martin snapped, pointing his flute at the glassmith. “I’m not the one searching through your things.”

“For a Ghost,” Var sneered, “you don’t own a lot, do you?”

“I’ve never needed much of anything else,” Martin growled. “What were you doing in my things?” He had known that Sergeant had been searching their things, and that hadn’t bothered him, but Var handling his belongings… There was something wrong with that!

“I could ask the same of you,” Var snapped back. “Someone’s searched my things.”

“And you suspected me?” Martin asked, pointing his flute to Calvin’s and Jordan’s beds, their trucks left untouched. “Or did I come in when you just started your search?”

Var flushed, his frame shaking from anger. “Now, listen here, you bug! I don’t trust you.”

Martin snorted. “Big surprise.”

“I don’t trust you,” Var repeated, speaking louder to keep him from interrupting again. “And I don’t like you. I think you’re keeping secrets. No man, and I mean no man, can honestly own as little as you. I just can’t figure out what secrets you’re keeping.”

Martin laughed in the man’s face. Var had no idea just how many secrets he kept. “I could say the same about you.”

“What are you talking about?” Var snapped, his face paling a bit.

“I know you’re keeping secrets,” Martin told him, glad he could finally lash out against the glassmith. “I know you’ve spent four years in Venter when you were only supposed to be there for one. I know that your things have been searched by Sergeant and that she found some interesting things among your possessions. I know that you know too much about noble life than any master glassmith should. And you are way too good a fencing for a commoner outside the army.” He paused, pleased by the shock of horror on Var’s face. “Yes, I know you’re keeping secrets. But I don’t care about those secrets. I just wonder why you are keeping secrets.”

Var scowled, his face turning red from anger. “Then let’s make a deal, shall we, Ghost? I have a secret and you have a secret. Who will break first?”

Martin smirked. “Just fair warning, it’s going to be you.”

Var’s face darkened. He stomped out of the tent, trying to hold his head high.
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I’d like to say at this point…

MUHAHAHAHAAA!!!! HA!

That conflict is setting up nicely. Now if the rest of my life would fall into place. Sigh. November is looking ominous, five presentations to give, still need to get a job, the weather is getting colder, the twin’s baby blessings, another trip to Trefoil, and NaNoWriMo is coming around the corner (Literally. It starts Tuesday). If I ever need evidence that I’m crazy, I just need to point to November.

I think that’s everything. Thanks for reading!