Court

Hey everyone! I have a couple questions for you. One: We’re going to need to change the day of the week that I post my story. I can do Sunday through Thursday. Sunday and Thursday would be at any time, while Monday through Wednesday would be in the morning. Tell me what you think.

Two: I’m toying with the idea of introducing a new character, an annoying reporter who Martin has met before in those four months I skipped (rather convenient now that I have). Should I introduce this character and should they be male or female? I could do either and still have fun with them.

Now the questions are done. Time for the story to continue. Time for Martin to go to Court!
************
Martin walked alone in the empty halls of the royal apartments, rubbing his brow. He was thankful for the curfew the queen had given them. It was an excellent excuse to leave the ball, even if he did enjoying talking with Thomas. It had been far too long since he talked with a friend. However, the other nobles wouldn’t let the duke hog his attention. He spent the rest of the ball trying to avoid what Sara called Title Chasers.

When they got back to the palace, most of the servants were already in bed. The queen had stayed up to welcome them home, but now it was time for all of them to be in bed. They had an early start the next day. He wondered idly if he could ask for a royal naptime….

Opening the door to his apartment, he immediately sensed he wasn’t alone.

He groaned, covering his eyes with a hand. He shouldn’t be surprised by the number of young women in his apartment, all of them giddy with excitement, but it was rather annoying.

“Alright,” he said, holding the door open. “All of you. Out. I know you’re here and it is too late for anything. I just want to sleep. Out.”

Four girls groaned and came out of their hiding spots. Two of them were nobles from the ball, the others servants. They looked disappointed as they walked past him. He closed the door on them, wondering why they even thought that being in his apartment would make him interested. Did it never occur to them that he might be interested in someone else?

His sixth sense tingled again.

He still wasn’t alone.

“Just leave,” he grumbled, walking to the closest chair and flopping into it. “I am not interested in sleeping with anyone!”

“Really? Then what about that night we spent in the barn?”

Martin froze, his breath caught in his throat. Another person likely to be extremely mad at him. Standing back up, he saw Sona leaning against a doorframe. The moonlight from the windows didn’t reach her so he couldn’t make out any details of her. He just knew it was her.

“Sona,” he stuttered, suddenly looking for an escape. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the Tree… Or still at Ashton…”

“I could ask you the same question,” she said softly, her face hidden in shadows. “What are you doing here?”

“I asked first!” he said quickly, hoping the delay would work.

The pretty researcher sighed. She stepped out of her shadow and in the moonlight. Martin felt himself blush. Unlike the young women at the ball with their tight fitting dresses and low necklines, Sona dressed in the Standards of a blouse and skirt, very modest and very attractive to him. In his eyes, she was far more pretty than any girl he had met.

“The queen asked that I create your past,” she answered, walking slowly over to him. He took a step back, not wanting to get caught. “No one is supposed to know that you were a street urchin or a spy. All you’re supposed to be is an orphan at Fort Mesa for years until you joined the Ghosts. I’m supposed to make your missions as a spy fit that.”

He flinched, catching the bitter tone in her voice. He knew why she was bitter. She was still hurting from being in love with him. It didn’t help that her project revolved around him.

“I’m sorry that I’m causing you so many problems,” he said, taking another step back but only finding the chair again. “I really am.”

“I know that,” she said softly, stepping up to him, her face within inches of his. “Now you’re going to answer my question. Why are you here?”

Martin gulped. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

He explained what had been happening. How Terk wasn’t going home and what the Ghosts planned to capture the Mad General. He purposefully left out his part, hoping she wouldn’t see it.

“Bait!” she yelled. He flinched. So much for hoping she wouldn’t put it together. That was hoping too much anyway.

“Sona,” he tried to say.

“Bait!” she howled again, hitting his chest. He grunted and fell back in the chair. She grabbed the chair’s arms and came within inches of his face again. “Why are you the bait?” she hissed through her teeth.

“I’m the best bait we have,” he said, leaning back from her.

“But that puts you in danger!” she growled, scowling.

“I’ve always been in danger,” he pointed out, sinking in the chair. “Besides… The trap is set to snap before Terk could get close to me.”

“Terk has evaded all the traps sent for him,” she snapped. “What makes the rest of you deluded enough to think that this one will work?”

“Because we have to end this war,” Martin said. “Aeterna needs this war to end.”

Sona blinked. Slowly, she stood back up, folding her arms around her slim form. “Aeterna?” she asked softly, rubbing her arms as if she were cold. “The Spirit is making you do this?”

“It’s demanding something to be done,” Martin explained, sitting up a bit. “I can’t stop that demand. I need to do something. Because if I don’t…” He shivered. “I’m going to loose control.”

Sona shivered. “But…” she said, turning away and looking out the window. “But it puts you in danger… How can the Spirit do that to you?”

Martin slowly stood back up. Hesitantly, he touched her shoulders. She looked at his hands but did nothing. Sighing, he rubbed her arms, stepping up behind her.

“The Spirit is giving me a chance to act,” he whispered. “This war needs to end, Sona. Too many lives have been hurt already. This way, we have a chance to end it quickly.”

“Or end Aeterna,” she said softly, bowing her head. “Ending Aeterna by ending you.”

“It’s not going to come to that,” he assured her. “Aeterna has given me too much for me to fail again.”

“You haven’t failed, Martin,” she whispered. “We failed you…” Her head bowed lower. “We couldn’t protect you.”

“And I learned to protect myself,” he said. “No harm done.” When she didn’t answer, he sighed and wrapped his arms around her. “Sona,” he whispered in her ear. “Why do you care this much about me?” He already knew her reasons for loving him. She had told him when he had asked why she was so attracted to him when they were courting at Grelend’s estate.

She turned her head away, but he could tell she was fighting tears. “Because you love life,” she answered with a choke. “You know how precious it is… You take each moment as something wonderful…” She nearly sobbed. “Because you love this nation, even when you didn’t think you belonged.”

“Then you know why I need to do this,” he whispered. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t love me, would you?”

She almost laughed. “I guess not.” Taking a deep breath, she pushed his arms away and turned around again. The tears were still there, but there was acceptance in her eyes. She reached up and lightly touched his face. “Be safe, my prince,” she said softly. “I may not be able to have you… But I don’t want you to die. Goodnight.”

She walked out, closing the door softly behind her. Martin watched her go, slumping into a chair once she was gone.

“I’ve got to talk with the queen,” he whispered to himself. “I can’t live without her.”
***************
Martin woke up suddenly, knowing that someone was coming. O’Dell was determined to teach the prince how to act properly around servants, even if that meant getting up earlier to catch the prince asleep. He was just as determined to keep his back a secret. Before the head servant was at the door, he sat up in his bed and pointed at the door. As usual, the power he directed painfully ran through his arm and out his fingers. The door locked closed.

A moment later, the door handle rattled. “Your Highness?” O’Dell asked through the door. “May I come in?”

“After I’m dressed,” Martin said loudly enough to be heard. “I won’t be long.”

“But Your Highness!”

“I won’t be long,” Martin promised, climbing out of bed. He paused before he entered the bathroom. “And trying to pick the door open won’t help. It’s magically locked.”

He flinched as he felt a strong peak of annoyance.

Coming out of his room, he tugged at the suit coat. Today he was going to be introduced to the Court, officially. The queen had a very specific vision in mind for her son, telling him exactly what to wear. It was a blue suit with silver trimmings, the Santer colors. It wasn’t much like his uniform, which was military in style. This suit was more showy than it was functional. He didn’t like it.

And he still had to wear the red sash.

“Your Highness,” O’Dell said, bowing stiffly. “It would be appreciated if you let me do my job.”

“You have other duties, right?” Martin asked, not the least bit ashamed of his actions. “I’m not stopping you from doing those.”

“Breakfast is served,” O’Dell said sharply. “On the table are a couple packages for you. Enjoy.” He turned on his heel and left, shutting the door with a snap.

Martin shook his head. He really needed to have the queen have a word with that man. The smell of breakfast wafted to him from the dinning room. He walked across the entry room and entered the dinning room, a bit surprised that there were no servants. Then again, O’Dell probably felt the need to train his prince on how to act around servants before assigning any to him. That was fine with him. He needed to train the servants to relax around him anyway.

Breakfast consisted of fruit, sausages, and pancakes. He sat down to eat, eyeing the two packages that were placed by his breakfast. He picked the larger one first, pulling it closer.

He immediately recognized Suit’s handwriting. So, the Spy Master wasn’t going to bother bribing the mail service to get letters to him. At least he was going to save money. There was a short note attached.

I thought this might come in handy for you. Good luck.

Wondering what the Spy Master thought could be handy for him, he opened the large box, peeking inside. He grinned at what he saw. That was going to come in handy. He closed the box, thinking of where he might hide its contents when he picked up the second package, a smaller box. There was no note, but he knew who it was from because of the royal blacksmith stamp on it. He opened it, his grin turning into a frown.

Reaching in, he pulled out a gold circlet large enough to fit on his head.

“I am not wearing this,” he muttered darkly. He was already the center of attention when he wore his Connection. He didn’t need a crown to make it more obvious!

Glancing around, he spotted a trash container. He tossed it, the circlet clanking into the metal container.

“Two points for me,” he snorted, pushing the crown out of his mind. The queen might not like that he had thrown it away, but he didn’t want it. Besides, didn’t King Jonathan go to Court without his crown? Why couldn’t he?

Finishing breakfast, he knew it was time to meet up with his mother and sister. They were waiting for him outside at their awaiting carriage. Both of them were dressed in similar Santer colors and wore their crowns.

“Martin,” Abigail said, seeing him. “Where is your crown? I sent it to your rooms this morning.”

He shrugged. “Could be anywhere.”

“He left it in the trash.” Turning around, he saw O’Dell descend the steps with the circlet in his hands. Martin scowled. He had hoped no one would notice. The head servant gave it to the queen. O’Dell briefly glared at him before marching back up the steps.

“Martin,” she sighed, holding the circlet lightly in her hands. “This isn’t too bad. Much better, I should say, than what the crown prince normally wears. To be honesty, Sara has a much more elaborate tiara.”

“Hey!” Sara said, noticing that the queen was right. She reached up and fiddled with her tiara, it was set in with jewels. “Why can’t I have something simple like that?”

“Because Martin hasn’t grown up with these,” Abigail pointed out, placing the crown on his head. He flinched. “You’ll get used to it,” she promised, patting his cheek.

“I look ridiculous enough already,” he muttered, itching to take the crown off. “Can’t we just… leave it?”

“The Court would like a physical reminder of your status,” Abigail said firmly. “I know that if you wear your Connection, no one argues, but it is nice to have something else, something non-magical, reminding them who you are.”

Martin thought of a dozen other physical reminders that weren’t crowns.

However, before he could mention them, a footman helped his mother and sister into the carriage. Sighing, he followed them in. The carriage started into motion, passing through the streets of Nacre. As the night before, people lined the streets to watch them pass.

“Sit up,” the queen admonished him as he began sinking in his seat. “They want to see you.”

“She’s right. We do!”

You stay out of this!

They arrived to the House of the People, the center of the Aeternan government. Even before they arrived, he could sense that the Square of the Tree, where the magical Aeternan Tree sat in the direct center of the city, was already full. He cringed, thinking of the thousands of eyes watching him enter the House.

“Something the matter?” Sara asked, seeing his expression.

“There’s a lot of people there,” he said, trying to sink in his seat again. Abigail gave him a sharp look and he sat back up.

“Of course there are a lot of people there,” the queen snorted. “They want to see you.”

“Yes! We do!”

“Stay out of this,” he muttered.

“Who are you talking to?”

“An annoying presence that won’t leave me alone,” he said sarcastically. Abigail raised an eyebrow.

“You shouldn’t speak to the Spirit that way,” she said, shrewdly guessing what he was talking about.

“Why not?” he grumbled. “It talks to me like that all the time.”

“It’s fun to tweak you,” it teased. He groaned, rubbing his brow. He was fighting a loosing battle.

“What’s that sound?” Sara asked, frowning.

“I think it’s cheering,” Abigail said, sitting taller as she heard it too.

“I warned you,” Martin muttered.

The moment the carriage rode into the Square, the cheer irrupted, pounding the very air. The carriage came to a stop in front of the House of the People. The footman opened the door and his family climbed out first. He hung back, terrified to walk out.

“It’s alright, Martin Santer,” the Spirit told him. “No one is going to harm you. You can be our prince. Just give yourself the chance to.”

Martin took a deep breath, bracing himself against his fears. He finally followed his sister out. They came out facing the House of the People, Aeternans lining the stairs to get a glimpse of him. It was a large stately building, with towering windows and strong pillars holding up a large balcony where announcements could be made for all those listening in the Square. The carriage rolled off, revealing him to the rest of the city. He turned around, shocked.

The Square of the Tree was large, nearly large enough to hold the entire Nacre populace. It seemed that everyone who could had arrived, just to get a look at him. He froze, uncertain what to do. He couldn’t run. There were too many people to escape.

“Wave,” Abigail instructed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “A wave won’t hurt.”

He lifted a hand, giving a small wave. The crowd grew louder with excitement.

“See?” the queen laughed. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now, come. We have a nation to run.”

They walked up the steps of the House, people trying to break past the royal guard barricade. Abigail and Sara waved, unconcerned about the throng of people trying to get to them. Martin tried to copy them, but felt a bit pathetic and small. When they finally got inside, the masses were cut off with the door closing. He let out a sigh of relief. That was done.

“Your Majesty,” a herald said, bowing low to her. “Your Highness.” He bowed to Sara. He paused, staring at bit at him. He bowed again. “And Your Highness. The Court awaits your arrival.”

“Ready for this?” Abigail asked him.

“No,” he said truthfully. “Let’s go.” He stood tall. This was part of the plan, what he was meant to do.

He still felt like an imposter.

The doors to the Court opened wide, the light from inside spilling from it. As they walked in, the Court stood up, clapping. They walked down the center of the Court, both sides with ascending seats for Court members to sit. He recognized most faces. These were the lawmakers, the politicians, noble and elected commoners. The most powerful people in Aeterna.

I’m just as powerful, he had to remind himself, walking slightly behind the queen to the dais on the other side of the Court, where the Santers sat. He was the Crown Prince, Ghost Captain Eighty-One, the Spy Alex. He was probably the most dangerous and powerful man in the room.

“Keep thinking like that,” the Spirit encouraged. “We’ll get you to think like a prince yet!”

Martin didn’t have time to respond to that. They arrived at the dais. Mounting it, he looked at the four thrones sitting there. He felt a pang of regret as the queen sat down, the empty throne next to her painful obvious. He was never going to know his father.

He quickly shook that thought out of his head. He had to concentrate on what he was doing. He sat on the other side on the queen, a throne slightly less ornate and lower than hers. That was fine. He wasn’t in total power yet.

Once they were sitting, the rest of the Court followed their example, excited whispers ringing throughout with fingers pointed at him. It was a good thing he wore his Connection. No one was going to question him.

The Court Speaker rose from his seat below their dais, coming to the podium before his seat.

“Court is now in session,” he said, quieting the room with his booming voice. “We would like to welcome our newest member.” He turned. “His Royal Highness, Martin Santer. Our Crown Prince who we all thought dead. Let me be the first to welcome you into our government, Prince Martin.” He bowed respectfully. Martin nodded back.

“We will have an opportunity later to hear him speak,” the Speaker continued. “But the business of a nation does not stop merely because we have a new member.” There were several chuckles. “First item of business then.”

Martin hated to admit it, but that morning in Court was fascinating. He watched as the Court members argued points, gave in to compromises, stood firm in their convictions. He watched carefully, easily picking out who was better at this. And he knew that not everyone was there. Court members had to pick which days they would attend because they had other duties to attend to. He wondered what it would be like if everyone was there.

That’s why I’m not giving a speech today, he realized. Not everyone was there to hear it.

“When am I supposed to give this speech?” he asked the queen softly.

“In a week,” she whispered back. “After Sara’s birthday. Plenty of time to come up with one.” If he ever got time.

He was a bit surprised when the Speaker announced a break for lunch. Where had the time go?

“Where do we eat lunch?” he asked, standing up and rubbing the small of his back. When was the last time he sat that long in a chair?

“There’s a sort of common mess just outside this room,” Sara said, grimacing. “But generally we go eat in our private office on the floor above.”

“But I think you should mingle with them,” Abigail said. “It is your first day and we don’t want you to seem… standoffish.”

“The Seven Founders forbid that I seem standoffish,” Martin said sarcastically. He sighed. “Fine. I’ll eat with the others. Are you coming with me?”

“I don’t think so,” Sara snorted. “I like a little peace and quiet, thank you!”

“We’ll meet you after lunch,” Abigail promised. “Go on. You’ll be fine.”

He watched them as they quickly disappeared behind the thrones through another door. The queen was probably right. He should mingle. Taking a deep breath, he stepped down from the dais, following the crowd to the mess Sara wanted to avoid.

The other members must have been focused on getting their lunch, because they didn’t notice him following them. He was fine with that. He wanted to eat too.

“It’s pathetic!”

Martin paused. He knew that voice. Standing on his toes, he looked over the crowd. Just outside the door stood Lord Nick with a group. He looked about the same as before. Black hair with a sharp face that reminded him of a ferret. Sara had written enough of him for Martin to know what this man was playing. Nick wanted the throne and he was determined to get it.

“Honestly,” Nick was saying to his audience. “Did you see what he did? Just waltzed in here as if he owned the place and then said nothing. A prince? Is that what we’re going to call this commoner?”

“Um, Lord Nick,” a young noblewoman said, paling as she realized who was now paying attention to the conversation. “You may want to turn around.”

Nick turned slightly, easily spotting him. He snorted, turning back. “Why should I care if a commoner listens to me? What harm can he do?”

Martin narrowed his eyes, feeling something spark in him. It was always like that when someone thought less of him.

“Commoner?” he asked, stepping into the group.

“Yes,” Nick sneered, glaring at him for intruding. “A commoner.”

“He wears the Connection,” Nick’s friend Phelp Cates pointed out softly, eyeing the glove he wore. “There’s no doubt…”

“Oh, yes,” Nick said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “The Connection. It proves that he’s a Santer. Not as a crown prince.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Martin asked, folding his arms. What was Nick’s game now?

“You didn’t grow up as a prince,” Nick said. “Where did you grow up? Fort Mesa, wasn’t it? An orphan?”

No, but it was the past Sona created for him.

“You grew up as nothing more than a leech on the system,” Nick sneered. “What would you know of our government other than that they supported you until you finally joined the Ghosts. Then you’ve only known a soldier’s life.

“What makes you think you could be our prince?” he asked loudly, catching the attention of those outside the group. “Just because you have Santer blood doesn’t make you a prince!”

Martin gritted his teeth, forcing himself to not snap back. He had to be careful with this. Nick might have had a point. But the nobleman didn’t know just how connected he was with the land and it’s people. He didn’t know that he owed Aeterna his life.

“Perhaps you are right,” Martin said, surprising everyone. They stared at him. Even Nick seemed a bit surprised by his answer. “I didn’t grow up in the palace. I grew up with people. I know how to work with them, I know what’s important to them. What do you know of our people? They serve you. That’s all you want to know. Me? I joined the Ghosts to protect the people I grew to love. If a prince shouldn’t love his people, like you’ve alluded to, then, no, I’m not a prince.

“But I do love this people,” he said softly. Even though his tone was soft, everyone leaned in to hear him. “I will sacrifice everything that I am for this nation. Can you make such a claim?” Nick opened and closed his mouth, unable to come up with an argument. Martin snorted. “I thought not.”

He turned to go, then suddenly remembered a point he forgot. “Oh, and Nick?” he said, half turning to glare at the noble. “Just because you don’t think that I’m a prince, that doesn’t make me any less a Santer.”

He left, quite pleased with himself. The emotions he felt were amazed, with a bit of pride. As he walked into the mess, seeing everyone turn to gawk at him, he realized what he had been missing in his training as a prince. It wasn’t to control his power, or learning to lead. He was missing opposition, something to fight against. Nick’s utter refusal to believe he could be a prince made him determined to prove that noble wrong. To prove to the world that he was the Crown Prince of Aeterna.

Maybe I can do this, he thought, suddenly able to take the stares.

“Yes, you can.”
**************
Abigail sat at her desk at the end of the day, working on the last two days’ worth of paperwork. She shouldn’t have put it off, but Martin’s arrival took all her attention. She didn’t regret it.

Though as she looked at the piles of paperwork on her desk, she felt a bit of regret.

“Your Majesty?”

She sighed. Looking up, she saw Shay open the door to her office, the fading sunlight hitting him in the face and making him squint. “Yes?” she asked.

“Pinsamen is here again,” he said apologetically. “Should I send him in?”

“Is he right behind you?” she asked with a sigh.

“Yes.”

She groaned, rubbing her temple. That man didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“Send him in,” she said, resigned.

Shay bowed out and opened the door wide. Pinsamen walked in. Over the past few months, she had come to dislike everything about him, from his thinning hair to his oversized waist.

“Your Majesty!” he said, flourishing a bow. “How wonderful you look this evening.”

She snorted. “The answer is still no.”

Pinsamen sighed. “But…”

“I refuse to give you my brother’s estate,” Abigail snapped. “It’s his wife’s now. Go to her to ask for it. I gave up my family’s inheritance when I married Jonathan.”

“She can’t handle it…”

“Excuse me again.”

Abigail leaned over to look past Pinsamen. Shay poked his head in. “Your Majesty,” he said, “your son is here. He’d like to talk to you.”

“Excellent,” she said, standing up. “Send him in!”

“But Your Majesty!” Pinsamen protested.

“My son needs to talk to me,” she growled, walking around the desk to face down the lord. “And to be honest, I much rather talk to him than argue with you. Dismissed.”

“But!”

“Dismissed.”

Pinsamen took a deep breath, and then another. He bowed to barest degree he could without being rude and stomped out of the room. He almost slammed the door when Martin walked in, stopping him from doing so. The lord gave another hostile bow and left without saying anything.

“What’s with him?” her son asked, closing the door behind him.

“Oh,” she sighed, sitting on the edge of her desk, “family disagreements.”

“Family?” Martin asked with surprise, pointing to where Pinsamen left.

“Second cousin by marriage for me,” she admitted. “He firmly believes that he should have my brother’s estate. I keep telling him to go to my sister-in-law about it, but he thinks that I transcend her in that regard and wants me to do something about it. He just doesn’t know how to listen.” She sighed again. She was going to have to write her sister-in-law about this. Again.

“Anyway,” she said, returning to the present. “You wanted to talk to me?”

Martin sighed, taking a seat. “There’s a couple things. First is O’Dell… Honestly, I don’t need help dressing…” He looked away, his voice growing softer. “I just don’t want people to see…”

Abigail knew what he was alluding to. He had no idea that she had already seen his back and how badly scarred it was. She wanted to keep it that way.

“Say no more,” she said, holding up a hand. “If you don’t want help dressing, I will have a word with O’Dell.”

Martin let out a sigh of relief. Abigail felt a small cut inside. He really must be ashamed of his back if he was relieved that he didn’t have to talk about it to her.

“And the other thing?” she asked, feeling pretty good. One problem down.

“It’s Sona,” he whispered.

Abigail frowned. “Sona?” she asked, confused. “What about her?”

“I still love her.”

The queen froze, blinking fast as she stared at her son. Martin clasped his hands, his posture slumped in despair. She stumbled into her chair, too shocked to speak. She was under the impression that the prince and researcher were no longer courting. She thought they weren’t in love. Sona herself said that there was nothing between them.

“I know I’m a noble now,” he went on softly. “And that I’m probably the most available young noble in the world, but…” He sighed deeply, dropping his head into a hand. “I love Sona. I don’t want to be with anyone else. She’s the only one who ever just… liked me. Not a title, not a prince, not a spy. Just… me.”

Abigail stared at him, surprised that she believed him. Martin was in love with Sona? “But…” she stuttered, trying to make sense of what was being said. “Does… Does she return your feelings?” Sona said that she was not interested in marrying a prince.

Martin chuckled softly, running a hand through his short hair. “She does. And it hurts her to think that we can’t be together. She’s been trying to distance herself from me to keep from hurting.”

The queen slumped in her chair, shocked. It made perfect sense now. Sona said she didn’t want to be in Nacre when the prince returned. She had thought that was because the researcher was still mad at Martin and wanted nothing to do with him. This revealed something far more profound and hurtful. Thinking back on it, the queen remembered other small indicators that Sona loved her son. The profound sense of sadness after a day working on his records, the way she would sometimes stare off into the distance, sighing, sometimes caught with wandering thoughts.

She really should have spotted it.

“Oh, Martin,” she whispered, realizing the seriousness of what he admitted. “Why?”

For a moment he didn’t answer, gazing at a spot on her desk. “I suppose that’s a couple questions,” he finally said, almost smiling. “Why did I court her when I knew I was the prince? Why I even bother bringing this matter to your attention when Sona’s made it very clear she isn’t going to marry a prince?” He took a deep breath. “I started courting Sona because you made a bet about when we’d become a couple.”

Abigail suddenly wished she could kick herself for that.

“You didn’t stop us,” Martin went on, either oblivious to her annoyance or choosing to ignore it. “I thought that there might be a chance. And besides, Sona has been the only woman persistent enough to pursue me. She didn’t care about where I came from, or what I might be for that matter. All she really cared about was me…And in time, I learned that all I cared about was her. Toward the end of our stay at the Grelend Estates, I realized that all I wanted was Sona to be happy.”

If that wasn’t a sign of someone so in love, the queen didn’t know what was.

“And that’s why I’ve come to talk to you,” Martin said, finally rising his head to look her in the eye. “Neither Sona or I are happy about this trap we’re in. We love each other, we want to be with each other, but…” He left it hanging, bowing his head with shaking.

“You’re a prince and she’s a commoner,” Abigail finished for him with a sigh.

“What can I do?” Martin asked with a plea, looking back up. There was true, unhidden emotion in his expression that the queen thought impossible with her son. “Sona… She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. I don’t think I could be with anyone else. I can’t see myself with anyone else.”

He had already convinced her that he loved the researcher, but this last plea hit her in the heart. Her son, a man she really only barely knew, was admitting the deepest desire of his heart to her, hoping that somehow she might be able to grant it to him.

“Martin,” she started to say, wanting so much to say something to console him for his loss. A prince couldn’t…. She saw him slump, his hopeful expression turning into deepest despair. Abigail stopped. Her son wasn’t always a prince. He was a man who grew up in a terrible childhood, rejected, beaten, ignored, he came from the bottom.

He grew up alone.

Alone.

I can’t tell him, she realized, feeling tears well in her eyes. I can’t tear him from the woman he loves.

She couldn’t let him live alone.

“Give me a few days,” she suddenly said firmly. “I’ll find something. I don’t know what. But I will find something.”

Martin blinked in surprise, sitting back up. “You will?” The hopeful tone in his voice cut her to the center.

“Even if I have to change laws,” she promised. “I will find a way.”
***********
Ah! Abigail’s going to help Martin and Sona get together! Anyway, I’d like to stay and chat, but I’ve got family to play with before I have to go to work at noon. Enjoy the journey!

The Ball

Sorry that I didn’t post yesterday (again). I got home yesterday and desperately needed a shower (like you needed to know that). But I can’t rest yet. Got to pack for a week long vacation and then I can relax! Time for some well-deserved R&R. Martin, however, doesn’t get that chance. The queen’s pushing him right into the prince business and balls. To the story!
************
Martin woke up to the sunlight seeping into his room. The sun wasn’t even over the horizon yet, his guess was, considering how the room gradually got brighter. He was fine with that. He was used to getting up early. Knowing that he wasn’t likely to go back to sleep, he got out of bed and got into his Ghost uniform again. He had a feeling that the queen would want him to wear it. Not only was it the only formal thing he had, it was also the freshest.

He walked out of the bathroom, deciding against wearing the coat over his shirt when his sixth sense prickled.

Someone was coming.

Frowning, he opened the door that led to the rest of the apartment. A balding servant blinked in surprise, his hand just inches away from knocking on the door when he opened it.

“Your Highness,” the man said, quickly regaining his composure and bowing with a hand flourish. “I am Victor O’Dell, head servant of the royal apartments. It is my pleasure to serve you until we find someone you find acceptable to be your personal servant here in the royal apartments.”

Martin blinked, leaving his expression bland. He didn’t want a servant.

“I see that you’re already awake,” O’Dell noted, glancing at his Ghost uniform. “And that you are already dressed. I suggest, that in the future, you wait for your servant to arrive to help you dress.”

Martin suddenly narrowed his eyes. “I can dress myself, thanks,” he said, somehow managing to keep any emotion out of his voice.

O’Dell smiled at him as if he were a child misbehaving. “It is not proper for a prince to dress himself.”

“I’ve done it by myself for eighteen years now,” Martin pointed out, folding his arms. “I’m sure I’ll do just fine.”

O’Dell suddenly frowned. No doubt he realized that his prince was going to be stubborn about it. “Sir,” he said, careful to omit any annoyed tone, “I must insist…”

“Insist later,” Abigail said, poking her head through the open door O’Dell must have left open. “It’s breakfast time. Martin, would you join Sara and I at our apartment?”

“Of course,” he said, bowing. He stepped around the head servant and left his apartment. The queen must have just gotten up, since she still wore her sleeping gown with a cotton housecoat over it.

“Am I really going to need a personal servant?” Martin asked, walking with the queen to the next hall over.

“Yes, to clean your rooms,” Abigail replied. “And to deliver your meals. You have too much to do than worry about your apartment.”

She had a point.

But the help dressing… Martin eyed the queen, wondering if she knew about his scarred back. It may be necessary to explain it to her so she could help convince O’Dell that he didn’t need help dressing.

Sara gave him a big hug when they arrived at their apartment. He cringed, trying to pry himself free. Sara also must have just gotten up. She too wore her sleeping gown and housecoat.

Told to wait in the dinning room for them to get ready, Martin went into the dinning room. It was much like the one he had in his apartment, with a large table nearly filling the entire room. The only difference were the three servants setting the table and placing the food out. He felt a bit nervous as they paused in their work to stare at him. He managed a small smile and nod to them. They bowed and quickly returning to their work, getting in as many glances at him as they possibly could.

He pretended to not notice their glances, focusing instead on the paintings that covered the walls. He was a bit surprised to see how many of the paintings were of Aeternan landscapes. Then he figured he shouldn’t be so surprised. Aeterna was a beautiful nation.

“Hum” Abigail hummed happily, walking in and sniffing the air. “What’s for breakfast?”

The nearest servant bowed. “Eggs, sausages, toast, and some fresh apple juice, Your Majesty.”

“Excellent,” Abigail beamed. She nodded to him. “What do you think?”

He badly wanted to shrug, but figured that wouldn’t be a good reaction for the servants to see. “Sounds good to me.” He noticed the smiles of relief the servants had. He wanted to flinch. He needed to fix that.

Sara came bounding in and gave him another hug. Once he managed to pry free again, they sat down. The three servants put a plate of food in front of each of them and left bowing.

“What’s the first thing we’re doing today?” Sara asked, munching on her toast.

“The tailor should be arriving soon,” Abigail answered. “After Martin has changed, we’ll go into town and get him things to furnish his apartment.”

Martin sighed, picking at his eggs.

“What’s with the sigh?” Sara asked, chuckling. “Shopping isn’t so bad.”

“I’ve never enjoyed shopping,” he admitted. “Feels like a waste of time.”

“Then we’ll keep that short,” his mother promised. “We still have a hundred other things to do today. So eat quickly. We do have a deadline.”
************
Sona, as usual, was up before her roommates. Before she left her room, she glanced back at the other two young women she shared the room with, shaking her head at them. They had come back the night before very late, after she had fallen asleep. She didn’t know what they were so giggly about, nor did she care. Both of them were too giggly for her liking.

Leaving the room, she found the hall already filled with servants going about their duties. It wasn’t surprising. The palace needed a lot of servants to keep everything running smoothly. She was haled a couple of times by servants, she calling back. Everyone was used to having her there, having spent the last four months living with them.

Not stopping for conversation, Sona walked to the kitchens, wondering what was for breakfast. Her life was pretty routine since coming to the palace, a stability she needed. Even if she didn’t like her project.

“Good morning, Sona!”

Sona shook her head, trying to shake out the bitter thoughts. Looking around, she found that she was already at the kitchen. It was in full motion, people moving quickly and efficiently around each other, making food for the entire palace. It was a nice place to visit, actually. The cooks were all friendly and firmly believed it was their job to make everyone’s day with good food.

“Good morning, James,” Sona said back, noting the cook who called to her. James, the head of the kitchen, was a large man with a smile that anyone could catch.

“There’s food in the mess hall,” James said, pointing to another open door with a spoon. “I hope you enjoy your day.”

“You too,” she said, walking into the mess hall. She was a bit surprised when she walked in, seeing a greater number of people than normal for that time of day. Another surprise were the tables filled with food that had to have been cooked the day before.

“What’s with the leftovers?” she asked a passing maid. “A big party last night?” It wasn’t unusual for the leftovers to be left in the servant mess for anyone to eat. But she couldn’t recall any party having been planned for the night before.

“Haven’t you heard?” the maid asked, frowning at her. “The prince returned last night.”

The world dropped out from underneath her, the work around her disappeared in numbness. “The prince?” she repeated, feeling her head grow light. “Here?”

“We couldn’t believe it either,” the maid said. “But then Prince Martin put on his Connection… There’s no question about it. Our prince has returned. I swear by the Seven Founders, it’s true. The queen herself was about to do flips.”

Sona felt the blood drain from her face. Martin was actually there.

“You alright?” the maid asked, looking concerned. “You look a little pale… Do you need to sit down?”

“Um…” Sona said, realizing where she was. There were people staring at her. “I think I just need a minute to myself…”

Before anyone could stop her, she grabbed a sweet roll and hurried out of there. Her mind was in a whirl. What was Martin doing in Nacre? Why didn’t he warn them that he was coming? The queen had promised her that she would be long gone from Nacre before the prince returned.

But promises meant nothing when a third person was involved.

Especially if that person was Martin.

Sona rushed for the library, avoiding anyone who tried to talk to her. When she got there, she barely acknowledged the librarian who hailed her. She hurried to her tiny office, a room normally used for anyone who wanted a bit of privacy as they visited the library. But this room was given to her for her project.

Her project.

Locking her office door, she glanced around the room. It was mostly filed with files and reports. All of them concerning Martin.

The queen had asked a horrid thing of her when she arrived four months before. She wanted her to create a past for Martin. No one was going to know him as a spy. He was supposed to be known as Ghost Eighty-One. It was her job to make sure the records matched. It wasn’t an easy task. Martin had been a lot of places.

I’m writing up a past for the man I love, Sona thought, slumping against the door. She wasn’t done yet and Martin had to be informed about his new past. He just came at the wrong time.

“Stupid idiot prince,” she muttered, biting her lip to keep from crying. “Why did you come?” She was going to have to ask him. She had to know.
************
Martin leaned against Sara’s door, waiting patiently. After spending the day on the move, he was glad for this chance to just stay put. His mother wasn’t kidding when she said that they had a lot to do. Once his new clothes arrived, and he changed into what Abigail called causal wear, which he thought was still too much, they went shopping. While he was promised that they wouldn’t take long, it was long enough. His apartment now had new furniture, paintings hung on the walls, and other decorations he thought pointless. The only thing he liked getting that day were the books. Once Abigail learned that he was an avid adventure reader, she pulled him into a bookshop where he was allowed to pick any number of books.

They had to get another shelf to put the books.

But evening finally came and they had to get ready for the ball. He glanced down at his new suit. It was similar to his Ghost uniform in dark blue color and military in style, even with his captain strips. The only differences were the silver trimmings and the red sash that looped from his right shoulder to his left hip, then around his waist. Apparently this was to signify his nobility.

“I’m ready,” Sara said, walking out of her room, twirling. She was dressed as a princess, with a full gown, dark blue to match his suit with silver trimmings. She also wore a similar red sash. Her blond hair was caught up in a mass of curls and a tiara graced the top of the mass. Two servants followed after her, nodding approvingly at the princess. O’Dell wasn’t so pleased with Martin. He had slammed the door in O’Dell’s face when the servant tried to help him into his suit.

“Beautiful,” Abigail approved, looking at both of them. She hugged Sara and then him. He tried not to stiffen as she wrapped her arms around him, but habit died hard. He didn’t like people close.

“You two behave,” the queen cautioned, holding them out at arm’s length. “And I expect both of you back before midnight.”

“The midnight rule?” Sara groaned. “But I’m with Martin…”

“Midnight,” she said firmly. “We have another early start tomorrow. We’re all going to court.”

Great, Martin thought. Another chance for people to gawk at him.

“We should be going,” Sara said, grinning. “We don’t want to be late!”

Martin rolled his eyes. However, he held out his arm to his sister and escorted her down to their carriage. As they walked through the halls of the palace, he could sense the awe and pride those looking on felt. He wanted to flinch. He hadn’t done anything yet and they were already adoring him. It was going to drive him nuts.

Outside the main entrance of the palace, their carriage was waiting. Martin helped Sara into the carriage then climbed in after her. The door was closed behind him and the carriage started into motion.

“Excited?” Sara asked, sitting opposite of him.

“Not really,” he admitted, settling back in his seat with his arms folded. “Apprehensive is closer to the truth.”

Sara frowned. Something must have caught her eye because she looked down at his boots. “You know,” she said uneasily, nodding to his boots. “The nobles are a bit nervous about weapons. Is it wise to carry your knives to a ball?”

Martin glanced down at his boots. The soft light of the sunset shown through the window and hit the hilt of one of his knives just right. No wonder she had spot it. He shrugged, leaning back. There were currently seven knives on his person.

“That’s one habit I’m not going to break,” he said firmly. “I’m not going around unarmed.”

“You do just as well without weapons,” Sara pointed out. “I’ve read some of your reports.”

“I’d rather not risk it.”

His sister couldn’t come up with an argument about that.

The ride to the ball was, for the most part, quiet. He flinched each time someone cried out a cheer as the carriage rode past. The people recognized a royal carriage and it was no secret that he was attending the ball that night. Without needing to look out the window, he knew people lined the streets, trying to catch a glimpse of him. But he kept leaned back in the seat, trying to stay out of view.

“Do you hate being looked at this much?” Sara asked, sitting up like a proper princess. She paid no attention to the gawking people.

“It’s attention,” he muttered, sinking in his seat. “A street urchin and a spy don’t like it because it means trouble. And I’ve been those longer than I’ve been a prince.”

“You’re going to have to get used to it,” she pointed out.

“That will take time,” he rebutted. “I can’t just dismiss eighteen years worth of instinct in a day.”

“Got me there,” Sara sighed. “Are you going to freak at the ball and leave?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I stopped running years ago.”

Before she could ask him what he meant, they had arrived. The carriage rolled to a slow stop and the footman opened the door for them. Martin got out first and helped his sister out. Other nobles and servants stopped briefly to gawk at them, then continued on their way. Taking a deep breath, Martin led Sara up the mansion’s steps. A servant greeted them at the top of the stairs and directed them down the hall where the ballroom was at.

Martin somehow managed to keep from flinching as everyone paused to stare at them, obviously shocked at seeing their prince. It was hard to ignore them as Sara did. She nodded at everyone, completely at ease with all the stares. It was perhaps the first time he was envious of his little sister.

Arriving at the grand ballroom, a servant stood at the huge doors, announcing people as they entered the ballroom. From the sounds and emotions, he guessed most of the party guests were already there. Great. More people likely to stare at him.

The herald, wearing the Cout family colors of plum and white, paused as he realized who was next to be announced. Martin was glad he decided to wear his Connection. It was going to stop any questions about his right to call himself a Santer.

“Announcing their Royal Highnesses,” the herald said in a deep booming voice, somehow carrying over the sounds of music and conversations. “Sara Rose Marie Annette Santer, Princess of Aeterna…” He paused, giving everyone a chance to stop and look at them. “And Martin Henry Alex Santer, Crown Prince of Aeterna.”

Apparently everyone knew his full name already.

Looking down into the ballroom, he first saw the faces, each shocked. The dancers in the center of the ballroom had stopped in mid step, the smaller gatherings on the edge of the ballroom turned to him. The band in the corner even stopped playing. Just as the day before when the palace welcomed him home, he wanted to blot. So many faces, so many eyes on him. That meant trouble.

“It doesn’t mean trouble,” the Spirit had to tell him, just as before. “They just want to see you. They don’t mean you harm.”

I’m trying to remember that, he thought back.

Taking a deep breath, he led Sara down the grand stairs to the ballroom. It was a pretty ballroom, obviously designed after the one in the palace. However, this ballroom paled in comparison. Somehow, it wasn’t as light or as large. That might have something to do with the lack of a wall of windows.

“Your Highness!”

The young noblewoman who invited him to the ball burst out of the crowd and met them at the bottom of the stairs. She curtsied low, trying to show off as much cleavage as possible. Martin bowed in return, completely unimpressed by the woman’s dress. It was obviously used as an attraction piece and not something to wear. Rose must have had trouble breathing due to the tightly done corset and constricting red fabric she wore about her burst. It may catch other men’s attention, but not his. Then again, with the exception of Sona, no woman had ever caught his attention.

“You were able to make it,” she said, straightening. She grinning, showing off white teeth. “I am so glad!”

“Of course he made it,” Sara snorted, narrowing her eyes. “Mom wouldn’t let him not come. Rose, how are you this evening?”

“Very well,” Rose purred, her eyes never leaving him. She eyed him up and down, pleased by what she saw.

Well this is a first, Martin thought. With Sona as the exception, no one thought of him as attractive. Average, maybe, but not attractive.

“You probably don’t know many people here,” Rose said, patting her raven dark hair, making sure it was in place. “Would you like me to introduce you to people?”

“Hey!” Sara growled, shaking Martin’s arm that she still held on to. “He’s my brother! I’ll introduce him to people.”

Martin groaned softly, rubbing his temple. “Before this comes to blows,” he suggested, noting the glares the two gave each other. “How about Sara introduces me for an hour, and then you, Lady Rose, will get an hour. After that, I’m on my own.”

“But this is your first ball,” Rose said, mocking shock. “Shouldn’t you need an escort?”

“I’m three years older than you,” Martin huffed. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“How did you know I was seventeen?” Rose asked, now honestly shocked.

He snorted. “It’s been a year since I was discovered. I didn’t spend all that time just fighting in the war. The queen sent me information about the court. I probably know more people here than you do.” It was a small lie. Suit had him memorize the Court, preparing him to become the Alex.

“But they don’t know you,” Sara pointed out. The princess then sighed. “Fine. I get him an hour, and then you get an hour. Fair?”

Lady Rose sighed, chest fallen. “I suppose I have no choice.” She curtsied again. “I await my hour eagerly.”

He managed a small bow in return when Sara yanked him away, purposefully going in the opposite direction of Rose.

“Title Chaser,” Sara spat, trying hard not to glare back at the lady. “You haven’t been here more than a day and she’s trying for you. Martin, if you ever start courting her, I’m going to disown you.”

Martin chuckled. “You shouldn’t worry,” he told her. “It takes a lot more than a full figure to catch my eye.” He couldn’t help but think of Sona, how her wit, cleverness, and honest concern for him had caught his heart. Oh, she was pretty, but it was her actions that spoke louder.

“I figured as much,” Sara snorted. “I just want it to be clear. Come on. There are people you do need to meet.”

Introductions were given fast. It seemed that Sara was determined to introduce him to more people than Rose could. If he hadn’t memorized the court already, he would have had trouble keeping up. Many of them were disappointed when he didn’t stay long for conversation, but there was no helping it. Sara was quick to drag him to the next person.

“And this,” Sara said, the end of her hour quickly coming. Martin could see Rose making her way to them. “Is my best friend, Lady Serene Loftice.”

“Your Highness,” Serene said, curtsying. “It is an honor to meet you.” She was dressed in dark green with a modest cut. A welcome relief from the rest of the women he had met that night. Martin bowed back.

“An honor to finally meet you,” he said. “Sara talked about you in her letters.” Serene blushed.

“Nothing bad I hope?” she whispered, trying to glare at the princess without him noticing.

“Only the good stuff,” Sara laughed, her eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you two get along well…”

Martin sensed that Rose was right behind him.

“My turn!” she said, grabbing him by the arm. “Excuse us, ladies. The prince and I have a lot of ground to cover.”

He was pulled away before he could even bow goodbye.

Rose was determined to introduce him to just as many as the princess had. Martin was suddenly glad that he had his arm knives stashed on his upper arms rather than his lower, where he usually kept them. Rose refused to let go of his arm, every once in a while rubbing her hand on his arm.

He kept a close eye on the clock for his hour to finally come.

“And that,” Rose said disdainfully, pointing at a noble with his back to them, “is Duke Thomas Dawson.”

“Duke Dawson?” Martin repeated, glancing again at the back. Though the dark green suit was in current fashion, the long messy black hair and shorter stance was familiar. “He’s here? I thought the Dawson estates were southeast of here.”

“He came to Nacre about a year ago,” Rose scoffed. “He’s to restore his family’s place at Court after his drunken father destroyed it.”

“Isn’t he?” Martin asked. “Restoring it, I mean?”

“Oh,” she sighed dramatically, “I suppose he is, but…” She looked around then leaned in close. “He doesn’t have very good social skills. He refuses to drink, or come to parties. It’s a surprise that he’s here.”

Martin checked the clock. “Your hour’s up,” he said. “I’m on my own.”

“But Your Highness!” Rose said, clinging onto his arm and fluttering her eyes. “Don’t you want to spend the rest of the evening with me?” There was something else in her offer, her tone suggesting more than just an evening spent with her.

“I should mingle,” he said. Before she could protest, he twisted away, breaking out of her hold. She blinked in surprise to see that he managed to get out of her grip. Without waiting for her to try grabbing him again, he called out.

“Thomas!” he said, waving. “You scoundrel! What are you doing here?”

Duke Thomas Dawson spun around, grinning.

“I thought I recognized that voice!” he laughed. He strolled over, grabbing his arm in a firm shake. “Martin! I heard you were in town!”

Martin laughed, suddenly very glad that his friend was at the ball. A friendly face at last! “It’s been a year since I last saw you,” he said. “How have you been?”

“Oh, you know,” Thomas sighed dramatically. “Can’t keep out of trouble. And what about you? Promoted to Ghost Captain and a national hero. All without being known as a prince. How do you keep getting away with things like that?”

Martin chuckled. “I have my talents.”

“Wait,” Rose said, walking up to them, her eyes wide with shock. The surrounding guests also stared in surprise. “You two know each other?”

“Of course we do,” Thomas snorted. “He’s my best friend. After my wife, of course.”

“Your wife?” Martin asked, frowning. “Last I checked, you weren’t married.”

“Times change,” Thomas chuckled.

“A lot actually,” Rose sneered. She turned to him, her posture hostile. “This man eloped. And not with a noblewoman either.” She shot a glare at the duke who ignored her.

“Eloped?” Martin repeated, surprised. “And with a commoner? How did you pull that off?”

Thomas shrugged. “Well… After my da died this last winter, the queen insisted that I get married. Something about it being proper for a full duke or something. And you know that I’ve always had feelings for Kriste…”

“You didn’t,” the prince said, smiling.

“We did,” Thomas said with a nod, grinning. “The queen was even a witness. No one can claim that our marriage was fake.”

“It’s not proper,” Rose snapped. “Commoners shouldn’t mingle with us.”

“It wasn’t always that way,” Thomas growled back.

Martin would have jumped in to stop the argument when a chill came over him. He shivered.

“Please don’t tell me Kriste is right behind me,” he said, bracing himself for the explosion.

“Why not?” sneered a voice behind him. “Terrified to face me?”

Grimacing, he turned around. Kriste Dawson stood not far away, her arms folded tightly around her figure. Everyone around her backed off, sensing the cold that was radiating from her. The quiet conversations around them died off, the nobles turning to watch the drama to unfold.

“Yes,” he answered. “I am terrified of you.”

“Kriste,” Thomas said, rushing for his wife. He wrapped his arms around her. She too was shorter than average, a sharp contrast to her twin’s height. But the straw colored hair and blue eyes were the same.

“Love,” Thomas said, obviously worried. “This isn’t the place…”

“Isn’t the place?” Kriste snapped, her hard glare never once leaving the prince. “Why not? He’s a public person now. I can be mad at him publicly.”

Martin flinched. Kriste was going to make this painful for him.

“What did you do to tick her off?” a nearby nobleman asked, looking uneasy as he switched his gaze between the duchess and the prince.

“Yes, Prince Martin,” Kriste sneered. “Why don’t you tell them? Or should I tell them? I’ll even give you a minute to decide which poison you’ll pick.”

Martin flinched again. She meant it. It was probably best if they heard it from him. Kriste wasn’t going to let her grudge go on without anyone knowing why.

“It’s about her twin brother, Luke Ander,” he said, bowing his head. “He… He died… He was killed trying to save me.”

The nobles hushed into silence. Their emotions pounded at him. Shock, horror, sympathy for Kriste. He closed his eyes, the pain of Luke’s death still there, not dampened by time. So many people assured him that the pain would heal in time, but he never felt it.

Kriste snorted. “At least you’re honest about it. Do you realize just how much my family hurt when you told us what happened? That you could have stopped my brother from facing Terk? I don’t forgive you, Martin Santer, even if you are the heir to the throne. My brother is dead because of you. I don’t forgive that easily.”

“And you think that I’ve forgiven myself?” he asked softly, opening his eyes to meet her harsh gaze. “He was my friend too, Kriste. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think back on that day and wonder what I could have done differently. I admit that I’m the reason why Luke was killed. In front of everyone. All of Aeterna will know. But none of that matters, does it?”

Kriste blinked, surprised by his honesty and question. “I guess not,” she muttered. “Luke won’t come back if you take blame.” She turned on her heel and stormed off. Thomas was about to go after her when she turned her head to him.

“I just need a minute to myself, Thomas,” she said to her husband. “Talk with your friend. I won’t come between you.” She stalked off. Martin let out a soft sigh of relief. She still hated him, that much he could feel, but somehow, he managed to say something that would allow her to forgive him.
***********
The Santers had to say their goodbyes and left the ball before midnight. Kriste watched from an alcove as the heirs left, feeling a bit numb.

He admitted it, she thought. In front of everyone.

He said that all of Aeterna would know.

Kriste had been hoping that the prince would try to keep her brother’s death a secret. It would have been the cowards’ way out of it. A proper noble way. She had planned for it, wanted to use her brother’s death as a weapon against the man who caused that death.

But he admitted it.

All her plans for revenge were dashed.

“Kriste?”

She didn’t bother to turn around as her husband wrapped his arms around her waist. Thomas lightly kissed her cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked softly.

“Why did he admit it?” she asked, the tears she had been fighting since her confrontation with the prince now welling in her eyes. “I thought… A noble doesn’t…”

“Oh, my love,” Thomas sighed. He turned her around, gazing into her eyes. “You’ve known Martin longer than I have. You should know him better. He’s not going to be like other nobles. Just like how I’m not.”

“Of course you’re different,” she snorted, nestling her head beneath his chin. “I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Besides, how many other nobles play with explosives for a hobby?”

He chuckled, smoothing her hair. “I’m going to have to tell you what Martin told me. I think you’re going to like it.”

Kriste closed her eyes, sighing. The spy in her was interested in what Thomas implied, but the hurting sister was stronger. “I suppose I’m going to have to forgive him, aren’t I?”

“Someday,” her husband whispered. “You don’t have to do it today. We all understand.”

“But I want to hate him so much,” she whispered.

“But you can’t,” he finished for her. “Your brother wouldn’t like that.”

Kriste half smiled. Yes, Luke wouldn’t like it if she hated his best friend for the rest of their lives. He’d tell her that she was an idiot. Besides, Martin did admit that Luke’s death was his fault.

He said he hadn’t forgiven himself.

Perhaps she just needed to know that the prince hurt just as much as she did.
*********
Something I’m a bit disappointed in is that I haven’t shown much of Thomas and Kriste’s relationship. I think it’s a good love story. However, I’m not much of a romance novelist as I am fantasy. Romance has its place in fantasy, but doesn’t over take it. Besides, Martin and Sona’s relationship issues are far more entertaining to me anyway. I don’t think I could write two romances in one novel well. And Thomas as a character likes to slip quietly into the background and be forgotten. It’s rather frustrating when he does that because he is a part of the plot and has since the beginning (even before I introduced Luke). I’m not going to let Thomas slip away.

I’d like to stay and chat, but I’ve got to pack for vacation. See everyone in a week! Enjoy the journey!

Tobby

WHEW! Camp is almost done! (And I’m sorry that my post is a day late. The internet here decided to go out on me when I was posting) We’re done with resident camp and now for a half week of troop camping and a weekend event. I can’t wait to go home and sleep in my own bed, use my new desk, type away… I want some me time. Martin wants some too and he’s still not done with his day. More of Nacre is about to learn their crown prince is back.
*************
Lord Nickolas Ta’lurd watched as the princess excused herself from the dinning room, muttering something about needing to check her makeup. She wasn’t fooling anyone. She was upset and had gone to sulk for a bit. He smirked in satisfaction at flustering Princess Sara. Perhaps it wasn’t the best way to destroy a girl’s illusions to woo her to accept his marriage proposal, but the sooner she accepted her brother’s doom, the sooner she could get on with her life.

“She seemed very adamant about her brother,” Lady Rose Cout mused, delicately forking an asparagus and raising it to her mouth. “One would think she had already met him.” She bit the vegetable and chewed it thoughtfully. “However, our princess has a large mouth. She would have told us her brother’s name if she had met him.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Lady Serene Loftice said harshly. “You don’t know for certain if the prince is dead.”

“But there’s no proof that he’s alive,” Nick scoffed. He looked around the table. Surrounding him were some of the most influential future leaders in Nacre. Friends, enemies, and all noble. Politics were played even as they sat down for a friendly lunch.

“Think of it,” he said, addressing all of them. “It has been two years since the queen announced that the crown prince was alive. What do we have to show for those two years of research? More reasons why they can’t find him.”

“Like his face being changed,” his friend, Lord Phelp Cates voiced. “Or his powers blocked. An easy excuse to explain why they put any commoner on the throne.” He snorted. “Any commoner could be our next king!”

“Not if I have anything to do about it,” Nick promised. “I’ve been telling people for years. The prince has been dead since he was two. This fool hardly search has been nothing more than propaganda. But now their lie is starting to backfire on them.”

“Is that what you truly believe?” Serene asked, glaring. “Most of the court believes the queen. They think the prince is still alive. Sara obviously believes it.”

“Her Highness has lived as an only child,” Nick said, his voice never taking on a hint of annoyance. But it did have the effect he was hoping for when the young noblewoman flinched. “She’s clinging onto a dream of having a sibling. In time enough she’ll come to her senses and realize that her brother is, in fact, dead.”

“Sir,” a butler said respectfully, standing in the doorway. “You have a visitor.”

“Who would be visiting me?” Nick asked, sighing dramatically. “All the important people are here.” Some of the nobles chuckled. It wasn’t too far off from the truth.

“He’s actually here to collect Her Highness,” the butler reported. “Should I send him in?”

Nick frowned. Why was the queen collecting her daughter early? “Very well,” he dismissed. “Send him in.”

Moments later, a man entered, earning him stares from everyone, servant and noble alike. He was dressed in a dark blue uniform of the Ghosts and held himself as such, with a straight posture and hands clasped behind his back. Nick raised an eyebrow. Even though the uniform lacked medals, had only captain strips, and his face was of the common stalk, he could tell the Ghost was important. Something about his bearing made him seem that way.

The Ghost captain scanned the room quickly with hazel eyes. “I was told Princess Sara was here,” he said, his voice deep. Several noblewomen smiled at the sound of his voice, obviously enjoying the sound of his voice.

“She’s gone to fix her makeup,” Nick said dully. “She should be back shortly.”

The Ghost captain eyed him suspiciously, obviously not believing him. Nick ignored the man. Why should he concern himself with some commoner’s opinion of him? However, he was interested to know why the queen sent a Ghost to collect her daughter. What was the queen’s motive?

“Excuse me,” Rose said, sitting taller as she looked the captain over again. “But are you, by any chance, Ghost Captain Eighty-One?”

The Ghost blinked. “Yes.”

The dining room was filled with excited whisperings, but Nick sat back in his chair with a frown. Captain Eighty-One? The queen was defiantly up to something by sending such a war hero to collect her daughter.

Serene suddenly stood and curtsied to the captain. “Welcome to Nacre, Captain,” she said. Absently she smoothed the front of her dress. “What brings you to our capital? Are you not needed on the field?”

The captain rolled his eyes. “I’m needed here,” he said, glancing up at the ceiling. “My family was a bit insistent on it.”

“You’re family?” Rose asked, also standing and briefly glaring at Serene. “You abandoned the war for your family? How…” She looked him up and down, a hungry look in her eyes. “Honorable of you.”

“Oh, sure,” a new voice chimed. “Make him sick.”

Princess Sara leaned against another doorframe, glaring at the noblewoman. Everyone stood and bowed to her. Nick made his bow deeper than the others, to show his respect to her station. Why hadn’t I noticed her come in? Since her return from manner school, the princess had an interesting habit of showing up when least expected. Sara motioned for everyone to sit back down then focused her gaze on the Ghost captain.

“I’m needed here?” she mocked, crossing the room to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said,” he sneered at her as she joined him. “I’m needed here.” He eyed her, taking in her full gown and carefully crafted hair. The tomboy of her youth was gone, replaced by a young woman who knew her duty. The captain reached out and tugged on one of the blonde curls around her face. Nick froze a moment of fear. What if the queen brought the captain for a possible future husband for her daughter? Everyone would love to have the famous Captain Eighty-One as king.

“When did you grow up?” he asked, tugging harder than playfully necessary. “Last I remembered, you were a spoiled brat.”

The room went silent, even the servants looked on with surprise. Nick stared at the two, shocked at the insult. The princess rolled her eyes.

“It’s been at least a year since you last saw me,” she said, smacking his hand away. “Even I had to grow up sometime.” She sighed deeply. “Now I know why you told me to enjoy the ignorance of my youth.”

The captain snorted. “I warned you. Now, let’s go.” He turned to leave.

“Martin,” Sara said, gesturing back to the room. “I’ve got to tell them goodbye.” The Ghost rolled his eyes but stopped and waited with his arms folded. Why was he wearing only one glove?

Glaring at him, the princess returned to her seat and hugged Serene tight. “I’ll talk with you tomorrow,” she promised, suddenly grinning. “We’ll have all day to talk.”

Serene frowned. “About what?”

Sara frowned then turned to glare at the captain again. “Martin.” The Ghost shrugged. It was the most mocking and annoying shrug Nick had ever seen.

“They didn’t give me a chance and I didn’t feel like it.”

“You’re horrible,” Sara said, trying hard not to laugh.

“What?” Serene asked, switching her gaze between the princess and captain.

“He’s my brother,” Sara laughed. “He’s finally home!”

Every head snapped toward the captain. Nick opened his mouth to protest that it was preposterous to call a commoner the prince, even if he was a famous Ghost captain. Then he noticed the single glove the captain wore. The Connection. He didn’t know why he knew the glove was the magical focus or that it did belong to the Ghost. He just did.

“Yes,” Martin said, rolling his eyes. “I’m home. Now,” he strolled across to his sister, spun her around and poked the small of her back towards the door. “Let’s go.”

“Ah,” Sara giggled, glancing around the shocked expressions of those in the room. “Come on, Martin. Don’t you want to answer all their questions? I’m sure they have a lot to ask!”

“I’ve been on the road for the last two weeks,” he said, taking her shoulders and pushing her. “What I want is a decent hot meal and a good night sleep in a real bed. Let’s go.”

“Alright,” Sara sighed dramatically, taking her riding cloak from a stunned servant. Suddenly she frowned, adjusting the cloak around her shoulders. “Does Mom know you’re here?”

“She sent me here,” Martin answered, leaning forward and tapping her forehead. “Someone had to tell you I came home and she needed an excuse for me to be out of the palace for a couple hours.”

“Gak!” the princess yelped and swatted his hand away. “Why are you teasing me?!”

Martin laughed. “Because I’ve never had a sibling to tease before. I think I’m going to enjoy that aspect of being a brother.”

“The teasing goes both ways, brother,” Sara threw back. “Just you wait. I’ll get you.”

He snorted. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to break any of my ribs yet.”

Sara paused. “I haven’t hugged you,” she realized. She suddenly grabbed the captain in a hug, squeezing tight.

“Gak!” he uttered, trying to pry himself free. “Sara!”

“There!” she laughed, releasing him. “I told you I’d get you!”

“That wasn’t getting,” he grumbled. “That was trying to break my ribs. Can we go now?”

“Very well,” she said, grinning. “Time to go.”

Nick and the others watched as the two left the room talking about some idle topic, too shocked to even speak. The prince? He was alive? Any argument Nick had before about the heir having been dead was dispelled by his causal appearance.

“Your Highness,” Rose whispered, breaking the stunned silence. She shot to her feet and rushed after the Santers. “Your Highness!” The nobles were quick to abandon their places and follow after, Nick close on Rose’s heels. He barely noticed the servants leave their duty to also come. It wasn’t their place to follow the prince… But the prince was there! After years of thinking he was dead, he finally was back.

The Santers were still talking with each other when they finally caught up with them. They stood out in the courtyard, waiting for the princess’s carriage to show up. The prince stood next to an elven horse, patting the animal’s neck. The palace guards stood nearby, they too eyeing their new prince.

“Your Highness!” Rose called, rushing down the steps to the courtyard.

“I think she’s talking to you,” Sara teased. Martin glared a bit at his sister before turning around and bowing slightly to the noblewoman.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Well,” Rose said, blushing with a grin. “I’m… It’s an honor to meet you. Truly an honor! I was wondering, perhaps, that you might be able to attend my ball tomorrow. Your sister has already been invited, but…. I just needed to extend an invitation to you. In person. And on short notice. Of course, though, that it’s short notice. You just came and all… But the ball? What do you think?”

Martin blinked at the stream of words that rushed out of the noblewoman’s mouth. “A ball tomorrow?” he asked. “I don’t know yet. I’ve just been in Nacre for a couple hours now. The queen has a lot of plans for me right now… But I’ll try to make it.”

“I’ll take that,” Rose said excitedly. “Then tomorrow night, if you can.” She curtsied low, looking bashfully up at him with interested eyes. “Your Highness.”

“You are going to make him sick,” Sara said, staring at the noblewoman with something close to disgusted worry. The carriage rode up and the footman jumped off to open the door for the princess.

“Sara,” the prince rebuked. “Be nice.”

“Isn’t she making you sick?”

“Sara!”

“Fine,” the princess muttered. “My carriage is here anyway.” She paused before the footman helped her up. “Are you going to ride with me?”

“I have Rowan,” the prince said, pointing to the elven horse. “I’ll ride him.”

“Have it your way,” Sara said, shrugging. She finally entered her carriage, the footman closing the door.

Shaking his head, Martin mounted his elven horse, taking the reigns in one hand. He nodded to the guards and they took the signal. They rode off, Martin beside the carriage and the guards around the Santers. Nick and the others were left standing on the steps, watching them go in stunned silence.
**************
“Did you see his face!” Sara laughed, leaning through the window to talk to him. “It was brilliant! It was about time someone took that snot down a notch!” She continued to laugh, wiping tears from her eyes.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Sara,” he said. “It’s not kind to make fun of other’s plights.”

“Plight?” she snorted. “You’ve read my letters. You know how big a jerk Lord Nick is. Tell me you didn’t enjoy seeing his dreams dashed with your appearance?”

Martin thought about it. It was true that he had developed a disliking for the lord through Sara’s letters. The princess explained everything that Nick had been trying to do, everything from convincing the court that the prince was actually dead to proposing marriage to the princess. The marriage proposal even ticked the queen off.

“You got me,” he admitted, allowing a small smile. “He did have a funny face when you told them that I’m your brother.” What he didn’t like was that he was suddenly the center of attention again. One thing he would greatly miss from his old life was being ignored.

Sara sighed happily, grinning as she remembered the faces of the nobles. “I can’t believe you’re home,” she said, smiling at him. “Honestly, we didn’t expect you home until after the war. Why did you come now? And without telling us you were coming?”

Martin managed to suppress a flinch. The queen asked him the same question privately before he left to collect his sister. “Later,” he answered, the same one he gave his mother. “When the excitement has died down.”

“That’s fine,” she said, resting her arms on the window seal and her chin on her arms. “I understand.” She eyed him, taking every detail in. “You look different.”

“I’m in Ghost uniform,” Martin pointed out. The last time Sara saw him, he was dressed in the Standards for spies, a simple shirt and trousers.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, seriously considering him. “Remember the last time? When you caught me at Grelend’s estate? I told you that you had a gravity about you. That you’ve seen things you shouldn’t. I understand now that it was the weight of keeping your identity a secret. But that gravity is gone now. It’s been replaced… I just don’t know what it’s been replaced by.”

“Hum,” Martin hummed. She was probably right. He was no longer hiding his identity.

“You don’t look princely yet though,” she added.

He snorted. “Of course not. I’ve been officially the prince for what? A few hours? Maybe? Give me time to get used to this.”

She grinned. “Mom and I will help with that.”

Martin groaned softly, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t suggested this plan.
************
The entire palace was in motion. While that was usually the case, it was more intense, more excited, than normal. Abigail couldn’t blame anyone. She too had caught it. The prince had returned. Everyone was pitching in to throw a surprise party for when the prince returned with his sister. It was going to be the fastest on the spur of the moment party they would have every put together. It was so fast, the cooks quickly went to all the surrounding bakeries and restaurants to get more food that was already cooked.

Abigail was supervising the decorating in the main ballroom when her assistant approached. It was a rare time indeed if Shay didn’t have a stack of papers in his arms.

“The maids have just reported that a royal apartment has been cleaned out,” Shay said, bowing. “And that the cooks are ready to serve at any moment.”

“Good,” Abigail said, grinning. “Martin should be back shortly with Sara. Everything is pulling together quite well.”

“Indeed,” Shay agreed. He paused, glancing around the ballroom. The grand ballroom was huge, the largest in the city. Pillars surrounded the outer edge of the room, leafy deigns scrolling up its height. The painted ceiling depicted crystal starry night, the golden chandeliers casting a brilliant glow to the entire room. Windows made up of one entire wall, glass double doors ready to be opened to the gardens beyond. It was the perfect place for a party to welcome the prince.

“I must admit,” Shay said, nodding approvingly as servants started placing tables around the edge of the ballroom, “I am surprised about your son.”

“Surprised?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s all?”

Shay nodded. “He’s not what I expected. Forgiveness… but he doesn’t look like much. A commoner if I ever gave him a passing glance.”

“That’s what his kidnappers had in mind,” she pointed out. “They couldn’t walk around with a crown prince without someone recognizing him. They changed his features.”

Shay shook his head. “He’s still… There is something different about him.”

You have no idea how different he is, Abigail thought, her excitement damped when she remembered where her son had come from. It was almost like a bad joke, a street urchin was actually a prince.

“He’s coming!” a servant shouted, running through the halls. “They’re in the courtyard now!”

“Shay,” Abigail said, “go to the courtyard and direct them here. We’ll surprise him here.”

Shay bowed. “As you wish.” He left to go collect the prince.

“Everyone!” Abigail said loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “Quiet down! When my son walks through that door, we’ll all yell ‘Welcome home.’ Then we’ll start this party!”

Cheers of excitement irrupted as the servants rushed to finish the last bits of cleaning. Then the shouts were hushed into silence, a few giggles here and there as they prepared themselves for the prince’s arrival.

Abigail took a deep breath, turning to face the door. Her son was home. He was finally home.

“Why are we going to the ballroom?” Sara asked.

“That’s where the queen wanted you to go,” Shay answered respectfully. The double doors opened.

“Now!” Abigail signaled, catching a glimpse of the prince.

“Welcome home, Martin Santer!”

Martin stood there, frozen at their shout. For the briefest of moments, he looked terrified, taking a step back as if he were about to run off. Abigail felt a pang of regret. Her son didn’t like attention. From his reaction, he was terrified of being the prince. No wonder he didn’t tell them the truth earlier.

But Sara laughed, hugging her brother. Remembering where he was, he gave a small, hesitant smile. Abigail let out a sigh of relief. Martin may be terrified, but he wasn’t going to run. He was going to stand tall and do his duty.

“Welcome home, Martin,” the queen said, walking to him and grabbing him in a hug. He immediately stiffened, but she just clung tighter. “Welcome home.”
************
The party went very well, though Martin may have thought otherwise. Abigail beamed on with pride as her son greeted everyone who came to shake hands with him. Any nervousness he felt was behind a charming smile and interested conversations. He did very well with interacting with others. Many left grinning.

At least I don’t have to teach him manners, she thought, watching as Martin greeted the ambassador from Poca correctly. She silently thanked Suit for having taught her son how to interact with society.

“So,” the ambassador was saying to her son, “when will be your first official appearance at Court?”

“Probably the day after tomorrow,” Martin said. The ambassador raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t think that I’d let him go to court when he just arrived?” Abigail asked with a huff. “He needs time to settle in and get organized. By the Seven Founders, he doesn’t even have a proper wardrobe yet.”

Martin blinked, barely covering his annoyance. Abigail just smiled at him. Her son was just too plain a dresser for his status as prince.

“Will you be attending Lady Rose’s ball tomorrow?” the ambassador asked.

“I’ve been invited….” Martin started to say.

“Then of course you’re going,” she snorted. “A little party before your first official Court appearance will be good for you.”

Her son actually glared at her then.

The Poca ambassador couldn’t linger any longer because the ambassador from Arimo was next in line to meet the prince.

It was well after dark when the queen decided it was time for the party to end. Groans were echoed throughout the ballroom and many disappointed faces because they hadn’t had a chance to meet the prince. But she was insistent. It was time for Martin to look at his new apartment. That, she felt, was something he should do privately without people gawking.

Bidding everyone goodnight, she and her children walked to the royal apartments. It was a quieter part of the palace, with only a few servants and guards. This was one of the few places the royal family could find privacy. It was their home; no one traipsed in casually.

Martin’s apartment was on the ground floor, only a hall away from the one the queen and princess shared. While Abigail would have liked for Martin to be in her apartment, she also knew that her son needed his own space. He had been living alone for all of his life. Besides, a grown man needed a place of his own.

“Well,” she said, stopping at his door. “Here we are.”

She opened the door for him, allowing him to enter first. Martin took a deep breath, shouldering his pack that he had insisted on carrying himself, and walked in. He did a quick look around, a habit he must have developed as a spy, then a slower gaze of his new apartment. He paused in the center of the room, turning full around for another slow sanction.

It was one of the simpler royal apartment, meant mostly for those not as close to the throne. However, the queen had picked this apartment for the very reason of its simplicity. The entry room was, in a word, cozy. There were no paintings hanging on the wall, revealing the cool green color. There were a couple of plush couches and oversized chairs set in a half circle around the fireplace, with a short table in the middle. The wall opposite from the entry had large double glass doors that lead out to his own private garden, walled off to give him some privacy outdoors.

“Well?” Abigail asked, watching as Sara rushed in and picked a chair to sit on. “What do you think?”

Martin gazed up at the ceiling, of the same green color as the walls, then down to the lush dark green carpet beneath his boots. “It’s a long cry from my room at the Tree,” he said, his voice too soft for her to pick up any emotion.

Sara snorted. “That’s a closet there. Literally! I mean, your closet here is bigger than what your room was.”

“Your room is through there,” Abigail said, pointing to the wall opposite of the fireplace. “Along with a closet and indoor bathroom.”

Martin glanced at the door, frowning a bit. “I’ve come a long way from sleeping under bridges.”

The joy of the moment was sucked out of her by his simple statement. She stared sadly at him, picking up his hesitant stance and slightly overwhelmed expression. He carried the bag with everything he cared to possess, in a uniform that he put on because he had no choice. It was hard to believe that he was actually the prince.

“Why are you here, Martin?” she asked softly. “You aren’t ready for this.” The deal she made with her husband was that he would prepare their son for his life as a prince while she and Sara prepared the court for his return. While the court was as ready as it ever was going to be, it was obvious that he wasn’t.

Her son took a deep breath. “You’re not going to like what I’m going to say.”

“Why?” Sara asked, frowning at him. “Why won’t we like it?”

He sighed. “I’m here to be bait.”

“What!”

Abigail didn’t even remember shouting the word. She found it hard enough to breath, little alone shout anything.

“What do you mean?” Sara asked, having jumped to her feet. “Bait?”

“This is Terk’s war now,” Martin said, his voice suddenly firm. “He’s been ordered by his king to go home and he’s ignoring that order.”

“He could have just gotten those orders,” Sara started to argue.

“Six months?” Martin asked.

That quieted her daughter.

“I don’t want Terk to ravage Aeterna,” Martin went on, the first time she saw his usual confident self. “I can’t let him. So we decided that it was time for us to trap the Mad General. I’m the best bait we have.”

Abigail felt faint. Stumbling, she sat down in the chair Sara jumped out of, rubbing her brow. Her husband agreed to this plan? Her next letter to him was not going to be a pretty one.

“Martin,” she said, shaking her head. “You are going to tell me everything.”

Her son sighed and sat down on one of the couches. He explained the plan he and his Ghosts came up with. Every detail, every possible outcome, had been discussed. Abigail listened intensely, hoping to find some flaw with the plan. However, once he was done outlining the trap, she knew Martin had no choice but to be bait.

“I guess there’s no helping it now,” she grumbled. “You’re here now. Nacre knows you’re here. There’s no possible way for you to back out now.”

“That’s why you never sent us a letter saying you were coming,” Sara figured out, leaning over the back of the couch Martin sat on. “You catch us by surprise and we’d have no choice but follow along until you told us the bad news.” She glared at him. “That was a dirty trick.”

“It had to be done,” Martin pointed out. “Neither of you would have agreed to this and kept me hidden.”

“But you aren’t ready for this,” Abigail argued. He flinched.

“No,” he confessed quietly. “I’m not. But that never stopped me before.”

No, it never had stopped him before. The queen had read all his records, all the reports he made on his spying missions. If there was one thing that struck her about her son, it was his determination to do what was required of him and to prove that he could do anything.

“Then I guess we need to press on,” she sighed, resigned to the facts. Martin wasn’t there because he was ready to be the prince. He was there as bait.

“So what’s the plan now?” Sara asked.

“We go on pretending we didn’t have this conversation. We will act as if everything is fine. Go to balls, court, smile even when it hurts…” Abigail reluctantly said. That reminded her of something. Standing up, she walked to the small table by the door, opened up the drawer and pulled out a wrapped package. “I’ve a gift for you Martin.” Her son looked at her with surprise and curiosity.

“I’ve kept this for years,” she said, walking back. “I don’t know why I did, but… I had it fixed.” She handed it to Martin. He frowned as he held it.

“What is it?” he asked, ripping away the brown paper. He blinked in surprise as he saw a small stuffed dog inside. It was off white from spending so long being stored away. But the fur was still soft and no one would know that it had one point been missing an ear, leg, and half a tail.

“That was your favorite toy,” Abigail whispered. “You hardly went anywhere without it.” She paused. Martin wasn’t Henry, her beloved two year old. No, Martin was a young man who spent his life struggling. “I know it isn’t much of a welcome home gift,” she went on, suddenly feeling very foolish. “But…” She tapered off. It seemed like a good idea when she put it in the apartment.

“Thank you,” Martin said, smiling. She couldn’t tell if it was sincere or polite smile.

“Well,” Sara said, rolling her eyes. “This isn’t awkward at all! What’s the plan tomorrow?”

Abigail smiled at her daughter. Leave it to Sara to rudely break up awkward situations. “Fairly simple,” she said. “We get Martin ready for his life as a prince. Your new clothes should be arriving tomorrow. After we make sure the clothes are fine, we’ll go shopping. Your apartment is a bit bare and if you want different furniture we’ll get it. We’ll also talk with the cook about your favorite foods, get Rowan settled in. Things of that nature.”

“And don’t forget the ball tomorrow,” Martin grumbled, glaring at the thought.

“I don’t forget balls,” Abigail chuckled. She stood up. “Well, Sara, it’s time for us to go to bed. Goodnight, Martin. I hope you like your new apartment.”

“I’ll get used to it,” Martin sighed, glancing around the room again. “Just… give me a couple days to get used to it.”

“I couldn’t ask for more,” Abigail agreed. “Everyone needs a few days to get adjusted to a new place. Come, Sara.”

Sighing dramatically, the princess followed her to the door. They opened it and were about to walk out.

“Tobby.”

Abigail froze. Slowly turning around, she saw Martin standing in the middle of the room, gazing down at the small stuffed dog. He looked up, meeting her gaze with a peculiar expression.

“This dog’s name,” he said, holding it up. “It’s Tobby, isn’t it?”

Abigail’s eyes filled with tears. It was one thing for Martin to have the Connection to prove that he was the prince. It was another to hear him connect with a past he could barely remember. She rushed at him, hugging him tight. He stiffened again, but Abigail didn’t care. He was her son. It had been years since she really hugged him.

“Welcome home, my son,” she whispered, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. “You’re home.”
*************
Martin had a quick look through his other rooms, flinching a bit at how… much it was. Sara had been right. His closet was bigger than his room at the Tree. Even the bed was bigger. He was used to sleeping on cots. This was large bed with a canopy and quilted bedspread. He shook his head. Nearly ten and a half years ago, he considered himself to be lucky enough to be sleeping under a bridge. Two years ago, he was lucky to have a room to himself.

Grabbing his pack from the first room, he dug through it and found a change of clothes to sleep in. He changed quickly in the bathroom, the only room without a large window. His bedroom had similar glass doors that lead to the garden outside. He was glad to have that garden. He had a feeling that he was going to be spending a lot of time in it.

Once changed, he decided to leave the unpacking for the next day. Not that there was much to unpack. Checking the front room again, he locked the doors and was about to go to bed when the stuffed dog caught his eye.

He picked it up carefully, staring into the glass button eyes.

“I bet I’m really different than you remember,” he said to it, feeling a bit foolish for talking to a toy. While he never gave care too much to things, there was something about this stuffed toy that stirred something in him. He couldn’t explain why he knew its name was Tobby, or even why he cared about it.

Sighing, he was about to drop it back on the couch, then decided against it. He took it into the bedroom, placing it on a pillow. He climbed into the quilted sheets, wishing it wasn’t so soft. He was used to sleeping on hard surfaces.

With a single thought, he had all the lights go out. He turned over in the bed, facing Tobby. The moonlight shown through the thin curtains and illuminated the room in a very soft light.

He stared at the toy, thinking about just how much his life had changed in a single afternoon. Much like an evening eighteen years before when he was taken.

“I guess there’s no helping it,” he sighed. “I’ve got to do this.”

The toy had no answers. He smiled. That was fine.

“Goodnight, Tobby,” he said, closing his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
************
Ah! Isn’t that precious! Martin has been reunited with Tobby. I thought it was really cute. Well, I need to work now. So until next post, enjoy the journey!