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!