A Dangerous Man

I’ve decided that my blog is now going to be updated on Mondays. Hope this isn’t a problem for anyone.

But I know what you want now. To the story of a dangerous man!
************
Martin walked the streets of Nacre after sunset, still in a bit of a haze. He had gone into the queen’s office, expecting the worst but hoping for something better.

He wasn’t expecting the something better.

But Abigail assured him that she would find a way. There were tears in her eyes near the end when she promised that she would do something to allow him to be with Sona. She admitted she wasn’t sure yet how she was going to do it, but the firm conviction in her voice left little doubt in his mind that she would not fail in this task.

He paused again, glancing back the way he came. It was a street slowly emptying as people went inside for the night. Would the queen really be able to find a way so he could be with Sona? What could she possibly do?

Why didn’t I talk to her sooner about this? he wondered for the hundredth time, shaking his head and focusing on where he was going. It would have saved him a lot of heartache if he knew the queen would be willing to help him to solve this problem.

Now it was a weight off his chest. Only to be replaced by another this night.

He walked differently from how he normally would. And why not? He didn’t look like the prince. Not with his red hair, glasses, and simple clothes. He was David Taylor, a farmer formally. He had just moved to the big city Nacre. He was here looking for work.

The package Suit had sent him contained all the disguises he had planned to use as the Alex. David Taylor was by far the easiest to pull off, though he had toyed with the idea of using the other disguises, hidden in the wall of his room. He had found the hidden compartment in the wall as he tried to find a place to hide the disguises. He figured the compartment was meant for Santers as he had to use his power on the land to make the brick move out of the wall.

That was fine by him. That meant no one was going to find it.

He was on a mission this night. There were no balls to attend, no surprise parties in his honor. Tonight, his third in Nacre as prince, was his alone to enjoy. Not that he was planning on spending it idly. The trap for Terk had to be laid and he wasn’t going to play the idle bait waiting for him. He was going to work.

The poorer sections of Nacre were still better off than other places around the world. Martin often wondered what it would have been like living in the Nacre streets instead of Loman. Instead of starving, he would have been in a bread line. Instead of cowering in fear of those bigger than him, he would have been a thief, quick and cunning.

He shook his head. No use living in the world of what if. He had learned to be in the present, working for a better future.

Nearing the seaport, he could smell the fresh fish of the evening loafing through the cool air. Others might not like the smell, but he hardly noticed. Instead he noticed the quickly filling sea taverns with sailors dicing, gambling, lurching, and getting drunk inside. A few drunks stumbled out as they were shooed out of the taverns to make room for more sober customers. Martin shook his head at them. He never saw the fun in drinking. But then again, it might have something to do with the fact that he couldn’t drink himself.

He walked past the taverns, making his way closer to the port and the warehouses near the water. If he was going to set a trap for Terk in Nacre, he needed help. He figured he could slowly get help from the citizens of Nacre, allowing them time to get used to the idea that their prince was a planner and perhaps more than just a noble. But there were other citizens who needed to be confronted first. Those he did not want to slip out of his control. These were the ones he needed on his side first.

“Hey you!”

Martin hid his grin. There was his way in.

Turning around, he adopted a lost expression. Behind him by a few yards stood an older man, perhaps late forties, dressed in a sharp suit and carried a fancy cane with a red ruby on the top. He had lost some weight since the prince had last seen him.

“What are you doing here?” the man asked, scowling and pointing his cane at him.

“Just trying to find my cousin,” Martin replied, seeping his voice with a heavy underclass accent, pitching his voice higher than normal. “He said to meet him after sunset at…” He paused for effect, scratching his head in thought. “The Merry Dancer?”

The man snorted. “You’ve gone too far then.” He jutted his thumb behind him. “It’s that way two streets back.”

“Thank you!” Martin said, letting his voice and posture express his thanks. “Thank you so much!”

“Be off with you,” the man snapped, turning to enter one of the warehouses. He knocked on the door three times with his cane, waited a moment, then knocked another four. The door opened and he shuffled inside, not even bothering to see if Martin had moved. The prince just grinned.

“Thanks, Willy,” he whispered, eyeing the warehouse with new understanding.

Willy the Horrid had just showed him where the Den of Thieves was in Nacre.
************
Willy the Horrid sat back in his chair, eyeing everyone in the room with suspicion. He wasn’t the only one. In a room filled of the most dangerous and successful thieves in all of Aeterna, plays were expected. So far, he had already spotted at least a half dozen assassins. He wasn’t too concerned about them. They probably had orders to kill anyone their boss pointed out. His own assassin was actually outside, waiting for him. He had no plans to die tonight.

The plans.

It was the annual meeting among the High Thieves to meet and discuss the business of their work. This year they decided to meet in Nacre. Their room was the same as others across Aeterna, with only one lantern lighting the middle of the room as the thieves sat near the walls and shadows. There were no tables, no extra furniture. Those would only be a bother if they got into a fight, which had been known to happen before. But as much as it was their annual meeting, there was no doubt that this meeting would be revolved around one topic.

The prince.

Willy absently rubbed the ruby of his cane, feeling his stomach twinge as he thought about the prince. The thought that he had actually been with the prince… worked with him…

No, he thought forcefully, shaking those thoughts out of his head. That whelp of a spy Martin couldn’t be the prince. It had to be more complicated than it seemed. That whelp was probably sent to the Stand to help create a noble past for their new prince. That had to be it. Come to think of it, wasn’t the spy impersonating a Ghost anyway? Their new prince probably had a dozen of heroic stories about him that were done by others. That had to be the reason why spy Martin was there at the Stand.

And it was only convenient that the spy had already told him that his name was Martin. That probably wasn’t his name at all. Spies were tricky like that. They never told the whole truth. They changed names like they changed underwear.

“You seem to be in deep thought, Willy,” said his neighbor, Thief Thai from Seals Port in Northern Aeterna. Willy barely flickered his eyes to note the foreign thief. Lean like his people, Thai had come to Aeterna wishing to live off the fat of the land. He was, but it didn’t show on his frame.

“I want this over with,” Willy grumbled truthfully. “The Stand has been having problems with Gillian.”

“The Stand is always having problems with Gillian,” Thai chuckled. “What is it really?”

Wouldn’t you love to know, Willy thought with a glare. “Keep your long nose out if it,” he warned darkly. “Otherwise that nose won’t be so long.”

Thai glared, immediately touching his nose. That thief was too attached to his nose. Willy couldn’t see any reason why. It was just so hideously long.

“Pay no attention to our Stand,” purred his other neighbor, Lady Lynn from Nacre. She had pulled out a mirror and was fixing her makeup. No one would have guessed she was nearly fifty with all the paint she wore. “He’s just sick. He’s lost a lot of weight since our last meeting.”

Willy bit back a comment about her own health. Lynn had coughing fits every day. “I’ve only lost thirty pounds,” he snapped, rubbing his belly. “I’ll gain it back when the war is over.”

“Ah, yes,” Lynn sighed, the worry on her expression real. “The war. When is it going to end? Bad for our business.”

Increased security, young men dragged away into the army, goods taxed, soldiers patrolling the countryside. War was bad for business.

“Order! Order!”

Willy and the other thieves turned as a mallet hit a wall. At the head of the room was Phillip, the Head Thief of Nacre. In truth, he was the most powerful thief in the room. He was what one might call the king of thieves, but no one liked the sappy title. It spoke too much of royalty and just sounded like a bad joke.

Phillip stood up from his chair, scanning the room with hard eyes. This was not a man to cross. He stood nearly a half foot taller than anyone in the room, with wide shoulders and muscles that rivaled that of any guard’s. If a play was going to be made on Phillip, woe to be to the one who did it. Willy wouldn’t be surprised if Phillip was one of the few Thief Heads to actually retire.

“Everyone here?” Phillip asked, quickly counting heads. “It appears so. To business then.”

“Yes,” a new voice joined in. “To business.”

Mutters erupted through the room, thieves turning to find the source of the new voice. Willy immediately spotted a figure move through the darkness and into the light. He stiffened as a young man walked into the light, recognizing him. The spy hadn’t changed much since he last saw him at the Stand. The dark brown hair was still unfashionably short, common face with hazel eyes. Even the dark clothes covering everything but his head were the same. The young spy walked into the middle of the room, unconcerned about walking into the middle of the most dangerous thieves in all of Aeterna.

“Who is he?” Lynn asked softly, the purr in her voice confirming her approval of the young man.

“A spy,” Willy spat, glaring at the young man. “I’d be careful about that one. He’s dangerous.”

The spy stopped in the middle of the room directly under the light, quickly scanning the thieves around him. “Good,” he said, smirking a bit. “Everyone is here.”

Phillip raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just walked into?” he asked.

The spy smiled. “I know.”

“Then you know you just walked into your own death.”

A dozen assassins burst from their hiding spots, leaping into the middle of the room. Willy stood up in alarm, wanting so much to cry out, but his voice refused to work. They shouldn’t fight that young man!

The spy moved quickly out of the assassins attack then spun into the confused fray. Willy flinched, watching with horror as each assassin was brought down with an accurate hit. In just a few minutes, he stood alone in a mass of assassins on the ground, crawling away. The spy hadn’t killed them, but he had injured them enough to take them out of the fight. The thieves suddenly shifted uneasily, concerned mutters filling the empty silence. Phillip sat back down, glaring at the young man.

“Spy Alex I assume,” Phillip said, leaning carefully back in his chair.

“I’m called that,” the young man said, smirking.

Angry mutters filled the room. The Alex had over the years been a hinder and bother. He was no friend to any thief. This young man had to have something up his sleeve to waltz into their den or he was stark raving mad.

Phillip scowled at the young spy then turned his focus on his fellow thieves. “Does anyone know if this young whelp speaks truth?” Willy squirmed as the Head found him. “Willy, I noticed that you tried to stop the assassins from attacking our guest. Do you know him?”

Willy flinched. “I only tried to stop them from getting hurt,” he explained, rising from his seat. “I myself have seen first hand how this young spy fights.”

“Then he is a spy?” Phillip asked.

“He is,” Willy said, glaring at the still calm young man. “And perhaps Aeterna’s most dangerous one. He grew up at Loman as a street urchin and came to Aeterna to become a spy. Dedicated to Aeterna, he’ll do anything for his adopted nation.” He paused, allowing the whispers from his fellow thieves to settle. It was one thing to have a spy who was nation bred. It was quite another to have a spy to adopt a nation. Those were more dangerous than the nation bred.

“So dedicated this young spy,” he went on, pointing an accusing finger at the young man, who still stood in the middle, his arms folded smugly. “He even impersonated Ghost Eighty-One at Evan’s Stand!”

The whispers turned into a few cries of surprise and heated protests. Phillip leaned forward in his chair, eyeing the spy with new understanding.

“I had wondered if all the stories about Ghost Eighty-One were true,” he muttered, a small smile creeping into his expression. “So… All those stories are fake then.”

“As fake as an honest noble,” Willy snorted. “He even went by the name Martin at the Stand. He was probably sent to create a heroic past for our prince.”

Before anyone could agree, the young man started chuckling, shaking his head. “Oh, Willy,” he said. “I know you hate me. I’ve been a pain to you ever since I was fifteen. We’ve been through a lot. And I’m flattered that you consider me Aeterna’s most dangerous spy.” He paused, his expression changing from humor to serious. “However, there is one thing I never lied about to you.”

“Oh?” Willy asked with a sneer. “And what’s that?”

The young Alex looked in directly in the eye. Willy felt himself start to quiver. He had never been under this Alex’s penetrating gaze before. Most men quailed beneath it; even Commander Gillian couldn’t stand it. In that single look there was power and determination. This was a man who was determined to do his will and could do it. No one could stand up to him.

“I never lied about my name.”

He threw his hand out.

SLAM!

He slowly moved his outstretched hand around the room, doors slamming with no physical force. Willy suddenly wanted to run. He turned to go but couldn’t move. Glancing down, he gasped in shock to see his feet had literally sunk into the ground, stopping him from moving. Quickly looking around, he saw that the other thieves had also been sunk into the ground. He slowly looked back up. The young man stood in the center of the room, lowering his arm… His gloved hand.

The Connection.

“I am Martin Henry Alex Santer,” he announced loudly, his attention on the now pale Phillip. “The Crown Prince of Aeterna.”

Willy collapsed to the ground, unable to move back into his seat, too shocked but to stare at the spy… The whelp was the prince!

“Your Highness,” Phillip said, his voice actually quaking.

“Phillip, Head Thief of Nacre” the prince said, folding his arms again. He paused, glancing around the room. “And his Court of Thieves. It’s a pleasure to finally meet all of you.”

“Pleasure?” Lynn asked, struggling to get her feet out of the ground. “What do you plan to do to us?”

“Yes!” Thai demanded to know as he tried to pull one foot out. “Now that you’ve caught us, what do you plan to do with us?”

“It’s not what you think,” Martin said, nodding to them. “I’ve actually come to get something from you.”

“Great,” Phillip grumbled, propping his arm up with his chair and leaning his face against his hand. “This is blackmail, isn’t it?”

The prince raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask for.”

Phillip snorted. “The Crown Prince walks into our meeting, keeps us from leaving with his powers, and tells us that he isn’t here to arrest us? What other possibility is there? You’re going to blackmail us into doing something for you.”

Martin chuckled, shaking his head. “You heard Willy. I was actually a street urchin from Loman before I was even a spy. I know how blackmail feels and I know how much those being blackmailed loathe it. If I try to blackmail any of you, I’d have to keep a close eye on you to keep any of you from double-crossing me. And I don’t have time for that.”

“Then what is your game?” Phillip asked, confused.

“Simple,” the prince said with a shrug. “I’m going to bribe you into helping me.”

The room stilled for a moment then filled with mutters of surprise. Willy shifted on the ground to find a more comfortable position, gazing amazed at the young man. A bribe?

“And how do you intend to bribe us?” Phillip asked, snorting with annoyed amusement. “Most of us could steal what we want. We don’t need any help.”

“Not even a month long run from the law?”

Everyone froze. Even Phillip looked shocked.

“Here’s the deal,” the prince went on, walking in a slow circle around the middle. “Agree to help me and I will guarantee that you will not have a warrant after you for one month after the war. You may flee anywhere you want. I even extend this offer to all your underlings, to give them a chance for a new life or even move to where you need them.” He paused, his expression getting hard. “However, if you do commit a crime during that month, the warrant comes back and you’re back to where you started.”

Mutters filled the room again. What the prince offered was more than just a month long run. He was offering them a chance to escape the law, disappear for good.

Retire.

“And,” Phillip said slowly and carefully, “what do you want in exchange for you most generous offer?” He said it without sarcasm. The Head Thief was actually considering the offer!

“It’s simple,” Martin said. “Help me end the war.” He paused to let them mutter again. “All those acts as Ghost Eighty-One? They’re all true. I’ve done every single one of them. I’m on my last assignment as a Ghost and the Spy Alex before I truly take up the title of Crown Prince. And that assignment is to capture Terk and end this war.”

“And how do you plan to capture Terk?” a thief from the other side of the room wanted to know. “As far as we’ve heard, that Mad General is hard to catch.”

“The plan right now is to set up Nacre as a giant trap,” the prince answered. “This is where you come in. I need use of your underground tunnels and help from your underlings to cause mayhem to the enemy when they arrive.”

Willy slumped where he sat, oblivious that the thieves around him were also in a stupor. There was no use asking how the prince knew about the underground tunnels in Nacre. He had seen the ones at the Stand. He could also probably feel the tunnels with his powers.

But the deal was fair. Use of their secret tunnels for a once near impossible chance to retire. He found himself wondering what he could do to pull of an easy retirement.

“But do you know that Terk’s coming to Nacre?” another thief asked, finding her voice again.

Martin actually flinched. “Well,” he said, running his gloved hand through his short hair. “It’s the actual reason why I’m here. I’m playing bait.”

“Bait?” Phillip repeated, blinking in surprise. “You didn’t come back to take your rightful place as prince?”

“That too,” Martin sighed. “But the main reason is to be bait. Terk won’t attack me in the army so I came out in the open to lure him into our trap.”

Our trap. There were more people involved in it. Willy couldn’t help wondering just how many people the prince had in on the scheme. It had to be a lot if the prince was willing to become bait for the trap.

“You’ll go that far?” Phillip asked, confused. “Risk your very life to end a war?”

“I’ve done a lot of things in my life that could have killed me,” the prince said seriously. “This is just another risk. And I’ll do it. If it means an end to this war and Aeterna returning to peace, I’ll risk my life over and over again to get it.”

Willy felt a surge of pride as the prince spoke. He couldn’t explain why he knew the prince was telling the truth. He just knew that Prince Martin would risk everything for Aeterna. Much like he would.

“And your word?” Phillip asked. “One month to run after the war if we help you end it?”

Martin bowed, his gloved hand over his heart. “You have my word as the Spy Alex, Ghost Captain Eighty-One, and as the Crown Prince of Aeterna.”

Phillip sat back in his chair, rubbing his scruffy chin. He slowly scanned the other thieves, searching for something from them. Willy slightly nodded his head in agreement when the Head’s gaze found him. Phillip finished his silent count.

“Very well,” he said, struggling to stand from his seat with his feet still sunk in the ground. “We agree.”

“Then come forward and shake,” Martin said, holding out his gloved hand to the Head Thief. Phillip looked down in surprise as his feet came free. Taking a deep breath, he walked up to the prince and shook his hand.

Something clicked inside him. Willy rubbed his chest, wondering what just happened. He looked around to see that his fellow thieves were also rubbing their chests.

“You are all bound,” Martin said, answering the question in their minds. “Keep your word and I’m bound by mine.”

“This is powerful magic you put on us,” Phillip said, also rubbing his chest. He glared at the prince. “I don’t like magic put on me.”

The prince actually smirked. “It’s more on me than you. You can break it, I can’t. But be warned. Break it then I’m not required to help you either.”

“You’re a dangerous man, Martin Santer,” Phillip said, glaring.

“So I’ve been told,” the prince said with a shrug. He bowed again. “I must take my leave. No one will be allowed to leave this room for an hour, time enough for me to get away. I will make contact with one of you later. Give you instructions and all that.”

“I volunteer!”

Everyone turned in surprise to see him raise his hand. Willy didn’t care. He had some unfinished business with the prince and he didn’t want the others to see. Besides, he wanted to tweak his agreement a bit.

Martin blinked, quickly covering his own surprise. “Alright then,” he said, turning back to Phillip. “I’ll get with Willy in the next few days. Agreed?”

“I don’t see why not,” Phillip said, trying and failing to copy the prince’s shrug. “Until we meet again?”

“Until then,” Martin said, bowing slightly. Just as he had walked in, he walked out, disappearing into the darkness beyond the room.

“A dangerous man, him,” Willy muttered, not surprised to feel the smile on his lips. A dangerous man, yes, but one man a thief like him could grow to like.
***********
“And why are we visiting your old friend again?”

Abigail chuckled, adjusting the collar to her son’s coat again as the carriage drove away. As usual, he pulled away and fixed it himself. She shook her head at him and gazed around the courtyard with fondness. The courtyard was as much as she remembered it from her childhood when she attended school here. A few servants and guards scattered throughout the yard. Green vines with a few wilting leaves to the coming winter climbed up the walls of the courtyard and building. The stone steps that lead up to the mansion were old, but still elegant in classic design. Lady Pomace was a romantic and enjoyed the elegant things in life.

“You just need to meet her,” Abigail said vaguely, walking up the worn stone steps. “She’s one of the most influential women at court.”

Her son snorted as he followed after her. “I know that. I’ve studied the court. There’s a reason she’s called the Reformer.”

Yes, the Reformer. A noblewoman who took in girls, noble and common alike, and transformed them into ladies. Pomace would only take in the girls she thought could go far with just a bit more refining. Abigail counted herself blessed to be considered one of those girls.

And that didn’t even cover her influence over the court.

“I still don’t understand why I have to meet her,” Martin said, catching up with her at the top of the steps. “She works mostly with women. The only time she comes to court is when she feels like it. And that’s rare.”

“Martin,” Abigail said, chuckling with amusement. “Just go with this. It won’t be that painful.”

Martin eyed her suspiciously. “I didn’t think it would be painful. Now I’m worried.”

“Don’t be, young prince.”

Abigail grinned, recognizing the old voice. Turning around, one of the large double doors had opened wide enough to allow an old woman to walk out. The woman was bent with age and her fine silver hair was caught up in a bun. Her face was wrinkled with years of smiles as one toyed with her lips. Her bright blue eyes, however, betrayed a still spry mind and hard earned wisdom.

“Pomace,” the queen said, embracing the woman tenderly. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” Pomace said, keeping one eye on the prince. “Loosing some strength though. I’m taking in fewer girls every year and finding myself making more baby blankets for my grandkid’s children. And how is my queen?”

“Doing as only a queen could,” Abigail responded. “Over worked, too tired, and the whole nation on my shoulders. But that’s what I signed up for when I married Jonathan.”

“That you did,” Pomace chuckled. She eyed the prince. “And what about you, young prince? Are you ready for the burden of ruling a nation yet?”

“Give me a few years,” Martin answered, bowing. “I’m still learning.”

Pomace broke into a wide grin. “Abby,” she chuckled. “I like him. Come in, both of you. Tea is ready.”

Abigail and Martin walked behind the older woman into her mansion. The romantic elegance of outside continued inside, with towering colored windows and story tapestries lining the walls. Lush red carpet softened the sound of their feet as they were directed into a tearoom that was decorated in the same fashion as the rest of the mansion. The decorative doors were opened into a garden, allowing a cool breeze filter into the room.

“Tell me, young prince,” Pomace said, sitting down slowly. “Where did they find you again? I mean… Where did you grow up? I’ve been following the great Ghost Captain Eighty-One for months now. I’m just curious about where such a hero grew up.”

“Fort Mesa,” Martin lied flawlessly. “The pirates lost me the night they kidnapped me. I was found in Nacre roaming around and they put me in the orphanage at Mesa.”

“A lot of children were orphaned that night,” Pomace said quietly, her eyes slightly distant. “Terrible things that night.”

Abigail felt sorry for Pomace. The noblewoman had lost her daughter and son-in-law during the raid. She had taken in her two granddaughters and one grandson and raised them. She sat down next to the older woman, patting the back of her hand.
“Thank you,” Pomace whispered, patting her hand in return. “It’s been years. I still miss them.” She turned to smile sadly at the prince. “I’m just glad you were able to be reunited with your own son. I think you’ll do well, Martin Santer. Some tweaking to finish you, and you’ll be even better.

“However,” she said, sitting back up and putting her sorrow behind her. “I only train girls, such as you’ve already pointed out. Now I suggest that you go into the next room. There are several girls there that I promised that you’d visit. They’re waiting for you.”

Martin narrowed his eyes, flickering his gaze to where the room was. He could immediately tell that he was being forced from the room and their private conversation.

“Go, Martin,” Abigail said, hoping he wouldn’t disrespect Pomace. That would be a disaster for him.

He bowed and left without saying anything. The moment the door closed behind him, Pomace turned sharply to her.

“He didn’t grow up in Mesa,” she said flatly, loosing some of the softness in her voice. “Mesa orphans are generally more trusting. Does he trust anyone?”

“There are some he trusts,” Abigail admitted with a sigh. Perhaps it was a bit much to hope that Pomace would buy the lie as easily as everyone else. “It takes years to gain it.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Pomace snapped. “Where did he grow up?”

Abigail knew it wouldn’t be wise to lie to Pomace. If she was going to get the Reformer’s help getting Martin and Sona together, she had to be on the woman’s good side.

“He was found at Loman when he was ten,” she confessed. “He was a street urchin.”

Pomace blinked in surprise, leaning away from her. “A street urchin? Where did he learn manners?”

“Doug Suit,” Abigail sighed. “Martin is a trained spy, not a Ghost. He’s actually the current Spy Alex. He was sworn in as the Alex before any of us knew he was the prince.”

Pomace was speechless, something Abigail had only seen twice. “The Alex? Ghost Captain Eighty-One, and the prince?” She rubbed her forehead in amazement. “That’s one dangerous man right there. Why did you bring him here?”

“First,” Abigail said calmly. Her son’s past didn’t surprise her because she knew just how hard he worked for those titles. “I wanted you to meet him. I’m glad you approve of him. He’s had a difficult past and I wanted you to know that.”

“Why?”

“Because the woman he marries has to understand that as well.”

Pomace pursed her lips, finally catching on. “You want me to set him up with someone?” Before Abigail could say otherwise, Pomace began muttering under her breath. “It’s going to be hard. From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t like being the center of attention or being admired… That’s most of court right there…”

“Pomace,” Abigail said firmly, “he’s in love with someone already.”

The Reformer stopped her muttering, looking at her sharply. “He’s already in love? Then why come to me?”

“The woman’s a commoner,” she said with a sigh, leaning on the tea table. “But she doesn’t fawn over him, she understands him… They fell in love before she knew he was the prince.”

“And you want my help to convince the court to allow him to marry a commoner?” Pomace finished for her, scowling. “I need more information than that! The boy’s in love. So what? If the girl isn’t queen material, then I’m not going to help. Do I even know her?”

Abigail chuckled, fondly remembering the meeting four months before. “As a matter of fact, you do. It’s Sona Merette.”

Pomace was speechless again, a second time during their conversation. That was a first. She blinked fast, trying to get her head around the information she was just told. “Sona Merette?” she repeated. “That girl I wanted to reform and turned me down because she didn’t want anything to do with nobles?” She said it all with a smile. Even though Sona had turned down the chance to be ‘reformed,’ the two had kept contact and were developing an unexpected friendship.

“The same,” Abigail confirmed with a smile. “The reason she doesn’t want anything to do with nobles is because she has been hurting. She fell in love with the crown prince and thought doomed never to be with him.”

“It makes sense,” Pomace muttered, her eyes darting between invisible dots. “It makes perfect sense.” She eyed the queen. “You sure they’re in love?”

“As much as Jon and I are,” Abigail said softly. She sighed, slouching in her seat. “I can’t tear them apart, Pomace. Martin has been through too much. I can’t…” She almost started sobbing, tears welling in her eyes.

“Say no more,” Pomace said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Now sit up. We’ve got to plan. I want to make sure those two can be together within the week!”
********
Not that the particular post will be here in a week, but that’s how things go, right? Well, I should be going. Things to do before work and all that. Until next week, enjoy the journey!