Ball Prep

Meh. I’m not much in the mood to type the intro. To the story!
***********
“Lady Pomace,” a store manager said, bowing low as they entered his shop. “It’s an honor to have you once again in my shop.”

“The honor is mine, Master Bracken” Lady Pomace said, accepting the man’s arm and patting it grandmotherly. “I do hope business if flourishing for you.”

“It ever is,” Master Bracken answered. “Especially with our new prince. Many a girl has come into my shop wanting dresses to impress him.”

Sona suppressed a snort. The girls were more likely to catch the eyes of other men than Prince Martin’s. It took more than a full figure to catch his eye.

“A new reformee?” Bracken asked, finally noticing her.

“Sort of,” Pomace sighed. “She’s been rather stubborn about accepting my help.”

“I’m fine where I’m at,” Sona snapped, not bothering to hide the disgust in her tone.

“Ignore that,” Pomace said, noticing Bracken’s frown. “She’s been invited to Princess Sara’s masquerade tonight and I’m afraid that she doesn’t really have a decent dress to go to it in.”

“We have better than decent in this shop,” Bracken humped. “Now come on to the back. We’ll get you measured then we can start picking out dresses.”

Before Sona even had a chance to protest, one of Bracken’s assistants ushered her to the back of the store and into a dressing room. It was quite roomy with dressers, chairs, and mirrors. Even a tea serving table. Sona was very conscious when she was ordered to strip. Feeling foolish, she stripped to her underclothes, holding her arms out as the woman took her measurements. She heard Pomace and Bracken from behind the curtain.

“Is there anyone specific you want her to impress?” Bracken was asking.

“Now, now, Master Bracken,” Pomace tutted. “You know that I don’t reveal the target.”

“Of course,” the manager chuckled. “Lindy? Do you have our lady’s measurements yet?”

“Just jotting them down,” said the assistant, writing down the last measurement she took. Putting the board aside, she opened a drawer and pulled out a soft off white cotton robe.

“Put this on,” Lindy ordered. “You’ll be changing a lot until we find the right dress. Best keep you comfortable.”

“I’d be comfortable not doing this,” Sona grumbled, but accepted the robe. She put it on, hoping that Lady Pomace would quickly loose interest in this. She was hoping against reality, but she could still think of it wistfully.

“Thank you, Lindy,” Pomace said, as the assistant left the changing room. Before the door closed, the old lady entered, smiling at her. “You don’t look happy,” she noted, picking a chair and sitting in it.

“Of course I’m not happy!” Sona snapped, not the least bit afraid to be mean to the old woman. She may be the Reformer, a powerful noble figure, but she was a commoner stung with the pain of loving a prince. She was bitter. “I wasn’t planning on going to the ball tonight! I was just going to…”

“Lady Sona,” Pomace said firmly. “I’m not interested in what your plans were. Princess Sara invited you to the ball personally, if I remember correctly. You have to go. It would be rude not to.”

Sona scowled. She didn’t like it when people backed her into a corner. Lady Pomace was right. If she didn’t go, she would be insulting the princess. While she wouldn’t normally care, Sara was sort of a friend. She wasn’t going to be rude to a friend.

And Martin was going to be there.

She shook that thought out of her head.

“Now,” Pomace said calmly, sensing that she wasn’t going to argue. “Tell me. What’s Prince Martin’s favorite color?”

Sona scoffed, turning her back to the noblewoman. She folded her arms tightly around herself, refusing to answer. It wasn’t her business to know what the prince’s favorite color was.

“You’re a stubborn woman,” Pomace chuckled. “How about another question? How did you meet Prince Martin? I understand that he’s the Alex. And you’re a research spy. Am I safe to assume that it was at the Tree?”

Sona knew it was pointless to ask how Pomace knew that Martin was the Alex. The woman probably knew most secrets at Court. She sighed, figuring that there wasn’t any harm in telling her.

“Yes,” she said softly. “We met at the Tree.”

Pomace waited a few seconds. “Well?” she asked. “Don’t leave me hanging! Tell me. What was your first meeting like?”

Sona chuckled softly, remembering that day so long ago. “I had just joined the Network. I was going to be a research spy, I had already set my mind on that. But Suit wants all his spies to have some basic training. So I went to a defense class. That’s when I first met Martin.”

Pomace didn’t say anything, allowing her to reminisce about it. “There were other teenagers about our ages. I was fifteen and he nearly sixteen. I had no idea that he was already training to become the next Alex. I just thought he was another student.”

“That wasn’t the case?” Pomace asked, interest in her tone.

Sona smiled despite herself. “No. When the class began, I found out that he was actually our teacher’s assistant. To show us what we’d learn in this class, Mr. Ander and Martin had a fight.” She paused, the awe she felt then still stirred within her. “I’ve never seen such precision or deadly grace. And Martin won. He won against a man who was taller, bigger, stronger, and far more older than himself.” She glanced up, meeting her own gaze in the mirror.

“I realized just how small and insignificant I was then,” she whispered, seeing that small girl in that glass years before. It was then when she finally admitted her fear of being alone in a new place, surrounded by dangerous people. “I was about ready to leave. Go home. I thought there was no way that I could ever achieve that sort of greatness.”

“But you didn’t?” Pomace accurately guessed.

Sona chuckled, though not with humor. “It was during the middle of class when I thought that I could slip away. But Martin caught me. He asked me where I was going and I told him that I thought that I couldn’t do it, that I was going to go home.” She chuckled again, this time with humor. “He smiled in his smug way and asked me how I knew I couldn’t do it if I hadn’t even tried it. When I hesitated, he promised that he would help me, even give me some private lessons. It’s thanks to Martin that I stayed in the Network.”

She sighed, gazing at herself in the mirror. Many told her that she was a beautiful woman, but all she could see was a young girl, someone who had gotten into something far over her head. She saw only someone who was terrified of loosing her heart to a dream that she couldn’t handle.

“Martin deserves better than me,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “He always has.” She bowed her head, trying to fight the tears.

“Do you want to know why I wanted to reform you?”

Sona frowned. Turning around, she gave Pomace a confused look. Why change the subject now?

“I am known to reform anyone,” Pomace said, smiling at her kindly. “I don’t care about noble or common blood. And here’s why. I search for girls who are both bold and fiery but who also know how to be compassionate and loving. There are too many girls out there who are only fiery, and others who are only caring. The ultimate Aeternan woman is one who possesses both qualities and knows when to be bold and when to be loving. Blood does not determine if a woman has these qualities. It is a woman’s character that does. This is what I look for.”

She leaned forward, her expression stern yet caring. “I see these qualities in you, Sona Merette. And you’ve mastered them far more on your own than any woman I’ve tired to reform in the past. In truth, there isn’t very much that I can do to reform you. I just wanted to help you find a place where you’d be happy. I figured you had already found your place, when you refused my help. That’s why I didn’t try to pursue reforming you.

“But then,” she went on, leaning back again in her chair, “Queen Abigail approached me with a problem. Her son was in love. With a commoner. I was about to refuse to help when Abigail said that it was you that Martin loved. I vowed then to help. I was the one to convince the Court that Martin should pick his bride. I was the one who has manipulated a nation to accept anyone onto the throne next to our crown prince. And the reason I did that is because I can’t think of another woman more deserving, more qualified to be our next queen.

“And Prince Martin,” she whispered, smiling a bit, “can’t think of being with any another woman. Now, Sona, are you going to give up that chance to be with the man you love?”

Sona bit her lip and turned away, once again looking at herself in the mirror. She was in such over her head. What did she know about nobility? About running a nation? How could she be a princess?

“How could I, a former street urchin, a trained spy, be the prince?”

She suddenly remembering the conversation that spring when he was trying to explain why he didn’t believe he was the prince. The thoughts that filled her mind had been filling his for years.

He feels the same way, she realized.

“Blue,” she said softly.

“What?” Pomace asked. “What did you just say? My ears aren’t what they used to be.”

Sona half turned to look at the old noblewoman. “Blue,” she said again, louder. “It’s Martin’s favorite color.”

Pomace smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
***********
“You realize that this interview isn’t necessarily going to lead to a job, right?”

Steve smiled at the older man, his expression straining to convey hope and youth optimism. “I know that,” he answered. “But it never hurts to try.”

Victor O’Dell snorted softly, though he was smiling a bit. They sat in the head servant’s office. Close to the Santers’ personal apartments.

“There’s only one reason why I’m hiring new servants,” O’Dell said, straightening a stack of papers on his desk. “The current servants here have been trained to deal with our queen and princess. However, Prince Martin hasn’t grown up around servants. He’s had to work on his own. Rather than retrain my current staff to deal with our prince, I thought it would be easier to train new staff that won’t have to break habits that our prince will not put up with. You understand, right?”

“It is the same everywhere,” Steve said with a dramatic sigh. “Each place has a different way of doing things. Training new staff is just a fact of life.”

“Very true,” O’Dell agreed. He stood up. “Now, how about a test of your skills? I need something to judge you on.”

You’re not the only one, Steve thought, following O’Dell out of the servant’s quarters. If he ever wanted to become a spymaster’s apprentice, he had to get somewhere.

It had taken him a couple of days to secure this interview. He had to know the layout of the prince’s apartment, perhaps even get a glimpse of this toy dog, before he could plan out his theft. He was getting nervous about the timing though. The best time to sneak into the palace would be tonight, during Princess Sara’s birthday party. Nobles and commoners alike would be filling the palace. The guard couldn’t watch everyone. What would be one more servant?

But there was a more important reason to do it tonight. Prince Martin would not be in his apartment until late. It had to be done tonight.

I’ve got to plan this quickly, Steve thought as they arrived to the prince’s apartment. He had one chance and he wasn’t planning on screwing up.

The prince’s apartment was surprisingly already clean and a bit dull. He glanced around the entry room, noting that it didn’t look too hard to clean.

“Prince Martin doesn’t really own much,” O’Dell explained. “Cleaning up after him shouldn’t be hard at all. And he isn’t very picky about his meals. Just so long as he’s fed, he’s happy.”

“There must be something hard about him,” Steve guessed.

“You could say that,” O’Dell said, forcing a shrug. Steve raised an eyebrow. Interesting. O’Dell was hiding something. “However, this is a test. Clean up the rooms. Let’s see how good you are.”

Steve took a deep breath, facing the entry room. He hated cleaning, it was his least favorite chore. But his uncle taught him how to be neat. A thief is always neat. One thing out of place would alert someone that something is amiss. Rolling his sleeves up, he went to work. He first picked up the books on the table in front of the fireplace, arranging them in a neatly order. He went to the other rooms to do the same. The dinning room took a bit of time, since it seemed that O’Dell hadn’t had anyone clean it up after the prince’s breakfast.

It was in the bedroom when he finally spotted the dog.

The spy was right. It was small stuffed toy, a bit off white with age. It laid on one of the huge bed’s pillows, its glassy eyes seemingly to be watching him. Steve shook that thought out of his head. The only one watching him was O’Dell. He picked up a few other books, putting them on the bedside tables, quickly assessing the rest of the room. The best way in would be from the garden. There were at least three doors alone in the apartment that led out to it.

“That’s enough,” O’Dell said when Steve started looking for cleaning supplies. “You obviously know what to do. Come. We’ve still got a few other things to talk about.”

Steve followed O’Dell back to the servants quarters when they were stopped just outside the prince’s doors.

“O’Dell,” Prince Martin said, not surprised to see two servants leave his rooms. Steve froze. It wasn’t in the plan to see the prince at all! “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to hire a servant for you, your highness,” O’Dell answered, bowing to the prince. “I still need to narrow them down before I’ll bring you into this.”

Prince Martin raised an eyebrow then switched his gaze to him. Steve felt himself pale. He had never been under such intense gaze before! Suddenly, the prince smiled.

“You must be one of the applicants,” he said. “What’s your name?”

Bad sign! Steve’s mind screamed. Number one rule to not get caught. Don’t give your real name. “Willy Cartson Jn., your highness,” he lied, bowing.

“Willy, huh?” the prince asked, now trying to fight a laugh. “Don’t be so nervous around me. I don’t bite.”

I’m about to steal your dog, Steve thought, not faking his quivering smile. I bet you bite then.

“He can be stubborn though,” O’Dell said thoughtfully. “And doesn’t explain it.”

“I have my reasons,” the prince said offhandedly. “If you two are done with my rooms, I’d like to find something.”

“We put everything back in its place,” O’Dell said, frowning.

“I’m sure you have,” Prince Martin said. “No, I’m after a costume. Sara wants us to go as a pair of travelers. You haven’t thrown away any of my traveling clothes yet, have you?”

“I left them where you unpacked them.”

“Thank you,” the prince said, walking into his apartment without another question. Steve let out a sigh of relief. That wasn’t as painful as he thought it was going to be.

“Come on, Willy,” O’Dell said, again walking to the servants’ quarters. “We still have to finish our interview.”
********
“You ready?”

Martin snorted, leaning against his sister’s doorframe. “I’ve been ready for a half hour now,” he said through the door. “I’m waiting for you to be done.”

“I’m ready,” Sara rebutted indignantly, “I’m just… Perhaps travelers weren’t the best idea.”

Martin groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.”

The door opened. Sara stepped out, tugging on the trousers she wore. Thanks to his help, she looked like a seasoned adventurer with a well worn over coat, wind blown hair, tanned skin, and a weapon of her choice on her hip. Why she picked a machete was beyond him.

“I’ve never worn pants this tight before,” she complained, moving her legs uncomfortably. “It’s always been skirt pants.”

“You look fine,” he assured her. “Better than fine!”

“He’s right,” Abigail said, looking up from her book. The queen sat in her favorite chair. Although the party was at the palace, she wasn’t planning on attending. It was her daughter’s party and she didn’t feel like intruding. “You look wonderful. So does your brother.”

“Martin looks normal,” Sara grumbled, straightening her machete.

“I’ve had practice,” he snickered. All he did for his costume was pull out his travel clothes and placed a few of his knives outside of his clothing. After he had arrived to escort his sister to the ball, the queen ruefully agreed that a crown would ruin the costume. Neither of them were going with the crowns on their heads.

“You sure I look fine?” Sara asked, twirling a bit to feel how comfortable her costume was.

“You look ready for an adventure,” Abigail said, smiling. “Now, you two behave.”

“Tell Martin that,” Sara huffed, accepting his arm. “He’s likely to disappear on me!”

“You don’t want your older brother watching over you during your party, do you?” Martin asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want someone doing that.”

Sara stuck her tongue out at him. He just laughed, escorting her out. She was right though. He was going to disappear. He had to talk to someone. Tonight.
*********
Sona felt very conscious as she stepped out of the carriage. She had spent most of the day in the dress shop, trying to find the perfect dress. Once found, Pomace took her back to her mansion and helped her get ready for the ball. By the time they were done, it was time to go. Pomace let her use her carriage to arrive. Sona wish she hadn’t arrived in it. Those who recognized the carriage emblem would know that it was one of Pomace’s girls. While she would like to think that she wasn’t, arriving to the ball in the Reformer’s carriage made her feel like one.

Don’t be so nervous, she thought to herself as the carriage rode away. No one is likely to recognize you.

Not only was her face half covered with a feathery white, silver, and blue mask that matched her dress, she didn’t even feel like herself. The dress they finally picked on was a beautiful sea blue full gown with silver trimmings and white lace. It simmered in the soft light, and the silky fabric hug tightly on her figure. Lady Pomace spared no expense for the dress to be quickly tailored to fit her. It wasn’t anything she would choose to wear. It was too daring with the swooping neckline and tight corset. She had to strap her knives on her legs because there wasn’t enough loose fabric on her torso to hide one. Pomace also personally helped her with her hair and makeup. Not that anyone could see the makeup behind the mask, but her hair, while usually bound in a bun or tail, was piled lightly on top of her head in soft waving curls.

Sona couldn’t recognize herself in the mirror.

She was very aware of herself as she walked up the palace steps to the ballroom, uncomfortably aware of the stares she was getting from everyone. The men looked on with interest while the women glared with envy.

I know I’m not that pretty, she thought, receiving much of the same treatment as she entered the ballroom. It made her wonder just what Martin was going to think when he saw her. He wasn’t one to be impressed by physical appearance. If anything, it might turn him off.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to this,” she muttered, glancing around the ballroom. As far as she could tell, neither Santer had shown up yet. Suddenly she wanted to run. She was alone in a palace filled with partygoers, none of whom she knew and they all wore masks. It was a bad idea to come.

She started to plan her escape. She could go to her room; Sandy wasn’t likely to be there. She could change out of this dress, put on her sleeping gown, and try to forget it ever happened.

“Announcing their royal highnesses!”

Sona froze. He’s here! Slowly turning back around, she gazed up to the other end of the ballroom. Martin and Sara stood at the top of the grand staircase, dressed as travelers. Sara looked straight out of an adventure book with her costume, even with the machete. But her eyes lingered on Martin. He didn’t look like the prince. Instead of a stiff uniform, he wore clothes that he was comfortable in.

He looked like himself. The man she fell in love with.

“By the Seven Founders,” she whispered, her head spinning. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”
**********
Martin quickly scanned the crowd, suppressing a flinch as they turned to gaze up at them. While he was doing better at taking the stares, he still found himself uncomfortable with so many eyes on him. Sara, however, didn’t even care at the stares, beaming down at everyone. Despite her protest at her costume as they came, now she was completely at ease. It was a quick turn about that only his little sister could pull off.

There were many whispers as they descended the stairs, most of them about how they had managed to pick the wrong costumes to wear. Nearly everyone in the ballroom wore fanciful and colorful costumes typical of a masquerade. But that wasn’t what the Santer heirs were wearing. Martin was sure they had set a new trend with the nobility to dress more like adventurers than mythical creatures.

“I’m glad I picked this,” Sara whispered to them as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “No one was expecting adventurers.”

“This is a game to you,” he noted. “Isn’t it?”

Sara giggled. “Of course it is! Now, come on. We should mingle. Oh! Look! There’s Serene!” Before he could protest about wanting to mingle on his own, Sara pulled him to visit her friend.

“Serene!” Sara hailed. The noblewoman turned and immediately blushed. Martin had a sneaking suspicion why. He hoped that the young woman would be too shy to do anything about her crush on him.

“I’m glad you were able to make it!” Sara laughed, hugging her friend. Serene managed a less nervous smile.

“Of course I made it,” she said. “I wouldn’t miss my best friend’s birthday.”

“So what are you?” Sara asked, now taking a look at her friend’s costume. Serene was dressed in all green with leafy patterns. Even her mask that only outlined her eyes were in the shape of leaves.

“I’m just a tree spirit,” she admitted almost apologetically. “And you look ready for adventure.”

“So I am!” Sara laughed, resting her hand on the handle of her machete. “It’s nice to be something a bit different any everyone else.”

“A little more different than a bit,” Serene sighed wistfully. “I wish I could be as bold as you.”

“It doesn’t take much,” Sara confessed with an evil grin. “Just a sense of adventure.”

“That’s something I’ve always lacked,” Serene moaned.

Sara must have dealt with Serene’s sad attitude before because she threw her arm around the noblewoman’s slumping shoulders, giving her a side hug. “Cheer up,” Sara said, grinning. “It’s a masquerade! We don’t have to be anything we don’t have to be! Look at Martin! He doesn’t look like a prince, now does he?”

Martin saw an opportunity and took it.

“Speaking of not being a prince,” he said, looking over their shoulders. “There’s a certain title chaser that I want to avoid. Mind if I disappear?”

Sara frowned and glanced over her shoulder to see Lady Rose approaching. It wasn’t hard to tell that it was Lady Rose. Though her face was covered by one of the largest and most colorful masks in the room, she never let an opportunity pass by to show off her chest.

“Go,” Sara ordered. “We’ll hold her off.”

Martin gave her a quick bow in thanks and disappeared into the crowd. There was only one person he had to see tonight. He knew she was still there. There was only one person who had those mixed feelings of love and pain.

Sona was there.

Now he just had to find her in a room filled with masked people before she too disappeared into the night.
**********
“I’m going out.”

His uncle looked over his newspaper from the chair he was sitting in. They were in a shady inn while they were in Nacre. Steve knew why they couldn’t rent better rooms. While Willy was wealthy, he had gained his wealth by criminal means. “Going?” Willy asked, frowning. “Going where?”

Steve shrugged. Part of the test was to not let Willy know what that test was. “My business. I’m sixteen. I’m fine taking care of myself.”

Willy narrowed his eyes as he put the paper way. “That’s fine thanks for raising you.”

Steve flinched. Yes, his uncle raised him. Willy was more of a father to him than his actual dad. In truth, he never thought of Lord Keith as his father. He was just the stupid nobleman who hurt his mother.

“I can’t tell you where I’m going,” he said softly.

Willy frowned, knowing immediately what he was implying. “Why, Steve?” he asked, leaning back in his creaking chair. “Why spying? You could be a great thief.”

“You know I don’t want to be a thief,” Steve muttered.

“Then you could be anything else,” Willy said. “I’ve provided you with many choices. Why a spy?”

Steve stared at his feet. He owed his uncle an explanation.

“I don’t want to be a bastard.”

“What does that mean?”

Steve took a deep breath and raised his head to look his uncle in the eye. “Everywhere I’m going to go, I’m going to be known as a bastard. A noble bastard. I can’t inherit my father’s title. I’ll be mocked anywhere I go. And I want to do something great for Aeterna.”

“You should have been a Ghost for that,” Willy snorted.

“But Ghosts can become famous,” Steve pointed out. “And I’ll be back where I was. Mocked for just being born.

“But a spy,” he went on, “they do great things. Without the recognition. I don’t have to be haunted by what I am to do something good.”

Willy didn’t say anything, his expression unreadable. Steve shifted uncomfortably at the silence. What was his uncle thinking? Willy always said that spies were just like thieves only with better health benefits. Steve never saw it that way. Spies were people who worked in shadows, yes, but they did so to serve their nations. That was all he wanted.

“I hope you have everything you need,” Willy finally said, picking his paper up. “Be careful.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief. “I will. Hopefully I’ll get something by the end of the night.”
**********
Ah, the ball is about to come into full swing. I had a bit of a difficult time typing this and the next post for a few reasons. A) I usually don’t write romantic scenes, so it felt a bit awkward to me. B) My imagination decided to take a new route. And C) It’s very difficult to type lying down (Oh, I wish, oh how I wish I can sit down!).

But that’s today’s post. Next week, Martin gives Sona a question. Enjoy the journey!

Pomace

Hum. We’re getting to some writing I’ve typed in just the last few weeks. I think I have like one and a half posts left and then I’m out. I should get back to writing, right? (After I finish the new series I’ve been reading. Thank goodness only two more books and I’m done. I give myself until Thursday to finish) Back to the story!
**********
Lady Pomace sat down in her usual seat at Court. That alone had the Court in a buzz with theories about why she was there. Ignoring them, she got out her stitching and began working on it. Without needing to look up, she knew what the Court looked like. Some members looked uneasy with her arrival, while others were excited. Some were confused and other simply curious. It was always the same when she came to Court. Whenever she felt in a joking mood, she would come just to cause trouble among the Court.

Today, however, she had different plans.

It had been three days since her conversation with the queen concerning the prince and his love. Since then, Pomace had met with Sona again, judging the woman as the future queen. What she saw in the young woman agreed with what she thought a queen should be. Without knowing it, Sona had just claimed Martin as her own. Now it was only a matter of convincing the Court that Prince Martin was quite capable of picking his own queen.

The boy does have fine taste, Pomace thought to herself as she watched the prince arrive, noting that he wasn’t wearing his crown. Queen Abigail and Princess Sara were missing as they were too busy planning the princess’s birthday party for the next day. She carefully watched Prince Martin. Now that she knew he was once a street urchin, she could pick out the small clues she over looked before. The way he scanned the room, his stance easy but so easily ready for a fight.

This boy was trained to be mistrustful and suspicious.

It’s a good thing that I’ve approved of Sona, she thought, picking out a different color. Now knowing that the two youngsters were already in love, she couldn’t think of another possible queen for Martin. The young woman was one of the few their prince trusted.

Probably best that he doesn’t trust many people, she figured as Court was started. I don’t trust many of these people either.

That made it all the more important that she convince the Court of her choice.

All morning, she said nothing. She didn’t even bother paying attention to what was being discussed. Politics was such a boring game to her now, having played it for so many years now. She needed a challenge now to get her attention.

What a challenge now, convincing the Court that a commoner should be their future queen.

At lunch she kept her quiet still, knowing she was causing excitement and tension among the Court. She planned to drag out her attendance at Court. The longer she sat, the more likely they were to approve of what she wanted. It was a fine art, manipulating the Court like this. It was another reason why she rarely came to Court. It was a power that should be used rarely.

During the afternoon session, she caught Prince Martin glancing at her. Pomace knew then that the prince knew that she was up to something.

You’re in luck, my young prince, she thought with a smile as the time drew close. I’m about to grant your one wish.

Court was a half hour from finishing. It was a time when most of the Court gave into things, when they were most likely to agree to anything. She waited until they were between topics when she cleared her throat.

“The Court recognizes Lady Pomace,” the Speaker said, immediately recognizing her. Pomace smiled. Even the Speaker gave way to her. There were very few people who didn’t, with Prince Martin and Lady Sona on top of that list. They were a couple that wouldn’t be pushed around, even by her.

Exactly what Aeterna needed.

“Prince Martin,” she said, still working on her stitching. “I have a question for you.”

The prince frowned from his seat. “Yes?” he asked.

“I haven’t been much to following you, I’m sorry to say. I just get so distracted in my old age. Tell me, are you married?” The Court hushed to listen. She had been lying about following the prince. She was very much aware of his single status and how aloof he was of the women at Court.

“No,” he answered, narrowing his eyes.

She paused, holding her needle out as if confused. “How old are you then? Fifteen? Seventeen?”

“Sara is turning fifteen,” Martin answered, careful to keep any emotion out of his voice. “I’m twenty.”

“Twenty?” she asked, mocking shock. “That old already and not married?” She tutted softly, shaking her head. “Why ever are you not married?”

Whispers filled the Hall, many members leaning in close to hear the prince’s reply. There was nothing more exciting and rumored than a Santer’s love life.

Prince Martin took his time answering, obviously picking his words carefully so he wouldn’t harm Sona. Pomace silently applauded that action. It showed just how concerned he was about his lady.

“Because,” he said slowly, “I’ve been busy serving Aeterna.”

A vague enough answer to intrigue the Court but yet satisfying enough to keep people from bothering him. It was well played. The prince was going to go far in politics.

She tutted again. “Such a shame. I’m sure there have been plenty of girls who’ve caught your attention in all that time serving.”

Martin sat stiffly in his chair. Pomace knew she was treading onto dangerous ground. The queen had warned her that the prince was fiercely secretive of his past and his only desire was to keep Sona safe.

However, if the Court was going to agree to allow a commoner onto the throne, they needed to suspect that the prince already had a lover.

“Perhaps,” Martin answered softly, his tone clearing indicating that he was about to end the whole discussion. The Court irrupted into excited whispers.

“And let me guess,” Pomace said, pulling tight a stitch. “She dumped you when she found you were the prince?”

“It didn’t end well,” Martin almost snapped, standing up. “But that is…”

“Quite tragic,” Pomace sighed loudly, cutting him off. “A dashing prince like yourself unable to be with the woman he loves just because you’re a noble.” She sighed again. “Quite tragic indeed.” There were many soft sobs of agreement. Pomace had to hide her smile. She had them now.

“Court,” she said, addressing everyone. “I think it is just too tragic! Our prince, a national hero and champion, cannot be with the woman he loves! I know the laws of tradition say that he must marry a noble but…” She sighed dramatically. “He’s done nothing but serve his people even when he didn’t have to. A man of his years and experience shouldn’t be told who to marry, even by laws that he never knew to follow. I put to the Court a new law, that our prince is free to seek out his future wife, since he is far more capable of choosing her than any law could. Agreed?”

“Yea!”

The agreement nearly shook the Hall. Pomace allowed herself a small smile. The deed was done. Sona would be the queen of Aeterna.

Now she just had to deal with the vengeful future king.

Once Court was adjourned, she hung back, waiting for the prince to catch her. She didn’t have to wait long.

“A word?” Prince Martin said softly, stepping up beside her. “Privately?”

“Of course, your highness,” Pomace said, smiling at the glaring young man. They went up to the Santers’ private office on the second floor. Martin let her enter first then slammed the door shut behind him.

“What was that?” he demanded to know.

“Be a little more specific,” Pomace said, completely at ease and picking a chair to sit in. She sat down carefully and took out her stitching again. “I did a lot of things today.”

“Convince the Court that I had a tragic love story,” he snapped. He pointed to the door. “Now they all think I have a lover tucked away somewhere and they’ll stop at nothing to find out who!”

“You should be thanking me,” Pomace said, her tone firm. She matched his icy stare with one of her own. “I just ensured that you can marry your Sona.”

Martin froze. He slowly stood straight, his arm lowering. “How do you know about Sona?” he asked, his voice a quiet hush.

Pomace smirked over her stitching. “Your mother told me. She approached me three days ago about your little problem. She told me that you’re desperately in love with a commoner and she couldn’t bring herself to tear you two apart. All I did was convince the Court that you’re perfectly capable of choosing your own bride.”

“By having them trying to find her?” he asked, the harshness returning in his tone and posture.

“Your Sona is quite capable of handling herself,” Pomace pointed out. “And I know you have some excellent skills yourself. I’m sure that neither of you will get caught courting.”

“You know she isn’t going to like this,” Martin pointed out to her. “I assume you’ve already met Sona. You know she can be stubborn. She already has it in her head that we can’t be together.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Pomace laughed. “You and I can work on changing her mind. In the meantime, I suggest you be careful about how you see your lady. The Court will no doubt be trying to find her now.”
***********
Sona was eating breakfast with other servants when she learned the news.

“Did you hear?” her roommate Sandy said, giggling as she sat down next to her.

“I rarely hear anything,” Sona pointed out, glad she was already done with her meal so she wouldn’t have to sit through her roommate’s inane chatter. “I spend most of my day locked in a room with records.”

“Oh, lighten up,” Sandy said, unfazed by her peevishness. “It’s exciting news!”

“Then spit it out,” Sona snapped, standing up. “I have work to do.”

“The Court gave Prince Martin permission to marry anyone he wants!”

Sona froze.

“I know!” another servant girl giggled. “Isn’t it exciting? Any of us could marry him!”

An older woman snorted. “Really? I hear the only reason they gave him that permission was because someone had the bright idea that he might have a lover. I think he’s more likely to marry her than any of you.”

“But he said that they had broken up!” Sandy pouted. “He could pick any of us!”

“He’s more likely to pick a full figured noblewoman than one of us,” snapped another girl. “That’s all that men want.”

“Sona?”

Sona shook herself out of her freeze, realizing where she was. She felt herself pale as the women looked at her.

“Yes?” she asked, glad her voice didn’t quiver.

“Aren’t you working on Prince Martin’s records?” Sandy asked. There was a joyful glee in her face. “Did it say anything about a young lady friend? I heard rumors that he’s already slept with five different women.”

“Actually,” Sona said, feeling a lump grow in her throat. “He hasn’t been known to bed any woman.” Not with his scarred back.

“I’ve cleaned his rooms,” the older woman said. “There’s nothing that says he sleeps around. I think Sona’s right that he hasn’t slept with anyone.”

“But the rumors!”

“Are just rumors,” the woman snorted. “And the Court’s permission doesn’t mean squat to your work!”

“Speaking of work,” Sona said, faking a smile. “I’ve got to go do mine. See everyone later!”

Once she was out of sight, she ran for her private room. When she arrived, she slammed the door behind her, locking it.

“I’m going to kill him!” she muttered, feeling tears of frustration and anger. The stupid idiot had already broken her heart. He couldn’t do this to her! “I’m so going to kill him!”

“But that would be counter productive.”

Sona spun around, surprised to see Lady Pomace sitting at her desk, sipping at her tea. “My lady,” she said, curtsying to the old woman. “What are you doing here?”

“I assume you just heard the news,” Pomace said, ignoring her question. She took another sip. “Amazing what one can convince the Court when one knows how.”

Sona froze. “What are you talking about?” she asked softly, too afraid of the answer.

“A tragic love story,” Pomace said, smirking over her cup of tea. “A prince fell in love with a commoner. I had to do something.”

Sona felt the breath freeze in her chest. How did Lady Pomace find out? “We can’t be together,” she whispered. “He’s a noble…”

“And has lived as a commoner himself,” Pomace pointed out. She stood up, grabbing her cane to do so, and slowly walked to the door. “A simple thing people forget, I think. They see a prince but not the man. So many of our young woman are the same. All they see is a title and not the man.” She paused beside her, grabbing her arm. “Our prince is free to choose his bride and I can’t help but wonder just how far a woman would go to claim that prize when she loved him before his title.”

Sona couldn’t say anything, afraid that one slip of the tongue would ruin her. Pomace just smiled. She opened the door and paused again.

“Oh, you’ve been invited to Princess Sara’s birthday party tonight, haven’t you?”

Sona gave a small nod, too afraid to speak still.

“Then come,” Pomace said with a smile as she grabbed her arm. “We’ve got some dress shopping to do.”
**********
“I am not wearing that.”

“But Martin!” Sara protested, holding up the vile costume. “It suits you!” She held it up to him. It was anything but flattering. It looked almost like a bad joke. It might have been the height of fashion centuries before, but the large puffy sleeves and the over use of embroidery had thankfully gone out of fashion for men. To make matters worse, it was bright green and yellow.

“It’s a masquerade ball,” Sara said, dropping the costume over the arm of a chair. “Everyone is going to dress up.”

“A masquerade implies disguising one self,” he pointed out.

“And mom told you to be nice.”

Martin rolled his eyes, then watched as his sister put the costume back in a box full of them. He was a bit surprised that she had costume boxes in her room until she said that the servants had brought it in for them to decide what to wear. He glanced at the other four boxes, wistfully thinking of his own disguises hidden in his apartment. But the queen had told him that he couldn’t disguise himself beyond recognition and that Sara had a say in what he was going to wear. After all, it was her fifteenth birthday.

“Why not something simple?” he asked her as she pulled more costumes out. “Like an officer from another nation? Or a merchant?”

“Because masquerades are more fanciful than that,” Sara snorted, tossing one costume in another chair. “And I do want us to be matching.” Martin frowned in confusion.

“Why?”

She paused long enough to grin up at him. “Because I’ve never had a sibling to do those sort of things with before.” Flashing another grin, she dug deeper into the box. Martin stood there thoughtfully, realizing that she had a point. Neither of them had siblings before, so now they should be trying to do things together.

He was going to make sure they didn’t wear something as hideous as the first costume.

“I knew you had a secret.”

“Oh, no,” Martin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sara pulled out of the box, frowning at the person behind him.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Martin turned around and faced the newcomer. She was a woman of about his age. She leaned against the doorframe to the bedroom, eyeing him as if she enjoyed what she saw. Her red hair was pulled back as usual and she wore her long trench coat over her tight breeches and cotton shirt.

“I see you’re missing your bag,” he said none too kindly. Her grin widened.

“The guards took it from me,” she said. “I get it back when I leave.”

“And you are?” Sara asked again insistently, standing up.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, bowing with a flourish. “I’m Ann Norman, reporter.”

“A rather nosy reporter,” Martin snorted. Ann flashed him with another grin along with a wink.

“I knew you had a secret,” she said again, eyeing him up and down again. “Prince, eh? I don’t see how you managed to keep that a secret for as long as you did.”

“I have my talents,” he replied blandly. “What are you doing here?”

“Doing a follow up story, of course,” she scoffed, pushing off the doorframe. “It was my utter surprise to arrive at your army to find out that you had already been gone for a week. I, of course, didn’t stay long enough with the men to find out that you had already told them about your nobility, so it was on the road when I found out that you are actually the missing Santer we’ve been spending the last couple of years to find. When I got back to Nacre, my publisher told me that I got the honor of interviewing you since we already know each other.”

“You know each other?” Sara asked, surprised as she switched her gaze between the two of them.

“Not willingly,” Martin grumbled.

Ann laughed. “I was sent on assignment from my publisher to interview Ghost Captain Eighty-One. Followed him for about a week trying to get the interview. Most adventurous week of my life.”

Martin snorted. “You nearly got killed. It wouldn’t have happened if you had just left me alone.”

“But you were such a mystery!” Ann laughed. “Never have I had to work so hard for a story! It was great, even with the almost dying!”

Martin groaned, slapping his forehead. “Normal people aren’t exciting about their lives being in danger.”

“They should,” Ann said, still grinning. “Especially with a famous Ghost Captain with you, ready to save you.”

“I’ve got to hear this story,” Sara said, quickly catching Ann’s contagious smile.

“Later,” Martin promised. “Right now, we’re picking costumes for your party, remember?”

“Right!” Sara said. She dove back into the boxes, costumes flying as she hurried to find the right costume.

“While she’s busy,” Ann said, slowly walking towards him. Martin stood still, not giving her the pleasure to see just how uncomfortable she made him. “I have some questions for you. You wouldn’t mind answering, would you?”

“Just like last time,” he grumbled, keeping his focus on Sara and not the approaching reporter. “Depends on the question.”

Ann chuckled. “So modest. Tell me, do you have a woman in mind who you’d like to marry? The Court gave you permission to marry anyone you’d like. Most everyone assumes you already have someone in mind.”

Martin controlled his expression, knowing that she could read nothing on it. He hadn’t had the chance to talk to Sona yet. He had tried to visit her in her office, but she wasn’t there. He would have searched for her, but Sara found him first and dragged him into her room. He had no idea if Sona knew yet or if she was just avoiding him because of the news.

“It’s too soon to say yet,” he said cryptically.

“Hum,” Ann hummed, stepping beside him. “So I’m guessing that you haven’t had a chance to talk to your lady.”

“He doesn’t have a lady,” Sara snorted, coming out of the box long enough to glare at the reporter. “As long as I’ve known my brother, he hasn’t shown interest in anyone.”

“So you’ve known your brother for some time,” Ann asked, quickly changing subject to get more information.

“A couple years now,” Sara confirmed, shaking her head at the costume she held up. She tossed it aside and picked another.

“Then you’ve known for a couple years now,” Ann said, a bit surprised.

“No,” Sara corrected, holding the costume up to him, then judged it unworthy and tossed it as well. “We met a couple years ago. I’ve only known he’s been my brother for about a year.”

“I myself have only known for a couple years,” Martin added. “I grew up never knowing who I was.”

“A tragic story,” Ann purred to herself, eyeing him again. “Perhaps I should extend this interview. Several sessions should do it.”

Martin rolled his eyes. He had been through one of Ann’s sessions before. While she might be trying to seduce him now, she would not be during the session. She would hound him with questions, attacking him with words instead of flirts. All she was interested in was the story. She almost reminded him of Sona.

Which was the reason why he didn’t like her so much.

“A few more questions then,” Ann was saying, “before I’m off to my next appointment. Martin Henry Alex Santer. I know where Henry came from, and Santer too. Where did Martin and Alex come into your name?”

Wouldn’t you love to know that, he thought, not willing to answer that question.

“Martin came from what people called him when he got to Mesa.” They turned around to find the queen standing in the door. Ann immediately bowed. “He’s been answering to Martin for most of his life. It didn’t seem right to start calling him Henry.”

“And Alex?” Ann asked, finally showing some respect. It only just occurred to Martin that Ann had been a bit obnoxious when she was talking to just him and his sister.

“A name Ghost General Fred Chief picked,” Abigail answered. “Chief was the one who’s been sort of a guardian to Martin. He even sponsored him into the Ghosts. It was a name they seriously considered naming him when they finally picked on Martin.”

Martin wanted to groan. Couldn’t they have come up with a better story?

“An average name for an average looking person,” Ann mused to herself. “Why did they decide on Martin?”

“Because I was smarter than the average kid,” he answered before his mother could. If they were going to lie about where his name came from, it was going to at least sound a bit more interesting. “So they named me after the smartest of the Seven Founders.”

“Still smarter than average,” Sara added, considering a green suit then tossing it aside as well. “How about this Martin? We go as two adventurers? I know you love adventure books.”

“You love adventure books?” Ann asked with a grin, latching onto the information.

“I’ve always liked adventure,” he answered. “Whether in books or in my own life. Keeps life entertaining. And yes, Sara, I think being a couple of adventurers would do the trick.”

“Done,” Sara laughed, standing up. “We’ll need some travel worn clothes. I’m sure you have plenty of those still.”

“Don’t forget your crowns though,” Abigail warned them. “I know it’s a masquerade, but you still need to be recognized as royalty.” She then sighed. “Speaking of crowns. I heard you didn’t wear one yesterday at Court, Martin. Where is it?”

Martin smirked. “Somewhere.” There was no possible way for it to be found.

Abigail sighed again. “I knew this was going to happen.” She snapped her fingers. A servant came from the other room, bowing as he gave her a small box. Martin felt his stomach drop at the sight of it. “I had several extras made,” Abigail said, opening the box and revealing the crown inside. Instead of a simple circlet, this one was thicker with a few jewels set in it.

“What happened to simple?” Martin asked, taking an unconscious step back.

“You got rid of simple,” Abigail chuckled. “I’ll warn you now. Each time you get rid of a crown, I’ll have you wear a more elaborate crown the next time.”

“That’s not fair,” he protested.

Abigail actually laughed. “I never said anything about fair with this game.”

“Game?” Ann asked, her interest peeked. “What sort of game?”

“I figured that my son wouldn’t want to wear a crown,” the queen answered, smirking. “So I figured that we’d play a game. He’d lose the crowns and I give him more.” She toyed with the new crown. “More elaborate crowns, that is.”

Martin finally groaned, dropping his head. Life used to be easy.
************
I couldn’t agree with my character more. Life used to be easy (especially before I hurt my back and have to type lying down to get anything written). If you remember a couple weeks back, I asked if I should introduce a reporter and here you meet her! I could have just as easily gone with Kyle Lancer or Ann Norman and Martin would still have problems with both of them. I just couldn’t pick between them. Thanks for tiebreaking it.

I should go and get some typing done before I go to the bookstore and get the last two books. Enjoy the journey!

Serene, Dean, and Steve

Boy! Am I exhausted. But I that’s what I get for staying up far too late reading. That, however, has nothing to do with the story (with maybe the small exception that I didn’t type for a couple days so I could read this book). I wrote this next bit after coming back from camp. It was nice to sit down and actually type for a change. Enjoy!
***********
Lady Serene Loftice sat in the Sara’s room, tightening her stitches. She tied it off, satisfied with how her project was going. Humming softly to herself, she reached into her purse on the floor next to her chair and picked out the next color.

“I don’t see how you like that,” Princess Sara said from her chair nearby, her feet curled beneath her. No doubt her nose had been in a book when she happened to look over to see her stitching.

“And I don’t see how you can like just reading,” Serene said softly, threading the thread through her needle. “How can we be friends?”

Sara chuckled and let the matter drop. The two of them had been friends for as long as either of them could remember. Their parents said that they had meet one day at a luncheon Serene’s parents had put on. By the end of the party, they had both found the pond and found out just how wet they could get. Neither set of parents were happy about it. However, a friendship had been formed that nothing could break.

Serene started humming again as she started the new color.

“Sara!”

Serene felt her heart stop. Even though she had only heard that voice a few times, she knew who it was.

The princess started chuckling. “Here he comes,” she said, struggling to keep from outright laughing.

Bang!

Serene jumped in her seat. Looking up, she felt the blood rush to her face to see Prince Martin standing in the now open door, glaring at his sister.

“Sara,” he snapped, holding something up. “What’s this?” Whatever he held up, it was brown, wet, and smelled like it had been in a water ditch for a week.

“Well, I don’t know, brother,” Sara said, not even passing as innocent. “Perhaps a servant put it there. Maybe to remind you of your once simple life.”

Prince Martin snorted, tossing it at his sister. She ducked with a squeal and barely missed getting hit. “My life has never been simple. Next time you want to pull a prank, I suggest finding something a bit more refined than something you found on the side of the road.” He turned to go.

“Martin!” Sara said, sounded hurt. “Why don’t you stay? Serene and I were about to have lunch.”

Serene knew her face was as red as a beet as the prince glanced at her. She wished she were invisible. The thought of being in the same room as the prince made her breathless. Having him look directly at her made her want to faint.

He bowed to her. Serene knew she was going to faint. “I am sorry, but I have to decline. I have some work to do.”

“What work?” Sara asked with a snort. “Court is not in session. What could you possibly be doing?”

Prince Martin chuckled, walking out with a wave. “That’s for me to know.” He shut the door, still chuckling.

Serene took in a deep breath, both relieved and sadden at the prince’s departure. Catching her breath, she turned to glare at the princess. “What was that?” she demanded to know, bending over to pick up her stitching. When did she drop it?

“Him being annoying,” Sara said with a scowl. “I put that in his room for a reason. He’d come here, we’d invite him to lunch…”

Serene felt the blood drain from her face. She knew exactly what her friend was trying to do. “You’re trying to set us up!” she squealed.

“Of course I am,” Sara said, glaring at the door. “I think the two of you would make a nice couple. And I’d much rather have you for a sister-in-law than some title chaser like Lady Rose.”

Serene couldn’t find her voice, too shocked. Her best friend was trying to set her up with her older brother? All at once, she thought of hundreds of reasons why the princess shouldn’t. The prince might already be in love, there were far more pretty girls than her, he was of such high rank…

But her fluttering heart could only envision Prince Martin. How could she forget when she first saw him, standing tall in his pressed Ghost uniform, not the least bit impressed by the nobles around him. A hero she had followed in the news papers was now her Crown Prince, a man she was now completely smitten with. Yes, he was five nearly six years older than her, but a girl could dream, right? Besides, she was of marrying age, and he past it. No doubt the Court would soon be telling him to get married. There were no girls near his age….

“Sara!” she finally squeaked out. “I hate you!”

The princess just laughed, jumping out of her chair. “You can thank me later when Martin’s courting you. Come on. I wasn’t kidding about lunch.”
***********
Dean Mott the Baker was busy as usual. His sister, Tara, and her husband Kay were also busy in the back, teaching their children the art of baking. Dean worked the front of the shop, glad that the lunch rush was over. This was why he had his sister come to Nacre to help. He was barely keeping up with the front of the shop to deal with the back. Even now, with everyone gone, Dean was busy cleaning up the mess they left.

Some people, he thought, busting a table clean, glaring at offending leftovers and ruined napkins. Why can’t they take the two seconds it takes to put the trash in the garbage?

But people were slobs everywhere and he was left to clean up after them. Carefully stepping over a mess on the floor that he would sweep up later, he picked the next table to clean.

Bang!

Dean whipped around. “Hey!” he started to say, wondering why someone would slam the door when he recognized the young man who had just come in. He froze, too shocked to even bow. “Your…” he started to stutter, unable to get the words out.

“Shh!” the prince said, grimacing as he glanced behind him at the door. “Whatever I do, just go with it!”

Without pausing to wait for a reply, the prince pulled his jacket off, quickly turning it inside out. Dean felt his mouth drop. Why was the inside a different coat? One of noticeably less quality and class? Before Dean even blinked an eye, the prince then pulled out something red from his bag, put it on his head, tucked what few stray hairs he missed, then put on glasses. He tossed the bag under one of the tables.

“If anyone asks,” he said, walking into the middle of the room a different person, “I’m David Taylor and I’m asking about a job.”

“What…” Dean started to ask, wondering what in the world was going on. Why had the prince just entered his shop, only to put on a disguise quickly, and then wanted to be called a different name. Before he got the question out, his shop door opened again.

A guard in plum and white colors of the Cout noble family stepped inside, scanning the room quickly. He spotted only the two of them.

“Excuse me,” he said politely, “have you happened to see the Crown Prince come here?”

“Not that I can say,” Prince Martin said, his voice higher pitched than normal with a thick underclass accent.

Dean blinked a couple of times. “No,” he finally managed to say, remembering that the prince had said to go with whatever he does. If the prince wanted to go as someone else, who was he to say otherwise? “No prince here.”

The guard sighed. “He has to be here somewhere. Thank you. Sorry for disturbing you.” He started closing the door when another guard joined him.

“Any luck?”

“None,” the guard grumbled. “That prince. I hear his own guards have trouble keeping track of him. How he manages it, I don’t know.” The door finally closed.

Prince Martin let out a sigh of relief, taking the red wig off his head. “Many thanks,” he said, sitting down and rubbing his head. “I’ve been dodging them all day.”

Dean stared at the prince, uncertain what to say. It had been a shock a few days before when the young man had introduced himself. He still wasn’t over the shock.

“Why…” He had to cough to clear his throat. “Why have you been dodging them?”

“Because their lady wants to talk to me,” the prince said bitterly, glaring at the door. “And I’d sooner not talk to her. Title Chaser.”

Dean was at a loss of words. What could a baker say to a crown prince?

“I don’t bite,” Martin said, smiling a bit as he sensed his apprehension.

“I’ve heard rumors.”

“Vicious, I’m sure,” the prince moaned. “I promise I haven’t done half of it.”

Dean started to lighten up, loosing a bit of his nervousness. “Oh?” he asked, starting to smile a bit. “What about fighting twenty-five Seacats at once?”

Prince Martin frowned at him. “I’m going to find out whoever is spreading these tall tales and have them put the story straight. I only fought five at once. Maybe.”

“And what about your great battle in the Plains of Tautphaus? Didn’t you singlehandedly stop a mage from destroying the entire plain?”

He shrugged. “Alright. That’s true, but I did have a lot of help from my Ghosts creating the plan that stopped him.”

“I also heard,” Dean went on, sitting down across the table from the prince, “that you personally snuck into General Weeks’s army to save one of your spies from getting caught.”

The prince actually froze. “True also,” he said slowly. “What other things did you hear about that story?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Only that the spy was a woman and that you spent the night with her.”

Martin groaned, planting his head in a hand. “Sona’s going to kill me for that.”

“So… no sleeping?” Dean asked, intrigued.

“She vowed to knock me flat if I touched her in the wrong place,” Prince Martin said, looking a bit sick. “She’s really going to kill me if that rumor gets to her.”

“Then why did you need to save such a furious woman?”

“Because even she can’t scare off twenty vengeful men,” the prince answered. Suddenly, he cheered up. “You know, it’s rather refreshing to talk to you.”

Dean blinked, surprised by the sudden change of subject. “Why?”

“Because you haven’t even said ‘your highness’ yet,” the prince answered. He held up a hand. “And please don’t start. A week ago, the only title I answered to was captain. All the highness business is starting to get to me.”

Dean caught on quickly, remembering what the Cout guards had said. “Is that why you sneaked out of your own guards’ care?”

“I had a simple life,” the prince sighed. “People tend to forget that.”

For some reason, Dean felt sorry for his prince. For a moment, he tried to imagine what it was like for the prince. An orphan boy who spent his life working and then trained as a Ghost only to be thrust into a world of nobility. He couldn’t even begin to understand how the prince could handle it. He knew that he would be begging to return to the life he knew.

“Then I don’t blame you for looking for a sanctuary,” Dean said, hoping the honesty he felt came across in his words.

“And a nice sanctuary I’ve found,” Martin said, smiling as he gazed around the shop. Dean also felt himself smiling. A prince or not, this Martin was a decent fellow and one he wanted to get to know better.
***********
Martin left Dean’s shop, feeling like he made some great progress to winning the hearts and loyalty of the people. It was also really nice to escape the life of a prince. Pretending to put his hat on, he checked his wig to feel if it were in place. Dean had asked how he managed such a good disguise. Martin told the baker that when he was searching for what he wanted to do with his life, he had tried spying for a couple of months before moving on. Disguises were something that stuck. Dean accepted it and promised that he wouldn’t tell anyone.

Now I’ve got to tell Sona, the prince thought, walking down the street unnoticed. She should know that he made it a bit easier for writing up his past. There was no possible way to write his past without some sort of contact with spies. He had lived a spy’s life for nearly nine years.

However, today was not a day to worry about his princely past. Today was working on saving Aeterna and that he couldn’t openly do that as the crown prince. He was dressed as David Taylor again, walking around as if he was searching for a job. Dean had offered one to him, but he had to turn it down. Not only would the hours not work, but Martin felt that Dean’s shop had more potential down the road for the trap. Besides, he didn’t lie when he said that he found a nice sanctuary. If he were going to Dean’s shop, it was to find peace away from the palace and court.

Walking around Nacre in disguise was rather refreshing. Martin didn’t have to worry about acting princely or watching out for those out to get him. He was just another average citizen, going about doing his own business.

Though his own business was very different from the average citizen.

It was nearing mid afternoon as he was walking around the docks when he finally spotted one man that he really did need to talk to. The prince grinning inside as he accidentally bumped into Willy.

“Excuse me, sir!” Martin said, easily adopting David’s voice. “I didn’t notice you there!”

Willy the Horrid snorted, shoving off the wall he had been pushed onto. “Watch where you’re going,” the fat thief snapped. He punched him away as the prince tried to help him. “What do you need? Your glasses checked or something?”

“Actually,” Martin said, keeping his accent the same though allowing smugness to seep through, “my eyesight is fine. Better than fine.”

Willy paused, turning back slightly to eye him up and down. He narrowed his eyes, finally catching on. What the prince had said was the first thing he had said to the thief when he was fifteen. “That’s quite a disguise,” Willy finally said, keeping his voice low so no one could overhear him. He nodded to Martin’s arms. “Those real?”

Martin glanced down at his arms. One thing that David Taylor did not share with him was his choice of clothes. David wasn’t afraid to show off the scars on his arms when Martin couldn’t bring himself to.

“Farming is dangerous work,” Martin answered, fighting the urge to roll his sleeves over his scarred arms. Although it was no where near as bad as his back, the scars were still a painful memory.

“Farming, eh?” Willy asked. “That’s one explanation.” Martin could tell that the thief didn’t believe him but knew better than to ask. Everyone knew a street urchin’s life was hard. “So, what’s your name, farmer?”

“David Taylor,” Martin said, faking a bow. “Here in Nacre to find a job.”

“Farming not to your taste?”

“I want some adventure before I settle down.”

Willy snorted. “I think you’ve had more adventure to last three lifetimes.”

“Ah,” Martin chuckled, tapping the side of his nose. “But I’m a farmer. We don’t have adventures.”

“Pert,” the thief grumbled. He casually glanced around. “I might have a job for you, David. Follow me inside and I’ll give you a proposal.”

Martin followed Willy into a tavern. Even though it was midday, business was slow. Most of the patrons of the tavern wouldn’t be coming back until evening tide, when they were done with the day. At the moment, only the tavern help worked inside, busy cleaning up after a busy lunch and getting ready for an even busier evening.

“Hoy! Roy!” Willy shouted, waving at a man behind the counter. “I’ve got some business. I’ll be in the back room.”

“Righto, Willy,” Roy answered back, cleaning a glass. “Need anything sent in?”

Willy turned to him. “Anything?” Martin shook his head. “Nay. Thanks though!” Without waiting, the thief strolled into the back, picking an empty room and allowed Martin through before him. Martin did his usual quick sweep of the room, assessing it as fine. Nothing over fancy, just a table and chairs. His guess was that at night it was used as a private gambling table. As Willy shut the door, he quickly used his power to make sure no one could listen in.

“Right then,” Willy said, selecting a chair and sitting down. “To business. What’s the plan so far, your highness.”

Martin glared at the thief, sitting down himself. “You just need to get word to your thieves about our bargain,” he said, loosing the fake accent. “It’d also be wise to start picking which of your thieves you’ll want to work with honest citizens. You’re going to have to cooperate with them, so you’ll need thieves they won’t mind working with.”

“So no murders or rapists,” Willy agreed. “Anything else?”

“Start stock piling annoying toys,” Martin added. “We’ve got to annoy an entire army. And I want them really annoyed.”

Willy smirked. “Sounds like fun. I also assume you want us to store these toys in strategic places?”

“I’ll have a map in about a week ready for you,” he promised.

Willy shook his head. “You really have this all planned out, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t be allowed to be here if it wasn’t,” Martin answered truthfully, holding in a sigh as he thought about that meeting nearly a month before. Fred was determined to keep him safe.

“Good to do business with you,” Martin said, standing up. “I’ll get back with you in a week or so.” He turned to go.

“Prince Martin?”

Martin paused. It was a bit strange to hear a familiar voice, one that used to call him names, to use his title. He turned back. “What?”

Willy stiffly got up, using his cane to help himself up. “Is it possible to alter our agreement? Just between us two and not the others?”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Possibly. Why?”

“Come on,” Willy said, walking to the door and opening it. “I want to show you something.”
*******
That something turned out to be a someone.

Martin and Willy stood concealed in shadows across the street from the someone. The boy couldn’t be any more than sixteen, with dull brown hair and average build. He looked bored, sitting on a barrel and watching with green eyes as sailors work around him.

“My nephew, Steve Noodle,” Willy said.

“Noodle?” Martin asked, turning in surprise to the thief. “Your last name is Noodle?”

Willy glared at him. “Funny, isn’t it? Can we talk about my nephew instead of my unthreatening last name?”

“What about your nephew?” Martin asked, truly curious. There were no records of Willy having any family.

“He’s Lord Keith’s illegitimate child,” Willy growled. “The reason why I hated Soft Bottom so much was because he broke my little sister’s heart after learning he got her pregnant. She was only a maid in his mansion when he wooed her into his bed. He wasn’t pleased to learn she got pregnant and refused to support her. He even fired her to get rid of her. After Steve was born, she died heartbroken. I’ve been raising the boy myself since then.”

Martin stared at the thief, a bit surprised. He didn’t doubt Willy’s story, not by how defensive he was about the boy, but he was surprised that Willy cared about anyone but himself.

“I want something else for my deal,” Willy went on, staring at his nephew across the street. “Steve doesn’t want a thief’s life. He has the skills but no desire to live outside the law.” He turned to him. “Instead of a month long run for me, I want you to put Steve in the Spy Network.”

“Anyone can join the Network,” Martin pointed out.

Willy snorted. “His uncle is a famous thief from the Stand. What job would they give him? A sorry little outpost in some forsaken outpost in the frozen tundra of the north. I don’t want that for him. I want a real spying job for him. Something more along the lines of your job.”

Martin frowned. “You want him to be a spy master’s apprentice? Do you realize how much work I had go through to get that? And I was just a former street urchin with no one to vouch or discredit me.”

“A lot of work,” Willy answered. “I know. The same you offered us in your deal.”

Martin looked across the street. While it seemed that Steve hadn’t noticed them, the small glare shot in their direction spoke volumes. The boy knew his uncle was there and was upset with him. No doubt he wanted to do something but couldn’t because his uncle was there.

Well, he assessed, at least he’s observant. However, there was something else about the young man, something he wouldn’t admit to Willy. Steve reminded Martin of himself.

“Well?” Willy insisted. “Will you give him an apprenticeship?”

“I can’t do that without testing him,” Martin said, a plan forming to help the boy. “I can’t change the rules.”

“I understand,” Willy said, sounding hopeful. “Test him then. I know he’s ready.”

“But what if he’s not?” Martin asked. “Here’s the deal as I can do it. I test him, find out if he’s ready for an apprenticeship. If he is, I will personally sponsor him into the Spy Network as an intern. If not, then the best I can promise him is a simple spying job and not to be posted in the frozen north. That’s what you’ll get instead of a month long run.”

“I’ll take it!” Willy said, holding his hand out to finish the deal.

“You agree not to help him with his test?” Martin insisted, ignoring the hand.

“I won’t do anything to jeopardize his chance,” the thief snapped. “And you’d better promise that you won’t tell him that we made this deal.”

Martin rolled his eyes. It figured that the thief wouldn’t want his soft side to show. “Fine,” he agreed, finally shaking hands with Willy. “Our deal has been altered.”

As like before, Willy rubbed his chest as the deal was made, the magic taking place in both of them. Martin had made so many promises that the magic no longer had that side effect.

“Well then,” Martin said, glancing across the street. “Let his test begin.”
*********
Steve watched covertly as his uncle had an intense conversation with the red head farmer. At least, Steve thought it was intense. He had never really seen his uncle plead for anything in his life. Whatever the red head could offer, it had to be big.

And he was fairly certain that it involved him.

Now what’s Willy’s game? He wondered, trying to put together the information that he knew. It wouldn’t have been the first time his uncle tired to secure a future for him that wouldn’t be affected by his uncle’s reputation.

So far, Willy wasn’t very effective.

However, something about the red head had Willy acting nervous. Steve wondered what this young man could offer. He couldn’t be any more than four years older than him. Probably married with kids already. Steve watched from the corner of his eye as the red head crossed the street, narrowly dodging sailors as they hurried past. Steve snorted. A farmer, like he already guessed, judging him by the scarred arms and nervousness around city people.

“Whew!” the farmer said, reaching him. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Busy place, this dock, ain’t it?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You can tell my uncle that whatever deal you two made isn’t going to happen,” he said, turning away bitterly. “I’m not going to be a farmer.”

“But I’m not going to make a farmer deal.”

Steve froze. That voice was different. Turning around, he still saw a farmer, but something had changed. It was in those hazel eyes. It wasn’t the gaze of a hurt farmer. No, this man had the eyes of someone far more important.

“Your uncle told me you want to be a spy,” the red head said, his voice different from before. It was deeper, far more educated. “I could make that happen.”

“You’re a spy,” Steve said with surprise, sitting up. The farmer… spy smirked.

“One of the best,” he said without a trace of humility. “And I’m going to give you a test to see if you can too.”

Steve jumped off his barrel. “What is it?” he asked, unable to hide his excitement. His uncle finally found someone willing to test him for spying! “I’ll do anything!”

The spy raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes!” Steve promised.

“Even to sneak into the palace?”

Steve froze. “Sneak into the palace?” he repeated, now nervous.

“I have to judge how good you are,” the spy said as if talking of sneaking into the palace was something done everyday. “The palace is one of the best guarded places in Nacre. Oh, don’t worry. I won’t send you in without something to get.”

“And what am I supposed to get?” he asked, now very nervous. The spy wasn’t lying when he said the palace was well guarded. Only the best thieves and spies could get in and out without getting caught. So far, only two had succeeded in the last ten years.

“Prince Martin has a little stuffed toy,” the spy explained. “A little white dog. Go into the palace, get it, and bring it back to me without being seen.”

Steve felt his jaw drop. “That’s impossible!” he exclaimed. “The prince’s chambers must be the most closely guarded place in the palace! How am I supposed to do that!”

The spy smirked. “That’s for you to figure out. I give you one week to do it. And I suggest you try it, because I’ll be judging you on how far you’ll get.”

His jaw dropped again. “You’re expecting me to fail?”

“No,” the spy answered. “I expect you to do it. But I do give you something for trying. Good luck.” With another smirk, the spy turned to go. Suddenly he snapped his fingers and turned back. “Oh, and one last thing. You’re supposed to do it on your own. Don’t tell your uncle about this or let him help you. Then you’re disqualified. Got that?”

Steve nodded mutely. Satisfied, the spy walked away, disappearing into the crowded streets. Steve collapsed back against the barrel, rubbing his head. One chance. He had one chance to become a spy. He shook his head.

I’ve got to plan this out, he thought, determined to pull off the impossible. He had one chance to become a master spy. He wasn’t going to fail.
************
Martin slipped into his room, quickly turning his coat back out into the formal coat of a prince. Suit had thought ahead for him and sent him several such coats. They came in very useful when he was trying to avoid both his own guards and the guards of title chasers. He carefully folded it up and went into his closet.

Right beside the door was the stone that moved by his command. It slowly grated out of the wall, revealing the other disguises Suit had sent him. Martin put the coat in then changed into another outfit. Once changed, he put his Taylor disguise away and had the stone slide back into the wall. He nodded with satisfaction. He had no idea who had put the secret drawer there, but he was grateful. It made hiding things so much easier.

He walked out of the closet, tugging on his new short coat when he felt someone approaching his apartment. Curious, he walked into the entry room and opened the door before that someone could knock.

Shay didn’t looked surprised as he opened the door. Instead, he bowed. “Your Highness. Your mother requests that you join her in her office for a moment.”

Martin frowned. Why was he being summoned? He shrugged and figured that he would find out when he got there. Allowing Shay to lead, he went to the queen’s office, curious about what she wanted him for.

“She’s already waiting for you,” Shay said, sitting down at his own desk outside the office. Martin didn’t bother to knock and walked right in.

He froze to see O’Dell sitting opposite of the queen.

“Ah,” his mother said, standing up. “Come in, Martin. Shut the door behind you.”

Martin slowly closed the door. The head servant sat with a straight back and refused to look at him. Something was seriously wrong if the servant didn’t even bother to stand and bow to him.

“Now that we’re all here,” she said, sitting back down, “we’ll discuss why we’re here.”

“I am here because you summoned me,” O’Dell said respectfully. “I figure it was because you wanted to talk about my letter of resignment.”

Abigail shook her head. “O’Dell, you take things too seriously.”

“Too seriously, your majesty?” O’Dell asked, raising an eyebrow. “I cannot teach your son how to act around servants if he refuses to let us do our jobs.”

“Which is why I summoned my son here,” Abigail pointed out. She finally noticed that he hadn’t left his spot by the door. “Come sit, Martin,” she insisted. “We aren’t going to bite you.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, slowly doing as she asked. He sat down, noting that O’Dell glared at him as he did. “He’s ready to kill me, I think.”

“Not kill you,” O’Dell said blandly. “Just giving up on you.”

“O’Dell has told me that you’ve been good so far with servants,” Abigail said slowly. “It’s just the dressing matter we have to discuss.”

Martin narrowed his eyes, immediately catching what was going to happen. He folded his arms, sinking into his chair. “I’m not discussing it.”

Abigail sighed. “Martin,” she said softly, “I know you don’t like talking about your past, but something has to be said now before I can let O’Dell resign. While I agree that you don’t need help dressing, he does deserve an explanation why.”

“Explanation?” O’Dell snorted. “What sort of explanation could there be?” He actually glared at the prince. “Prince Martin is a stubborn, willful…”

“And has been through much,” Abigail injected forcefully. O’Dell stopped his ranting, looking at her in surprise. She sighed, suddenly looking worn and older. She turned to him.

“Martin,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I’ve seen your back.”

Martin froze. He was not expecting that or her being so blunt about it. “When?” he asked softly.

“When you were poisoned with Nightmare Dust,” she answered, her eyes betraying her sorrow. “I insisted on seeing you. Healer Smith tried to talk me out of it, but I got my way. I wish I hadn’t.”

Martin glanced away. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see his back. No doubt she also got the story of how it happened.

“O’Dell,” his mother said, turning to the head servant. “Martin doesn’t need a servant to help him dress and it’s not because he’s willful.”

“Then why?” O’Dell demanded to know.

“Martin?” Abigail said softly. He refused to look at her. He knew what she was going to ask. “He just needs to see once.”

“I’d prefer if no one saw,” he snapped. It was a painful memory that his scars only reminded him of.

“I know,” Abigail said soothingly. “But O’Dell needs to know why.”

Martin wanted to refuse. He wanted to run away from the situation. But as he told Sara before; he had stopped running years before. Taking a deep breath, he rolled one of his sleeves up, revealing the scars on his arm.

O’Dell gasped in shock. Before he could gawk any longer, Martin quickly rolled the sleeve back down. “My back,” he said softly, tugging on the sleeve to make sure it was down, “is worse.”

“Much worse,” Abigail agreed. She sighed deeply. “In respect to Martin’s wishes, no one is supposed to see. That’s why he keeps refusing help dressing.”

“I didn’t know,” O’Dell breathed. He stood up and bowed low to him. “I’m sorry that I was so insensitive to your… wishes.”

“You didn’t know,” Martin said quietly, glaring at his knees. “I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Still,” O’Dell said. “I apologize for not respecting your wishes. I will now do my best to respect your wishes.” He turned and bowed to the queen. “I wish now to withdraw my letter to resign.”

Abigail nodded. “Consider it done. Now, if you’ll please leave, Martin and I still have something to discuss.”

O’Dell bowed again. “Of course. Good night to both of you.” He left without another word. The moment the door shut, Martin spoke up.

“Did I have to show him?”

“I’m afraid so,” Abigail sighed. “And I’m afraid that he’s the least of your worries now.”

Martin glanced up, still feeling bitter that he had to show his scars. “What’s the problem now?”

“Your guards were extremely worried when you disappeared on them this morning.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “We both know that I can protect myself better than they can.”

“I know,” his mother said pliantly. “And I’m sure you have work to do that your guards shouldn’t be a part of. But can I ask that you disappear when they aren’t on duty protecting you? I won’t try to stop you from sneaking out, but… at least when they think you’re safely inside the palace?”

Martin felt himself smile a bit. “Fair enough,” he agreed. “I won’t disappear on them when we’re on an outing.”

Abigail gave him a smile in return. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Now, I think it’s long past time for dinner.”
**********
Whew! That was a long post. However, I don’t think I’ve ever written that many subplots. And especially in that short of a space. I have a hard time writing them. I just get so focused on the main plot that subplots kinda go away (See Thomas and Kriste’s love story for that!) Not to mention, I find that too many subplots distract from the main story and cause bulk. But this is where my typing fingers led me. Serene came out of nowhere. Dean Mott was expressing my disgust at how people don’t clean up after themselves (I work in food service. I wish some people had the decency to clean up). Steve I’ve had planned for a long time, so he wasn’t too much of a distraction. And showing O’Dell the scars came out of the blue. It’s kinda amazing what comes out of writing with abandon.

Well, it’s time for me to go. I have a dentist appointment and I want to get the next book in the series. Enjoy the journey!

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!