Diantha, the favored eight-year-old princess, stood in the shadows near a tall, elegant old rose creeper with unusually large, deep peach blooms. It was her favorite in the whole garden, always blooming early and dying late in the summer, the last splotch of color as autumn took over.

The setting sun bounced off her strawberry blond hair, casting a reddish halo around the cherubic face and curls. Her deep blue eyes studied Xander, the foreign prince sitting nearby. Only two years older than her, he was quieter than his siblings and stayed to himself, avoiding the games with the frogs and other slimy creatures found by the children. Diantha had watched him closely this visit, hearing words of betrothal but not really knowing what that meant, only that there was some tie between herself and the strange boy with the dark curls.

Xander knew he was being watched by the young princess. To his chagrin, someday he would be forced to marry her. The purpose of this whole trip was for them to meet and their fathers, the Kings, settle the agreement and write the contract. Not the oldest son and heir, not the youngest and spoiled, he fell in at number three of eight children. One of the middle children, overlooked by the court and ignored by his parents. A bargaining chip for his father to gather more land. Xander was by far the most brilliant of his siblings, understanding much beyond his years. Too much time alone in the forest had led him to an old hermit who made funny potions and charms, and treated Xander as a favored son. He taught Xander to look into bowls of water to see the future, and through people's eyes to see their soul.

The soul of the princess was strong one, radiating inner strength. Though it would be interesting to meet her again once grown, Xander did not relish the idea of marrying anyone. But when he looked into this one's eyes, he saw himself. Their destinies were tied together, that much he was sure of. But his dream was to live in the forest with the old hermit, learning more about herbs and potions and how to make people tell the truth with the right compound. Xander bore no desire to run a kingdom, his father's or anyone's.

The gold net in her hair and rich gown of deep blue and silver did not impress him. Riches never had. One of the older princesses had run her hands through Xander's hair lovingly early in the visit, proclaiming him "too beautiful". Annoyed, he stared through her. A weak creature, spoiled and vain, she would not survive her marriage past two years, dying in childbirth.

Xander turned as he felt the princess approach. A pretty girl, with her reddish curls, pale skin and big blue eyes. Bold, too, last week she had haughtily asked him why he dressed so plainly if he was a King's son. With a smile and nod, he simply walked away, infuriating her.

"You're strange," she announced. Xander gave her the same polite smile he always did. This would be a very interesting woman, once grown. Not unlike his mother, what he could remember of her, vivacious and strong, her golden laughter warming a room. She had died two years earlier, giving birth to his youngest brother, Xavier, who was born with a club foot, weak and sick. Xavier was now the favored pet of the royal children, pitied for losing his mother and being left so weak he would never do for marrying.

"Compliment from you, fair princess," he said in his soft voice, his words in her language perfect. His pale gray eyes were soft, she thought, like his hair, the soft dark curls that were longer than most boys'hair. Early in the visit she had overheard her sisters talking about his soft hair and she wondered what the big deal was. She had soft hair, too.

"You're always alone."

Xander shrugged. Maybe someday she would learn tact, learn to appreciate the softer, quiet things in life, the beauty of a spring evening for instance, and the way it made her look angelic.

There was shouting in the distance, deep voices. In the garden, the children froze. The Kings were coming and something was wrong. Quickly they gathered into their families, minus Xander and Diantha. Xander was used to being overlooked, Diantha didn't know fear, especially from her father who doted on her.

They were shouting in Xander's language, his sisters were turning red. Xander was stunned by the insults being hurled back and forth. Diantha looked completely unruffled, watching their reactions. Xander quickly realized something had gone horribly wrong in the negotiations, and that they were leaving immediately. The castle was in an uproar.

Turning to the princess next to him, he caught her hand.

"Look into my eyes and remember them." he whispered. "I may not see you again for many years, but our paths will cross and we'll belong together afterwards."

Puzzled blue eyes stared up at him and he kissed her beautiful rosebud mouth lightly. Barely a moment later the Kings were in the garden, Xander's father barking orders to his children. They ran towards the castle. Xander touched Diantha's hair lightly and then was suddenly grabbed from behind by his father's manservant.

"My boy will never marry that child!" the King bellowed. "You have insulted me for the last time!"

Xander allowed himself to be taken away as the Kings shouted some more. The princesses had gathered into a group, the younger princes trying to be brave in front of their father. Only Diantha stood alone. Xander watched her, the fading sunlight silhouetting her in his mind forever.

Diantha threw back her covers, yawning. That damn dream again. She could never remember the words the boy whispered once awake. She knew it was a memory, but one that escaped her when awake. It had been recurring steadily for months now.

Her old maid, Alana, was opening the curtains. Turning, she frowned, seeing her charge sitting up bed, hair tousled, rubbing her eyes. The princess had been sprawled across her bed, under the covers, deep in sleep when she entered. A most undignified position for a princess to sleep in. Secretly Alana loved the spirit of her young charge, whom she had practically raised once the girl's mother, the third Queen, had died when Diantha was only five. By far the most dynamic of her siblings, except Peytr, her rogue of a brother, Diantha embodied the freedom and will that royal children could only dream of.

And the King indulged his daughter's every wish. Too late he had realized he had no control over this daughter as she grew to be as stubborn and willful as himself. She rode horses with no saddle, her long hair streaming in the wind, she climbed trees with the servant boys and spoke without permission to the King. Resented by her siblings for their's father attention, Diantha ignored most of her siblings, doting on Alandra, her only full sibling. Three years younger than Diantha, the girls shared their mother's red hair. Diantha's had darkened as she grew older, deepening into a stunning auburn that in the light radiated the warmth of her character in the shots of gold that streaked it. Her fair skin had stayed, not a freckle that redheads were typical of. Alandra's was still in the strawberry blonde shade. They had their mother's blue eyes and fair skin as well, but Alandra was overlooked often by the King. Diantha sensed it was because Alandra's birth had weakened their mother, and the Queen never recovered. Alandra was a reminder of that. The servants often told her tales of how her mother had been the King's true love.

The third Queen had been the most beautiful, the kindest. She had caught the King's eye at a ball, shortly after his second wife died, leaving behind three sons and two daughters. The first Queen had borne him four sons before she and her daughter died in the birth process. The King had seen Sabreen dancing with a young officer and fancied her for himself. A handsome man, still in his prime with dark eyes and blond hair, once the King's interest was shown, Sabreen had no more suitors, but it didn't matter. The old servants told of when the King and Queen had raced through the palace like teens, madly in love, and never apart. Some whispered the Queen had cast him under a spell and made him love her, that her red hair was a curse. They were jealous of the Queen's youth and beauty, and it had been years before the King took another wife. He was never the same. The light in his eyes died with his Sabreen, rekindled only by the presence of Diantha.

"Good morning Alana!" The princess bounded out of bed, nearly tripping over the long white gown.

"It'd be better if you slept as a proper princess does and not some common child bouncing from it," Alana said dourly. Diantha flashed the beautiful smile that had made nearly every servant boy in the castle fall in love with her.

"I'm going to wake Alandra," she announced, walking through the doorway that separated her room from her sister's. Alana followed to open the curtains.

Alandra was a quiet child, often shadowing Diantha, watching her tall, headstrong sister, wishing she could be that bold. Too shy to follow her sister on midnight raids through the secret passages of the castle, she loved to hear the tales afterwards.

Alana was pleased to see her younger charge slept properly, on her back, hands folded neatly on her stomach, long hair braided singularly and still in place. She loved Alandra as much as Diantha, and had been pleased to accept the position as their governess.

Diantha leaped onto the bed, startling her sixteen-year-old sister and tickled her. Giggling, Alandra struggled to sit up.

"Up sleepyhead!" Diantha sang. Delicately, Alandra rubbed her eyes.

"What's the rush?" she yawned.

"The first day of Spring! Let's go play in the garden. Old Rosy should be blooming today."

Alandra sighed. Among her sister's oddities was a deep love for the rose garden, particularly the old peach bush. Every year, the first day of Spring, Diantha dragged her out to the garden where they picnicked under the enormous creeper and paid tribute to it.

"Ok, but I'm hungry."

"Cook should have everything ready, I reminded her last night." Diantha pulled her younger sister up. "I'll be back in a few moments."

"Diantha, I better not hear tales of you terrorizing the kitchens again. Your father was livid last time."

"It's my castle, too. I can go where I want," Diantha shrugged off, hurrying into her closet. As usual, the words fell on deaf ears.

Diantha had taken lately to wearing men's pants for her castle roaming, much to the horror of her governess and sisters. Deeming the long skirts were too cumbersome for properly exploring, she had several pairs of soft pants made by the royal tailor, who lived in mortal fear that the King would have him beheaded for giving his daughter such an unladylike garment.

Publicly the King bellowed and ranted about his wild daughter, but privately he chuckled at her exploits. She reminded him so much of himself when he was younger, before he was forced to take the crown. And her mother, the gods rest her soul, his beloved Sabreen. Most days he could barely look at Alandra, the spitting image of her. Diantha had enough of him in her that she wasn't too painful to look at, but Alandra, her sister, Sabreen had loved her so. Sabreen had been sixteen when she married the King, already thirty-two. Alandra seemed to have inherited her manners and demeanor, sometimes making the exact expression or gesture of her mother.

Alana watched with disapproval as Diantha laced her boots quickly and ran a comb through her wild, curly red hair.

"Alandra! Hurry!" she called to her sister.

"Yelling is not polite." Alana reprimanded her. "It's not ladylike."

"I never said I was a lady," Diantha said saucily, grinning. Alana pursed her lips in disapproval, covering up her smile. Alandra appeared in the doorway, wearing a pretty, simple gown of dark green with gold trim on the sleeves cuffs and neckline, her long hair combed and rebraided.

"Come on, we'll slip by the kitchen and grab the basket."

"You'll do no such thing. Now take your wraps and go to the garden. I'll get the basket and meet you down there," Alana knew the routine. By taking her time, Diantha could fill Alandra in on her latest midnight roaming. Like Alana didn't know her charge was prowling through the castle at night, looking for new secret passages. She and Sabreen had done the same thing years before, when she was Sabreen's handmaiden and trusted confidante.

Humming to herself, she began the descent of hallways and staircases towards the kitchens.

*

"I'm positive there's an entrance into this garden through one of those passageways," Diantha told her. Alandra got comfortable on the blanket her sister spread under the old creeper bush which held one single, perfect bloom, deep in peach color and barely opening.

"Have you looked at the statues carefully? Or the fountains?" Alandra suggested.

"No. It's too obvious in the winter; someone might see me from the castle. I think by summer, when everything is in full bloom, I'll be able to search by daylight. I'm inclined to say it's near the big statue in the northwest corner. There's that big wall of ivy and I think the ivy hides it."

"But where in the castle would it come out?" Alandra asked, her blue eyes shining.

"I don't know. I can never get near the wing where Mother's rooms were. Maybe near there."

"Here comes Alana," Alandra whispered. Diantha winked at her sister.

*

From the castle, the King looked out into his garden. It had been built and filled with roses for Sabreen, whose father had been a master gardener. The King built it to please her when they married. Sabreen would spend every waking moment out there, and had planted herself that big peach creeper the year before Diantha was born.

The King watched his daughters, under that bower of what would soon be full of roses. He longed to join them, to hold their hands and talk of their mother. Never allowed a moment of peace, he was constantly training Jamien to take the throne, grooming and polishing his oldest son. Jamien would do well, he knew, but Jamien was also pestering him for more control, that he wasn't ready to relinquish. Petyr was off roaming the countryside as usual, and the King often wished he could join his third son, who was a virtual stranger, taking to wandering and adventuring when he was barely fifteen.

Vanessa, his current Queen and bulging with child, was bedridden for much of this pregnancy. She had already given him three more sons. Sometimes the King forgot the names of his quieter children. There were so many now. After Vanessa, he had decided there would be no more Queens. If she survived this pregnancy, she would be the last Queen. It was too hard to lose them. He had plenty of heirs and a strong heart. No doubt he would reign for many more years.

His aides and Council were pressing him to him to marry off the next eligible princess, his beloved Diantha. The princess before her, Dorothea, was intelligent but plain, and no man would look twice at her, especially in the company of her younger sisters. But the King saw the way the men in the palace looked at Diantha secretly, admiring her crimson hair and lush figure. Some men might consider her to be a tad overweight, but she had her mother's pure womanly body and height, carrying herself so proudly. How could he try to marry off Dorothea when Diantha was nearby? It would be a mockery to expect men to ask for her hand when their eyes bulged at Diantha.

"Sire, forgive the interruption, but we must discuss Princess Diantha," his manservant had appeared in the room.

I can't marry her off. She's the breath of fresh air this place needs," the King replied. His manservant sighed. They had this conversation on a regular basis. The manservant had lusted for the girl for several years now, and once managed to get close enough to touch her hair. By sheer accident, last season, he had caught her kissing one of the servant boys in the very back of the kitchen and threatened to kill the boy and tell her father. Once the boy was gone, he cornered Diantha and touched her hair, intending to kiss her himself. Horrified, Diantha had kicked him hard between the legs. For some reason she hadn't told her father, but she could. Best to get rid of her. Sometimes he caught those icy eyes of her staring at him with something describable.

"There are several offers standing from other kingdoms, including some who could be powerful enemies," the king was reminded.

"I know."

"Since the betrothal to Prince Xander was broken, she is fair game."

"Don't even mention that pompous fool's name to me!" the King growled.

"I didn't; I mentioned his son."

The King grunted. A perfect match, Xander and Diantha would have been, uniting two large and powerful kingdoms. That damn fool King Aiden had gone and insulted his Queen, who took great offense and no amount of apologizing or translation could appease. The Kings had fought and Aiden had stormed off with his son. Though there had been no war, rumors of his once friend amassing an army disturbed the old King. Without that marriage, it left him open for battle. And they would have had such lovely children together.

*

Diantha ran the comb through her sister's hair, braiding and twisting the long strands. Alandra sat patiently, knowing her sister was lost in thought. Diantha had dim memories of her mother combing her hair and singing.

Humming to herself, Diantha wrapped the braids around her sister's hair.

"Wear it like that today."

"Ok. Did you have the dream again?" Alandra asked.

"Yes." Diantha sighed. "I wish I knew what it meant."

Don't be paying attention to dreams." Alana said sharply. "You get caught up in them and forget to live."

It's not just a dream, Alana. I think it's a memory. A boy in this garden."

"Boy?" Alana looked up sharply, recalling that spring eve, exactly eleven years ago. She had witnessed their last exchange, when the boy kissed her and whispered something in her ear.

"It's a wonderful dream." Alandra laughed "A boy with dark curls and he kissed her."

"Prince Xander," Alana sighed, remembering the very so polite young boy with the intense eyes, who seemed to sense her pain at losing the girls mother several years earlier.

"You know him?" Diantha demanded, sitting up. "It wasn't a dream."

"You were betrothed to him at birth. When you were eight, he was brought to meet you," Alana said calmly.

"I m - betrothed? To someone I don't know?" Diantha demanded, temper flaring.

"Hold your tongue, child." Alana said. "Were. Past tense."

"What happened?" Alandra asked, caught up in the romance of it.

"A horrible quarrel between your father and his, King Aiden. He grabbed Xander and stormed out of here."

"Dark hair and pale eyes?" Diantha asked. "Quiet?"

"Yes. He spoke our language beautifully. Ever such nice manners."

"He said something to me but I can't remember what," Diantha murmured.

"It was eleven years ago tonight. All of your siblings were out here, playing."

"I remember," Diantha remembered more now. Alandra smiled.

"I don't, but I wish I did. So romantic. I wish some romantic prince would appear and take me away," Alandra spoke out loud, her eyes fixed on something in the distant blue sky.

"Don't speak of nonsense, child. You have several years to go before anyone comes calling for you," Alana said sternly. Diantha shook her head.

"Just as well. I have no plans to go off and marry some prince." Diantha leaped to her feet and assumed a sword play stance. "I shall fight them off with my trusty sword and live like a wild woman in the woods!"

*

The King watched his favorite daughter mime a sword fight. Her footwork was admirable, even from his distance, her arm movements sure and steady. Her younger sister laughed, the sound drifting up to the King. Sabreen's laugh. His heart almost broke as he looked down and saw the braids wrapped around her head, in a crown fashion. The portrait of Sabreen that hung in the library had that golden red hair in the same style, and she was laughing.

Turning from the window, the King had an idea.

*

"You what?" Diantha leaped to her feet at the table, knocking over her chair and the decanter of wine.

"I shall hold ball, one moon hence," the King repeated. "To find a proper suitor for Alandra."

Alandra sat silent, stunned.

"You- wait- Dorothea is next in line, then me!" she protested. Dorothea, her plain and unpleasant sister, glared at her.

"You forget. No one would want an old cow like me." she snapped. "And of course the golden girl can't be auctioned off for slaughter."

Two of the other sisters agreed. The younger siblings looked confused.

"The decision is made," the King said firmly.

"I forbid it!" Diantha yelled, hurling her cup of wine at the wall. The servants froze, Alana praying for her charge to quiet down.

"You? A mere princess in my court thinks she can stop my wish?" the king thundered. Diantha was livid.

"You can not auction her off like a breeding cow! If you want to get rid of a daughter, then use me! Not Alandra! I won't have it!"

"You will have it, missy! I am King in this castle and my word is law!" he roared.

"I will not have it!" Diantha stomped her foot in anger. "Tradition dictates the order of eligibility and there are two in front of Alandra! If you want to keep Dorothea that's fine, but you choose me next! I will not have her shipped off to some strange country!"

The King narrowed his dark green eyes. Spitfire, like her mother. Sabreen could be so headstrong when pushed.

"Fine then. The ball will be in your honor. If there is any prince dumb enough to take on the likes of you, he can have you!" The King roared.

"Fine. I'll be your next bargaining chip." Diantha hissed, squaring off against her father. "I will do whatever I must to protect Alandra!"

"Diantha, no." Alandra whispered, pale and terrified. Her champion, her beloved Diantha would sacrifice her freedom to protect her, when her own father couldn't stand the sight of her. A marriage wouldn't be so bad; maybe there she wouldn't be ignored and shunned. But to see Diantha sacrifice her beloved freedom. . .it couldn't be.

"Come Alandra," Diantha held her hand out. Trembling, Alandra rose and took it as Diantha led her from the dining hall.

"What have you done?" Alandra whispered. "Diantha, your dreams! What about living in the woods?"

"Pish posh." Diantha said bravely. It wouldn't do to let her sister see her fear. "It is my right as Princess to set up tasks for my suitor. I will set a task so impossible that no one will be able complete it. Even if there is a decent suitor, he must finish my challenge."

"And if father overrules?"

"He can't." Diantha said grimly. "It's written in the tradition scrolls. Should a Princess not find a willing suitor, she holds the right to present up to three challenges for her suitor to complete to prove his worthiness."

"And if he should succeed?" Alandra asked fearfully.

"Then my Fate is sealed. I will demand that you come and live with me for company, with Alana, and that I will find a suitable prince for you," Diantha said firmly.

"A fine mess you've gotten us into." Alana snapped, closing the door. She had overheard the statement.

"I will handle Father," Diantha ran her hand through her wild hair.

"Diantha, please don't do this. Just let him get rid of me. He can't bear to look at me. I don't think I could be unhappier, if I had a Prince to love me," Alandra said softly. Diantha knelt in front of her sixteen-year-old sister, horrified.

"Are you so unhappy?" she whispered. Tears filled Alandra's dark blue eyes.

"Not when you're around. But Father won't look at me, the others ignore us. I don't have your brave heart or fierce spirit. I'm a coward, I follow you because you're who I want to be."

"Alandra." Diantha hugged her sister fiercely as the girl wept." I'm not brave, I just know what I want."

"You've never feared anyone or anything, even Father in his most horrid moments. I jump at my own shadow."

"Whatever happens, Alandra, I swear this to you." Diantha stared into her sister's eyes. "I will always take care of you. If I end up marrying someone from the other end of the world, you will go with me. I won't leave you. Believe that, ok? You're all I have and I will always protect you. I promise. I won't let Father separate us." Diantha squeezed her sister's hand tightly. She knew Alandra wouldn't survive long without her. She would have to come up with a challenge so preposterous that no man could do it.

*

Laying awake in bed that night, Alandra stared at the ceiling, painted to look like the night sky she loved. Alandra lay asleep next to her, wanting to be near.

Restless, Diantha slipped out of bed and dressed quietly in a loose tunic and pants. From the back of her closet she brought out her dark cloak and laced her boots. She needed fresh air, to walk about and think.

Pressing the secret spot on the wall, it swung in silently. Diantha slid through and swung the passage shut. Hurrying along she came to the door that was on the west end of the castle. Peeking out, she saw no guards and slipped through. The stables were nearby, the boy was easy to bribe. A wink and little kiss on the cheek and he remained mum about her night rides.

Tonight was no exception, he smiled sleepily at his redheaded goddess as she slipped out. Whoever she met was one lucky man.

Riding into town, she felt the cool night air rush against her face. Her hair was tightly braided back but she inhaled the fresh air greedily. The streets were quiet and no one paid attention to the rider racing through the streets.

Finally, she slowed her horse and trotted him through various streets, not paying attention to where she went. Her mind rolled over her latest pickle. There was no going back. She was going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, by her father's order. This was one more challenge to conquer in life and she would. Her concern was Alandra. Alandra must be allowed to go with her.

The horse suddenly balked and reared up, almost throwing Diantha. Grabbing the horse's mane, Diantha calmed her.

"What do you see, girl?" she whispered.

"Forgive me, I startled her," A smooth, baritone voice to her side replied. Whipping her head around, Diantha backed the horse away from the tall man that appeared. Long, wavy dark hair, broad shoulders. Good looking, she thought with approval. Hurriedly she pulled her cloak hood farther up to obscure her face more.

"No problem. May I inquire why a gentleman as yourself is out wandering the streets at this hour?"

"Mayhaps the same reason a young lady with no escort is," he said lightly. Diantha went red. He thought she was out to meet a secret lover!

"I assure you, sir, my business is only my own and involves no one," she replied haughtily.

"Certainly," he replied, amused.

Xander had gotten only a quick look at the beauty before she covered most of her face. Lovely pale skin, dark hair that he was sure was long and thick and soft. It had triggered his favorite memory, kissing a beautiful light redheaded girl in a garden, many years before. In this very kingdom. In the very castle he could see in the distance.

"A beautiful woman alone at night on a horse, unarmed. Not wise."

"May I escort you home?" he asked politely.

"Not likely, sir, but thank you for the offer. I am perfectly capable of protecting myself," she spoke cooly but elegantly. Good breeding, he thought. A noblewoman sneaking out to meet her lover. But there was no saddle or reins. . .she rode bareback and wild. . .no respectful noblewoman would ride that way. Who was this woman?

"You are unarmed and this is a bad part of town," he informed her.

"I'll be fine, I assure you. Good eve." She turned the horse and started back the way she came, then realized within moments she had no idea where she was. Glancing over her shoulder she was half relieved, half disappointed to see he was gone.

"C'mon, girl. We should head back," she murmured to her horse.

A few more moments of wandering around and Diantha was thoroughly frustrated. The horse stopped at a nearby trough to drink and Diantha slid off her back.

"Fine pickle you put us in," she snapped at the horse who drank languidly. "Home is that way, I can see the north tower."

"Looky that. A purty woman on her own who done talk wit horses," a drunken voice interrupted her thoughts. Diantha turned to see two men behind her, dressed in worn rags. The odor of stale beer and other disgusting elements hit her nose and she covered her mouth.

"You ain't gotta be skeered honey, we's gonna get you home."

"I don't need your assistance, good sirs, but thank you," she spoke coldly, in a tone any educated man would respectfully back away at.

"You done talk like one of them fancy folk."

These weren't educated men, she realized with a sinking feeling. These were two drunken commoners who weren't going to back off. Tugging gently on her horse's mane, she tried to get her horse to stop drinking. The horse ignored her. The men stepped forward. Diantha had definitely found trouble now. While capable of handling a sword, she didn't have one on her. No doubt a scream would go unheard, there were taverns nearby, filled with whores and more drunken men. She had no idea where the constable might be.

"I don't believe the lady is interested in joining your ever so pleasant company," came a sarcastic, vibrant voice.

Diantha was horrified to see the handsome stranger appear only a few feet away and hurry towards her. The drunken men exchanged a glance and ambled off, singing at the top of their lungs and belching.

"No assistance, my beautiful lady?" he asked, amused. The cloak hid her eyes but he was sure that beautiful mouth was frowning. If only he could see the rest of her face. Very fair skin, he was sure, from the glimpse of her white chin.

"Thank you. I should be headed home," she said stiffly.

"It became apparent to me that you don't know how to get there."

His voice soothed her nerves immediately. What a good looking man, she thought. Pale eyes, probably blue, she thought. The barest shadow on his face; it had been a day since he shaved. Dressed plainly, in heavy fabrics. Traveling clothes from a colder climate.

"Of course I do."

"A woman of your education does not live in the section of town filled with low class taverns and whore houses," he said delicately. Diantha swallowed.

"I will gladly walk alongside your horse."

"I have no money to pay for your assistance," she said stiffly, hating this.

"I require none, just the knowledge that the honour of a lady be preserved."

Diantha snorted to herself. No doubt tomorrow he would be asking about her, trying to get a name so he could brag himself about her. Let him ask. So few people had seen any of the royal children, much less the two redheaded ones. And redheaded people were not common in this kingdom.

"Tell me, my lady, why are you really roaming around this late at night?" he inquired. Hiding her smile, Diantha shrugged elegantly.

"What better way to really know a city?" she replied coyly.

Definitely out to meet a lover, he thought.

"Please allow me to escort you to your destination."

"I have no destination. Not for a while."

"Then may I ask you to accompany me?" he asked with a charming smile.

There was something so familiar about this man but Diantha shrugged it off. It was tempting to run her hand through those dark curls of his, but this was no servant boy she could push around, this was a full grown man who know doubt would take that as an invitation for more.

"And where would that be?" she asked, amused.

"I plan to relieve this city of some of its. ..treasures," he half smiled, amused by what he hadn't said.

Diantha licked her bottom lip in anticipation. Here was her adventure.

Xander swallowed hard as she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Somehow he had to get that hood down and see the rest of her face. Envy wasn't the word for what he felt for her lover. If the man were to appear, Xander would strike him down and kidnap her, take her away and ravage her.

"You're a thief?" her laughter was musical, silver bells in the wind.

She was intrigued. This was good.

"I consider myself a collector."

There was that damned roguish smile. Every time he flashed it, her blood warmed a few more degrees.

"Collections intrigue me. I accept," she said loftily.

Oh this was a noble all right. Possibly a duchess, or someone close to the throne. This wasn't just etiquette, there was years of breeding here. A married duchess with a lover on the side, perhaps a baker or a blacksmith, someone of lowly position. Craving adventure and action, her husband must not be satisfying her needs. And willing to roam the city at night with a stranger, perhaps she was about thirty, too old to attract a young lover, too young to be a proper old woman.

Holding out his hand, Xander felt the fine bones under the glove. Slender hands, long fingers, elegant mannerisms. This could be fun and he looked forward to the night.

Diantha kept her hood up as they roamed the streets, hidden in the shadows. Once, a passing deputy startled Xander as he was working on the back lock to a shop. Quickly he grabbed her and pulled her into the shadows, pressing his body against hers to hide her. The clean, manly scent of him filled her senses, driving her wild, and Diantha was sure he could feel her heart pounding into his chest.

Xander had almost lost control when he had been forced to shove her against the wall. Soft and warm, he could feel heat and excitement coming off of her in waves, making him dizzy with desire as he was charged with thoughts of removing the heavy tunic to explore her and kiss her madly. No, he was a gentleman and he restrained himself, hoping he had his body angled well enough so she wouldn't feel his desire of her. The scent of her hair was tickling his nose and he didn't breathe again until the deputy had passed.

"Too close, my lady," he whispered in her ear, his lips against the hood of the cloak. Diantha hoped he would keep her against the wall, his hand rested on her thigh, it could easily slip under her tunic. The thought made her blush.

Moving quickly, he sprung the lock and they slipped inside. Disappointed, she let him lead her by the hand. So far, he hadn't actually taken anything, more they had delighted in rearranging shops, placing things backwards and causing general mischief. In here, the air was sweet and Diantha suddenly had a longing for her candied treats at the castle.

"What is this place?" she whispered.

"A confectionary," he murmured. There was plenty of moon light to see the jars and bags.

"What's a confectionary?"

"A sweet shop, my lady. Surely the nobility has sweets," he teased.

"Of course we do. I've had!" she stopped, afraid she had revealed something. "I never said I was nobility." Dear gods, had he guessed her identity?

"You didn't have to." He took her hand. "Your speech, your attitude, only a woman of noble birth could be so arrogant and yet naive." He brushed his lips against her hand. Horrified, she pulled back.

"Arrogant? Naive?"

He chuckled. "Temper, too. Yes, I knew you were nobility."

Diantha's temper flared. How dare he! This whole time, their laughing and pranking, the magic she had felt between them when he held her so close against that wall - and he knew?

"You, sir, are no gentleman to hide such knowledge," she said icily. Xander laughed, the rich sound filling the room. Angrily, she spun on her heel and made it to the door. When she opened it a gust of wind blew her hood back and he caught only a glimpse of dark hair before she pulled it back up again and was out the door.

Amused, Xander pocketed some of his favorite candies and filled his pouch with more. Still chuckling at her temper, he slipped out of the shop, locking the door behind him.

As he had thought, she was standing in the street, staring up at the moon.

Diantha stared at the castle. She could see it from here, she would go that way and eventually she'd be back.

"My lady, I did not mean to offend you," his smooth voice startled her.

"You didn't. I am simply tired of this game and wish to go home."

"But you don't know how to get there, do you?" His voice was making her pulse go haywire.

"Of course I do," she said stiffly.

"Come on, Princess," he said casually. She froze. Dear Gods, he knew! Taking her by the arm. "You sure have the attitude of one."

No, he didn 't. Diantha allowed him to lead her back to her horse.

"Where is home?" he inquired gently.

"Near the castle," she said tautly.

Most definitely a duchess.

"I'll take you as far as you let me," he said gently, aware he had bruised her ego in some manner.

"Very well."

Swinging on the horse, her cloak still hiding her from him. If only he could look into her eyes, get a glimpse of her.

Leading her horse, she realized they were going deeper into the city.

"I thought!"

"The area you need to be in is a good ride from here. I'd prefer to get my horse."

"All right," she said quietly. The teasing manner was gone. No more merriment. The last few hours had been the most fun she'd had in a while, and more than once she suspected he wanted to kiss her. Pressed against the wall, feeling his solid, muscular body against hers had caused the strangest reaction in her, something she had never felt.

His horse snorted at him, not letting him mount so finally Diantha slipped from her mount. Reaching for the horse's muzzle, she rubbed it gently.

"Good boy," she whispered.

"Amazing. He gets in these moods sometimes and won't let me ride him."

"Animals just require the right touch."

"So do men," he whispered to himself.

"What was that?" she turned to him, face still hidden.

"I have something for you try," he said suddenly, removing his dark gloves and reaching into his pouch. Stepping closer to her, that impish smile on his face. There was something small and white in his hand.

"You left before we could sample of the best confections in the kingdom."

“Really," she said, her knees weakening. She loved sweets. Sometimes she ate too many but the newest rage was chocolate and she adored it.

"Really."

His smooth, gentle fingers held the treat to her lips. Blood pounding in her ears as he got closer. Gentle fingertips touched her soft lips and she opened them to take the candy, barely noticing the well-kept nails and fingers. The thrill that shot through Xander stunned him as his fingertips lingered. The soft moan she emitted told him she loved it. How could he want this woman so much when his future was tied to the princess? A princess that was only a memory and probably had no recollection of him at all?

Diantha let the sweet melt on her tongue. It was almost like chocolate but white, so smooth and soft and sweet.

"I've never had that before," she murmured when all it was gone. Reluctantly he had removed his fingertips.

"It's the newest rage," he was so close.

"It's heavenly." She swallowed hard when she realized this time he was going to kiss her and she was aching inside for him to do so.

"So are you," Xander couldn't stop himself. Nobility be damned, he had to kiss her before he lost his mind. If she had him hunted down and beheaded for being forward than so be it, but he couldn't stare at that beautiful mouth any longer.

Their lips touched and Xander gently drew her to him. The lingering taste of the white chocolate made it only sweeter. Diantha's passion rose with his as she almost lost her balance, happily leaning into him for support. When their tongues touched gently she felt herself soaring. His smooth hand touched the petal soft cheek lightly as the hood slid down. As both had their eyes closed, Xander missed his chance to find the identity of his mysterious companion.

A noise behind startled them and he pulled away, turning instantly to hide her from the onlooker.

"There you are! I have been looking for you-" His brother and best friend stopped when he realized his master wasn't alone. Xander held up his hand, and turned back to see his lady was gone. So was her horse.

"She just vanished. I blinked and she was gone," Romi, his brother said. Xander swore.

"Did you see her face? Hair? Anything?"

"No." Why was his brother so angry? "Who was she?"

"I have no idea. I never got a name," Xander sighed, still feeling the tingle and taste of her.

"I apologize, I didn't know!"

"It's ok. She's not my destiny anyway," Xander sighed, looking off at the moon.

*

Diantha rode quickly, blindly, putting distance between her and the man. It was an old trick she had learned as a child, to throw up a mental wall, essentially, allowing her to slip away. No one ever noticed until she was gone.

That man's kiss had shaken her to her toes, her very soul. Who the hell was he and how could he have that kind of effect on her?

After what seemed like hours of riding around, she found the main road and raced towards the castle. The skyline was tinged with pink, dawn was approaching and if she wasn't in bed by the time Alana came to wake her, an alarm would be raised.

With a smile to the stable boy, she slipped off to the secret passage and ran up the stairs, round the turrets to the portrait in her room. Peeking out, she decided it was safe. Throwing off her clothes and fighting to unlace her boots she shoved them under her bed and dived under the covers. Smiling to herself at the memory of the stranger's kiss, she fell into a deep sleep, haunted by his intense eyes, full mouth and sensuous hands. Suddenly she sat up in bed. His hands. Smooth, well-manicured. Soft, no hard work there. Recognized her as nobility. Bastard! He was nobility himself! Expensive but plain clothes. Educated speech. Who was he? What was a foreign noble doing in her kingdom?

Sleep crashed over her and she dreamed of kissing the stranger again.

It seemed only moments before Alana was shaking her.

"Get up child, you've overslept."

Alana frowned. Her charge had been out later than usual. Alana could tell by the shadows under her eyes. Not enough sleep. What had she been doing?

Diantha groaned. As normal she was sprawled across the bed, deep in sleep. The man had just untied her laces as he pushed her onto the bed, surrounded by candles as he kissed her neck.

"Diantha!"

"Huh?" she sat up, eye bleary.

"Get up or you'll be late for breakfast!"

"Eh, who cares," she fell back against the pillows, trying to capture her dream.

"Diantha, get up. You promised a walk through the gardens."

Alandra. Moaning, Diantha sat up as her younger sister primly sat on the edge of the bed.

"Right, right." She pushed her thick hair back from her face.

*

The sisters' walk through the garden ended up with the pair laying down under Old Rosy, and Diantha falling asleep. Alana winked at her younger charge.

"Too much time out running through the streets," Alana grumbled. Alandra's eyes opened wide." Of course I know, dear. I was your mother's companion too, remember."

"What does Mother have to do with it?" Alandra asked.

"I caught your mother sneaking out many nights to prowl the castle with your father."

"Really?" Alandra's eyes lit up.

"Yes really. I think she was out later than usual."

Alandra giggled. Once Alana was through taking her afternoon nap, she would get the details. Surely Diantha had met someone. All morning she had been dazed, occupied. She hadn't even argued with Father at breakfast.

*

Xander read the royal decree with horror. An auction. His Diantha, his betrothed, to be auctioned for the highest bidder. How dare the King!

Tucked safely into Xander's vest was the original document, sealing the bargain between the Kings. His own father had never torn it up.

A series of royal balls. For three nights, every eligible noble was to try and win her hand.

Let them, he seethed. On the third night, he would appear, royal decree in hand, and demand his bride. The first two nights he would attend, but stay elusive. Observe his betrothed from a distance. She would be proud and haughty no doubt, and poisoned against him by her father, but that was okay. Patience was his virtue and it would make her realize they belonged together. He had seen it so many years ago in her eyes. Their destiny was together. His beautiful princess with the red gold curls.

His thoughts kept turning to his mystery woman. If he closed his eyes he could feel her in his arms again. What if she were at the ball. No doubt there would be plenty of women, mothers, sisters, all the nobility. He would listen for that laugh, look for that fair skin and beautiful mouth. Somehow, he would find her. She had dark hair, but that was common in this land.

*

"He's already sent out the proclamation," Diantha murmured, reading the scroll. "Damn."

"How long do we have?" Alandra asked.

"A few weeks," Diantha sighed.

"What kind of challenge will you present?"

"I'm not sure yet. But I have an idea."

"What?"

"My ring," Diantha twisted the delicate gold band on her finger. Set with a white opal that had streaks of blue and red and green shooting through it.

"Mother's ring?"

"Yes. I'll present the challenge that I'll marry only the man who finds it."

"And just where do you plan to hide it?"

"I'll tie a package to a fox and set him loose," Diantha started laughing.

"First off, it won't work. Some hound will tear that poor little fox up and swallow the ring."

"I didn't say the ring would be in the package," Diantha corrected her sister.

"Where will you put it?"

"I'll swallow it," Diantha said grimly.

"And choke to death most likely!" Alandra shook her head in dismay. "It won't work."

"I'll say it won't. You swallowed a silver coin once as a little girl; it showed up three days later." Alana shook the blanket out. Diantha made a face.

"I'll think of something. I won't be bartered for like a cow. I'll run away first with Alandra."

"Don't speak of such nonsense." Alandra stared into the distance. "We'll think of something."

*

The night of the ball arrived, and the kingdom turned out in all its finery. Silks challenged velvets, medals of honor were brought out polished and shiny, bets placed on the favorites as everyone turned out for the royal ball.

Xander's frustration had mounted to its limit. Nowhere did he hear the laughter he had fallen in love with. Circulating through the clusters of married noble women in their finery, aware he was eyed hungrily by several, he didn't see her. There were plenty of dark haired women, most too heavy to be her, or too short. Her height had impressed him as well.

One by one the remaining royal children had been announced, starting with those old enough to be in public. Several boys, a couple more girls, then. . .

"The Princess Alandra!"

Xander turned and stared. Not his betrothed, but the younger sister, who had been a charming five-year-old giving him roses with a gap-toothed smile.

Adolescence had served her well. Bedecked in an emerald green silk gown, trimmed in gold and white lace, her strawberry blond hair coiffed up and curled, covered in a golden net. Pale skin, deep blue eyes. Elegant carriage, head up.

The cerulean eyes met his and Xander inhaled sharply. His brother's future wife. Romi and she would fall madly in love and have many redheaded children. Yet there was trouble first. She was sad. Despairing.

Men murmured in appreciation at her beauty. A child, Xander thought with horror, and they already lust for her, waiting until she was of age to be auctioned. Rage burned inside of him. This girl would need his protection. Where was his own betrothed? How could it be two sisters connected to two brothers? In a royal family, that was unheard of. Children were bargained with, currency for alliances, never allowed to marry for love.

As the young princess made her way into the ball room, she paused at the end of the red carpet, as trained, her eyes coolly surveying the crowd. Spotting the two good looking young men, close to her age, maybe a little older, making her heart twinge. Her eyes lingered only a second longer before moving onto the next one. She was to speak to no one, under Diantha's order. Alana would be close by at all times. Alandra would retire early.

“Stunning," Romi whispered, already smitten with her. Their eyes had connected for a split second.

"Wonder what Diantha looks like now," Xander murmured.

"I doubt you'll be disappointed, brother," Romi grinned.

As Alandra took her place in the royal lineup of children, the men turned eagerly to the door to wait the arrival of Diantha.

The announcement came and the crowd waited breathlessly. However, no one appeared. After a slight pause, the princess stepped up. Xander hid his smile. Typical princess. Make them wait a little.

Xander lost his breath. Tall, statuesque and stunning. Yards of deep cherry brown hair streamed down her back, held back by her crown. The same fair skin and intense blue eyes as her sister, but the features were more defined by pride and attitude. A fine bridge on the nose, ice cold cerulean eyes swept over the crowd with disdain. Arrayed in deep ocean blue silk with lighter blue velvet time, and gold lace over the gown, her breasts pushed up onto display, almost scandalously low, and from the furious look on the King's face, done on purpose. Around her throat sat a necklace of rich indigo stones, encrusted with diamonds. No doubt part of her dowry, and the matching earbobs.

Head held high, she entered the room, the crowd parting for her. Without another glance to the crowd, she took her place at her father's side.

Xander tried to catch her eyes, to see if the girl had grown up, but she made eye contact with no one.

The dancing began, the music swelling up into the waltz. Icily the princess sat, staring straight ahead. The King murmured to her, but she ignored him.

Finally, a brave young noble approached and asked her to dance. The King glared at her icy demeanor. With a disgusted sigh she rose, took the young man’s hand, and he led her to the dance floor.

Xander hung back, unseen. He did not want to announce his presence yet, let them have their mockery. Besides, he was still hunting for his mystery lady. Every night he dreamed of her, ravaging her body, and woke right before her face was revealed. It was driving him mad.

Now that the Princess had been asked to dance, Xander saw Romi move quickly to ask her sister. Blushing, the girl took his hand. Xander withheld his laughter. This girl had the training of her older sister in posture and mannerisms, but not the confidence of the older redhead. How odd that only the two had red hair, but Xander had heard somewhere the King had been married many times.

Xander’s sharp eyes caught the older man, about the King’s age, staring at Diantha. As if he felt Xander’s eyes on him, he looked in the young man’s direction. Xander sucked in his breath. His man was evil. Treachery in his heart, perversion in his brain. And he wanted the Princess.

*

Alandra knew her face was red, and it was unroyal-like of her, but she couldn't help it. The young man was so handsome and charming, he had such a sweet smile. Beautiful gray eyes and thick dark curls that almost touched his shoulders. She didn't recognize him; was he a foreigner?

"Your beauty rivals that of your sister, Your Highness." he murmured.

"Thank you, but my sister is the prize tonight, not I."

"A pity, for I would make an offer if it were your hand."

Their eyes met and Alandra felt her pulse race. Was this what her sister had felt those weeks ago, sneaking around town with that strange man? Diantha had described the heat that suddenly rushed into her limbs when that man looked at her, her heart wanting to leap from her chest.

"You won't of my sister?"

"No. My brother has interest in her, I am merely here to accompany him. When you entered the room however, I lost all senses, captivated by your radiance."

Alandra blushed some more. She had never been spoken to like this. No boy at court was this charming.

*

The King frowned. Alandra had been dancing entirely too long with that dark haired boy. Who was he anyway?

"Separate them,” he growled to Alana. With a sigh, Alana moved to obey. A pity, for the boy was good looking, moved with the grace of a prince and obviously had Alandra charmed.

"I see your governess is approaching. That is my signal to make a graceful exit." He stepped away and bowed to her.

"Dance with me later?" she asked. The captivating smile appeared again.

"If it is your wish, my Princess." She nodded. "Then it will be."

With an elegant bow to Alana as well, he stepped back into the crowd.

"What a lovely young man," Alandra murmured.

"Come, your father wants you."

Throughout the night, Alandra returned to her withdrawn self as old man after old man danced with her, egotistical dukes and barons spun her through the room, boasting of their achievements and fortunes.

Diantha suffered a similar situation to her sister, with no one to rescue her. Her bad temper grew quickly, and she successfully discouraged a number of men from trying for her hand with biting remarks and sarcasm.

The Baron of Eower, a particular favorite of her father’s, hovered near Diantha, never letting Diantha be more than a few feet away. Diantha ignored his beady, greedy eyes and the big crumbs in his ratty beard.

Finally, at one point she escaped to the terrace, and breathed in the night air.

*

"Your Highness?"

"Alana, I hate it when you call me that."

"Well, it is a formal occasion."

"This is a nightmare." Diantha snapped. "I can't believe this."

"The vultures have already targeted your sister."

"I know. She'll retire after the next dance. I don't know why she hasn't already."

"Perhaps it is the young man she danced with earlier."

"I didn't really notice him." But she had noticed how her sister had suddenly come to life, her cheeks glowing as they danced.

"I think she waits for him to dance again. He was ever so polite."

Diantha grunted. Maybe her sister was young enough to fall in love, but not her! The memory of the stranger's kiss lingered on her lips.

"Ready to go back inside?" Alana asked. Diantha snarled in response, patted her hair carefully and took a deep breath.

"Let's go."

*

Neither saw Romi step out from the shadows.

*

"There is something odd about those two." Xander murmured. Romi had caught him by yet another group of older married duchesses.

"Other than their beauty?" Romi had managed to dance with the Princess twice more before she retired for the night, but her eyes had lingered on Romi as she left.

"Yes. Get ready to go. The party shall be winding down soon and we must depart early. She has yet to see me." Xander had managed to stay out of her line of vision, yet from a distance, watched her all night.

"Did you find your lady?"

"No. But I have two nights left," Xander replied, his eyes scanning the nearby group of women. High pitched giggles, painted mouths. No, his lady was not here.

*

The next night started much in the same manner. Diantha's freezing demeanor unintentionally turned attention to Alandra, who sought out her dark haired admirer. To some, Diantha's attitude was a challenge, and more than a few of the hardened nobles got it in their heads she was a prize all right. For surely a woman that cold in public would be a firecracker in bed.

Dorothea, the older unwed sister, attended the balls, plain and undesirable even in her finery and jewels. Hatred for her younger, beautiful sister ate at her insides. If those two hadn't been born, stolen Father's affection, this would be her ball. She knew she wasn't pretty, but she might have managed a proposal or two, if there wasn't the red headed witch sisters to steal the attention. She remembered their mother well, always murmuring to herself, strange words, especially while pregnant. Sabreen had been kind to Dorothea, but once her own girls were born, Sabreen became so wrapped up in them she forgot the other royal children, as did the King.

Xander had noticed the surly princess and made it a point to follow her, even offering her a drink. Making eye contact, he was almost pushed back by the hatred emanating from her towards his betrothed. This one would marry late, a pity marriage, and give birth only to weak children who would never inherit much. She would die bitter and mean, hating everything life had given her.

Yet Xander managed to make her smile, offered her punch and almost convinced her to dance. Dorothea was almost enjoying herself until she saw the Baron of Eower, the man she had always fancied, panting for her sister. Instantly her mood soured and she retired, not before spilling information unknowingly to Xander about the royal family.

Xander took opportunity to wander the halls, which were open to the guests. Finding himself in a large, richly decorated room, he studied the portraits. They were the only decoration on the walls, but the carpet was thick and well maintained in warm colors, the walls a pale peach. Gilt frames around each portrait. The larger ones of women, the smaller of their children. Xander realized these were the King's wives, and the children by them. There was the redhead. Sabreen. He studied her. Alandra got her delicacy from this woman, both girls the coloring. But there was fire in her eyes, much like the one in Diantha's. The portraits didn't do the girls justice. The artist lacked the ability to truly capture a person. While beautiful, it lacked their character. Different painters for different children. How odd. No royal painter, no official painter to portray the royal family.

Walking through the room, Xander memorized the Queens and their children. Was it irony or favoritism that the biggest portrait was Sabreen, and set in the best position for viewing?

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and without thinking, he slipped behind a heavy, ornate curtain. The large double doors were shut softly.

"You're mad!" came a soft female voice.

"Maybe, but I can't stand it any longer," another voice hissed. Xander strained to hear.

"And tomorrow?"

"The grand finale," Diantha said grimly. It was not her nature to be sour and tight lipped and this act was taking its toll. The King was livid with his daughter and threatening to cut her off without any dowry and marry her to a pig farmer if she didn't change her attitude.

"It's time to retire for you."

If only they weren't whispering! Xander couldn't hear clearly. Had their normal voices been used, he would have recognized his lady's.

"But my admirer-"

"Is just an admirer." Diantha said firmly. "Get his name. Once this over, I can arrange something for you."

"Very well," Alandra said unhappily. Diantha took her sister's face in her hands.

"Landra, I do this for you. Trust in me. Once I'm married I'll arrange for you to meet this young man properly. Get his name and from where he comes."

Alandra nodded, taking tiny consolation. Earlier he had slipped a package into her hand, which she was delighted to realize contained several sweets, her favorite. The girls also shared a passion for sweet food, especially candies. Alandra had asked Alana to hold it for her. Alana nodded with approval, liking this young man. He reminded her of someone, though she couldn't think who, but he was obviously smitten with her younger charge.

*

Romi watched anxiously for his princess to reappear. When only the older one did, his heart fell. Then she appeared, her eyes searching. Starting towards her, he was stopped by a royal guardsman.

"You flatter the wrong sister tonight," the guard said roughly. Annoyed at the interruption, Romi started to answer when the guard cut him off.

"She won't be allowed to marry a nobody. Her future is already set."

With a flash of understanding, Romi knew this guardsman wanted the princess. Talk about a nobody! He was a prince, by the gods, and he could court any princess he chose! Who was this commoner to tell him, Romanoff of Meric, son of Aiden, that he couldn't court a princess?

"I think you overstep your place. I should speak to the King about the rudeness of his servants," Romi snapped, stressing the last word. The words had the desired effect. The guardsman set his mouth in a line and withdrew. Turning back, Romi was dismayed to see the princess being led away, her eyes beseeching him.

*

Diantha allowed herself to enjoy the party finally, amused by the pompous men trying to win her favor. All she wanted was to laugh at them, and vanish into the woods. She could imagine her father's face in the morning, when she couldn't be found. There would be charges of kidnapping, threats of beheading while everyone searched for her. She should take Alana and Alandra and do it tonight.

Maybe appear in a few years, the "lost" princesses. The thought made her burst into laughter.

*

Laughter. Xander froze at the sound. She was here! Turning quickly, he searched for the woman laughing and nearly dropped his punch. Diantha. She was within arms' reach, and it was her musical laughter. His first close look at the princess in eleven years. Yes, that was the mouth that he had so delicately fed the chocolate to, and kissed so hungrily. It was her. His roaming midnight adventuress was none other than his betrothed, the Princess!

So she had a lover in the town, did she. His astonishment turned to disgust. Typical of a royal slut, he thought. No wonder he had fallen so quickly. She knew how to make men want her. Xander turned away, crushed. The fiery spirit was there all right. Out of control. Well, he'd just have to break her will. Once she was his, by marriage. He would demand a guarantee in writing that she be pure and untouched. Then, when it was revealed she wasn't, she would be embarrassed and grateful to leave with him, to start over in his land. She would be treated as she acted, used for breeding to give him healthy, strong children. A mistress could be found if he desired one.

Against his better judgment he stared at her creamy throat, the luscious dark red hair swept up, she was in pale blue velvet tonight, dripping with sapphires and diamonds. Unable to bear the pain in his, heart he retreated outside. He would send her a message.

*

Diantha was tiring out and considering retiring for the night when a page approached shyly.

"Your Highness, I bring you a token of an admirer," he said softly.

"Of course my dear, what is it?"

The page placed a small pouch in her hand and left after a thank you. Amused, she opened it, expecting to see a jewel or other token of affection. Instead a white candy fell out and she froze. Dear gods, he was here! In her castle!

"What is it? You look like you've seen a ghost!" Alana was at her side instantly, terrified by the color her charge had just turned.

"Get me out of here," Diantha whispered.

"The Princess had taken ill. She will be leaving," Alana informed the King and hurried Diantha out of the ballroom.

Xander smiled to himself. She got the message. All color had drained from her face. The game was up, she could be revealed as her harlot self. Xander now had the upper hand.

Trembling, Diantha crawled into her bed. Alandra came in a moment later and joined her sister.

"Alana said something scared you. What was it?"

Diantha held out the candy.

"Candy scared you?" Alandra asked, puzzled.

"The source, Alandra. The man that kissed me. In the town." Diantha hissed. "He gave me one of these. He was there tonight! He recognized me!"

"So? Isn't that romantic?" Alandra smiled happily.

"He thought I was meeting a lover that night! He could stand before the whole court tomorrow night and announce that I have a lover!"

"But you don't."

"It doesn't matter. He could ruin me, Alandra. " Diantha set her head down on her knees. "I don't know how to get out of this one."

"Well, if he forces you to marry him, at least he's good looking," Alandra tried to lighten her sister's mind. Maybe it wasn't a good time to tell her she had sampled that very candy earlier, from her dark haired young man whose name she had yet to catch.

"What have I gotten myself into this time?" Diantha sighed.

*

The third night of the ball began. Diantha had been dressed in shimmering gold silk and lace, cut daringly low and seductive. As she sat while her makeup was applied, she fretted. What would her mystery man do? Denounce her before the court? Demand that he marry her?

As her hair was twisted and braided and curled, Diantha stared into her mirror. May the Gods help her through this night.

Xander knew immediately when she arrived that she was rattled. More beautiful than ever, the calm expression didn't fool him. She was shaking in her royal heels, terrified he would reveal her. Well he would, but not in the way she thought.

Early in the evening Diantha escaped to the rose garden for air. She had to find him. He had to be here.

Lightly touching the bloom on Old Rosy, she inhaled the heady, rich scent enveloping her. There had to be a way out of this mess. She'd take Alana and Alandra tonight, and sneak out. They could be across the border by dawn.

"Is it wise for a Princess to wander alone at night, when the castle is filled with strangers?"

Her eyes flew open at his voice and she turned. Yes, there he was, resplendent in black, his dark hair barely curling above his collar. The eyes were pale gray, she realized, not blue. Nervously she licked her lips, ignoring the taste of the color on them.

"So the fair woman that wanders streets at night, is the rebellious Princess Diantha." The sarcasm was impossible to miss.

"Not what you think," she murmured, staring defiantly at him. Their eyes locked and she stepped backwards. She knew this man. From where? Frantically she searched her memory. There was a connection here.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

The spirit was still strong. She would bear him strong, beautiful children. And she knew him. Not who he was, but she recognized him.

"I am your future. And one who not tolerate midnight walkabouts in the countryside to meet her lovers," he replied sternly.

"I told you then I have no lover!" her temper flared. She wasn't lying, Xander was relieved to see in her eyes, then hit with guilt for automatically assuming so. But what had she been doing out at night?

"You're not sure of who I am," he stepped closer to her, the final streaks of the setting sun lighting her hair up with a reddish gold halo. Somehow he was able to ignore the seductive display of pearly cleavage just below him, but he held her eyes.

"I've met you before. I just don't know where," she murmured.

Gently he took her hand, as he had so many years before.

"Look into my eyes and remember them." he whispered. "I may not see you again for many years, but our paths will cross and we'll belong together afterwards."

With a gasp, she stepped backwards.

"You!"

"Prince Xander of Meric, your betrothed."

Without thinking, Diantha threw her arms around him, and he embraced her tightly. The answer to her problems. She could marry him and save her sister and all would work out in the end.

"Wait!" she pulled away, staring into those pale eyes she now remembered. "My father tore up the contract. Remember? They took you away from me."

"I have the second. There are always two copies, my fair one, my father kept his."

"But how will you-"

"At the end of the ball tonight, when your father announces someone. . .I will step forward with my contract and demand you. You must feign horror at such a bargain. Your father will likely be angry and cause a ruckus. I must get you out of the castle safely. I do not expect your father to allow that to happen."

"There is one thing," she still held him, her hands on his muscled arms.

"Name it and it's yours," he ran his finger over her jaw.

"My sister. Alandra. I promised her once I was married I would take her with me and arrange for her a good marriage. There is a young man here who has caught her fancy-"

"My brother Romi," Xander replied, amused. Diantha laughed. Gods, he loved that sound, and the beautiful throat it came from. Soon enough it would be his to kiss.

"The irony," she murmured.

"I will arrange with Romi to steal your sister to safety. You are my concern. I expect your father will call down his troops upon me."

"Then they will slay me too," she said defiantly.

That damned dream. No more. He was here. The beautiful prince that kissed her so sweetly all those years ago was her mystery man that set her body on fire with that one, dazzling kiss.

"No, my love. I will get you out safely. Now, you must return to the party before they realize you're gone."

"But you-"

"I've been watching you the last two nights. I'm never very far."

Xander pulled her close and touched his lips to hers gently. Anything more and he could not be sure he would remain a gentleman.

*

Diantha returned to the ball, dazed and much happier. The King wasn't sure what had happened, but the men were still interested in her. Good. This whole thing had been a nightmare. Too bad that contract had fallen apart years ago. He could have been spared this nonsense and expense and her ill temper.

He had already decided the Baron of Eower would be her husband. Solid man, not too old, good fortune, loyal. The King didn't know of Eower's debts and three mistresses kept in lavish apartments. Eower had been attentive to Diantha all three nights, ogling her breasts and jewels.

Tonight, at the end of the ball, he would announce that Eower had asked for her hand and would receive it.

*

Diantha held back her disgust as the Baron of Eower hovered over her. He had crumbs of something in his beard and a wine stain on his doublet. Repulsive man, as old as her father almost, and walked with a limp he claimed was from war but everyone knew it was an injury from the husband of a mistress, years ago. If he didn't stop staring at her breasts, Diantha would be tempted to hit him.

Only a few hours and she would be with Xander, a thought that made her heart race. Would she feel the things that the servant girls whispered of in the hallways? Would he do those acts with her that made the scullery maid blush so? Diantha could only hope.

*

"I don't know the secret passages," Alandra murmured to Romi.

"But I do."

Alandra gasped as Alana stepped from the shadows. Alandra stepped in front of Romi, as if to conceal the tall young man.

"Alana! Don't tell father!" she begged.

"Why would I? Now my pet, this is what we will do." Alana said firmly, surprising the young pair.

*

The party was in full swing when Alandra retired for the night. Rumours were flying she was ill and had no strength. That her sister, her only tie to her mother, would be married off shortly and sent away, safely under the control of her new husband. Her waxen complexion fueled the fires, that she was sick at the leaving of her sister, and soon she would be the next auctioning chip.

The King took a swig of his wine happily. Soon he would announce the winner, the Baron of Eower. While the Baron thought he would have a claim on the throne eventually, the King would take care of that. He had no intention of dying any time soon, let alone allow someone as lowly as a Baron to rule his kingdom. Besides, he had several sons, all in good health and ready to take over.

Diantha would be out of his hair. While he would miss his favorite child terribly, she had simply become too much to handle. The Baron would snap her into line easily enough. What a waste of money, he thought. And good wine and ale. The nobility of his kingdom were thoroughly drunk and loving every minute of it. The younger royal children had been put to bed, secret lovers were slipping off to meet for a quick rendevous in the rose garden. If that garden could talk, the King mused, what tales would it tell? Plenty of his own debauchery and antics.

*

Nervously Diantha sipped her wine. Eower wouldn't leave her alone for a minute. Finally, professing the age old womanly excuse, she slipped away. She hadn't seen Xander for hours. Surely he would come for her. He had promised. Not once, but twice. Her insides fluttered at the thought of the kiss they shared on the last moon. What other delights would he give her? So handsome, he had grown up so well. That elegant manner, the hidden smile, as if he was entertaining a secret joke. . .

Peeking through a tiny hole in the secret passage, she watched the guests. As young girls, she and Alandra had snuck down to watch the festivities they weren't allowed to attend. Once Diantha had seen her parents giggling and laughing and undressing each other. Bored, she had continued on her way. Once she was older she understood what she had witnessed, she wondered now if Xander would do that to her. Removing her clothes while kissing her, running his hands over her. The thought made her tingle.

There he was. Diantha's heart fluttered at seeing his tall frame. Then her heart crashed as she realized he was doting on an older noblewoman. What madness was this? Who was the wrinkled old hag that had captured his attention?

Xander felt a burning gaze in his back and casually turned, scanning the room. His eyes landed on a portrait of the king, and rested there briefly. Raising his goblet in a secret salute to his princess, he winked as he took a sip, then turned back to his companion.

Diantha almost giggled out loud. He knew she was there. What a pair they would be if they could connect like that all the time. A Game was being played, the courtly game of flirtation, nothing more. He was hers.

Her father was seeking her out, she could see the big man looking for her. With a sigh and a straightening of her golden dress, she slipped into the side hallway and glided back into the room. Showtime.

*

The King signaled Diantha to his side. There had been no discussion with her of who her husband was to be. She had no say in the matter, so why upset her? Sure the Baron was his age, not that bad looking, wealthy enough to not pilfer her dowry and with the temperament needed to reign in his disobedient daughter.

The trumpets sounded and the room hushed, everyone turning to see who the lucky man was. Bets had been placed, highest odds on the Baron of Eower, who had been seen whispering closely with the King these last nights of the ball.

"My good people," the king began. "These last few evenings were arranged in honor of my daughter, the Princess Diantha," there was thunderous applause. "I arranged them in order for her to select a husband."

Auction me off like a damn cow! she thought to herself, fake smile pasted on her face. A gentle laughter filled her head. While Xander couldn't be seen in the crowd, she knew it was him.

"The choice has been made, and I welcome the Baron of Eower to the royal family." Applause rippled through the courtroom. "As such I-"

"Forgive me, your Highness," a strong, baritone voice called out. Startled by the interruption, the King paused. Aghast that someone would interrupt their king, the crowd turned to find the person. "But I fear that will be impossible."

Xander strode forward confidently.

"Who are you and how dare you interrupt my daughter's-"

"I am Prince Xander of Meric, son of Aiden and I have come to claim what is mine. Namely, the Princess Diantha." The dashing young man came forward, in full princely regalia, including a sword at his side, his dark hair combed neatly. His family crest was borne on the right shoulder of his uniform. The ladies murmured in appreciation.

The crowd gasped, Diantha allowed her mouth to fall open in false shock. She turned to her father, glaring at him.

"What is this? You auctioned me off before I was born?" she demanded. The King recovered from his own astonishment.

"That contract was torn up in this very room!" he bellowed. "You lost your claim years ago!"

"On the contrary, your highness, I have the second copy here, which is one hundred percent valid, as your Council will attest." Xander held out the rolled parchment.

*

At the same time, Alana hurried Alandra into the hidden passages. She carried two satchels, basic necessities for the girls and money, a few jewels the king wouldn't miss, should they need extra currency.

"Follow me, my child," she whispered. Alandra did so, heart pounding. Providing Xander got Diantha out, they would be reunited in the woods, where her darling Romi waited. She was dressed in plain men's clothes, her hair bound back tightly, a long hooded cloak covering her face.

The darkness and damp air of the tunnels made her uneasy, but Alana was confident in where she was going. Without hesitation, Alandra followed her governess.

*

The ballroom was in an uproar. The Council studied the contract. The audience whispered in anticipation.

"Your Highness," one said timidly.

"I will not allow it!" he bellowed. "I will not allow you to have her!"

"But you'll allow me to be given away to a man your own age who keeps mistresses around the towns, is up to his ears in foreign debts and has the table manners of a pig?” Diantha burst out, temper taking control. Xander tried to send her warning thought to be quiet. She could blow his cover.

“I-I-“ the King stammered as the Baron flushed an unpleasant shade of red.

“Harlot,” he muttered. Unfortunately the King heard.

“You insult my daughter?” he roared. The Baron paled.

“You’re surprised? At least this man is young and good looking, Father. And a prince in his own right unlike this. . . man,” she sneered the last word, a pointed gaze at the Baron. The crowd began to laugh. The King, flustered and unsure what to do, made a fast decision.

“My daughter goes with neither man.”

Xander raised one eyebrow. The old King still bore the grudge against his father. A simple mistake in translation caused all this. But what was he thinking now? Xander had to anticipate the King’s next move.

“I will select for her a different husband,” he announced. Diantha looked at Xander. What now?

“If you will listen to your councilmen there, Your Highness, I believe you can not do that.”

“He - is right.” The older man said timidly. “This is authentic. That’s your signature, signet and seal. By your own law, this is a valid and binding agreement.”

“Then I shall change the law!” he roared. “Your father was the rudest, most arrogant man I ever met! He insulted my wife!”

“I believe there was a translation mistake.” Xander said coolly. “You were too pigheaded to listen.”

The crowd gasped. Their King had just been insulted by this upstart. Some of the old guard chuckled, delighted to see someone finally challenge the throne. It would be good for the King, to deal with this young man.

“Your daughter is betrothed to me. And if your men read on, they’ll see the clause that there is no way out of it, short of a mutual agreement between myself and the Princess. Who I believe finds me the more agreeable choice of the two. And I find her rather lovely myself, and will not agree to anything but her as my wife.”

Diantha hid her smile. “Ever so polite” had been how Alana described him. Polite, hell! He was charming and eloquent and charismatic and Diantha once again felt her heart flutter. She couldn’t wait to be alone with him, explore that dashing figure before her, resplendent in his uniform.

The King grunted in response. How dare this boy come in here, demanding his daughter in front of all these people! What god had overheard his thought that it would have been easier had that contract been valid and sent the boy?

“I have a grand idea, sir. Why don’t you allow Diantha to decide for herself?” he asked.

“A girl? A girl cannot be trusted with such a decision!” he declared.

Diantha stepped forward, fists clenched in anger. That did it.

“Your problem, Father, is that you have no control here.” She announced.

Xander knew if he didn’t get her to shut up, she could ruin everything and get them both killed.

“Hush, girl,” The King growled.

“No. That contract says you sold me to this many years ago. For whatever reason you changed your mind, but that contract stands. You choose to sell me to this vile old man instead? Well I refuse and I choose him.” She pointed at Xander. “If the contract says I marry him, than marry him I shall.”

The King swallowed. He as trapped and he knew it. Baron Eower was furious and humiliated. Of course, the alliance between the two countries would be beneficial. She was doing this out sheer spite. He knew it! Damn her! As willful as her mother had ever been. Ok. He’d play her game.

“Then go.” He conceded. “Leave right now and don’t ever come back. Young man, you want her, you can have her and I wish you the best of luck because you need it!” She wouldn’t leave right now, not without packing her bags and saying good bye to Alandra.

“Fine.” Diantha snapped. “Then I’ll go with him and be out of your way and may the gods have mercy on your other children!”
Xander held out his hand and Diantha took it. As they swept toward the door the crowd parted instantly. Hearts pounding, they approached the entrance. A few more steps and they’d be free. Xander’s other hand rested on an ornate sword hilt.

“Sire! Princess Alandra has disappeared!” A guard appeared at the King’s side, panting from running at top speed. It was Alandra’s admirer who had threatened Romi earlier. It was his nightly custom to stroll past the Princess’ rooms, and tonight he had heard no giggling or laughing and the room door was slightly ajar.

Calling to the princess, he opened the door and found the room empty. The old governess was nowhere to be found.

“Her nursemaid is gone, too.” he gasped.

“Stop them!” the King bellowed. “He kidnapped my daughter!”

The confused guards just stared at the King. The King had just told her to leave with the stranger.

“My other daughter! The Princess Alandra!” the King hollered. “Mutiny! Stop him!”

At the first yell, Xander sprinted forward, pulling Diantha behind him. The guards began to close in but he ran, pulling her behind him. Turning at the entrance he pulled his sword and slashed the cord holding the heavy curtain, easily slicing through it. It came down on the guards, slowing them down and confusing them.

“They weren’t supposed to know she was gone,” he muttered. Had his brother been able to get her out? What if they were caught? His brother would be killed, Alandra either locked up or exiled. Neither was a cheerful situation.

“Down this way.” Diantha took the lead into a side hallway and touched a portrait. It swung out. “Get in.”

Xander pulled the portrait behind them just in time. Guards filled the hallway, shouting orders, cursing. Gasping for breath, Diantha realized he had pushed her against the wall, just like that night on the town, in the streets, to cover her body from being seen. But there was no one to see them here.

“I’ll lead us out,” she murmured, close enough to smell the masculine scent of wood on him.

Xander looked down at the beautiful woman in his arms, her hair slightly out of place, exposed breasts heaving, and gently lowered his lips to hers. Without hesitation she slipped her arms around his neck and held onto him, eagerly meeting his passion with her own. Finally, regrettably, he pulled away.

“We have to escape. I promise there will be more of that,” he whispered. Dazed from the intensity of their kiss, Diantha nodded. “Let’s go, my love.”

Silently she took his hand and they disappeared into the walls of the castle.

*

“There are secret passages that come out here in the courtyard, the kitchen and the library. Cover them.” The King snapped. He knew there were more but after Sabreen’s death, he had forgotten so many. Too long ago, too many years ago he had chased her through those tunnels, making love to her against the stone walls like a commoner.

“There is no sign of the younger princess, sire. It’s as if she just vanished.”

“Damn!” the King slammed his fist on the table. “She must have used the passages as well. Damn that Diantha!”

And the old woman. Alana. Sabreen’s best friend. This was his payback. He had married too quickly after Sabreen’s death. The old woman had plotted all these years, to steal away his children. She would be flogged to death. The boy, too. Diantha would have to watch and then she’d be exiled to the farthest end of the earth, her sister sent to the other.

Where would she go, where would she go? Diantha didn’t know that the King knew of all those passages. Surely she hadn’t been able to find all of them. More than likely she would head for the courtyard, but his men would be waiting for them. If she slipped by them, into the rose garden, she’d have an easy line to the forest, and they could be gone quickly enough to reach the border. Then they would be lost to him.

Damn that Prince. As wily as his father, stopping at nothing. And Diantha, that scheming little brat, knew what was going on! That’s why it was so easy for her to walk away! She knew her sister was already out of the castle!

“Catch her before she gets to the garden,” he grunted.

The garden. A passage entrance right under Old Rosy. That’s why Sabreen had it planted there; to cover the entrance so it was her ‘secret’.

“The garden. Send all troops to the garden," he said excitedly.

*

Diantha took a deep breath and pushed on the wall. It gave, swinging out. With a sigh of relief she was amazed to see it opened to the rose gardens. She had turned wrong somewhere. And she was right under Old Rosy. Still dazzled from his embrace, she had miscalculated her turns.

“All these years, this was the entrance I was looking for.” she murmured. “Right in front of me.”

“No time for sentimentality, my love,” he said in her ear. “I’ll plant you an even bigger garden but we must flee if we plan to live through this.”

“Of course,” she gathered up her skirts again and they ran towards the forest.

Her shoes were soft slippers, not made for running over rock and rough terrain. Her hair had long slid from its elegant coif, but she didn’t care.

Through the garden they went, headed for the woods to meet Romi, Alandra and Alana.

Xander took the lead, having marked the path last night. One hand to his mouth he made a loud bird call that was answered promptly.

“They’re here.”

Moments later the siblings were reunited. The waiting three sat on horseback, two more horses ready and waiting. Alana gave Diantha a warm cloak to cover herself and Xander helped her onto the horse.

“The guards are after us. Ride fast,” Xander said grimly. They could hear the uproar in the garden as the horses took off. The King had good horses and if they found a trail. . .

*

“They headed for the woods!” one shouted. In his hands he held a scrap of golden fabric. The guards rushed into the forest, some on foot, some on horse, all arms and wanting to reach the fugitives first, to gain favor with the King and possibly a title or land.

The King himself was mounted to horseback, ready to chase them down.

*

The five had a good head start and rode until dawn, as they approached the border. There was no way the King could have reached his neighbor in time, and had guards dispatched. They passed easily through the gates and raced towards the other side. It would take several days to reach a neutral territory before continuing on towards Meric.

*

Once Xander was assured of their safety, they slowed their pace and traded for fresh horses. Diantha was all too eager to ditch her gown and wear her old men’s clothing. The dress sold for a good amount of silver, it could be reused or cut up and remade.

Having camped near a river, the girls bathed first, the boys guarded by Alana to keep from prying. Afterwards they bathed as well, everyone was covered in dust and grime from hard travel.

*

“I apologize for a lack of hot water and fragrant soaps,” Xander teased her late that night. They had taken a walk, but not allowed to go far. Alana was chaperoning the younger set, after swearing both Xander and Diantha to behave themselves properly. Diantha didn’t care, she was with her Prince and free and he loved her. The moment their lips first touched, after he had seductively placed that piece of candy on her lips, she had fallen completely in love.

“I don’t care. I’m clean again, that’s the important part,” she laughed. He drew her close.

“I’ve dreamed of that laughter every night since we met,” he murmured, kissing her neck lightly.

“Really,” Diantha was lost in the shivering sensation he was causing her. One strong hand was on her back, holding her against him, the other winding her long hair around it.

“Yes, I dreamed of holding you. I didn’t know you and her were the same until the ball.”

“So you kissed some strange woman,” she giggled.

“You weren’t strange to me.” Their lips touched and their bodies magnetically moved together. Diantha wanted him to undress her, caress her bare skin with those strong hands.

“I can’t” he whispered hoarsely. “We’re not wed yet.”

“You can hear me,” she murmured.

“Believe me, I want to but not until we’re properly wed.”

“When will that be?” She looked up at him with those big seductive eyes and Xander almost retracted his vow.

“As soon as we can find someone to marry us.” His finger ran down her spine, causing her to shiver. “Then you’re mine.”

“I’m yours already,” she breathed, bolding kissing his neck. The surprise move startled him and he tightened his hold on her, pinning her against a tree.

“Do that again and I’ll not be able to restrain myself,” he moaned. “Woman, you’ll drive me mad.”

Diantha giggled. If only she wasn’t royalty, there would be no need for propriety.

“Even if you’re weren’t, I wouldn’t take you here in the woods like a commoner,” he murmured. “You deserve a palace and will receive it. Silken bed, candles, wine.” He kissed her soft neck again.

“I’m glad it’s dark, so you can’t see how red my face is. Thoughts are private you kno,.” she teased.

“Even when we share them?” His lips tickled her ear and Diantha wanted to scream with delight. She had never felt such a rush of feeling through her body before and all he had done was kiss her a few times. “I promise, my love, on our wedding night, you’ll enjoy everything I do to you.”

“You speak so confidently,” she laughed.

“Our love is true, that makes it all the more intense.” He kissed her again, teasing her gently with his tongue.

“Rogue,” she whispered, grateful for the support of the tree because her knees were so weak. Chuckling, he kissed her again. “Xander, why did you send me the candy at the ball? I almost died of horror.”

Xander sighed, he had hoped she wouldn’t ask. Running his fingertips over her cheek gently, he kissed her ever so lightly. “I thought you had a lover. And once I figured out you were the same woman I kissed in the street – remember I never saw your face – I was furious. I sent it as a message that I could expose you. That I knew your secret. I sent it to scare you, my love, and I beg your forgiveness.”

“Xander- the night we met- I wasn’t meeting a lover. I’ve never had a lover. I was bored and had to get out of the castle, that’s all. I’ve never been with a man,” she said earnestly.

“I know, my love. And forgive me for thinking such horrible thoughts about you. I know better now.” He stared into her eyes. “That first night I knew you were nobility, by your attitude and mannerisms. But I never dreamed you were the Princess, my Princess. I thought you were an older woman, and I didn’t realize your hair was red, I thought it was brown. So it took me a while to find you. I heard you laugh and it all came together.” He brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead. “Then I knew we were meant to be together.”

Diantha leaned her head against his shoulder, reveling in his love. He ran his hands over her silken hair.

“We have to go back. Any longer and Alana will come hunting us to make sure your virtue is still intact.”

“Of course,” she smiled up at him.

“Let’s go back to camp. As soon as we reach Meric, we’ll be wed and then,” he touched her face lovingly, “I’ll show you what love is really about.”

Diantha laughed and brushed her lips against his lightly. “I can’t wait.”

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