Hartikesh

Anthony made his way down the corridor, eager to see Nena. He’d wasted an entire day on those people, when he should have been…he’d never once thought about his books at all today. One thought nagged at him, he never should have allowed himself to be alone with the woman. That had been a mistake, one that would come back to haunt him. One he realised with a grin, he knew Nena would reprimand him for the moment she learnt of the lapse.
He was seriously looking forward to that.
***
Nena looked out at the sky outside, her frown deepening. The guards and the nurse were refusing to allow her to leave the palace until the Prince gave her permission. She didn’t like being kept a prisoner and she’d let them know it immediately. When Aaron…Prince Anthony finally appeared, she let him know as well in no uncertain terms, kidnapping the woman who saved your life was not proper behaviour. She needed to check on her shop and her clients.
What could she have been thinking, accepting her King’s request to teach his son’s lesson’s in manners. The brat was spoiled goods, and nothing she could do would was worth the pain she’d inflicted upon herself.

Hartikesh

2 years ago:

Lance stepped into the tavern heavily. The dirt on his boots falling onto the hardwood flooring with each footfall. He had just returned from riding on the forests northern ridge, the bandits there had been troublesome of late. All being fair, it was not his job to patrol the ridge, he was no palace guard nor foot soldier, but the ridge was the trail used by tradesmen, and he desperately needed the iron ore they were bringing into the village. What kind of blacksmith could work without Iron?

He trudged over to the counter, already filled with the local villagers. The air filled with the stench of sweat and the sound of laughter and cursing. He received a few nods as he approached the bar, the locals knew him well. After all, he was the one who re-shoed their horses, and crafted their swords.

"How goes the patrolling Lance?" Asked one of the locals, an older man, 'Henry' Lance believed he was named.

"It goes poorly, these bandits have good sense, and know how to conceal themselves well."

It was no secret he went patrolling in the woods, the locals not only knew, but they were encouraged by it. After many years crafting steel and blade, Lance had become adept at swordplay. They knew he could take on more than his fare share of armed assailants, even without the use of a blade.

Many times he had been asked to join the guardsmen, but he preferred the simple life, his wife and child were all the responsibility he craved.

He drank alone in the noisy tavern, bothered only by the serving wenches who came to refill his tankard on occasion. It was getting late into the evening when the alarm was sounded.

He stared up in shock, the shrill sound cutting through the cool night air. Granville, the local guardsman burst through the doorway, breathing heavy, blood streaking his face.

"Invaders..." he gasped, clutching at his chest "...from the north" He crumpled to the floor, blood trickling from his mouth. It was clear from the torn chain mail and bloodstained undergarments that Granvill had been run through from behind. A terrible death for one so young.
"Damn!" Lance yelled, running for the door, the hilt of his sword gripped firmly in his palm. His domicile and shop were on the North side of the village, and Shannon was alone with William!

As he reached the door, Granvill's hand wrapped around Lance's ankle, his horror filled eyes staring up into his own "They're not human....not human" Then, the screaming began.

Present Day:

Nena Micheva sat at her window watching the Palace wondering when the Prince would leave so she could put her plan into motion. She couldn't very well teach him the lesson his Father wanted him to learn if he didn't, could she?

She went over everything she knew about him. "Anthony Aaron Clarence," ewwwww, "Royal Prince of Hartikesh. Spoiled to the bone, prim and proper in all things artistic. Never touched a blade, or had any form of exercise, that didn't involve a book." Scanning through her notes with disgust she knew she had to find some redeemable quality or she would never be able to pull this off. Ahhh there it was. "Excelled as a fencer and the best strategist this Kingdom has ever seen. Too bad we've never had a war."

***
Lady Adrianna Rose Alvaraldith walked quickly through the Palace gardens. There would be a hot bath and a change of clothing waiting in her rooms. Her gown was ruined, his Lordship Reginald Buttler Ashfaught had caught up with her in the hedge maze and pulled her into a secluded dead end. All her arguments and complaints meant naught to him, it was off with the hose and on with the sex. She never should have accepted his help when her lord had died.

The bath was still warm as Rianna yanked the dress off and kicked her shoes across the floor. The servants had all gone to bed, they knew she liked her privacy at night, they also knew that her "visitors" only showed up after they left. She was supposed to have a visitor tonight but she'd missed him already.
"Damn Reggie!" she hissed.

"Is something not to your liking Lady?"
The masculine voice startled Rianna, she let out a yip and turned so fast that water sloshed over the side and soaked her soiled dress. She watched the shadow come close until she identified it as Lord Glendon. So he didn't leave after all, good. Rianna lifted her arms to pull the pins from her hair.
"Everything is to my liking now."

***
Anthony sat in his rooms a book open in his lap. But today he just couldn’t seem to concentrate on it, his attention keep wandering to the window. The Lords thought he was a fool, let them.

Normally he enjoyed his garden Maze view but today that view disgusted him. He watched as Lord Ashfaught followed one of the Ladies into the Maze, staying there a time to later exit a smile of satisfaction on his face and the Lady follow but moment later her dress in tatters a frown covering her beautiful face. But unless she came forward there was nothing he could do. Nothing he wanted to do. To get himself involved without being asked was trouble.

Putting the book aside, he got up and paced. Maybe a trip into the city come morning was due, he hadn't gone into the city since his father left and he could use a few new books.

Decision made he stripped out of his clothing and slipped into bed, to dream of the one. The one that had been haunting his dreams for the last year.

***
“Billy, do a dance!” Isabelle giggled with pleasure as the besotted wolfhound obligingly circled in front of his mistress.

“Who’s a good boy?” She ruffled his ears lovingly; grinning like a schoolgirl as he very carefully took the cube of steak from her gloved fingers.

When she’d first married Glendon, her fingers had been constantly bruised and tender from his dogs’ ill-mannered snatching. That she’d been able to change their ways at all was a source of permanent satisfaction, but that she’d taught Billy and Sasha to ‘sit’, ‘stand’, ‘go away’, ‘come’, ‘heel’, ‘dance’, ‘jump’ (on, over or under), ‘search’ and of course, ‘talk’…Well, that was something she’d probably best keep secret.

Thankfully, they steadfastly refused to listen to any command Glendon gave them, other than ‘fuck off’ and ‘get the bastard’ (the only commands he gave with any consistency or reward).

She sighed heavily and resolutely steered her thoughts away from her absent husband, patting George in reassurance. The poor spaniel had known three things when he’d been given to her and had managed to learn only two more with her: He’d arrived knowing how to sit perfectly still, have a bath, and yap, annoyingly. She’d managed to teach him how to be silent, and how to retrieve her music sheets from beneath Glendon’s sleeping head, without disturbing him. For that feat alone, he was forgiven his natural stupidity.

Sasha sighed, noisily, while Billy extended a hopeful paw in the direction of the treat bowl.

“Yes, you are very good dogs. All of you!” She stood, tumbling George to the floor with a muted yelp, and threw the remaining meat between the three dogs before removing her bloodstained gloves.

She walked quickly to the bedroom, pushing down the rising sense of irritation. Tonight was no different from any other, and she knew she benefited from her excellent sleeping arrangements…more alert in the morning, clear complexion, youthful appearance…Bloody cold in bed.

There was a bustle as Emily entered, eyeing her mistress cautiously before giving a tentative smile. Isabelle sighed heavily: She should never have cried in front of the woman. She would have to appear all happiness and light for months, now, or she’d have the local witch by her bed with some idiotic peasant ‘tonic’, reassuring her the parsley would cure her indigestion at the same time as saving her marriage. Probably.

She smiled brightly and stood motionless while Emily tugged her dresses free, allowing her thoughts to wander back to Glendon: Horace, as she should probably think of him. No, who was she kidding: Glendon.

She had faced the truth many months ago: Her love, even her sympathy for her errant husband had slowly died. The initial excitement of a ‘roguish’ husband had waned soon after they’d married, when she realized he seldom volunteered affection without some reminder of his dependence – initially, a passing comment would suffice. Lately…Isabelle winced at the memory of their last ‘conversation’.

Still, at least he was generally reliable: Performed his duties at court, was publicly attentive whenever they appeared together, and the rest of the time…Well, he seemed to spend it gambling, going by the amount of coinage she had released. Or picking fights, going by the number of complainants she paid off. Both were entirely respectable occupations for a man of court, of course. But it was scarcely a noblewoman’s dream, to spend her life paying her husband’s debts…

Still, Glendon had said, even before they married, that men did have different needs to women…and consulting with Lady Alvaraldith, in a brief moment of insecurity, she had learnt that most women went to bed alone, and only saw their husbands when they woke in the morning…and most women weren’t as fortunate, or clever as her, to be so interested in dogs and music…

Still…

***
Glendon came forward, pulling at his cloak pin and Rianna thought fast. She really wasn't in the mood for another encounter tonight but she needed Glendon's backing. Stall him, she thought, get him so worked up he loses control and finishes before he's begun. Then she could get some sleep tonight and be up early to catch the Prince on his morning walk.

Glendon's cloak hit the floor and Rianna put a wet hand on his chest, "Wait, go slowly. I want to watch you in the firelight." She saw his eyes light with excitement as he walked around the shallow tub to stand on the rug in front of the fire.

Rianna encouraged him with a nod and lifted the washcloth out of the water. She let the cloth trail across her body and Glendon caught on and matched her pace. She washed her shoulders and he unbuttoned his shirt. Dipping the cloth in the warm water, Rianna let the trickles of scented water run over her breasts and Glendon pulled his shirt over his head. He reached for his belt and looked at her, her hand with the cloth going lower to wash her navel. The belt was loose and gone in an instant making Rianna shake her head ever so slightly, letting him know she was in no hurry.

Glendon only growled under his breath as he played along, unfastening his trousers slowly. He nearly stopped altogether as she dipped the cloth in the water again and this time she mirrored her movements with his. Her hand drifted across her belly and followed Glendon's as he pushed the confining material down his legs. He did have nice legs Rianna thought, and he was learning what it really meant to please a woman. In time he could be an excellent lover.

Rianna squeezed that last of the water out of the cloth and let it drop into the tub. Her hand stayed where it was and Glendon's eyebrows rose even as the smile nearly split his face. He watched, fascinated as Rianna teased him, running her fingers through the curly patch of hair between her legs. Rianna could see the beads of sweat on his forehead and the faint sheen on his upper lip.

Stepping out of the cooling water, Rianna held out her hand for him. He caught hold of her hands and pulled her forward onto the rug. His mouth swooped down on hers as he maneuvered them both to the floor. Rianna wrapped her legs around his waist and urged Glendon into place with her hand on his erection. He settled into a rhythm and she could tell he was trying to hold back. It was sweet that he was trying but she had no intention of keeping this up for hours.

Rianna's hands drifted down to his hips and her mouth found the sensitive area where his shoulder met his neck. Her teeth bit down lightly on the spot at the same time her nails ran over the smooth skin on the inside of his pelvis. She heard Glendon's intake of air and felt his body go stiff as he tried to fight the sensations and failed. With a curse through his clenched teeth his body stiffened and she felt the pulse of his orgasm. His larger body drooped to lay over hers, breath ragged as he spoke, "I could've gone a bit longer Love."

"I'm sorry Glennie, I couldn't help it." After a few moment of lying there with his body covering hers, Rianna urged him to lift his weight from her then slipped out from under him. She helped him dress and they only talked for a few minutes before Rianna made tired noises and Glendon excused himself. She was tired but she wasn't going to sleep with the scent of a male on her skin. Once more she washed in the bathwater, shivering until she crawled under the comforter.

***
Nena Started to wonder if she’s have to fabricate an excuse to get the Prince to come out of hiding. The boy didn’t even walk in the gardens or enjoy the Maze. “Doesn’t he ever get fresh air?” She thought aloud exasperated.

“Really Witch, you shouldn’t speak to yourself out loud. Some folk might think you’re up to no good.”

With a sigh Nena turned towards the old man who ran the shop next to hers. He was new to Hartikesh and didn’t understand her position in society.

“No Mister Nulty really, everyone knows I’m Harmless.”

“Perhaps dear girl, but between you and me, I stand a better chance of being believed. I am the normal one after all.”

“Threaten me all you will Mr. Nulty, I will never accept your ludicrous proposition. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to finish for the King.”

“You will be mine pretty Nena. You’ll be warming my bed very soon.”

“Not while I still have breath in my body you disgusting old man.”

The anger blaring in her eyes caused him to step back, falling from the stoop he’d climbed on to better make his proposal, well his threat really. He’d desired the witch for months now and he was determined to get her one way or another. He’d seen the number of men who entered her shop, not all of them left immediately. One even stayed for hours, true he was new to the royal city but he knew a whore’s shop when he saw one. No matter what his neighbor’s told him, there was no way the ancient old man who’d thrown a bag of gold at her was the King.

***
Glendon hesitated, hand on the door to his wife’s bedchamber, and tried to recapture the stray thought that had been dancing around the corners of his mind since he’d entered their apartments.

The thought came to him with a rush, as he pushed the door open: A large, grey haired, gaping mouth pulled to a halt at the last minute and cringed apologetically at his feet. The dogs: What were his dogs doing in his wife’s bedroom?

He held the door open and watched impassively as Billy padded through the doorway then frowned, looking into the room for the second hound. He saw her immediately, the lazy bitch: Lying curled up in the nook of his wife’s bent legs, head resting on the shallow depression above her ankles; pale, yellow eyes staring across the room towards him. He growled in anger, watching as the dog yawned, insolently, before slowly descending to the floor and walking past with a pronounced swagger.

A pronounced swagger? What the hell was he thinking?

He shook his head. Rianna was driving him insane, the witch, with her teasing and untouchable beauty; ignoring his every effort to hold her, contain her, keep her under his control. She had him doubting his ability to control anything, had him imagining defiance from his men, even his dogs.

He scowled, eyeing the slight outline of his sleeping wife. At least he knew his lack of control with her was not imagined. Every penny she pushed in his direction was accounted for, and paid for in full, with the endless stream of public performances she expected from him, her ‘loving’ husband. Every night, he fought the urge to confront her, knowing that to do so would close the coffers he depended upon. Every day, he spent pushing the humiliation of their relationship from his mind. Every candle mark, he spent unable to scratch the irritation of her mere presence in his life; every moment of every day, he spent tormented – every moment, except those he spent with Rianna.

Rianna. He closed the door and walked the short distance to his own bedchamber, playing over and over in his mind the feel of her skin, the sound of her decadent laughter, the look in her eye when he pleased her. Rianna. He groaned out loud as he sank onto his bed, covering his face with his hands as he tried to breathe in the last traces of her scent on his fingers.

***
From her bedchamber, Isabelle let her breath out slowly, relaxing only as she heard the latch fall on the door to Glendon’s room. Thank the gods; he hadn’t stood in that confounded doorway any longer, eyeing her with those stupid, despairing eyes of his. What did he expect her to do? Wake up and tell him she’d hand over all her estates and be gone by the morning? Or better yet, wake up dead?

She shivered, and held an unresisting George a little closer for comfort.

***
Anthony looked up from his book for the firth time. His mind refused to concentrate; he’d been reading the same page for an hour. He was feeling restless, yet he couldn’t explain why. “Maybe a walk in the gardens will burn off some of this energy, then I can get back to my book.”

“My Prince I must object to that plan of action, it isn’t safe.”

“Severus you are my Aide, not my keeper. I’ll be back soon.”

“But my Prince...”

Ignoring the pleas, Anthony set off towards the exit. He reached the garden and felt his shoulders start to unknot. Feeling better than he had, he set off for a secluded section of the garden where he could be left alone to enjoy a little freedom.

He chose a comfortable looking place amid the rose bushes, leaned himself back against the lone tree and closed his eyes. There was something missing in his life, he just didn’t know yet what it was.

But he was unhappy with his life. He felt stifled, edgy and knew there was something he should be doing but what?

“My Lord Prince.”

With a sigh he opened his eyes and looked up at the woman before him. She looked familiar, but from where? “Yes my Lady, how may I help you?”

“Actually my Prince I was wondering if perhaps I might help you?”

Anthony was intrigued. “How exactly can you do that?”

“In anyway you wish my Prince.”

Nena watched as always from the shop. When the Prince finally emerged from the castles she stood trasfxed in shock. He never walked the gardens, Why now?

Before she could take a step towards the palace gardens or even decide what action to take, she spotted the silouette of a frequent visitor to the gardens, and the Lady in question was never alone.

When the Lady stopped before the Prince, Nena's heart sank, she couldn't approach him now. If history repeated the Lady would have him in a compromising position soon, and Nena didn't wish to witness that.

But a promise was a promise and so with a sigh she stayed where she was and awaited her chance to fulfill hers.

***
Lance sat on the cold brown earth, a camp fire burning before him, the orange flames casting hideous shadows about his face. He was hardly recognizable as the man he once was, his gentle features worn by grief, a neat scar running from temple to throat.

He stared deep within the fire, but he did not see the angry flames that licked at the harsh night air. Instead the past came to life, his mistakes, his flaws. He did this every night and day, his mind a tormented thing, with images of the dead – the ones he should have been able to save.

His trance was broken by a sound to his right, a twig snapping within the thick undergrowth that surrounded him. His eyes burnt holes in the darkness of the trees, searching for the thing that broke the hold on his grief. His hand silently snaked to the hilt of his sword - the leather bindings creaking under his grip.

He stared for an eternity into the dark sea of trees, silently waiting for an attack. Two golden orbs appeared in the blackness, seeming to hold the very moon and stars within them. Lances’ hand tightened against the hilt, ready to fight, ready to die.

The owner of the orbs padded forward, a thick coat of grey worn against muscled flesh - A wolf of finest pedigree.

The two solitary beasts stared at each other; eons could have been lost in their gaze. One drove by the hunt, the other by grief. The wolf broke eyes first, its sight drawn to the meat that lay by the fire, just another hungry beast, searching for survival.

Lance recognized that look, the look of want, the look of need. There was so little to rejoice for in this world, he had not felt pleasure in an age. So it was strange to him that he found the wolf a source of solace. A beacon in the storm of his existence.

He reached for the rabbit carcass and tossed it to the wolf, landing but a few yards away. The wolf began to lap at the bloodied morsel, tasting the kill. Lance needed to see no more, the wolf would be slated for the night, and he had more pressing matters to attend.

He stood slowly from his earthen throne, so as not to startle the feasting animal. He slung his satchel o’er his shoulder, and stepped off into the cold night air. Pausing but once to glance back at his kindred spirit.

A strange thing happened to his face, something that had not been worn for years – the faintest quiver of a smile. Then it was gone again, as was he.

He would be at the palace by day break.

***
Anthony had to be honest with himself, this woman's offer intrigued him. "Perhaps my Lady we can start with your introduction."

Rianna flashed him her most seductive smile. "I am Lady Adrianna Rose Alvaraldith, at your service." The curtsey she gave him allowed him a full view of her ample cleavage. "Do you see anything you like my Prince?"

Anthony raised an eyebrow in response to her blatant invitation. He was spared the need to reply by the sound of an angry voice coming from a man. A Lord by his manner of dress came rushing from the Nobles wing of the Palace towards them in anger.

"You arrogant little pup. How dare you--."

"Glendon stop!"

Anthony watched the scene unfold before him with detached amusement. I need to leave the Palace confines more often. he thought not realizing the danger he was truly in.

"Go back to your wife Glendon." Lady Arianna whispered angrily to the Lord beside her. "And let go of my arm this instant or by God I will make you regret it."

"I won't have it Rianna, you are mine."

Anthony decided he'd had enough of their bickering. He wondered briefly if Lord Glendon was the Lord that had maltreated this Lady the day he'd seen her leaving the garden in disarray.

“My Lord you will remove your hands from the Lady. She has informed you she doesn’t wish your advances and therefore you will leave her alone. My lady Alvaraldith if you still wish to speak with me I’ll be in the library this evening. Now leave me!” Anthony was so preoccupied with his own musings; he never even saw the attack coming.

***
Nena had almost given up hope that Prince Anthony Aaron Clarence could be redeemed, despite the promise she’d made to the King. When she saw the man pull something from his cloak she didn’t wait to see what it was. She jumped the fence to the Palace grounds and tackled the man away from the Prince. She disarmed him with one fierce kick to the abdomen, before placing herself between the Prince and his attacker in a defensive stance.

“What…what is happening here?”

Never removing her eyes from the two Nobles before her, Nena turned her head to the side to better respond. “That man was about to attack you with a dagger your highness.”

“That’s absurd, Glendon isn’t coordinated enough to attack anyone, and step away from the Prince you common whore.” Rianna hissed

Nena turned her fiery gaze to land on the Lady in question. “The DAGGER your Highness is at your feet where he dropped it when I disarmed him. And I, my Lady am no whore. I own the local apothecary in the village. I was out for a walk and saw the attack.”

“I am in your debt Miss--”

Nena saw the guards rushing towards them and braced herself for the encounter to come.

“Guards arrest that woman; she just tried to attack the Prince.”

Nena wasn’t surprised when the Lady tried to blame her for the attack. It would never do to allow her lover to be taken to the goal; she would never win the Prince’s favors if he learnt the truth.

“Belay that order. Take this man away and escort the Lady Alvaraldith to her suites. Make sure she doesn’t leave them until I can speak with her.” The Prince ordered.

“Aye your Highness, right away.”

Nena watched in complete surprise as the guards took no notice of her.

“Is it too much for a Prince to ask the name of the person who just sa…”

Nena turned to face the man she’d promised to teach proper behavior and froze speechless. He was a handsome man from a distance, up close he was breath taking. A soft snicker escaped her lips at the sight of him standing there with his mouth hanging open.

“Nena Micheva, your Highness.”

“Nena that is a beautiful name, for a beautiful woman. How can I repay you for your quick actions?”

Nena blushed at his compliment. “No payment required your Highness. I did my my duty as a citizen of your father’s Kingdom. If you’ll excuse me.”

Nena looked down at his hand on her arm in shock. “Your Highness! Please, it isn’t proper.”

Anthony blushed, he should have known better than to be so forward. That proposition he received must have gotten to him a little more than he thought. He had to admit he found this beauty before him much more alluring that the Lady Alvaradith. “Forgive me Lady Nena. I meant no disrespect. Please you must allow me to repay you.”

“No need, I was but doing my duty and please I am no lady, your highness. I am but a humble herbalist, nothing more.”

Anthony didn’t want her to leave yet. He desired her more than his freedom to search out the gardens. He needed to find a way to keep her by his side a little longer. “Stay for dinner.”

“It is late your highness. Perhaps we will see each other again. It isn’t proper for us to be alone together after dark.”

Anthony reached for her again. “Wait!” One glare from her was all it took to pull back his arm. He’d seen her take out a man without a weapon. “What is your shop called? Perhaps I can call on you tomorrow? We could have lunch.”

“My shop is called The Flowers Petal, it has a sign of a flower with mortar and pestle aside it.”

Anthony had a stroke of genius, while she answered him. “Very good, lunch then tomorrow and to make certain I know where your shop is located I will walk you home.”

“But…”

“I insist!” He left her no room for argument, as he offered her his arm nodding to the two guards to follow behind them.

He spoke to her of her work and was surprised to learn it interested him. She intrigued him, and he didn’t wish for their time together yet to end. He slowed his pace, forcing her to slow her own in answer. Upon reaching her shop, he kissed her hand vowing to be there at noon the next day. Then waited until she’d entered her shop before turning away.

He hadn’t taken two steps when a loud crash and sharp terrified scream had him attempting to break down her door. But the bolt had been thrown. “Open it.” He ordered stepping back, anger suffusing him determined to make whomever was trying to hurt her pay.

The guards hacked through the door using their swords, while Anthony paced. He tried to go around back only to find one of his guards blocking his path no longer working on the door. So he waited, his patience evaporating quickly at her cries.
When they finally got the door open they found a man enraged, dressed in clothing barely above the status of rags yelling at Nena calling her a whore. He slapped her so hard across the cheekbone that she crumpled to lay unconscious at his feet. He was so enraged he never noticed the men standing in the doorway. One hand reached for the tie of his breeches while the other went for her skirts.

Anthony pulled his sword, the blade hissing out of its scabbard. The sound must have penetrated the man’s rage soaked mind, for he turned towards the door.

“She’s mine. You can wait your turn until I’m done. This whore will not turn me away again.”

Anthony stepped forward; his entire body rigid in anger letting his guards know that this man was his. “Step away from Lady Micheva, or you will taste the edge of my sword.”

“This ain’t no lady, you pup. I seen her with…”

The man must have finally gotten a good look at the Prince for his scowl turned into a knowing smirk. “She be that good then, well ye had her, now’s my turn. Stand off young Prince, or I’ll let it be known ye frequent whore houses.”

Anthony saw red. Nena had acted with nothing but utmost respect and propriety. He took another step forward his sword coming up before him. “Step away from Lady Micheva!”

The man stepped slowly away finally registering the danger he was in when the guards readied their own sword. “Sorry your princeship. If I had known ye weren’t through with her yet, I’d have waited.”

Anthony lunged his sword slicing upwards, catching the man in the groin and splitting him in half up the middle. The anger of the thrust lodged the sword just over the man hips. The look of shocked surprise on the man’s face led to the realization that he’d just killed a man washed over him. He let go of the sword and rushed out of the shop to empty his stomach contents. Glad he never did have supper that evening.

Once he felt his stomach settle he returned to the shop, accepting his sword from the guard with thanks. He sheathed it and went straight to Nena, gathering her in his arms making certain she wasn’t hurt.

Her eyes fluttered open at his touch. The terrified look of a cornered animal shining out at him, her body shaking like a leaf in fright. The look went away when she realized who had her, yet the tremors didn’t subside. “You aren’t safe here, there may be others and we had to destroy your door to get in. I’m taking you back to the Palace with me Lady Nena. No arguments.”

Nena hadn’t the strength to argue, but he could see in her eyes that she would attempt to return here the moment she regained her strength. He had to find a way to make certain she didn’t want to leave.

He gathered her up in his arms. “Make certain to send someone out when we reach the Palace to board the place up. I will not have Lady Micheva’s shop looted.”

His order given, he carried her back to the palace, where he put her in the capable care of his old nurse. Once the nurse had her settled into bed, he explained all that had happed that evening and that she would be their guest for the indefinite future. He officially assigned her the guest suites closest to his own, before retiring for the night. He told her and himself he’d assigned that suite to keep her safe from the other Lords. His nurse knew better.

***
Lance finally made it to the city, the sprawling spires and winding streets did nothing for him - A long trek through the forest had made him hungry and tired, but he could not rest now. There was work to be done.

The sun began to glide gently into view, casting shadows across the morass that greeted him. Twisting the spires with gleaming bronze…making them seem almost unreal.

Lance took no heed of the mutterings that flooded the city. The Prince had took a woman into his chambers they said, he wanted her greatly they said. It disgusted him. Their petty existence fuelled only by gossip which they had no concern knowing.

Lance didn’t care. No one seemed to matter to him any more, not even himself. He gathered strange looks from the townsfolk as he made his way through the city, obviously wary of the invading stranger in his tattered clothes.

He didn’t mind, as long as they stayed out of his way there would be no trouble.

He approached the palace gates warily, pretending to browse a nearby market stall in order to throw attention away from his true intention. He had to get into the palace, and find the man he was looking for. The Prince’s scientific advisor: a man by the name of Francis Locke, a wiry little man approaching old age.

Lance had first encountered Locke’s name whilst tracking the demon warriors that raided his home village. Apparently he had been on their trail too - some private research into the marauders that were plaguing the lands.

Lance needed him for information, he had the royal purse to fund his search and Lance was sure that whatever information Locke had gleaned, it would be much more to work with than anything he had gathered in his quest.

The only trouble was that Locke rarely left the palace any more, holed up in his dungeon like laboratory for weeks on end, only venturing out to ask the servants for more food.

Lance needed to get inside the palace. Not an easy task.

***
Isabelle was worried. No...not worried, exactly: Curious would be a better description. Glendon had missed supper, and no matter his faults and failings, he was never a man to miss his supper. She hitched George a little higher over one hip as she pulled open the door to the apartments, peering out into the corridor to see if any of Glendon’s lackeys were lurking. A lackluster torch was sputtering at one end, but beyond that; empty.

Sasha nudged her slightly to one side, peering her own head around the doorway. The hound sniffed cautiously at the air before angling her face up towards Isabelle, her jaw gaping open in a loose grin. Still Isabelle hesitated, although she wasn’t sure why. She shrugged her shoulders, knowing that she was being foolish, and heaved open the door.

“Milady?” The voice caught her by surprise. Thin, reedy, and followed by a painful splutter of a cough, she didn’t have to turn around to see who it belonged to.

“Corduroy.”

“May I help you, Milady?”

She fought the urge to say no. “Yes, you might be able to. I believe Lord Glendon has gone to…”

Corduroy swallowed. “I believe he’s visiting friends, Milady.”

Isabelle narrowed her gaze. “Ah yes, his friends.” Strange odours were wafting towards her from Corduroy’s person: smoke, dried ale and…sewers. “In the city, wasn’t it?”

Cough, splutter. “Yes, Milady, I believe it might have been.” He shifted uneasily, or perhaps it was unsteadily, on his feet. Had he been drinking? She knew the man had a reputation for drink and gossip, but surely Glendon would not allow the man to frequent the local taverns, not while he was visiting friends, not while…She felt Billy’s hackles begin to rise beneath her fingers, and saw Corduroy’s eyes flicker nervously towards the dogs. They’d never liked him. Creepy little man; she didn’t blame them in the slightest.

“You’ve just come from him, you say?” She decided to probe a little further, before she reached any conclusions.

“Milady?”

“You’ve just come from the city?”

“Oh! Yes, Milady: That’s right! I went to the city with Lord Glendon, and he asked me to run some errands for him, one of which was to come back here to…”

Isabelle felt her heart harden. So: Glendon couldn’t be bothered to return for supper, but he was perfectly happy to send his lackey to borrow funds from his wife to pay for his pleasures…

“Where is he?”

“Sorry, Milady?”

“Where’s Glendon? I shall take him whatever it was that you were planning to fetch for him.”

Cough, splutter. “I’m not sure, Milady. It’s not so much of a Ladies’ establishment, if you know what I mean…”

“He’s visiting a brothel?”

“Oh no, milady! No, no; not that! Why, he has no reason to visit a brothel anymore, does he?” Cough, splutter. “I mean, not with…not when…Not so long as…” Splutter.

Isabelle gripped so hard on Billy’s ruff, he yelped. “Well if he isn’t visiting a brothel, I think it will be perfectly acceptable to visit this mystery location, don’t you?”

“Yes, milady.” Corduroy paled. There was a pause as he eyed her, nervously. “You are insisting, aren’t you? I mean, I don’t have any choice and I couldn’t redirect you, even if I tried?”

“What? Corduroy are you asking me to defend you from my husband?”

“Oh no, Milady! A little thing like you? Defending a grown man like me?” Cough splutter. He began to scratch himself, starting with his neck, then his nose, chin and eventually his arms, as though going through some kind of elaborate preparation ceremony. Then, of a sudden, he turned, and led the way down the corridor.

***
The guards walked back and forth across the main gates like toy soldiers on a cuckoo clock, their monotonous march almost painful to watch.

Lance surveyed the guards with a wary eye; he couldn’t simply demand entry to the palace. That was as good as saying “Please, good fellows, lock me in the tower for the rest of my life” not something one willingly did. He needed darkness to cover his tracks, daylight entry was suicide. Lance didn’t like the prospect.

He eyed the town for a moment; he needed somewhere to stay until night fell. Wandering the streets till then was a sure way to get discovered. He spotted his salvation in the form of a small inn not too far from the marketplace. It’s large red sign swaying in the light breeze.

“The Wolf & Lamb” a perfect place for him to spend the remaining daylight hours. The interior was grubby, filled with drooling men, leaching at the bar wenches. Their eyes and hands roaming over their feminine charms, making them squeal like the trollops they were. Lance shook his head in disgust as he made his way to the barkeep.

The barkeep was a balding overweight man, his white apron stained brown with beer…and thicker things. He gazed at Lance with contempt, obviously thinking him some vagabond come to beg for table scraps. He seemed quite surprised when Lance asked for a mug of ale and a room for the night, and even more surprised when he had the coin to pay for it all.

Lance moved to a table in the darkened corner, sitting alone in the vibrant crowd. Their raucous and stench almost over powering to his keen nostrils and ears, making him uncomfortable in the dingy inn, making him want to wretch.

It felt like an eternity as he waited for the wench to bring him is ale, the frail young girl obviously nervous as she faced a bedraggled man in tattered clothes, a years worth of growth on his beard. “There you go Sir” she muttered, sliding the tankard across the table so as not to get any closer to him.

He grabbed the ale without another word, slugging it back, the bitter taste calming his torn spirit. Before she left Lance gazed at the serving wench, issuing her a command “Make sure there is fresh water and a razor in my room” she nodded in understanding and left.

Lance watched the crowd for a moment, taking them all in, examining each and every one of them. “Nothing interesting” he mumbled to himself, before losing himself in the brown liquid, his thoughts drowned by the alcohol before him.

Night would not come soon enough.

***
“Corduroy, halt!” Isabelle squawked, and winced at the sound of her stupid, girlish voice echoing down the corridor. Thankfully, the man responded immediately, turning to face her with a confused expression on his face.

“My…er…” She cleared her throat. “You will wait here, while I summon a maid to accompany us.”

His eyes widened fractionally before he nodded.

“I’ll leave the hounds here, to…er...Yes. The hounds will stay with you.” She was flustered; she hated feeling flustered. But the slump in Corduroy’s shoulders said she’d been right to distrust the man. She pointed vaguely towards him, hoping the dogs would understand her meaning, before ducking back into her chambers and shutting the door.

A maid. She needed a maid. Well; half an army wouldn’t go unappreciated, but it would hardly do to have half the castle wondering where she was off to, so a maid would have to suffice.

“Emily!” Well, that sounded authoritative enough. The maid appeared from the next room, looking slightly flushed. “We’ll be going into the city. I shall need better attire.”

“Yes, milady,” she bobbed. “Immediately, milady?”

“Yes, immediately.” Isabelle eyed the maid, taking in her disheveled hair and misaligned buttons. “Do you have a man with you?” She asked, bluntly.

“Oh no milady! I would never – I mean, not here! Not in your chambers!”

“Very well.” Isabelle sniffed, picking up George to cuddle - and to hide the disbelieving expression on her face. “However, if you should happen to find a man, perhaps while you are fetching my cloak, I would like him to accompany us.”

“Er…Yes…milady.” Emily hesitated, as if to say more, then turned into the neighboring room.

While she was gone, Isabelle walked over to her writing desk, and drew out a sheet of velum. Yes, the excitement of finally deciding to track down Glendon was making her feel slightly light-headed – but not so light-headed that she’d act entirely recklessly.

"My dear Lady Alvaraldith," she wrote, pausing for a moment while she considered her words. "I find myself called to the city on urgent business. While I am certainly in no danger, should you find I am absent at luncheon tomorrow, I would appreciate you asking after my whereabouts. I am accompanied by my maid, Emily, and Glendon’s man, Corduroy. I am sure you are wise enough to comprehend the significance of the latter. Your great friend, etcetera…Isabelle."

She folded the note and sealed it, before stamping it with the oversized ring that hung about her neck. Her father, an astute man of business, had not seen the point in resizing the thing, when it could be so simply strung on a ribbon instead. She tucked the ring back into her bodice, hiding it beneath the high neck of her chemise.

Emily emerged just as she finished, carrying a slightly thicker overskirt and a long, dull colored cloak. Isabelle smiled approvingly, and deposited George on the floor before standing to be dressed.

“Who else is here?” She asked, casually. “I have a note to be delivered, without delay.”

“Tinsey is lighting the fire, milady? Or Peter, he’s…”

“Ah, yes: The man who will be accompanying us?”

“Well, um… ” Emily sighed, admitting defeat. “Yes, milady.”

“Ask Tinsey to deliver the note, then. As soon as we’ve left – no sooner, and no later.”

“Yes, milady.” Emily tugged on the last of the skirt’s ribbons and stood back.

“Am I ready?”

“Yes, milady.”

“Very well. Take the note to Tinsey and ask Peter to enter, please.”

Emily nodded, her mouth closing in a thin line as she walked through the door. A few moments later, a man emerged. He was dressed plainly, with a rough-shaven beard and shoes that had seen better days; but in all other respects he looked ordinary – apart from –

“Good gracious!” She spoke without thinking. “You greatly resemble my lord -”

“All done, milady!” Emily announced, pushing the man forward a step as she walked through the door.

“Yes? Good!” Isabelle tried to re-gather her authority. She knelt to pick up George, fighting the urge to gawp at Emily’s paramour. “Let us be off, then!”

***
Anthony slept fitfully between the nightmares over killing the peasant and having his dream woman asleep in the chamber next door. The only salve to his guilty conscience was knowing she would have been severely harmed and savaged if he hadn’t helped her. That and he owed her a debt for saving his life earlier that day, then getting him off the castle grounds.

He thoroughly enjoyed the freedom he’d felt with only two guards trailing them as he walked her back to her home/shop. That she kept reminding him of propriety amused him. She didn’t treat him as the Prince of the Kingdom, but as a man interested in a woman.

He knew his reputation, and it saddened him that his people thought so poorly of him. It had never concerned him before, but now he’d need to remedy it. Well he’d show them how wrong they were about him, and he’d start with her. He’d never felt as alive as when he held her securely in his arms as they made their way back to the Palace. Sleep impossible, he got up to start the day.

First he had to deal with the mysterious Lord locked in the dungeon, and the Lady he’d sent back to her rooms under guard. Then he could check with his old nurse to see how Nena was feeling this morning.
Decision made he set off towards the dungeons, his guards flanking him the moment he stepped foot outside his suite.



Nena woke instantly on alert, she wasn’t sure where she was but she wasn’t home. She laid still searching her memory for the previous nights events desperate to recall where she was and how she’d gotten there.

Slowly the previous day’s events came back to her. She’d saved her Prince from an attacker. He’d walked her home…then…then…why did her mind refuse to supply what happened next?

“Mistress? Be ye awake?”

Mistress? With a flash of insight the rest of the night’s events came back to her. That horrible old man, her new neighbor Mr. Nulty had been waiting for her in her home. He’d attacked her…then nothing. Her mind went blank, like she’d been knocked unconscious.

“Lady Mistress, do ye need anything?”

Nena opened her eyes to find a kindly looking, little, round elderly woman fretting over her. She turned her head to take in the rest of the room and gasped. Silk lined the walls, rich wooden furnishing could be seen scattered throughout the room and the bed she was lying in was made of the softest down feathers. Only one place in the entire Kingdom could boast such luxury and finery. Somehow she’d been taken to the Palace.

“Oh my, oh my please Miss…”

“I’m fine, just a little confused and please call me Nena and not Mistress.”

“But …”

“Please good Lady, call me Nena. How did I get here?”

The worry that lined the old woman’s face urged Nena to sit up. “You don’t remember Miss Nena?”

“No I’m afraid not.”

The old woman smiled at her, fondness and pride in her voice. “Why it was Prince Anthony that brought ye here. He rescued you from an attacker and bade me to care for ye needs. He should be by shortly to see if ye be awake. He’s a good boy my Anthony, he has a good heart.”

Nena felt all the blood rush from her face at the old woman’s words. “You mean he had his guards carry me back here?”

“No Miss Nena, he did it himself. Wouldn’t allow his guards to touch you.”

“But…but…that isn’t proper. What will people think when they hear?”

The old woman’s scowl entertained her. “They’ll think the Prince is a good man, whom cares about people that are hurt and need his help.”

Nena couldn’t help smiling at the old woman’s vehement defense of the Prince. To have won this woman’s loyalty and support meant that he could still be redeemed.



“Tell me your name and rank!”

Glendon glared at the Prince with hate bordering on murder.

“I’m not going to ask you again. You have committed a dire offense, one that can have you condemned to death. Do you not wish your wife to know where you are?”

“No!”

“Tell me your name.”

“Never.”

“Fine, stay here and think about your actions. I’ll go ask the Lady Alvaraldith, for your identity.”

“Stay away from her you arrogant little pup, or the next time I won’t miss.”

***
Rianna paced the measurements of her room as she worked on a plan to get back into the Prince's good graces. He'd sent her to her suite, not to the dungeons, thank the heavens. He would surely come and speak with her soon, wouldn't he? He would have to, she decided and made sure her hair was slightly disheveled in an attractive way and tugged on her bodice so that her breasts were displayed to the best advantage.

Glendon. He was going to get himself killed and drag her through the mud while he was at it. She had to find a way to seal his lips and keep her reputation undamaged.
The knock at the door startled her but it wasn't unexpected. She settled herself on the chair by the window and called softly. "Come in."

The door was pushed open and instead of the Prince, one of the guards stuck his head just inside. "There's a note for you my Lady." He held out a folded paper and Rianna went to get it as it seemed he had no intention of coming any further into her room.

"Thank you good sir, I'll call for you if I need to send a response." The guard closed the door with a nod and Rianna took the note to the chair by the fire.

"Glendon's seal? He's given me enough trouble, the fool. I should burn this, it will only lead to more trouble." Rianna tapped the paper on her knee thinking it over but she just couldn't do it. She carefully broke the seal and read the note.

"What are you up to Isabelle? And why drag Glendon's favorite spy along with you?" Rianna got up to pace the length of her sitting room once again. "This complicates everything! Or does it?" her pace slowed as the idea took hold in her mind. "This may be just the thing." She spun back to sit at the writing desk and began composing a short letter, carefully copying Isabelle's handwriting. When she was satisfied with her work she carefully pried the wax seal from the original note and used a candle to heat the bottom, pressing it onto the new note to make it seem authentic. Some skills were priceless.

The next three notes were quickly written in her own hand and she was allowed to summon a Paige to deliver them. She was calling in quite a few favors at once, she would need expert help for this to work. Once the notes were sent she settled into the chair near the fire again, waiting once again. If the Prince never came to her tonight it would be all for the best. Soon she would have Glendon out of the way and the blame squarely planted on Isabelle's weak shoulders.

***
Anthony stopped and turned to the man in chains. Lady Alvaraldith obviously meant quite a bit to him and she was definitely not this rogues wife. He could use that to his advantage, the man doesn't wish his wife to know for a reason. Perhaps a very good reason? "I'll give you one last chance to answer my questions or I will be visiting the Lady Alvaraldith. She did invite me to ANYTHING I wished, after all."

His face was livid, veins stood out on his neck as he tried to break free of his restraints. "You will not touch her! She is too good for you!" His shouting was loud enough to echo in the room but neither the shouting or the straining won him release. He was in over his head and he knew of nothing he could do to save himself.

"Fine be that way. But after seeing her completely disheveled appearance as she left the maze garden the other day. Well I have a....curiosity to experience some of what the last Lord got from her. Since you refuse to speak I believe I will go up to the Lady and see if she is more...willing." Anthony looked down at his cuticles as he spoke. He knew that looking this rogue in the face would only enrage him and he wouldn't get any information until he could calm the man down. That didn't mean he couldn't have a bit of fun while he worked at him to get his way.

Anthony stared off into space, his thoughts turning to his new guest in the Palace. I wonder how she is? If she’s awake yet? Hopefully this rogue will open up soon and I can leave this foul place.

"Liar!" The sound bounced off the walls. "You're lying, I'd know if she...I'm not going to let you ruin the Lady's reputation. You can do whatever you want with me but I won't help you ruin her, I swear it!"

Anthony started, pulled back to the present. "All right then, since I have your permission. I'm off to ask the Lady a few questions. Perhaps I'll stop by the Lord in questions residences and ask him exactly what she did for him while I'm at it." Anthony hedged, hoping it would throw him over the edge and he'd start confessing.

"I'll have my guards do a room to room search with your description. I'm sure your loving wife will be quite worried that you never returned home last evening. I believe SHE has a right to know whom you spend your time with!"

Anthony was getting tired of this, if the rogue didn't speak now he would make his way to the Lady's room to get the answer's he needed.

"No!" Glendon couldn't come up with a single thing to say that could clear him but he might be able to avoid getting Isabelle involved. "Tell me the name of the man in the maze and I'll tell you who I am." It was a slim chance but he'd take it.

Anthony wanted to curse, he'd never seen the man....or hadn't he. "Why would I tell you that Rogue? You tried to kill me and it was your precious "Lady" whom approached me." Anthony paced back towards the door, his thought running as he attempted to find a way around his predicament. "How do I know you'll be truthful? Then again you'll never leave this dungeon so your leaning the identity of your rival matters not.

"Surely you misunderstood, my Lord. She would never be so brazen. I swear to you, I will tell you anything you want to know if you will just leave her out of this!"

Anthony turned and stared at him for a few moments.

Glendon could feel the cold sweat running down his back, the Prince's words held a note of finality that chilled him. He must protect Rianna. He might be able to bargain for his life with other tools, words whispered against a puppet Prince.

Anthony wondered again why this man wanted so desperately to protect his mistress, and why he was terrified of his wife learning the truth? "Do you truly believe that a woman who takes a lover out of wedlock has morals? A woman who allows herself to become another's mistress will stay faithful to that man?"

Glendon's mouth opened and closed like a fish, he had no response. His Rianna would never act in such a manner! She'd had a very difficult time after her husband’s death and Glendon had been kind to her, it wasn't her fault he had a man's needs! "Think what you will but please, I beg you, leave the Lady in peace. She's had enough difficulties my Prince. Please?"

"Speak!" Anthony walked closer, his face a mask of determined resolve. "You know what I wish to hear."

"Glendon!" The sudden command had made him jump and the knowledge that he had little to bargain with settled in. He'd best talk now before he pushed the Prince beyond temper.

"Glendon What?"

"Horace! Horace Glendon." His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Horace Glendon...Married to the Lady Isabelle?"

"Y-yes Highness."

"I know the Lady Isabelle, good fine woman, if a little shy. Now I know why you don't wish her to learn of your Mistress, she would cut off your allowance. Why would you be more worried about your Mistresses reputation over your own lovely wife's I cannot judge, but...I will order you to return to your wife and confess your misdeeds. ALL OF THEM!”

Glendon felt his face burn with embarrassment. The pup had no idea what it was like living with such a cold woman.

“I will send a compliment of four guards with you to insure you follow my command. Then your lovely wife will come to me and determine your fate! If she wishes a divorce I shall grant her the permission to do so.”

Glendon's eyes bulged at the orders; he couldn't help the wordless sputtering. What kind of man let a woman make decisions! "I...she...how in blazes do you expect me to accept such a thing?"

Anthony laughed at the man. "How can you expect a woman of her standing and breading to accept her husbands blatant disregard for her reputation?" He turned and walked back to the door, to call for his guards.

"This is outrageous!" Glendon tried to think of something to save himself from the Prince's order. "You have no idea what it's like living with such a cold woman for a wife! She's got no life in her unless it's a ball or a party, it wears on a man."

Anthony walked back to where the manacles held Glendon to the wall. "The Lady Isabelle, when I knew her was full of life and spirit. She was a warm loving girl and gave me my first kiss at the tender age of fourteen. If she is as cold as you claim then it is your doing. She was never meant for a philanderer; she needs a man who loves her unconditionally. Her above all others. Perhaps you are better left in the dungeons?"
Glendon had chosen the wrong tactic and lost again. "No, Highness. I'll go to my wife." He left the rest unsaid, as soon as the guards left them alone Isabelle would pay the price of his imprisonment. It wasn't his fault.

Anthony forced himself to let go of the man collar as he was tuning blue form lack of air, and step away.

Calling the guards over he gave them his orders. Quietly informing them that they were to wait for the Lady Isabelle’s answer then escort her to his private Office. If the Lady weren’t in residence then they were to return the prisoner to the dungeon until she was found.

***
Rianna was just about to change into a special set of clothing she kept for nighttime activities when there was another knock at the door. Expecting another message she called out, "You may enter." Pleasant surprise was quickly hidden under a distressed expression. Rianna slipped into a deep, cleavage showing curtsy. "Good evening my Prince, how can I be of service?"

Anthony bowed and looked over her shoulder. “May I enter? I came to make certain that my guards were treating your fairly. They tell me you've gotten and received some letters. Hopefully nothing too disturbing." Anthony wasn't about to fall for this vixen's tricks. But he needed some answers, answer's only she could give.

Rianna's thoughts immediately came up with three different ways to answer the seemingly offhand comment. "Please, enter and make yourself comfortable." What to say about the notes? If he'd intercepted anything she sent out she'd already be headed for the dungeon. "I didn't have anything else to occupy my time so I wrote a few letters to friends." She closed the door and sashayed across the floor to offer the Prince a drink from the crystal bottles on the side table. "I do hope we can put this unpleasantness behind us Your Highness. I would simply perish if I were no longer in your good graces."

Anthony eyed her with a raised eyebrow. The woman has gall to think she were ever in my good graces! He accepted the drink but never took a sip. Nena would not approve if he were to visit her at this late hour with liquor on he breath. "For a woman who just witnessed an attack, you are quite calm my Lady?" Anthony watched the woman for her answer, she seemed determined to show him as much cleavage as possible before she spoke.

Maybe he wasn't as slow-witted as she'd thought. "I assure you my Prince, it was an awful thing to experience but I've had some time to gather my wits. I am not in the habit of having the vapors Highness and I do hope you didn't worry. Please, sit down." She indicated the chair set intimately by the fire.

"Thank you my Lady. " Anthony responded talking the seat she offered. He wasn't planning on staying long, just long enough to confirm a few things. "So can you tell me who the man that attacked me is? I'm afraid he refused to talk."

Refused? Well then, she had the perfect opportunity to paint herself as the poor victim. She gracefully sank into the chair across from him, her feet in the thick fur of the pelt that still lay in front of the fire. "I know who he is my Prince. His name is Horace, Lord Glendon, I'm afraid he's been trying to... well...it's difficult to say to you." Rianna looked down at her hands, gripping the silk of her gown in a distressed fashion.

Anthony adopted a look of concern. "He's been trying to what my Lady. I'm afraid I cannot help if you do not tell me. Also is he the same...how to put this delicately. Person who attacked you in the garden the other evening, I'm afraid I saw you leave it in quite a disheveled state, but without knowing who you were I could not aid you.”

Rianna's head snapped up and her eyes were wide, he'd seen her! "I...I didn't know anyone saw me, I just wanted to get away." Was there actually one person in this place who would help her? No, that wasn't possible, she would lose everything if the truth ever came out. Well, confession was good for the soul right? The timing was too perfect. She stood up to pace away from the fire, keeping her back to the Prince. "I fear I must tell you the whole of it Highness and I have no wish to be seen as a loose woman. I have been under the blackmailing fist of an evil man. It is, perhaps impossible for you to help me."

This news caught Anthony's interest, perhaps she wasn't as conniving as he suspected. Then again he wasn't a fool. "Tell me Lady Alvaraldith, who is this man and why is he blackmailing you?"

"It's Lord Ashfaught my Prince, he wants my money and my...my..." Rianna let the tears threaten to spill, thought they weren’t entirely made of shame and sadness. A raging fury at being trapped into Ashfaught's plans helped increase her breathing and flush her face. She turned to face the Prince. "He was there the night my Henri died, he'd been a guest at our wedding. He said that no one believed we had consummated our marriage and that if I didn't allow him to...to...then he would testify against me and declare my marriage invalid." Rianna paused to take a deep breath, the consequences of his threat were terrifying. "He vowed he would leave me on the streets my Prince. I have no family left and nowhere to go, all I have left is what Henri gave me." She dabbed at her eyes and waited for the Prince's reaction.

Anthony pondered the name. It sounded so familiar to him. Ah yes Ashfaught, the man detested his father's way of ruling, stating in open court that he would make a far greater ruler than himself, Prince Anthony. The man was a pompous ass, and it seemed that if the Lady's accusations were true, a blackguard as well.

"I see well fear not, I will look into the matter, but until I have everything resolved, I must insist you stay in your rooms. For your own safety of course. Unfortunately I can only leave one guard to keep you safe. Is that amenable to you?"

"Yes my Prince, I would very much appreciate it. This has been preying on me for some time and I feared it would never end." She came forward and knelt at his feet, placing one soft hand on his knee. "You have my gratitude my Prince and I would ask you to be careful of the vile beast. He will stop at nothing, not lies or actions to gain his ends."

Anthony stiffened at her touch; this as Nena was wont to say was not decent or proper. "My Lady please, your manners. You shouldn't, it isn't proper. Perhaps you should go to bed..." Seeing her coy look he amended. "ALONE! And get some sleep. I must attend to other matters. I will stop by in the day and check on you. If you'll excuse me?"

Anthony made his way to the door before she could stop him. He spoke with the guard he left behind and ordered the other one to accompany him. He felt soiled and needed to see his fair Nena before he retired for the evening.

"Of course my Prince. Thank you for coming to me." Rianna stayed as she was until the door closed behind him. She waited till the count of ten, mussing her hair and untying the ribbon on her bodice. When enough time had elapsed for the Prince to have left the wing of the palace behind, she went to the door and pulled it open. The lone guard standing outside turned wide eyes to her appearance as she held her gown closed with one hand and peered down the hall. "The Prince is already gone isn't he?"

The guard nodded rather than speak, there was only one way a woman that looked like her got to look like that. When he told his wife about this it would be all over the castle by tomorrow afternoon. It seemed the Prince fancied the females and the guard was glad to know it. Rianna gave the guard a bashful smile and closed the door, leaving him to watch the hallway while she hurried to change. She was going to be late.

***