AYLETH

"… and celebrate our anticipation that all the Kingdoms represented today shall prosper for decades to come, united under the Accord of Harmony!" the Master of Ceremonies drawled. "Now, as this celebration comes into its last hour, your Royal hosts have prepared a final treat. Let us head together to the Maze of Mystery where, on the stroke of midnight, we will remove our masks and finally be revealed!"

The crowd murmured approval—and some scandalized shock at the idea of allowing the young (and if Ayleth knew the men, mostly drunk) Lords and Ladies loose in the dark garden together. Ayleth rolled her eyes, but before she could turn and boldly invite her lion lord to walk her through the Castle and into the grounds, to explore the mystery of this pull within her, her Ladies in Waiting surged around her, fluttering and squawking like a flock of geese.

"Quickly! Quickly!" the girls giggled, linking elbows to walk her out of the ballroom, gossiping as they trotted through the Castle. "We're to go to the maze for the unmasking!"

If she'd had worse manners, Ayleth would have cursed colorfully—like her Knight Defender. She tried to turn, but could only crane her neck, desperate to catch a final glimpse of the young man, still standing in the same place, his green eyes intent on her being carried away, until even her view of him was swallowed up by the crowd.

"Ayleth! Are you even listening?" Her First Lady-in-Waiting, Trayn, whined. Ayleth tried to care as they peppered her with questions and gossiped with each other about the first night of the Festival.

"Did you see the way Lord Vitren swept me around the dance floor?"

"Oh, please, Dayce. He stood on your foot at least twice that I saw!"

"He did not!"

"Who was the Lord you danced with, Highness? He seemed quite taken with you!"

"Who knows the fastest way through the Maze? Should we beat the men to the center, or wait for them along the rows?"

"Or behind the trees."

"You're a scandal, Trayn!"

On and on. The girls babbled and exchanged barbs all the way through the Castle, down the stairs to the garden and across the mowed lawn to the entrance of the maze. The young nobles and soon-to-be-rulers from all Kingdoms gathered in groups and pairs, some solo, but all moving together towards the tall hedges in the Eastern garden, all lined with the silver halo of moonlight on the perfect summer evening.

Ayleth closed her eyes and sighed for a moment, then felt that tug within her again. Like something looped around her heart and drew tight—this time pulling her West. Her eyes flew open and she turned, but no amount of craning her neck or turning her head would reveal the man whose presence called her.

Ayleth had never felt this way. As if… as if her destiny had appeared and spread its fingers at the back of her neck. Yet every time she turned to find a set of piercing green eyes and broad shoulders, she saw only familiar Lords, or garden hedges. Her disappointment was… rather out of proportion to what she knew of the man.

What had happened to her? Had he cast a spell on her?

Ayleth shook her head. No, she knew the feeling of magic. Her mother was an Adept. This was not the twisted compulsion she'd felt her mother use. With a determined sigh, she quickened her steps, urging her ladies forward faster. The sooner she got through the maze, the sooner she might find her Lion Lord again and discover what it was about him that drew her so.

*****

Twenty minutes later, Ayleth took a right-hand turn and cursed, "Oh for shitting's sake!" Then she blinked uncertainly. She still didn't think she'd gotten the hang of that one. She looked over her shoulder, thankful that she was alone so no one would hear her be so unladylike.

A few minutes earlier one of the drunken lords had leapt out at the ladies from around a corner in the maze. Her Court had scattered, screaming in delight, while the men that sought them followed after. She'd found herself turned around and suddenly alone.

She'd thought she'd known where she was in the maze, but three turns later—which should have brought her to the wide, main corridor in the hedges—she had ended in this square little garden with a bench at its center.

Growling in frustration, she turned on her heel intending to go back and try again, but then she stopped.

For once, she was alone. Truly alone.

It was such a rarity in her life, she would normally have done everything in her power to simply enjoy it. But she could not deny the inherent risk of all the neighboring Kingdoms attending the festival along with their staff. She was a prize—to marry, or to abduct. Her Knight Defender's words echoed in her head. Always know your way out.

She turned and scanned the little dead-end that she'd found herself in. There was indeed a secret escape route hidden behind that tree in the corner that none knew except her and her parents (and the staff who'd made it, assuming they weren't dead.) So, if anyone untoward were to stumble in, she could find her way out. But her nerves began to jangle. Abduction of Ruling Heirs wasn't just a concept to her. She'd faced an attempt years before and… but she wouldn't think about that. She could take care of herself. She simply needed to have a plan.

She was so distracted by her thoughts that she didn't notice the heavy footsteps until a dark shadow stepped into the clearing.

When she did hear the thud, she whirled, hoping her Lion Lord had found her. But her face fell quickly. The broad, squat shape of a man in the dark wasn't a stranger, but the unmistakable bulk of Lord Vitren. The son of her father's primary Advisor, and the current love interest of Dayce, her second Lady in Waiting.

"Oh, hello, Roarke," she said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. "I don't know where the others are. Maybe if you try around the corner—"

He stumbled towards her muttering something.

"What was that?" she asked.

"I said, d'you think you can trap me, Princess?" he slurred. "I've seen the way you stare at my chest."

She blinked. Had she done that to Roarke? She didn't think so. She found the man repulsive, frankly. But she couldn't say that when their fathers were close.

"I'm very sorry if I embarrassed you, Roarke. I had no intention—"

"S'okay, I'll take payment now," he growled and suddenly his hand was around her wrist like a manacle, and he pulled her into his chest.

Heart pounding, Ayleth braced against his admittedly broad chest. "Unhand me, Roarke! Are you a Summitran suddenly?" The base and pagan Kingdom of Summitras was ruled by a King and Queen her own parents had sworn blood feud upon. Their name was the worst insult to a Zenithran. But her command went unheard.

"Why? Isn't this wha' you want?" he rasped, his wine-tainted breath washing over her face as he lowered his thick lips to hers and she was abruptly choking on his tongue of all things!

Tearing her mouth from his, she shrieked her protest. But he only laughed, scrambling with her skirts and continuing to try to kiss her, his broad arms like steel bars around her.

"Do not make me hurt you, Roarke!" she snarled. "What would Dayce think?"

He only laughed. "You're hot when you're angry, Ayleth."

It was the final straw. Just as something beautiful and warm burst to life in her chest, she twisted in his arms to position her feet correctly, one slippered foot hooked behind his ankle. Then with a grunt that would have made her mother pale, she used his greater weight against him, bending forward in a snap that shoved her bottom into his hip as she yanked down on his arm like it was indeed the previously mentioned steel bar.

With a strangled yelp, Roarke pitched forward over her leg, falling heavily on his back, his head hitting the grass with an ugly thunk.

She hadn't let go of his arm and now pulled it up, putting her high heeled slipper to his throat as she held his arm braced, his fingers bent back almost to the point of breaking.

"One wrong move, Roarke," she warned through her teeth. "I could put my heel through your jugular, or I can snap your arm like a tree branch. I may also choose to twist off your… appendage." What was the dratted thing called? She'd only ever heard the men refer to them as carrots, or other vegetables, which was hardly intimidating for this circumstance. "So… will you surrender or force me to hurt you?" she snarled to cover her own flustered thoughts.

"What-what happened? What are you doing?" The man sounded genuinely shocked, like a child suddenly woken from a bad dream. Ayleth's face twisted in distaste and she opened her mouth to tell him he was an embarrassment to the crown.

"I think the lady is telling you to keep your paws—and your tongue—to yourself in future," a warm, lazy voice said from a few feet in front of her.

*****

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