The palace was impressive. The amount of wasted space was the first thing Zello noticed. Ceilings beyond the reach of a giant, held up by pillars of smooth marble. An entry hall designed to impress yet held no purpose beyond that. He looked up at colored glass that formed part of the roof. The setting sun gave the floral design a fiery glow. A wonder to be sure, but impractical. Leaks were the first thing Zello thought on. Sealing between the glass and the roof must require exorbitant maintenance. Maybe the idea of its care was part of the opulent show.

"House Tarvakian?" An older woman asked. She moved with two silvers, one on either side of her and each a step behind. The two had gray hair like their mistress, though less extravagant in the display.

"Your majesty," Zello's father said with a deep bow. Zello duplicated the move. Kelton, who was behind them, took a knee. It should have been Vasco who attended them at the ball, but Alliette insisted it be Kelton and Zello wished to indulge her.

The Queen held out her hand, and Tarvakian grasped it lightly and kissed the ostentatious ring that sat upon the second finger. The largest ruby Zello had ever seen.

"And this must be your son Zello," The Queen said as she signaled all to rise. The silvers behind her were expressionless, standing proudly as if they were additional appendages to the Queen.

"Aye, your Majesty," Tarvakian said. "My son and sole child. The future of my house."

"Hmm," the Queen hummed as her eyes examined Zello from head to toe. He had prepared himself for scrutiny, yet now he thought it inadequate. His hands had difficulty finding a comfortable place to hang.

"It is an honor, your Majesty" Zello said, bowing his head.

"Hmm," the Queen hummed again. She had a sharp nose that gave her investigative glare an air of dissatisfaction. "You are not hard on the eyes." She looked Zello up and down again. "You dress of the lower houses though. Is that shape of vest popular in your circles?"

"Circles, your Majesty?" Zello asked. "It is the cut favored by the Princess." He looked down at the vest, thinking it out of place now. The bottom was cut sharply to points back and front, the sides a good two-hand higher. A Sorinnian design favored by Yanda and his betrothed. It was said to mirror the cut of Alliette's dress, though he hadn't been allowed to see it. The color was odd enough. Forest green with a blood-red trim.

"Ah," the Queen said with a smile. "It is one of her jests, of course." Zello cringed, his hands finding the edge of the vest and wishing they would cover more. "It is something you must get used too."

"I think it manly," Tarvakain said. The honorific missing from his words. "From what I have seen, it will shine next to the Princess's gown."

"A dress of your house I have heard," the Queen snapped. "I was not privileged to see it. It seems your ways have infected my daughter."

"It is she who has infected us, your Majesty," Tarvakian returned. "A most pleasant epidemic of beauty and grace. Handed down from you, no doubt."

"Hmph," the Queen grunted, ignoring the compliment. "I have been left out of this union as if I have no say in the matter." Her eyes once again traveling Zello's form. "There is much I must know before my blessing is bestowed, if at all." She looked at Tarvakian "I will speak to your son. Alone."

"Zello is his own man, your Majesty. You need not seek my permission," Tarvakian smiled like a diplomat as if there were no undercurrents of dislike traveling between the parties.

"Come," the Queen said as she hooked the air with two fingers, signaling for Zello to follow. "See to the father," she instructed her silvers. It wasn't lost on Zello that she assumed he would not disagree to follow. Like a dog, he did. Feeling exposed in an out-of-style vest.

The Queen moved as if driven by perilous need. The palace was a maze of halls and doors, each similar to the last. After many turns and passing through rooms whose utility could only be guessed at, Zello was hopelessly lost. It wasn't until they were in the garden that the Queen slowed and indicated a bench. Zello waited until she sat before he took a seat out of arm's reach. It was not the welcome he was expecting. He wondered if he was sweating on the outside as much as he was on the inside.

"Alliette raises your house well beyond its foundation. In turn, you lower her stature below that of a flagless shipmaster." The Queen pursed her lips. "Why would this union be profitable for the royal house?"

Zello's first thought was to run. He had been told all was well. The King had declared it so. There was no joy in the Queen's face. Maybe the King wasn't as pleased as reported. He wished he had been more prepared and wasn't wearing the vest.

"My house is an honest one, your Majesty," Zello said. "It is true that the Princess brings more to us than we to her, as profits are counted. Though we offer each other happiness in equal shares." It sounded better in his head then coming from his lips.

"Happiness?" the Queen questioned. "Can you eat happiness? Does it bring respect to those we desire for partnerships? I think you misjudge the purpose of such things. Happiness you can find in the bed of your property." She waved her hand as if his words had no meaning.

"I do not seek my property's beds," Zello argued. "And I think happiness has great value. Alliette believes it as well. It is not coin I seek from your daughter."

"And you think a head-strong girl will find your house pleasing?" the Queen countered. "She will rule it, and rule you. When she realizes the mistake she has made, life for you will become unbearable, and she will be miserable in turn."

"I think not, your Majesty," Zello declared. It was said with some strength. Not enough to be considered rude, or at least he thought so.

"You imagine a princess bending to your will," the Queen said, her fingers fluttering toward the sky as if it were all a dream. "She is royalty beyond your station and will shun your desires. Whatever manly pleasures you envision will not materialize. At best, a coupling for a child, then her coldness will have you seeking others."

Zello could feel the blood rushing to his face. It wasn't anger, but embarrassment that pushed his insides about.

"Do not get angry with the truth," the Queen continued, misinterpreting his complexion. "My daughter will not willingly spread her legs for one such as you." Zello coughed. "It is a marriage of unequals, and you hold no power. This union will weaken you."

Memories of the Freetown mission came flooding back. Zello tried not to look guilty as Alliette's mother explained what he wouldn't have, yet had already enjoyed. Unwilling, was not the word Zello would use to describe Alliette's desires. They had broken protocol and shared each other. The joy that followed was more than either had expected. More than once, and much less than they both craved. The bed was the only thing Zello didn't fear about the marriage.

"Do you not speak?" the Queen asked after Zello's silence.

"You have given me much to think on, your Majesty," Zello stuttered.

"Aye," the Queen said and smiled. "You are a smart boy and can see the right, can you not? Now I know some ladies of your stature who..."

"There you are, my future son." The King interrupted. The Queen jerked back and panic set in her eyes. "I am sure my Queen was telling you of the smile you have brought back to my daughter. A precious gift to be sure."

"Your Majesty," Zello said as he stood to bow.

"None of that when it is only family," the King said, waving away the bow. "Now that is a handsome vest. I like the cut of it. Is it of your house?"

"Aye," Zello said, the shame of his clothes dissipating in one breath. "It is designed to compliment Alliette... I mean the Princess's gown."

"I have yet to see it," the King said. "She has been secretive, so I am sure we will all be shocked. It is her way." He placed his arm around Zello's shoulders and turned him from the Queen. Zello had never been more thankful. "We have not talked, and that is something I intend to remedy right now."

The Queen brooded silently as the King led Zello away to safety.

"Master Tarvakian?" the silver asked. She smiled at Kelton. It was the same woman who had complimented Yanda's braids so many months ago. Alliette's silver.

"Aye."

"My mistress wishes to speak with Kelton if she may."

"Of course," Tarvakian replied, signaling Kelton with the mug in his hand. They had come early to the ball for such things. Kelton had known much needed to be discussed though the Queen's vehemence to the union was a surprise. Zello would have to learn to wade in the royal pond on his own since his father looked relaxed and unhelpful.

"Where does the high Mistress wish me?" Kelton asked.

"My mistress has rooms in the east tower." The silver pointed toward the double doors that lead from the library. "Down the hall, then left at the fourth door. A shortcut through the kitchen. You may ask there for the rest of the path."

"Aye," Kelton said. He was surprised he wasn't to be led. The fourth door did indeed lead to the kitchen. A boy who was hauling sacks pointed to another door, three turns down the hall and a short cut through the outer stables where more information could be obtained. Kelton sighed. The palace was a maze with many corridors looking the same as the last.

The stables soiled Kelton's shoes, the cleaning of which hampered his time. A woman who was pushing hay into an empty stall gave him more confusing instructions. It seemed he must go up a back stairwell, then down a main set and cross a garden. Glass doors, he was told he couldn't miss, would open to the laundry where he would be instructed further.

It took four more guides before Kelton realized he was on a fool's errand. A tour of the palace grounds from the vantage point of property. It was a childish thing the princess had done and almost made him laugh. The words he had given the princess for Beany had tortured her royal soul, and his punishment was to walk circles in a maze.

Kelton soon found himself back at one of the kitchens. He believed it to be the first one, yet it was hard to tell. This time, a cook who looked to never miss a meal pointed his finger and his bulk toward another door. "Through there. The east tower door lies beyond."

"It is the true path?" Kelton asked.

"Aye, the path to the Princess," the cook said. His belly wobbled when he laughed. Kelton took a deep breath and shook his head as he exited the kitchen. The door opened to the outside air seasoned with sewer. A trench of food waste wallowed before him. The door behind him closed, and he heard it latch. He made a feeble attempt at reentering and wasn't surprised to find the door tightly shut. Knocking was met with silence.

The trench was two wagons across, farther then Kelton could leap. To the right, a stone wall too high to climb, it's only hole grated and swamped with the foulness that leaked through to some refuse pit he assumed. To the left, the palace itself and three stories high. A metal flap opened high in the wall, and a bucket of liquid filth was dumped to the moat of slime. True to the cook's word, there was a door on the opposite bank, a good ways away. It was at the foot of a tower.

Kelton held his nose and tested the slime for depth. His foot sank some, and he pulled back not wanting the sewage to come over the top. It was deeper than expected. He pounded on the door again. It was ignored. The princess had laid an exquisite smelly trap. He would have to remember not to test intelligent women in the future. At least, not ones who held power and the loyalty of those who worked in a palace. Kelton returned to try the door again.

"I summoned you an hour ago." The Princess's voice carried over Kelton's frantic pounding. He rolled his eyes, turned, and dropped to his knee. She stood across the river of filth, a good ways from its edge. Next to her stood her silver with a smile that spelled out the conspiracy in detail.

"My sorrows, high Mistress. I seemed to have lost my way."

"A picture mind losing his way?" Alliette chuckled. "Our last interaction indicated no such flaws in your mind. Your intent is always so clear and

purposeful." Kelton closed his eyes as she spoke. This was clear revenge. He would pay for the words he gave her.

"The palace is a maze of hallways, high Mistress."

"Mayhap, you received weak directions," the Princess continued. "Could it be that something you have done has lowered you in some eyes?"

"Mayhap, high Mistress," Kelton said. He was still on his knee and feared to rise without her word. "The door is latched, and those behind have no intent to unlatch."

"And it is to be a cold night, is it not Priva?"

"Aye, Mistress. If it is like the night last." Priva smiled, enjoying the humor they shared. Kelton's ire at being tricked smoldered below the service. It would do him no good here.

"I knew no other words to give you, high Mistress," Kelton pleaded. A half-truth at best.

"I lowered myself below escaped property," the Princess said as she paced the span between wall and palace. "Am I to believe you, a picture mind, could not think of another set of words as introduction?"

"Nay, not another set, high Mistress," Kelton said.

"Do you see Priva, the way his face tightens when he hides the truth." The Princess and Priva shared another chuckle. Kelton knew that an apology and possibly an admittance of intent was expected. He pondered on what would result. Property toying with a princess was not going to be looked upon highly.

"Did the words not work, high Mistress?" Kelton asked in his most submissive voice.

"It is his maneuvering that is impressive," Alliette said to Priva, ignoring Kelton's pleading. "He cannot, nay, would not insult me head-on, so he devises a way that I must insult myself."

"He has maneuvered his way poorly tonight, Mistress," Priva said. Alliette smiled, pleased with her trap. "Mayhap, he will learn his place and show himself worthy of an open door."

They meant him to grovel. There was no one to see it, yet Kelton couldn't drive himself to consider it. It was true, his position was less than that of a princess, but he had groveled enough in the library when he begged for the hearing that saved her, her family, and Freetown. He could still feel her hand on the back of his head. Struck as one would a child.

Kelton rose unbidden and did what they thought he would not. He stepped into the river of slime and began to slosh his way across. It was a regrettable choice. The sewer was knee-high, well beyond what he had guessed.

"You fool!" the Princess called as she stepped back. Priva covered her mouth and followed her mistress's retreat.

Committed, Kelton finished the crossing and cringed when he returned to his knee. The smell attacked his nostrils in a sharp needle-like way. "I am here as summoned, high Mistress." He bowed his head, not sure if he had made the wisest of choices.

The rap on the back of his head surprised him. Again, the Princess had scolded him with a degrading smack. He smiled at the dirt. This time he deserved it.

"Infuriating, that's what you are," the Princess snarled.

"It is a ball, Mistress," Priva reminded. "There are bits on his trousers, and he smells like a latrine. They will know something happened."

"I care not for..."

"Zello will know, Mistress," Priva whispered. Silence followed. Kelton wished he could rethink his bold stupidity. He hadn't thought of how it might affect others beyond him and the Princess. Tarvakian will consider him a fool. For some reason, Kelton hated the idea of that.

"I did not think..." Kelton began.

"Clean him up," Alliette interrupted. "Find him clean trousers." The frustration was evident in her voice. She reached down signaled Kelton to rise. "This has gone too far and ends now. You will follow Priva, then return to your master."

"Aye, high Mistress."

"I must help you dress, Mistress," Priva said.

"Qayna will attend me. You have laid it all out, and I will call if there is an issue." The Princess waved Kelton and Priva toward the door. "And remove your boots, fool. I'll not have you creating a mess for others."

"Aye, high Mistress." Kelton quickly removed his boots, which coated his hands in the filth as well. Stubborn pride was a weakness and not worth the effort he put into it. It would have been easier, and cleaner, to grovel a bit.

"Why would you do such a thing?" Priva asked as they ascended the stairs.

"There is some rebellion in me," Kelton admitted. "It is now covered in regret." He held up his soiled boots as a point in fact.

"You know she likes you," Priva said as they climbed. "It is this rebellion that rankles her so. She is proud of her birthright, and you throw mud on it." She looked back and chuckled. "Literally."

"I do not like feeling owned," Kelton said. "She reminds me of it, and I get stubborn. She is right, a fool is what I become."

"And what will you do when she marries your young master? Will you torture her more, drive a wedge between her and her betrothed?" Priva stopped mid-step and turned. "You will see her daily, and still, she will still be a proud princess."

"In truth, I did not think that far ahead." Kelton took a deep breath. "I must change my ways."

"And your trousers," Priva said and began climbing the stairs again. Another hall, then a door found them in Priva's room. A comfortable abode about ten times the size of Yanda and Kelton's room. Plush chairs and a private hearth.

"Remove them," Priva said as she laid out a large cloth for him to stand on.

"Now?"

"Aye," Priva said. "You have nothing I haven't seen before, and we don't have time to dally."

Kelton's face warmed as he did as instructed. He wished Yanda was here. At least he was used to her seeing all of him.

"Shirt also," Priva added with a wave of her finger. A moment later, Kelton was naked and short about ten hands for covering himself. Priva ignored his fidgeting as she wrapped up his dirty clothes and boots in the cloth at his feet. She grabbed another cloth off the shelf and tossed it to him, then pointed at a bowl of water. "Clean up. I'll return in a moment." He did, then wrapped the cloth about himself for some relief.

Royal silvers lived well. Priva had small knick-knacks here and there. A bear and her cub carved in bone. A brass candle holder in the shape of a ship. He found himself envious when he saw three books held upright between to smooth rocks. Owning books spoke of wealth and the ability to read.

"Gifts from the Princess," Priva said. Kelton hadn't heard her return. "Her good side is where you will wish to be." She handed him a set of standard copper's clothes, not unlike the soiled ones she had taken. They weren't of Tarvakian design, but only a Tarvakian would know.

"I thank you."

"Did your young master tell you of the oranges?" Priva asked.

"Nay." Kelton shook his head as he climbed into the pants.