Embrace

Slowly Coming to Terms

Ehron has been in a good mood lately.

Everyone's noticed it. The past four years he'd been to every annual debutante ball, and every time he'd grown surlier and surlier. This year, though, his mood was already elevated. He was a lot nicer to the servants and a lot more tolerant of his Chevaliers' mistakes. After all, his target would be *forced* to go to the ball this year, and he wouldn't let his determination waver on this belief.

He was training on the training grounds when he looked over and saw Princess Ingrid waving at him.

His mood dipped, but acknowledged and obeyed as he set his sword down and grabbed an available towel.

The woman was unusually tall, even for a prima, and quite the sexual deviant. She was promiscuous, which was her right as a woman, but she only had eyes for Ehron in terms of espousing. Ehron didn't know why, but he hoped that when he would finally be able to court Remy, she would leave him alone. He doubted it, and being an entitled princess she probably would make problems for the both of them, but he was already prepared to defend his position and future wife.

"It's such an early time for training, Ehron," she said in her sickly sweet way. "Wouldn't it be better to do it in the afternoon? Some days I miss your training exercises."

Her voice made his skin crawl. Most would want the chance to be Princess Ingrid's first husband. Her fingers climbed his shoulders like spiders as she pushed up against him. Ehron moved her arms slowly off him and she pouted.

"This isn't behavior fitting of the princess of Fenfold."

"Oh, Ehron, we all know you're waiting for someone. Really, is she worth that wait? Come on, tell me."

"She is." He couldn't help the small smile that graced his usually stoic face. Every year when he brought the news to Heartvault he would see her, and her face would be a mix of exasperation and trepidation. He wanted to court her every time, but society demanded that a woman debut before she's available for courting, so he quietly waited. Surely her mother, who he noticed was *very* big on court and social rules, wouldn't let her sit her final year out.

Ingrid hated that look he got when he talked about that mystery woman. "Why wait when you have me? Can you not tell what I want? The hints I've dropped along the way?"

"Princess, I am a Chevalier and that means I am entitled more than others to choose my wife. Whether she chooses me is another matter entirely, but I am not some farm boy desperate for attention. Find someone else who meets your fancy. Perhaps a younger prima, a toy that you can break. Just leave me be."

"I could have you flogged," she hissed. "Don't forget who you're talking to."

He looked into her eyes. "Your mother is still on the throne, and she appreciates the Chevaliers. I'm sure whatever stunt you want to pull, she'll back up my decision."

With that, he left the princess to seethe.

***

Heartvault's market was busy and crowded as people went about their day, shopping for what they needed, and didn't need. To an outsider, the market might seem quaint and homey, but to a resident it was much clearer.

Remy saw a young man buy a bouquet of flowers, and the subtle slip of a tiny vial of liquid within the bouquet before the vendor gave it to him. It was in one's nature to find release from the tedium that was daily life. For Remy it was her staff fighting; for others it was drugs, women, exotic illegal creatures, sexual deviance. The list was endless.

In her wandering she came across a vendor she'd never seen before. It seemed like a simple vendor, with a blanket on the ground and their wares carefully spread on the ground. It seemed like nothing more than bits and bobs strewn about, but as she approached she noticed the intricacies that reminded her of the staff she'd inherited from her father's father.