A moment later of awkwardly standing alone in the foyer, then what first appeared to be a white dove caught his eye at the balcony.

Instead of an elegant bird, Miles found elegant Celest, dressed in a sleeveless white dress leaning over the railing. “Good morning, Miles,” she said.

“The best,” he replied with a little smile. She returned it, squinting her almond eyes and flashing her pearly teeth, a very unlady-like, but beautiful greeting. Picking up the hem of her skirts, she silently hurried across the hall and floated like a cloud down the stairs, stopping before him.

Ruby teardrops twinkled from her ears, and her hair had been curled and put up like black ribbons behind her head. Her hazel eyes looked like the birth of twin universes. Over the course of several hundred years being locked inside together, most citizens had a watered down, tan skin tone, but Celest’s skin shone with just a hint of bronze. Everything about her was artistic: the angles of her cheeks and chin, her nose, the oval shape of her eyes, the curves of her chest and waist. What in the void was Miles doing, standing before this incredible woman?

They played their little game, which had been started when they were twelve. “May I give you a kiss?”

Feigning propriety, she turned her cheek and raised her eyes to the ceiling as though slightly burdened. “You may.”

Miles kissed her cheek. The aroma of nectar simmered from her neck, and lemon from her hair.

Only after their childish ritual did she take a step back and cock her head wondering, “What happened to your face?”

“Your father has given me one hour with you before he puts steel through my heart. So, would you like to know about my swollen face, or would you like me to tell about how I am going Adventuring, a most daring and perilous endeavor?”

The small corner of her left lip turned up. “I’d like to know about your swollen face.”

Miles Sighed. “Alright, then, thirty minutes of each. May I take your hand?”

Celest played at nobility, gingerly picking up her dress and resting her hand on Miles’ offered forearm. She held her head high with a small smile. “You may.”

The sun warmed the air as it peeked over the juniper hedge, bringing yellow across the sky making the hydrangeas and azaleas glow with every bright ray across the garden. Sitting at the garden table, Miles looked across the field as the butler brought a silver tray of porcelain cups and a steel cylinder coffee pot with a curved spout. He poured the steaming coffee, then unfurled a scroll from the tray, spoke “Mend” over Miles, bowed and went inside. Miles’ swelling, cuts and headache faded as though a warm blanket wrapped his body and soaked it all up. The bloodstains remained

Before Miles could begin his account of his morning’s trials, Celest leaned over the table and asked, “Did you hear about the dragon?”

Miles choked on his first sip of coffee. Controlling himself, he set the saucer down. “I heard something about a dragon.”

“You were there, weren’t you, Miles,” she accused with excitement shimmering in her eyes. “You probably ran right into the disaster just so you could gloat about it later.”

How could he disappoint her? She was always ecstatic to hear about his misadventures. He looked left and right, then leaned in and disclosed his secret. “I was.”

Celest interrupted the squeal escaping her mouth with both hands, and Miles felt like the most important man in History. He casually ripped a piece from his raspberry pastry and chewed it. He then recounted the whole battle, being sure to elaborate on inconsequential details to build suspense. He even told her about Kortez, and Elle and her Artifact, finishing his story with this morning’s events.

Unexpectedly, Celest put in, “And what about the Fairy-elf?”

Miles paused, searching his memory for a mention of one. Finding none, he set his cup down.

“You don’t know? That’s quite unlike you, Miiles,” Celest said, slyly. She continued, conspiratorially, “The lords and doctors are having the dragon’s carcass dissected for trophies and materials; of course, Kistador is taking all the credit. Well, they gutted the thing, which is why there is such a stink in the air, but strangely, among the guts there was a woman.”

“A Fairy-elf?”

Celest grew more serious and nodded. “From what I heard from Kyle’s personal guards, she wasn’t even in the stomach or inside the intestines as though eaten, but around the dragon’s organs, like a tumor: naked and dead, but perfectly preserved.”

As though his understanding of the world would change the facts, Miles said, “No one has ever seen a female Fairy-elf before. I’ve encountered two men in all my years.”

Celest smiled and nodded. Sitting back, she sipped on her cup, eyes still on Miles. She set it down. “Your hour is up, and you have to leave. Would you like to come with me and see her?”

How could he say no?

She called her butler and had him fetch the carriage. While they waited just outside the open iron gates of her family’s mansion, Celest asked, “So what is the true reason for this whole Adventure?”

Miles remained silent, unsure of how to express himself.

Celest put a curl back behind her ear. “Is it because of Nyx?”

He felt guilty about admitting so. It wouldn’t be right to talk of another woman when such a perfect one was standing beside him.

“You know,” she continued, “I understand. But I don’t think you do, Miles.”

Surprised and baffled, Miles turned to her, noting her sassy grin. “How so?”

“You love her, Miles. And you love me. You will probably love that Elle woman, too. But not in the ways you think. I have always had a stronger sense of emotion than you, and I know your secrets: the secrets that you don’t even know.”

“I’d like to know my secrets.”

“You must grow into yourself, first. Honestly, you can be quite immature at times. You love Nyx out of admiration and wonder; you love Elle because of impulse, but you love me as a wife. That is why I do not become jealous.”

Even so, Miles’ cheeks felt hot.

“That is why I will not stop you from going on your Adventure to the Pool of the Dead. It is because I love you, not for who I want you to be, but I love who you are entirely. I love that you love Nyx, and will likely love this Elle girl. Why else would I turn away every other man in my life? There is no substitute for you, Miles Albion. So go: be who you are, and when find what you are looking for out there, you will come home and marry me.”

The thought of “settling down”, as they say, gave Miles a little panic inside.

“It will be your choice, Miles,” she assured with a grin. Perhaps she saw how his eyes had widened. “We always have a choice, but if you know someone well enough, you can predict what their choices will be.”

Unconvinced, but not wanting to hurt her feelings, he smiled at her as though she were right. The carriage rolled up, its glossy oak finish gleaming and reflecting the clouds, and the driver hopped down and opened the door for them.

The ride was quiet, except for the laughter of citizens on the streets, and the other carriages. Celest retained a soft smile as she gazed out the window.

Doctor Galen was the personal physician for the most renown five families, and as the carriage approached his marble clinic, Miles wondered how in the void they were going to get inside the exclusive practice. Coming beside the bronze gates which read: “Galen” in gold, the guard approached Celest’s window.

“Is Lord Eckles inside?” She asked, directly.

“I believe so, m’lady.”

“Tell him I will marry his son if he lets us in to see the Fairy-elf.”

He, in turn, relayed the message to the inner guard, who jogged, holding his sword against his side, up the white stairs to pass the request along.

Miles stared wide-eyed at Celest.

She glanced over. “Jealous?” she asked.

“As any man would be,” he answered, coolly and much to her amusement.

The guards pulled the gate open.