he man, unfortunately, was polite enough to turn back and apologize for his briskness. I had put on my hood as fast as I could but there was no escaping it; he'd seen the face beneath the massive fabric. And so did everyone that had been staring at our direction when it happened.

His face—their faces—had bleached as they realized who was in front of them, the face familiar because they had watched the ball, like every other person in this continent. And for a hard moment, they were unmoving bodies that attracted the citizens around us.

It got worse when they kneeled.

It was like the entire market had stopped moving, noting the bodies that were almost groveling in the middle of the space. When I looked around me, Father had magically disappeared.

'Where are you?' I asked through our bond, eyes roaming over the curious faces staring at us. There was no way to get out of this. I removed my hood.

Gasps and whispers broke before the market seemed to shift as one, everybody kneeling and bowing.

'Back at the old man's stall, watching how you'll make it by your own.'

Indeed, he was next to the seated man who stared at him with a trembling soul. It was something big, trading with the King and queen-to-be and going as far as falling for the King's perfect acting. I wasn't sure if the man would boast, flashing the money we gave him or hide it as a reminder. Father smiled, hood half swept back so the vendor could see his face, and I could swear the latter was a sliver from having a heart attack.

I extended one hand and said with a clear, loud voice, "Rise, my people."

A good few dozens of shadowed heads stood at first, the fabric falling back as they did so, revealing many noble faces. The rest stood shortly after. The man who had run into me was so pale I wasn't sure he was breathing. I smiled at him, hand falling on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. His eyes only grew more shocked.

I stirred my eyes from him, taking both the common and unfamiliar faces in the crowd that still stared at me. And the king behind me. Father, true to his word, didn't shift an inch to help me through this.

Thus, I voiced, "Please, let this market continue. I am sure we all have many things to do and insure before all goods sell out."

Eyes burned through my soul as everyone stared at me before they obeyed, returning to their occupations, one eye on me, the other on what they were doing. The air was still stiff as I noted my friends, Luthian and Hydn being the closest to where I was.

I made it to them and pulled Luthian into an embrace, well aware of how the attention was on us. He seemed to have understood it the moment I lifted my arms and hugged me back even tighter. Hydn, to his credit, played along even when I could feel his muscles tensed beneath my touch. But it was symbolic, declaring to everyone watching that these two men were not to be messed with.

I played with Green leaf's bare feet, tickling it a little and she laughed, her ands griping her brother's antler as she seated on his shoulders. I smiled at her.

"How are you doing?'' Her silver eyes gleamed as she stared down at me and grinned and it was enough an answer. Pure joy painted her face and it made my heart sit at ease. She had changed so much from the frightened child we found in the woods.

"How have you two been faring so far?" I queried, hands still playing with one of Leaf's small foot.

"Good,'' replied Hydn, voice as taut as his body. I didn't even look back to know my father appeared right behind me.

He placed one arm on my shoulders, pulling me close to him before more faces appeared. Just like I had done with both the Troopers, I embraced all of Leon and Carter and Mayra and Rhia before I turned my attention back to Father. His eyes were subtly flashing to Leon, even when I made sure that the hug was nothing but a brush. Oh, he understood damn well all that was going on the moment I froze on that bridge.

"The bag?'' I pointed at his empty hands and he grinned.

"In your room. I wasn't particularly feeling like holding it."

I only arched my eyebrows, huffing a laugh. I wouldn't hear the end of it if I dared roll my eyes, the look in his told me as much.

Hydn was still stiff as Mayra talked to him, odd enough since he had spoken to us, traveled with us before. But the eyes on us were merciless to the point that even we had to hide behind our masks. We spent the next few minutes chattering about what we'd been doing the past few days, Leon, Father, and I coming with lies each the more complicated and polished than the other since we couldn't tell them. Not here, not now. I couldn't even imagine the words I'd use to tell them about Apocalys, least about my curse. It was in the middle of our conversation that something ran between our knees. The next thing I knew, there was a boy tugging at the hem of my dress.

He was hardly five with big, brown eyes and a flower in his hand. His mother was instantly behind him with a new born girl in her hands.

"I apologize," she whispered as she made to drag her son away. I lifted a hand and she froze.

I crouched until my eyes met the boy's. "For me?'' I tilted my head to the flower.

He nodded.

"It is beautiful," I murmured as I grinned. "Can you put it in my hair?"

Small, chubby hands placed it in the long braid draped over my shoulder. I kissed his cheek and the kid seemed to dance in his place. I picked him up, handed him to his mother, and admitted, "He'll be a real gentleman when he grows up, I am sure of that."

The woman blushed, stammered a thank you and was out of my eyesight in minutes. No one commented on what happened but I could still see and feel the attention on us. And that mother.

We walked around the place, eight bodies moving in one group, Green Leaf remaining on her brother's shoulders. At some point, we stopped next to the music band, watching a bunch of kids dancing around the musicians. For a heartbeat, I felt like I was at the Fire Festival once again, the memory still vivid in my soul even after all those months.

We talked a bit more, Father keeping silent just as Carter did, the Cardelyon Lord's hood still on. Even with the shadows over his face, I could see the streaks of silver growing in his eyes, could feel the magic that was a mirror to mine in his soul. And I watched those powers as they swirled around him.

It was then I felt it, another presence behind us, staring at both of us--Carter and me-- from far in the square. I didn't turn, neither did he, keeping our stance and features neutral. I wasn't sure if he caught it by coincidence or if it was tied to the piece of him that was like me, but he knew there was eyes on us. Seconds later, the king picked it too, most likely because of the bridge between our symbols.

I stared at him, every word coming out of my mouth different than what I whispered down my friends' minds. "I am hungry." I turned fake, pleading eyes to my father. "Let us go to the bakery we saw down the road."

That was enough to fool our spy as her soul, gentle and soft and discrete, carefully followed us.

We were quarter an hour of walking away from the Fawn Market when I turned toward where I believed the spy was. No one and nothing greeted my eyes. Everyone stilled as I picked the familiar magic coming from her fleeing soul.

There was no body to look for, no flesh and bones and blood. There was only a spirit.

I dashed after her, legs moving so fast that wind birthed beneath me. I ran on the air forming under my feet, well aware that I was already several feet in front of everybody.

I allowed my spirit elemental free, tracking this spirit. She was running in a realm lost between Ardoria and another dimension where the souls whose bounders hadn't shattered yet roamed. I urged my body and soul to vanish into nothing but a whisper before I forged myself again in the dimension the spy was in.

And then, I saw her. Her back at least, wrapped in green fabric. Even here, she was nothing more than a wraith, a faint body that was made of light so thin I could see through her.

My legs moved faster, the woods around me nothing but a splash of colors in my vision. Wind stopped hitting my face the moment I left the Ardoria my friends and father were still in, the dull air around helping me close the distance between us.

I extended my arms, my hands so close to catching her, my fingers a breadth away to cling to her. Faster faster faster.

She started panting, aura flickering with weariness. I kept on moving, unstopping until my fingers grapped her by the shirt. I halted, the sudden stop strong enough to send us tumbling. But I made sure we hit solid ground this time.

My hands were tight enough around her throat to keep her still and not choke her, her figure shimmering light green in my grasp like it was coated with pastel dust. She didn't meet my eyes as I asked her, "Who are you?"

She didn't reply, chest heaving from all the running. I hadn't even broken a sweat. I repeated my question again. Again, no response. She didn't feel evil, nothing dark enough in her soul to alarm me. But she wasn't totally pure either.

Footsteps echoed behind us and I tilted my head to see Carter shortly followed by Father appearing. We weren't in the woods anymore, the trees cleaving apart to show a small village.

The king stiffened as he saw where we were and there was reluctance in his eyes as he turned to me. To the body in my grip. His face paled several shades all at once.

"Nuaira?"

The woman beneath me stopped panting, even her wraith's body going tense. Her coffee-colored eyes, a match to her hair and the freckles on her nose, going wide at the king's voice.

There was pain, in her face and in his voice. And guilt. Something clicked in my head. Her?

I stood, pulling her along, removing my hands from her neck. She wouldn't go far even if she ran away, not with all of my friends assembling around her in a circle.

It was the look on Father's face that confirmed my suspicions. The guilt and ache and sadness as he stared at her face, at how her eyes wouldn't meet his, made it clear she was the woman who had loved him. And had killed herself because he had fallen for another one.

Nuaira's light seemed to flicker as her eyes ran over the circle enclosing her. She didn't meet my eyes. Or Father's. But pain, stark and raw, painted her features the moment she heard the king's voice.

He called her again. It was after a long moment of silence that was both heavy and pained had passed that she finally turned to us—to him—eyes still not meeting his, and breathed with a voice that was broken and crestfallen, "Hello, Aragon."

Not King, not Your Highness, no titles. Not when there was a lifetime long relation binding the two.

My father was still breathing hard and shallowly, face remaining pale as I could feel through my spirit how his soul felt heavy. How a lump weighed on his chest, pressing with unspoken ache and guilt on his heart.

"How?" His voice was barely a whisper, not one octave louder than the gentle winds that rustled through the yellowing trees.

The wraith of whom and what Nuaira once was dimmed in light before she lowered to the ground, resting on her knees. It was not a heartbeat later that we all sat on the earth, the circle moving closer to her, making sure she wouldn't be naive enough and try to dash again.

Father didn't wait for her and only pressed more, "Your bounder, how is it—"

"My bounder," she cut with a voice that was faint yet clear, "cracked the moment my head hit the ground."

The king's soul seemed to tense at those words, at how she said them with no bite to them, with no hate.

For the very first time that hour, she continued by her own, eyes on my father, going all over him but his eyes, making sure to never catch those emeralds, "My soul was lifted the moment my bounder, weak as it was, shattered. I was subjected to trials by the Gods and had been sentenced to the lowest part of Hell because ending a soul is a sin that is not light or forgivable." A pause as she caught her breath, fingers fiddling in her lap.

She stared at all of us before her eyes focused on the small village behind Father's shoulders that she had dragged us into. "But even when I had failed the test, even when I had been weak and decided to end it all—''

"You weren't weak—"

"I was, Aragon. But the Gods still gave me a chance to earn their mercy like they had did to all who had gone through...what I did. And failed."

I wasn't sure my father was breathing by this point. His aura was unstable, his magic whirling inside of him. Each word she said only seemed to tear harder at that hidden wound in him.

He bore so much guilt; guilt because she had loved him and did not feel it to her, guilt that she had killed herself because of him.

She pointed at her wraith form, at the gentle light that was faintly green in color around her, at the feeble translucency that made us see blurrily through her body, and said, "I was made into this. My soul was forged as a wraith of nature who lives in woods and serves and protects everyone with a drop of Armedes blood in their bodies. I was lowered to Hell for seconds to be showed where I was supposed to suffer."

Her shoulders locked up and it was the very first time I saw a spirit paling at a memory. "I tasted it, the pain and fear and agony that killed me again and again and again, and when the angels lifted back to the Thrones, I was given a choice to save myself. If I succeeded my task, and depending on how well I did, I would either be lifted to the first levels of Hell where pain is the weakest." She inhaled deeply. "Or be given mercy enough to enter the first gate of Heaven because it was what the Gods always gave in this case."

"What mission?" asked Carter as he inclined slightly, sunlight dancing on his face as his hood slid back. He didn't adjust it, didn't hide the silver in his eyes. "Are there many like you?"

Nuaira turned to his sitting form on my left and stared him in the eyes. She screamed. The next thing I could understand was seeing her body pushed back against the ground, back arching as her hands wrapped around her throat. She hissed and cried and yelled as her body jerked again and again, limbs trembling. One of her hands gripped her head, nearly plucking her hair from its root. There was a tinge in the air that reminded of the scent of smoke before I read the pain in her aura.

Fire seared her soul, melting it and forging it before burning it again. Her wraith form still shivered minutes later after that fire vanished. She gasped and laid unmoving on the dirt, breathless.

Carter's face was drained from its colors as he observed her go through that ordeal.

Still on the earth, breathing hard, she murmured more to herself than anyone, "I was cursed to stare at a Marked in the eyes." She breathed again before her back straightened abruptly. She repeated those words, eyes drifting ti Father and Carter and I's faces. She hissed. "He is—"

"We know." Necks snapped so fast toward us, five pairs of eyes drifting between the three of us and Nuaira. The Cardelyon Lord said nothing even when his shoulders tensed. His chin was still high, the posture of a lord and a warrior--but worried. Worried at the silent questions he didn't know the answers to.

"There is the scent of the Moon in him, Aragon," she pressed. "Just like hers." She didn't even stare at me as her finger pointed at my face. She stammered the next words. "And Elena's."

"We know." Again. Emerald eyes turned to Carter as he studied him. "The gift is growing—"

"This is no gift. I was cursed to stare at a marked—or any Armedes that holds a fraction of the divine symbol within him—in the eyes," Nuaira reiterated, each word hard. "Not a gifted or a blessed. There is powers"—she turned to me—''that are just like yours growing in him."

I barely blinked, knowing what she said. But it was Mayra that interjected, "Marked?" There was pain in her eyes and I knew why, knew where the thoughts in her mind went. But the words wouldn't get out of her mouth, her heart too weak to say them out loud.

It was Rhia that caught on what she meant and added, "Marked as in the future King?"

A dead silent fell on us and I glanced at Carter who was keeping his eyes solely focused on the Lady of Rocheguard. The pain in the Countess's voice; it was the agony that he might as well have been taken from her, that his heart didn't belong to her, that the not admitted feelings in her were like the ones Nuaira had gone through.

"It can't be," I let out under my breath, the thought too absurd, too heavy. Carter had a place in my heart, but not like this.

It was Father that urged, "You are right, it cannot be. The mating bond doesn't snap this way; no gifts or blessings or doubts."

"There is no symbol, too," Nuaira added. "Unless the Gods forge a new one, the next King will bear no totem."

"Because I bear both of them." She nodded, her eyes focusing on my marked palm. For a long moment of silence, I studied her face and soul. And then, I asked, "Can I see what happened? The way the bounder broke and the judging you endured."

"Do you need my permission to do so?"

"Not really. I only don't favor going through others' minds without their consent unless it is necessary." I opted for a reassuring smile that she didn't even mirror.

"Then do as you wish, Your Highness. But there are moments that you might not see, and some that I myself cannot reach, being locked from my memories."

"I'll manage." I stared at her for a bit longer, my silent words reaching Aether in questions. He didn't speak like both times before, but it was that surge of light within my core that answered me. Thus I ordered, "Look at me in the eyes."

"No." Clear and curt, but I didn't back down.

"There will be no pain, I swear it upon the Mark I hold."

It was the king that stared at me with heavy eyes, but Nuaira, knowing that I would die if that oath did not hold true, dared to stare me in the eyes.

Fire kicked at her soul and she winced before it was gone and time stopped. Even the falling leaves froze as I entered her mind.

I saw flashes, then, of young children playing in this very village and being observed from a kid behind a window. The scenery shifted and I was at the castle, staring through Nuaira's eyes at her trembling hands as she pinned a note to Father's door. I was standing atop a tower next, eyes going over the massive distance between where I stood and the ground below.