“There are four things every person has more of than they know; sins, debt, years, and foes.” - Persian Proverb

The sun raises ever high into the crisp sky while the stale air of summer threatens to suffocate the city.

Father decided that we must go on a picnic to the apple orchard, and I am hopping along, Ria trailing behind me. The boys and other girls are just on our heels, their giggles filling the orchard with life.

I begged Ferdaid and Friduric to come along, but they denied my requests stating that someone had to stay behind while Father went frolicking around to give me the childhood neither Father nor them had.

One of the boys, I cannot remember which one, suggests that we play hide-and-seek. Not wanting to me a marsh dweller, I reluctantly agree.

I hide among the apple trees. The crunch of twigs make my heart beat so fast that I am convinced I'll faint. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as Quintrell and his closest three friends make their appearance.

“Quin, you can't hide here as well. If Saum finds us all together, he'll win,” I whisper.

“Perhaps, Princess, there is a greater prize at stake than winning the game.” The red in his eyes, the snarl of his lips, and his stance - akin to that of a rabid dog ready to pounce - cause the world to tilt and tumble as I stagger backwards. The soft grass and crunchy ground collides with my back.

“Princess, wake up!” is the first thing I hear before being splashed with water in the face, the icy cold drenching me to the bone.

“On the Council! What on earth!”

“Relax! Just wake up,” Lord Caith says with a grin.

My frown creeps off my face. “Oh, now I remember. You know, lord Caith, a gentle touch or whisper would have woken me just as easily.”

“I tried. The water was a last resort. Please, do not call me lord Caith anymore; just Caith will do as well.”

“I do not believe you.” As I sit up, I realise that the sun barely changed position in the sky. Exhaustion cramps my muscles as I stretch them.

“Caith is the name I go by,” he says, extending that damned smile on his pretty face.

“No, I do not believe that the water was the last resort to wake me.” Guilt gnaws at me as I reprimand him, knowing that the cold sweat of fear from my nightmare and the freezing water are indistinguishable on my clothes.

“What you believe is up to you. We have to get going.”

Seeing the nails of the hand he offers me with nervous ridges bitten into their whites, fuels my imagination. Does his responsibilities as Lord Commander of the Second Order weigh that heavily upon him? Does the tense relationship he has with his family plague him so often?

“You really have to work on your manners.” My palm connects with his as he firmly grasps my hand, making my fingers all but disappear in his.

“I have to work on mine? Funny, I recall saving you from an abandoned town, offering you food and clothes, and weapons, and I have not heard one word of thanks from your mouth,” Caith replies vehemently as he pulls me to my feet.

That silences me for a moment. A warm buzz remains on my skin after Caith lets go of my hand, before walking to the horses to untie them. He must have removed the saddles sometime during our sleep.

“I apologise for my inexcusable behaviour. I do not have any reason for it that could suffice as an apology. I do not have any token of my appreciation to offer either. I am not good with words, but I do know that my life is in your debt.” Lowering my eyes, I take the reigns from him and put Desert's saddle on, tying the girdle tightly.

After doing the same for his horse, he mounts. “I accept your apology. However I do not accept your life debt. I have too many lives to account for already.”

“I am trying to thank you for saving my life.”

“I haven't heard you say anything that even remotely resemble those words.”

This devilish smile! Curse him for it.

“Caith, I thank you for saving my life.”

“I accept your thanks.”

The sun sets hours later as we continue on our journey, turning the dark black landscape into an array of colourful splashes. The air, which was as hot and smothering as those big ovens made of stone in Raven's Peak's kitchens, wilts away, leaving only the ashes of its heat.

The glittering, sparkling stars shine down on us, and the moon's swelling belly guides our way. My eyes grow heavy and my limbs feel like they are pulling me to the ground. The continuous bobbing of Desert lulls me to sleep. When I start to slip from the saddle, Caith announces that we will be stopping when we are near a clearing sheltered by a few boulders large enough to hide us and the horses. The stream we have been following today passes just to the right.

Caith places his hand on mine when I want to tie the reigns to a sharp, protruding rock.

“You can remove it. They will not wander too far from us.” He takes his horse’s halter and saddle off. For the hundreth time since my rescue I follow his lead, allowing Desert and Caith’s horse to graze in the distance.

“Would you please take care of the fire for us?” His smile, too bright to be sincere, causes me to taste suspicion.

Before I left Raven's Peak, he hinted at things I did not understand, but now, in light of what Hoyt taught me, I can't help but think that Caith knows more than even I do. Not being sure whether Caith knows that I now spark fires from my fingertips, I settle on gathering branches and twigs while combatting the fierce wind - which is no minor task. The land is dry, with no indigenous flora. The scant and pathetic twigs I find, must have travelled here by wind.

When I arrive back at the clearing, I place the twigs near the saddles. Caith, shirtless, and pants rolled up, stands in the stream with his back to me. A large blue-blackish scar with jagged borders covers his left shoulder. The scar's shape is sinister, and the colour is unnatural.

“That must have been a horrible wound.” The words slip out of my mouth. I immediately regret saying it. I have no right to be curious about the scar, but I am a healer. Injury and illness interest me. Whenever I encounter them I immediately start to think of their origin and ways to relieve them.

Caith turns around, holding a flopping fish in his hands. “It was. It was caused by a piece of iron with small hooks. When struck by the weapon, it rips out pieces of the flesh. This weapon was covered in poison - hence the awful colour. It looks much better now. I am sure that in a few years the scar will finally become pink, and then later white.”

“I am not familiar with a poison like that.”

“It is from a plant with black leaves and a black stem that only grows in Darkeland.” He makes his way out of th stream, still grasping the fish firmly.

“What is the name of the plant?”

“It is called Council’s Bane.”

“How poisonous is it?” I stack the twigs into a pathetic heap. Not that I know anything about making real fires, but I guess I'll need some kind of thing to fuel the fire until the wood takes - or at least to convince Caith that I am not magically making fires. I wonder if I can trust Caith with the devastating truth about Ardam's legacy.

“Harmless to most, but deadly to only a few - unless the poison is counteracted.”

“By what?” The elves never taught me about this plant.

“Council’s Cure - which is even more difficult to find.”

“Where do you find it?”

“Don’t you get tired of asking so many questions?” Caith asks smilingly.

The fish in Caith’s hands has stopped flopping and looks at me with its glassy eyes.

Another question pops out of my mouth before I can phrase it in my brain. “Are we only eating fish?”

“This is not your palace, princess, where you get to choose your five course meals.”

I am not sure if he is serious or joking. “It was just a question. I cannot seem to stop asking them. I hope this fire will be warm enough to cook the fish.”

“There is some firesteel and tinder in my saddlebag. Unlike some, I still need to start fire using the conventional ways.” He puts the fish down on a rock next to me, causing me to shift away uncomfortably. He reaches for his saddle bag and then hands me, what I assume to be, the firesteel and tinder. “Or you can make this whole ruse less entertaining and just start it by snapping your fingers, or however those things work nowadays.”

My jaw drops to the ground.

“It was quite a laugh to watch you fight the wind and gather those meager splinters.” Seeing my frozen eyes and lifted eyebrows, he continues. “Your family has quite the reputation for burning anything in their way. I wondered when you would come into your powers, but you now reek of them. I can safely assume that that was the purpose of this whole kidnapping, but to what intent we'll yet have to see.”

Not knowing how to reply, I anxiously concentrate on starting the fire. Caith's thoughtful eyes studying me cause me to falter a few times before I finally manage to successfully feed a ball of fire from my palms to the twigs.

“Is there anything else I can do? I would not want you to have any reason to say that I do not pull my weight.”

“Not at the moment. You can relax.” He holds out a wooden box decorated with sapphires and gold.

“What is in the box?”

“Open it.”

I remove the latch and open it. Small, multi-coloured cubes of a jelly-like substance fill the box neatly. A sweet fruity smell fills the air.

“The elves call it sitam. It is one of their favourite delicacies, but it can also function as a meal. When they have to undertake long journeys and do not have that much packing space, they will be able to live on this for months.”

I take one of the cubes and inspect it.

“One cube will not fill you, so only take one now. There is still bread and a few fruits in my saddle bags, and the fish, for dinner. The sitam will energise you. We will not stay here for the whole night. The sooner we start moving again, the sooner we can arrive at Raven’s Peak.”

I place the cube in my mouth. “It is delicious!” I exclaim when I swallowed. He nods and takes the box from my hand, putting the box back into his saddle bag.

“The fire is ready now.” He scrapes a few coals out of the fire and places the fish on the coals. “Tell me about your brothers.”

“Only if you tell me something about yourself in return.”

“You know how to drive a hard bargain,” he answers.

“It is called compromise.”

“Then I agree to a certain degree of compromise.”

“Deal,” I say smilingly. “I have only ever known them as grown men. I was born years after Friduric. They are both very alike, and like my father. They are stern and rock solid. When they have decided upon something, they will not bend or change their mind under any circumstance. Our father taught us that our feelings in a situation are totally irrelevant. Both of them live completely by this philosophy. You can rely on their word. Once they have promised you something, you can be assured that it will become a reality. They are good men: the ones that make legends real.”

“That is a very good description, but one that an insubordinate person would give. What do you say, as their sister?”

I hesitate. “My oldest brother is my brother, but above all else he is my king. Friduric is the second most powerful man, after the king.”

I do not feel comfortable discussing my family politics with Caith, but I am curious about Caith. I have to give him a morsel of information. “I am the only person they will allow to defy them, and only to a certain extent. The only reason they allow me as much freedom as they do, is because they respect my father’s memory - may he find peace with the Inncocents and laugh in the Halls of the Council. Now it is your turn,” I interrupt him before he can continue. “It has to be something worthy to add to my knowledge and not something I could have figured out for myself already.”

“That is fair. I have a twin sister. She is younger than me by two hundred seconds. And I have an older brother. He is very similar to yours, but he cannot stand me. He likes and loves my sister much more than me.”

“That is sad,” I interject.

“It is just the way we are. My sister is wonderful. She is my total opposite, but she completes me. She would like you.”

“Do you see her often? You probably do not get much leave by being the Second Order’s Leader.”

“I see her enough.” He turns the fish on the coals.

“And the rest of your family?”

“I chhose to avoid them.”

“That is tragic. Families should stick together.” At some point I should stop interrogating him about his family.

“My family is different. We are complex and have an unending history. I do believe the fish is finished now.” He takes the fish off the coals. “We will have to eat with our hands. I give you my most sincere apologies for not bringing cutlery with.”

“You save my life, but you do not bring a plate for me to eat out of? Unforgiveable!” I reply good-naturedly.

“You are really ungrateful!” Realisation hits his face. “Oh, it was a joke.”

“Yes,” I say with a straight face, and then break into a laugh.

He breaks off a piece of the fish and eats it.

“Is there something wrong with the fish? You have not eaten a morsel,” he enquires after a while with a frown on his face.

“There is nothing wrong with it,” but I do not move towards the fish.

“Then, please, eat.”

He takes another piece of the fish. He spits a grate into the fire. “Oh, do you want to thank the Council?” He breaks a small piece of the fish off and throws it into the fire, in heretic-like fashion. “I thank the Council for the meal we are eating. I pray that we will be blessed with a safe journey to our destination. Now please eat. You have not eaten anything since I rescued you.”

I do not touch the fish. “I cannot eat fish.”

“You cannot have preferences out here, princess. Out here you have to eat or be eaten.”

“I really cannot eat fish. I have only eaten it on a few occasions. Whenever I eat fish, I cannot breathe because my whole face and neck swell up.”

His face changes to a more compassionate expression. “Why did you not say so before? Then I could have hunted a rabbit.”

“I tried to, but then you said, very rudely I must add, that I am finicky because of my nobility.”

He is quiet for a second. “I apologise then. I am used to the nobility being picky.”

“You really do not like those born of nobility, do you?” I enquire with a frown. I know the nobility can be quite dissatisfied with anything and everything, but I have never been that way.

“Not exceptionally well at all. May I speak freely and be forgiven for what I will say?”

I am curious. “Yes.”

“Your father, and brothers, and all the lords and ladies under their command never pause to consider the cost of their wealth. They never meditate about the poor man’s circumstances and what they lose in times of war. Yes, your father was a great man in uniting the different kingdoms, but many are still living in the wakes of all those wars. Even this war, the one raging now, does not bode well for the pauper and his family. And what happens to all the men who are maimed in the battles? The lords will go back to their castles and be waited upon by their servants. But Jack’s one arm had to be amputated. The only skill he has, is being a carpenter. How will he provide for his family when he returns to his home? His wife will leave him, and take his children with, and he will beg, steal and starve to death. That is why I choose not to associate with human nobles.”

“I know all of this. Master Elan used to send me out into the poorest parts of the city and have me report on everything I noticed. He made me swear not to tell anyone, since I am the princess, and he was responsible for my safety. Once I asked him why I had to go out of the palace ground if it was unsafe for me. He replied that it was necessary for me not to be harboured in the palace and have a narrow view on things. I had to see the world as it really was, and not as my father and his nobles presented it to me. That is one of the main reasons that I fight so hard with my brothers to allow me to work at the tents of the injured,” I reply honestly. I share the information with him to prove that I am not one of those nobles he clearly despises. For some inexplicable reason I want Caith to think the best of me.

“You have not eaten.” He takes the loaf of bread and an apple. He hands it to me. “Eat.”

I am ravenous. I eat half the loaf and the whole apple.

“Go to sleep, princess. I will take care of a few things and then I will wake you in a few hours.”

“I am not tired,” I lie. This conversation is revealing so much about Caith that I don't want it to ever end.

“Will you try to sleep if I tell you a story?”

“Only it is a good story.”

“Make yourself comfortable.”