Now that I have sung, one might say for my supper, I am finally able to face the thought of eating something. So, we adjourn to the room next door where a veritable banquet is laid out upon long tables and I'm spoilt for choice. The kitchens must have been slaving away for days.

Almost as soon as we return to the ballroom, Torbjorn approaches and before the king has had a chance to utter a word, Aren says, "No!" The king begs a final favour, that Aren should meet with a party from some place I've never heard of.

"Fine," Aren snaps, indicating that it is anything but. "After this, my princely duties are done for the night."

I can't help feeling a bit deflated as Aren walks away and stare into my glass. It is better not to watch as ladies fawn upon him. On the previous occasions I have been left alone this evening, my friends at court have been kind enough to ask me to dance. First Drake, then Bram, then Ray and even Gawain.

"Would you care to take a turn of the dance floor with me?" Torbjorn asks, to my surprise.

He is a handsome man with the same twinkling blue eyes as Aren and looks to be in his forties, though I understand that he's actually in his eighties. While he has the regal disposition expected of a king, he has always been warm and welcoming, never making me feel the inferiority of my position.

It seems like no time at all when the dance ends and I see a face from my past. After thanking Torbjorn with a polite curtsey, I trip over the room to say hello to Oren, Lord of the Emerald Isle. It seems such an age since I last saw him.

"Lord Oren. It is a pleasure to meet you again."

"Truly Elissa, the pleasure is all mine. I must confess that I hoped that we would meet." He kisses my hand. "You look absolutely stunning. Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?"

Without thought, I accept and part way through the dance Oren comments, "I hear that a certain young prince is rather taken with you."

I blush slightly, responding, "And I with him."

Oren gives a slightly pained expression and I realise that may not have been tactful. "I see that my hopes are crushed." Rallying he asks, "My sister Laurel is here and would like to see you, if you can spare the time."

"Of course." While, Laurel spent most of her time hooking up with Zane, it would be nice to see her again.

We cross over to Laurel, who is stood with a young, pretty red-haired woman, who Oren introduces as his sister Rowan.

I kiss Laurel's cheek. "How have you been? I don't suppose you have seen Zane recently."

She looks momentarily crestfallen. Damn me and my big mouth.

She responds, "You know Zane, he is ever the wanderer."

"Well, if you do cross his or Darish's path, can you let them know where I am? We got separated and I have no way to contact them."

Just as Laurel opens her mouth to speak, Rowan interrupts and hooks her arm through mine. "Could you show me where I can freshen up?"

She is rather over-familiar, nevertheless I escort her to where the powder rooms are. In the quiet of the corridor Rowan stops.

"I wanted to take the opportunity to talk with you alone. My brother is still quite taken with you. I wonder if you have reconsidered his offer."

I'm taken aback by her blunt approach and try to be tactful. "Your brother is most kind, but I believe that I have found my home here in Arcadia."

"Has Prince Aren stolen your heart? Yes, probably a better choice than Oren. So, you have no plans to explore more of this realm?"

I simply shake my head at a loss of what to say. Rowan shrugs and thankfully enters the powder room. Picking up my skirts, I make a dash for it. That woman is quite unsettling and I am unable to shake the feeling of having been examined and judged somehow.

.....

Aren places a heavy cloak around my shoulders and taking my hand, leads me outside onto the wide balcony. We descend to the courtyard below, where the bare trees are strewn with thousands of tiny lights.

I am initially swamped with people saying how wonderful my performance was. It is gratifying but also a tad overwhelming. Aren shoos them away and leads me into the night. The hubbub of the party fades into the distance.

"I didn't think myself that good. Although Roberto was very complimentary."

"Roberto?" Aren's voice is crisper than the nights air.

"The lead tenor from the Opera House."

We walk in silence and soon our path is lit with candles. I realise that we are on our way up to the arbour on the hillock where we first kissed. Vibrant red roses are woven within the barren framework over the bench and my heart skips as I count twelve in total.

Unthreading one of the roses, Aren hands it to me. "Elissa, please accept a token of my love."

"Aren." I croak, choked with emotion. The romantic gesture leaves me speechless.

He gently guides me onto a plush fur protecting my derrière from the cold of the stone. Taking both my hands in his, he kneels before me, causing my breath to hitch. He can't possibly...

"Elissa, I love you. I will love you always. My greatest wish is that one day you will agree to be mine."

He halts suddenly seeming very nervous and unsure of himself. Inwardly I curse myself, for I'm not good at hiding my emotions and my face is probably a visage of shock.

"Please, I beg of you, give me an indication of how you feel." His vulnerability makes me fall a little further in love with him.

I know that this is a crazy whirlwind and that we have only known each other a few months, but it feels right. However, I don't want to be too impulsive and I have to consider that my station is far below his.

"Aren, I love you too. But I do not want to bind you to a poor match."

He gives a slight growl, insisting, "You are the perfect match for me." He places my hand on his chest. "My heart, it beats for you alone. I cannot yet ask you to become my betrothed. However, I do promise to hold you in my heart evermore and six moons hence will seal this promise with a ring."

The way he is looking up at me is my undoing and I throw caution to the wind. "Aren, you have my heart and I promise to accept your offer when it is given."

Reaching up, he places trembling hands against my face and kisses me. The world tilts.

I am standing in a huge room, with sun streaming through stained glass windows. My gown, though white is richly decorated with pearls and iridescent embroidery. The scent of summer flowers fills the air.

Aren is stood beside me and my left hand is bound to his right hand. My heart fills with joy and tears of happiness brim in my eyes.

Breaking away from Aren's loving gaze, I look up at an almost impossibly beautiful light elven woman on a dais, who smiles down at me. She is a complete stranger, yet at the same time I feel I know her.

I blink. It is night time and I'm once more back on the hill, laid upon the bench. Ashen faced, Aren is looking down at me. "My love, you just fainted."

"I'm alright. I had the strangest dream." It all felt so real that I can't help feel disoriented. Aren helps me into a sitting position. "Our hands were bound with a golden ribbon."

Aren beams, delighted. "You dreamed of our hand fastening. This is a good omen."

......

The High King waits impatiently until finally Rowan falls into a slumber and he is able to enter into her subconscious mind.

"Tell me of the girl."

"My brother is still mooning over her. She is pretty, but I do not see what all the fuss is about. I cannot believe that she was the only one to dance with all three princes. Prince Aren is head over heels in love with her and the rumours are..."

"Hush, let me see for myself," he interrupts her prattling.

Subduing her, the king sinks further into her mind, replaying highlights of the ball and skipping through the many tedious bits. At Rowan's meeting with Elissa, he is distracted by an intoxicating scent; it gets under his skin, causing his blood to thrum.

Compelled, he searches for the source of the fragrance, becoming almost frantic. Victorious, he identifies it as emanating from Elissa. He reaches for her, need burning within him, but his fingers simply pass through Rowan's memories of the girl.

His eyelids spring open, eyes almost as black at night, as flames erupt across his skin.

.................

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