Marie-Fey desperately wanted Constantine back that evening but her brothers didn't come home until dawn.

She wouldn't have been able to speak to him anyway because the whole notion of romance, love and lost causes was off-limits now that his non-existent romance was dashed.

So, she avoided Zaydan like he was diseased and Zaydan left her alone, barely even looking her way during dinner and only greeting her with polite detachment at breakfast.

Constantine didn't make it down to the breakfast table that morning. Beldon and Valentine did, however.

Valentine looked pristine, if not tired, but he'd never been one to drink heavily so could still function.

Beldon, who had always enjoyed rather wild nights when he'd been out with friends as a teenager, no longer drank as much as he used to now that he was a ranking officer in the army, and the consequences had come back to bite him.

He was collapsed in his chair with an icepack over his eyes, his booted-feet in Luka's lap as he moaned. He had the nerve to still look stunning even while in the process of melting into his seat and Marie-Fey wanted to flick him right where that headache would be raging.

"Lu, I think I'm dying," he was whimpering, easing the icepack back to his forehead.

Luka didn't look away from his newspaper as he stirred milk into his coffee, simply turned to the next page. "You're hungover, Bel. If you can survive a bullet, you can survive this."

"You heartless monster," Beldon groaned, "I never used to get hungover."

"You're getting old," Luka replied.

Beldon let out a subdued wail and sank lower in his chair. "Oh no! I'm going to be like you; ancient!"

"You're such a kind soul. How much of last night to you remember?"

"There was drinking. And more drinking. And cards. And Maykin's had the gall to put his hands on me. I might have put my fist on his nose... but I'm quite certain he got up again... Val, did Maykin's stand up again?"

"Maykin's was well enough," Valentine replied.

"You got in a fight?" Rosalia gasped, horrified and Beldon shushed at her.

"Not so loud," he whispered, "I did not get into a fight, I got into an altercation. Better than Constantine. All in good fun. And then... urr.... I woke up using Luka's shin as a pillow. You do not have comfortable shins. Far too bony."

Luka looked to the heavens like he was asking them to give him strength then took a sip of his coffee.

Zaydan flicked a glance between Luka and Beldon and Beldon suddenly turned his razor sharp – albeit squinting – eyes on him.

"And what's wrong with you two?" he asked, squinting between Zaydan and Marie-Fey. "Neither of you have said a word all morning and you won't look at each other."

Marie-Fey glared at Beldon and cursed him his observant nature. The man was nursing a headache that was trying to tear his skull in two – one would assume the way he was behaving at least – and he still had the gall to notice how others were behaving.

"It's nothing," Marie-Fey said tartly, setting her teacup down too hard and Beldon groaned at the sound, pulling the pack back down over his eyes.

"Have you survived being shot?" Zaydan asked absently as he cut his toast in half, pulling the conversation back to the top.

Beldon made a lazy, dismissive gesture. "Shot, stabbed, strangled, torn up, beaten up, nearly drowned, almost got my head blown off. You name it, I've survived it."

"Bel," Luka muttered.

"Hardly conversation for the breakfast table, Beldon," his father said.

"He asked, I supplied," Beldon said, sinking so low in his seat he almost vanished under the table. "Have you survived being shot?" he then added; his grin obvious even if no one could see the lower half of his face anymore.

Zaydan was quiet for a moment, eyes on his food. "Yes," he said.

Everyone looked at him and Beldon pushed his pack back, eyeing Zaydan over the lip of the table.

"Well you suddenly became a lot more interesting," he said.

"Beldon!" Antoinette snapped and Beldon let out a dramatic cry.

"Not so loud," he hissed.

"How are you going to attend tonight's gala if you're moping around like this?" Antoinette continued.

"Do I have to attend?"

"Of course you do. How often are you home from the army? Everyone wants to see you."

"Uuuugh."

"Beldon, don't be so undignified."

"I assume my seating position has passed you by unnoticed."

"It certainly hasn't and you're lucky I haven't stuffed you into a corset to force you straight."

Beldon grinned over the table at her. "I'm going to sleep all day and I don't want to be bothered until the party," he decided.

"I don't think you should be allowed," Antoinette said, eyeing him.

"Why not? I have nothing else scheduled today. I needn't take care of Zaydan, do I?"

"You do not," Zaydan said, "As I said yesterday, I'm quite content to look after myself. I learned a university friend just arrived back in town yesterday morning, I wish to reacquaint with him this evening, so I won't trouble you."

"You won't attend tonight's party?" Zaafira asked, looking up, eyes wide.

Everyone at the table looked at her and she tensed but kept her hard eyes on Zaydan.

Zaydan was quiet for a moment, then reached across and gently took her hand. "Do you need me?" he asked, his voice soft and private, switching back to their native language even while everyone watched.

Zaafira was also quiet for a moment, her eyes dropping to his fingers that laced through hers. She opened her mouth then glanced to the right, towards Marie-Fey.

Marie-Fey just raised an eyebrow at her, settling her chin on her fingers and waiting.

"No," Zaafira muttered, her tone bitter, "I shall be fine."

"Are you sure?" Zaydan asked, "I will attend for you."

Zaafira snorted. "You mean you'll attend for her."

Zaydan eyes lifted to Marie-Fey and she turned her gaze to the rest of the table – her icy blue eyes meeting the electric blue of Beldon's.

"She doesn't need me," Zaydan replied and switched back so everyone could understand. "If you need me, just let me know. I can easily change my plans."

"Who is your friend, if you don't mind my asking?" Antoinette asked.

"Sir Daniel Harris."

"Oh! Sir Harris," Antoinette said, delighted, "An acquaintance of yours, Valentine, if I'm not mistaken."

"You're not. He's hosting an assembly in a couple of days which we are attending," Valentine replied.

"Then I'm sure I shall attend with you," Zaydan said, smiling at them before a grandfather clock out in the entrance hall chimed that it was already mid-morning and everyone began to rise for the day.

The opening of the front doors announced the arrival of The Rose Castle seamstresses for a full day's work to get the evenings gowns in fit shape for showing.

Rosalia and Antoinette guided Zaafira, Gharam and Maanah out, greeting the women before heading upstairs.

Valentine left to check on Constantine.

Luka dragged Beldon out of the breakfast hall, greeting Vanessa – Beldon's personal maid when he was home at Rose Castle – as she directed The Rose Castle seamstresses to follow Rosalia.

Beldon cried at her like a child cried to their mother when they felt sick. Vanessa didn't offer quite the same level of sympathy in return and herded him off with the threat of some type of revolting health drink that involved raw eggs and Beldon was out of Luka's arms, up the stairs and out of sight like he could outrun his hangover and her remedies.

Marie-Fey watched him go, Luka and Vanessa following, then looked around as Zaydan passed by into the now-empty hall.

She edged aside, folding her arms tightly to her chest as she turned away.

"Don't avoid me."

Zaydan's voice made her stop and, after a tense pause, she steeled herself and turned around.

Zaydan stood close by, pulling on his gloves and shrugging on his coat. He waited until he finished buttoning it before lifting his black eyes to her

"What I told you yesterday was not to scare you or concern you," he said, "I told you because you asked me, and I did not want to lie to you."

"I don't understand it," Marie-Fey muttered, looking away, "I don't know how you... how you can..."

"You do not need to know how or why," Zaydan said simply, smoothing the wild waves of his hair back before picking up his top hat. "My feelings for you... my feelings are irrelevant and unimportant – in regards to you and in general, so they should not concern you."

"How can you joke about playing marriage if you feel the way you say you do?" Marie-Fey said, shaking her hand.

He shot her a bright, easy smile. "I'm not joking," he said, "Say the word and I'll help you fool the world. It's for my own selfish reasons as much your reputation. If given the chance, you would have never married me anyway, so I get to play pretend – act out a reality that was impossible anyway. So don't worry about the whys and hows and just use me should you need to."

He bowed to her as he flipped his hat into place and walked towards the doors, Marie-Fey leaning against the doorframe, arms still folded as she looked at the floor.

"I would have married you," she said.

Zaydan stopped, the door half-open in his grip, before he looked back at her – his face carefully blank.

She lifted her gaze to meet his.

"But I would have married you for the same reason I married your brother," she continued, straightening and dropping her arms. "I'm not looking for love or storybook romance or such things that hold no value in the world we live in. I married for wealth and security. I chose the man least likely to let me down – financially at least. I would not have loved you and you would not have been happy, so be grateful you escaped me."

"I am grateful I have had the chance to know you," Zaydan replied, "I wish I had done so sooner."

Marie-Fey shook her head, turning away and walking to the stairs.

"You shouldn't underestimate yourself, Lady Fey," he said and Marie-Fey just waved him away over her shoulder. "Why was finance the deciding factor for you?"

That made Marie-Fey stop half way up the steps, fingers brushing the balustrade as she looked at them.

"You are extraordinarily wealthy in your own right simply due to the inheritance you will come into. You come from one of the wealthiest families in this country. Money is not an issue for you. So how have you come to fear poverty? What have you known of it?"

Marie-Fey was quiet, her thoughts turned inwards, away, back to the past. That short but awful moment in her life, barely a scratch in the timeline but a canyon in a disturbed corner of her mind.

She shook her head and straightened, looking back at Zaydan as he quietly, patiently, waited.

"That is conversation for another time," she said and Zaydan just gave her a smile in acceptance, turning away. "I didn't realise you'd seen action."

He looked back, expression confused.

"An army man you might be but... have you really been shot?" she asked.

He gave her a grin over his shoulder with a tip of the hat. "Conversation for another time," he copied before walking out, closing the door behind him.