Ariadne played with abandon. Unlike her typical reserve, sitting on a barstool with her violin, she stood and used the whole stage, dancing along with the music she made. Pirouettes, leaps, and bounds were choreographed with every stroke of the bow across the strings. She was in a world of her own as she performed, and this day she needed the escape more than most. Lord Kerras, in plain clothes and a simple cloak sat in the back corner of the tavern, entranced. He had many times followed the Princess to this place where she called herself Angel and played for the sailors, ladies, and drunkards of the Sultry Song tavern. Every night the money she had made from her performance she placed back into the hands of one of the various spectators, whoever looked most in need. To her it was a release that could not be found in the confining castle walls. If not at her pond, she was here, in this lowly tavern, playing with all her heart and enthralling scores of onlookers with her grace.

  Here she was not a princess, not an heiress, not wealthy or proper, she was a performer, a chameleon in the crowd, an unknown quantity whose whole existence could be tied to her music. She was recognized by all the commoners as Angel, her disguise good enough to fool even the stray noble who, down on his luck, stumbled into this downtrodden place to find pleasurable company. Lord Kerras himself, or one of his guards, followed her every time, always armed and always watchful, yet never once had anyone tried to harm the young princess. Despite her beauty and position in the spotlight as Angel, she had a seeming way of subtle influence.

  The combat this morning was still stuck in the Lord's mind. He'd served the kings for thirty-five years. He was Kingsguard for Jedidiah II, had led the city watch for a time after Theon IV's coronation. He'd seen training, and even some minor skirmishes inside the city with some of the more unsavory underground elements. Thieves and bandits outside the walls, and scoundrels, pickpockets, and criminal elements always sought their own plans. But never had he seen such an intense display of raw might. The previous King never fought, never trained really. Theon's life was different in some way that Lord Kerras was not privy to.

  Yet for all the wild force of the King's assault, the young Swordsman was unaffected, and had easily deflected the attack before surrendering. Damn that girl, she knew the Swordsman would never endanger the King. He thought. By Shir she got me. But I was right, that boy has some exceptional power. I've little doubt that he could wipe us all out if he so chose. He shuddered as he sipped his wine.

  "A leader’s worth resides in those who choose to follow him," said a gruff voice next to Lord Kerras.

  Kerras started and looked over to see a haggardly-dressed Mareth. When he entered or where he came from Kerras wasn't sure, but the sage had a way of sneaking up on people at the strangest of times.

  "My father used to say the same."

  "I know. A good man, your father. Trustworthy, staunch, dangerously honest. He... died well, my friend. I miss him." Mareth's voice trailed off as Ariadne finished one song and bowed to the crowd which began shouting for her to play another. She bestowed upon them a polite smile in response.

  Lord Kerras' smile was sad, a wound re-opening with talk of his father, "She's well-loved." Lord Kerras spoke.

  "This King's children are, singular... I can't say much more than that. Can't tell you what I don't know after all. Even sages have their limits."

  "Children? He only has the one..."

  "Does he now? I forget these things. Mind goes eventually. Of course you are right.”

  "Ye know, Sage, ye always seem like ye are hiding something. What's yer game?"

  "Hiding something? Always." With that Mareth gave a little wink, got up and walked away just as Ariadne acquiesced to play one more song for the needy crowd.

  "What a strange man." Lord Kerras thought aloud as he remembered the wine in front of him, raised it to his lips and drained the whole of it. He let out a large sigh and leaned back, I suppose I will have to prepare a training plan for the young princess now. He looked down at his heavy longsword, gripping the hilt curiously. "Too heavy I think. Perhaps something lighter..." He let his thoughts wander, the alcohol loosening the sadness in his chest and washing it away on the tides of Angel’s performance.

  #

  Winning to a forfeit was no victory at all. Yet the King knew with absolute and terrible certainty that the Swordsman was more than his match. He had attacked with all he had, with full intent to kill the young man, and had been parried effortlessly. Yet the young man had made it look to the crowd that he'd been forced back. He had made it seem that he barely escaped the deathstroke, and so gave up rather than face the King again. He had defeated the King in humility, poise, and deadly skill. Everything he had done had been for the King's glory as well, and that made him ache all the more.

  Had he wanted to kill me, it would have been as simple as exhaling. Theon's musing stopped there as his attention turned to the Kingsguard who approached the throne with tentative steps. I should have gone someplace more private than the open throne room to ponder my defeat.

  "My King" the Kingsguard spoke, barely audible but rising in pitch, "I came to congratulate you on your victory today, Sire. I have, never seen something so overpowering. I am Mikhail. Newly appointed to your guard." Behind him, still just outside the doors was a retinue of additional Kingsguard, all young, but stiff and too hesitant to enter.

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  "Who was your appointing Lord?" the King asked with nonchalance.

  "Lord Kerras, my King."

  "A good man. Are you to be placed in my daughter's guard then?"

  "Nay, Sir, I have been attached to the castle guard for now, until I am able to prove myself to the other guardsmen."

  "Well thank you for your praise, but it is ill-given. I lost today."

  "The young Knight surrendered, Sire. Certainly not."

  The King’s eyebrow rose, a wry smile just barely breaking his lips. Though he sat his throne he had not donned the Mask of Command. The boy’s slip was small. He would let it go. though Kerras would not have. "Ask Lord Kerras to explain more fully,” the King said finally, “I believe his eyes attuned well enough to know the difference between overwhelming victory and ignominious defeat." With that the King stood to leave, and the young guardsman knelt, his fellow guardsman behind him following suit to pay respects as the King left the chamber.

  As he departed through the broad doorway his Queen-Consort swept in behind him. She wore a long black dress with a low-cut neckline and fabulous craftsmanship. "My Liege, may I walk with you?" she said as she glided closer to him, wrapped her arm around his and stood on her toes to whisper into his ear "Your display today dreadfully excited me, m'lord."

  "Join me Emilia, I could use your comfort this night. I have been defeated." With that he pulled his arm from hers and wrapped it around her waist, pulling her in for a kiss. "To my chambers, my dear. It has been a long day."

  She pulled back, grabbed him by the hand and led him through the castle passageways up the winding staircase to the overlook where his bedchamber lay. The time for words was over, they would speak with primal language and lay waste the day's difficulties in intoxicating embrace.

  #

  "He defeated me wholly." the King said.

  Emilia lounged in his arms, her head laying upon his bare chest.

  "But he surrendered? It seemed to me he barely escaped that attack."

  "No, my dear. He has skill enough to not only defend, but make it look as though it had been difficult in order to protect my image in front of my guardsmen and servants, and, perhaps more importantly, my daughter."

  "He sounds dangerous, Theo." She turned her head to face him, her raven-black hair brushing his chin.

  "Very. But if he wanted me dead, that would have been the perfect moment. He could have slain me and made it seem an accident. He is loyal."

  "Loyalty can be bought, it can be swayed. He also sits on your council. Do you know that he won't try to undermine you? His order has been out of repute for decades after all – by all the faiths – centuries."

  "Wrongfully accused of failing a king they could not have possibly protected." He said this with such disdain as if tasting gall in the words.

  "Still, he is dangerous, Theo. I think we should test him further."

  Theon shifted nervously, "What did you have in mind, Em?"

  "Well. We know him to be of incredible martial prowess, but what do we know of his nocturnal activities? He is, after all, a man and a young one at that." As she spoke she rubbed the King's chest, "Perhaps we should test his loyalty not in matters of life and death, but rather in matters of the heart or perhaps..." she began kissing Theon's chest, "matters of the bed. Will he betray you for a woman?"

  Theon shifted again, his mind wandering as men do when their blood shifts south, "You mean to seduce him, my dear?"

  "I mean to try, if you'll allow me." She lifted her eyes to him, their flashing blue icy cool and shining, "it would be a truer test of his character after all."

  "You may do as you like, Emilia, as always, do as you like." The King said as he rested his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

  "There is nothing I would not do for my King," she pressed up to whisper in his ear and then ceased talking.

  #

  "Stop hiding, Lord Kerras. You've already told me you follow me on these nights. Walk with me." Ariadne said to the apparent darkness behind her. Out of the shadows of the alley, Kerras stepped out and bowed low.

  "Habits, my Princess, apologies"

  "Oh don't call me that, not here, not outside the walls. Please call me Angel. It's how the people know me." She flipped her hair, which was usually fiery red like her father's, but was now hidden under a well-crafted wig of sable.

  "As you like, my," Lord Kerras paused as he struggled to break the habit of seventeen years, "Angel. As you like, Angel."

  Ariadne gave a broad smile, her silver-blue eyes flashing stars in the night, "Much better. And what may I call you? Lord Kerras is so stingy."

  "Well starting tomorrow, you can call me teacher. I think I have figured out how to fulfill my wager to you. Though one might say you cheated. You know the young swordsman better than most."

  Ariadne could feel herself blush at the mention of the young man, but hoped desperately that the night would hide that fact from Kerras. "We've only talked a handful of times. He likes to spend time out by Serenity's Kiss as well. I think it helps calm him."

  Lord Kerras stepped up next to Ariadne, and signaled for them to move forward, back toward the castle, and so the two began walking, making their way through Old Towne into the lower Noble's Quarter. "Whatever the case, your wager was perfect. He absolutely refused to put the King in any danger."

  "I figured that he would give up, but you seem to have noticed something deeper?" Ariadne looked curious but kept her eyes forward and her steps estinto upon the cobbled streets.

  "He didn't simply give up. He timed his defense to maximize the King's safety while making it look as though he'd been overpowered. Likely only myself would have noticed the exact movements between the fighters, though perhaps Lord Marrak could have. Certainly Zimossa had he been present. Some of the sharper Waterwalkers."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The young man allowed the king to come within inches of killing him so that his parry would be at just the right moment to allow the King's own momentum to carry the King to safety. The Swordsman could have parried farther out, but it would have made the King's attack look foolish and would have opened your father up to an accidental cut. By parrying closer to his own body, the young man ensured that any accident would only occur to him, not the King."

  Ariadne stopped and stared up at Kerras as he spoke. He took one more step before stopping himself and turning around. "So," she said, "he could have overpowered my Father, like you thought?"

  Lord Kerras thought hard before answering. "He might have been..."

  "Don't soften the blow, Lord Kerras, tell me plainly, could he have killed my father?" Ariadne's voice was short and brusque.

  Lord Kerras let out a deep, embittered sigh. "In a breath."

  Ariadne looked stricken. "I..." she wrestled with the words, "can't believe it."

  Kerras could not bring himself to say more. Ariadne walked passed him, her radiance somewhat dimmed, and he trudged along a pace behind her, wishing the truth wasn't so frightening. The King of Shir is not invincible. A father is never all that we hope him to be.