“Well, if you decide to change your mind and would like to tour some of the other forts along the wall, know you will receive a fine welcome and hospitality in Fort Verion.” Lady Gemel gushed. “Is that not right, Sevelon?”

  “Yes, mother.” Sevelon responded like a dutiful, eligible son.

  “Thank you.” Verne said in much the same tone.

  Both of them sensed that Sevelon’s mother was anticipating an eligible match in the making.

  Both of them were determined that was not going to happen.

  “Lady Knell!” Lady Gemel waved her over, the addition of another woman to the party seemed to be the moment Lord Gemel had been waiting for as he bowed and took his leave, grabbing his son’s shoulder and propelling him in the same direction. Lady Knell, with a hooked nose and keen eyes, joined their conversation. “Allow me to introduce Lyla Borelia of Astaril.” Lady Gemel leaned towards Verne. “Lady Knell is a veritable fount of social discourse in, not just Astaril but in all the forts as well.”

  Verne held her breath as Lady Knell looked thoughtful.

  “Borelia,” she mused, “Borelia…you are descended from quite a long line of nobility, Lyla.” Lady Knell glanced at Lady Gemel. “I was not aware that the Borelias had any living descendants.”

  Verne remembered to pause, breathe and not enter into an answer too hastily.

  “Unfortunately my parents met a…tragic end,” she adopted some of Giordi’s flair of sorrow but lifted her chin as though being brave, “I went to live on the coast with a distant relative and have just received their blessing to enter society.”

  “I am so sorry to hear about your parents,” Lady Gemel said with practiced empathy…and a large dose of falsehood, “they were good friends of ours. I believe your mother attended my wedding although it was quite some time ago, before you were born.”

  Verne nodded.

  “That explains why I do not know them specifically,” Lady Knell said with a slightly offended tone aimed at Lady Gemel, “I grew up in Fort Callain and only moved to Astaril after my own father, Sir Knell, passed away and Sir Egrette was instated as Callain’s knight. It must have been after the passing of your parents.”

  Verne nodded again, not quite sure what to say to all this.

  “Will you join us to partake of the feast, Lyla?”

  “I…certainly.”

  Verne was ensconced between the two ladies and propelled towards the table where there was an array of food to choose from. All of it made her mouth water but as Lady Gemel and Lady Knell loaded their plates, lightly poking fun at each other for the types of food and the amount they were taking, Verne felt a wave of panic overcome her.

  “Nothing taking your fancy?”

  “I think I should prefer something lighter…like fruit.” Verne saw the large, embossed copper bowl overflowing with grapes, cherries and strawberries.

  “Good choice, my dear.” Lady Knell sniffed. “It always pays to watch your waistline.”

  As Lady Gemel and Lady Knell walked away, Verne was tempted to put her hands on the table, lower her head and groan with frustration. Instead she stood near the fruit bowl, surrounded by people but very much alone. She glanced at the doors, the temptation to flee growing with every passing second. However, Lady Jocasa was stationed by them and while Verne knew she could get away with infiltrating the event with ignorant nobility all desperate to one up each other, the woman who had issued the invitations was another matter.

  Verne plucked several grapes from the bowl and popped one in her mouth then cringed, wondering if there was protocol and etiquette involving grapes that she had just broken.

  “Suffocating…corset binding…” Verne muttered, glaring at the remaining grapes in her hand. “Ultracrepidarians…”

  “Nice word use.”

  Verne turned, the grapes dashing out of her hand at the sound of the voice behind her. Giordi immediately knelt and picked up the unleashed mobile mini bruises. Verne gave the doors another desperate glance before Giordi stood up with an apologetic look on his face.

  “I am sorry…”

  “No, no,” he held up his hand, “I apologise…I should not have come up behind you like that and frightened you.”

  Verne pressed her lips together. “You did not frighten me. I was startled perhaps…”

  Giordi nodded. “Of course, naturally. I didn’t mean…” He cleared his throat. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Giordi Gavoli.”

  “Lyla Borelia.” Verne lied and waited for the look of superior knowledge to dawn on Giordi’s face but it never came.

  “I’ve heard the name of Borelia before,” he said and she wondered if he was about to become as facetious as the ladies who were stuffing their faces at that very moment, “but I never met any of them.”

  “I am probably the only one left.” Verne hoped her hair was doing a good job of obscuring her face.

  “I am sorry about that too.”

  Verne felt awful then. “It is not your fault.” She swallowed, turning slightly to try to keep herself out of full view and pretended to peruse the feasting table, Giordi standing by her side to do the same but without encroaching on her personal space. “You…are here by invitation, Mr Gavoli?”

  “By necessity,” Giordi chuckled, his smile causing his dimples to appear, “I am a minstrel, by trade and I have been accompanying Judd LaMogre on his knighthood quest.”

  “I see.” Verne couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “You are from Astaril?”

  “By way of Quarre.” Verne could hear the speed of her words and willed herself to slow down and remember the lessons that had been drilled into Judd about not using contractions and remaining calm. Not only was her voice slower as she spoke each word deliberately, it was softer due to nervousness.

  “I take it you would have met with Lady LeMewn and her husband?”

  “I arrived after his passing.” Verne trembled. “So tragic…”

  “Yes…” Giordi sighed and they continued to look at the food without taking anything.

  Verne couldn’t stand the silence. “I understand LaMogre was in Quarre when Lord LeMewn died.”

  “Yes, we were.” Giordi nodded. “He…well, tragic seems to be the best way to describe it. Tell me, how is Lady LeMewn? When we left, she was very much on her own.”

  “She…” Verne tried to recall what she knew about Lady LeMewn. “She…played her harp for me.”

  “Truly?” Giordi brightened and Verne felt her heart cringe with guilt. “That pleases me to no end. I don’t think she was all that free to do so for a long time. Did you enjoy it?”

  Verne paused, remembering the night Lady LeMewn played her harp and how Giordi, with his warm tone had sung with her. The memory caused a light blush to colour her cheeks.

  “I have fond memories of that night.” She said softly.

  “You enjoy music?”

  “I…have a greater appreciation of it in recent months.” Verne drew back as another plate of food was delivered to the table.

  “I think we could feel all of Fort Mavour and Maul’s monsters with this feast.” Giordi joked lightly. “Oh…your grapes…” He looked at them then refused to put them in her hand. “These…they have been on the floor.”

  “Oh no…”

  “I will furnish you with some new ones…”

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  Verne wanted to howl with laughter at the notion. Months of travelling, cooking and eating outdoors meant Verne had consumed some rather questionable things at times but hadn’t baulked at any of it. Here was Giordi, cramming the dirty grapes into his pocket and plucking new ones for her.

  It was ridiculous!

  Giordi handed her a plate with a dozen grapes on it. They rolled around like purple eyeballs, their presence on the plate only emphasising the absence of anything else.

  “Thank you.” Verne took it and stared at the grapes. She didn’t know how to eat them in company. Giordi had seen Verne eat many times. What if she gave herself away?

  “That’s…not a lot.” Giordi looked around. “Would you like a peach? A plum? A strawberry?”

  “No, no, please…” Verne blurted. “Do not trouble yourself.”

  “It’s not trouble at all…” Giordi grimaced. “I mean it’s no trouble yourself…I mean…”

  Verne paused, watching Giordi become flustered. To her astonishment, he seemed as equally nervous as she. Despite the awkwardness of the moment, Verne felt a smile pulling on her lips.

  “The truth is,” Verne said and Giordi looked at her, seeing her face directly for the first time since their clumsy conversation had begun, “I…do not wish to embarrass myself with eating.” She looked around then down at her plate. “I do not know the proper etiquette about certain things…and a mistake here…”

  “Oh yes,” Giordi folded his arms and nodded, “nobility can be rather unforgiving.”

  “Not to mention pretentious and arrogant…complete blatteroons.” Verne groused then slapped her hand over her mouth as Giordi laughed. “I should not have said…”

  “Lyla Borelia, what you might lack in feasting etiquette, you make up for with your delightful vocabulary.”

  Verne put her hand down. “It is not appropriate!”

  “Thankfully I am the only one who heard and I swear, I’ll never tell.” Giordi chuckled then waved her forward. “Now…eating at a feast…meats you have to tear at it with your teeth…”

  Verne thought of all the times she had held a chicken or turkey drumstick in her hand and ripped the flesh off the bone.

  “Perhaps not…”

  “Fruit is fine but anything larger than a grape might dribble when you bite into it…”

  And wiping at her face with her sleeve would be an instinctual gesture as well as a crime against manners.

  “No…”

  “Crusty bread?”

  “Crumbs…”

  “A hot potato?”

  Verne sighed. “I am not a picky eater. I would eat anything I was served but here…”

  Giordi snapped his fingers. “I know just the thing. Come.” She followed him curiously to a table where several short candles were planted beneath a metal bowl that rested on a stand. There were small pieces of fruit, bread, meat and cheese on platters around it and forks in a pile. Giordi took two and looked at Verne.

  “What is your preference, Lyla Borelia?”

  Verne wanted to shrug but held herself still. “I…”

  “Don’t worry about how you will eat it. Just, want is your favourite thing here?” Verne decided to play it safe and chose a strawberry. “Excellent choice.” Giordi stabbed it with his fork and dunked it into the bowl’s contents. He drew it out, tapped off the milky brown excess that almost completely covered the royal red heart shaped berry and handed it to her.

  “What is it?” Verne asked, bemused.

  “Melted chocolate.” Giordi’s eyes gleamed. “If you’re at a feast and they’re serving this, you know the host is sparing no expense. I’ve only ever had it once before but I’ve never forgotten it. Try it.”

  Verne took the fork as Giordi dunked his own morsel into the chocolate. She eyed it tentatively.

  “I just…put it in my mouth?”

  “Everything here is cut into bite sized pieces. You skewer, dunk and eat. No manners required.”

  Verne pursed her lips then put the chocolate covered strawberry into her mouth, trying as delicately as she could to draw it off the long two pronged fork. Then and only then did she allowed herself a moment to taste it…and her eyes widened and she looked at Giordi.

  “I know!” He ate his own and groaned. “Bliss!”

  “Now this I can do.” She looked at the rest of the items to dunk. “What shall I eat next?”

  Judd poured wine into two goblets, shaking his head. “Since the crossing of the channel?” He groaned, taking them to the fireplace where he and Aalis reclined on the rug in front of the warm blaze. “As long as that?”

  “I am afraid so.” Aalis accepted her wine. “Although I feel it needs to be said, that is only when I realised the truth. Verne was always female.”

  “The channel?” Judd paused. “Wait…to Keenstone Isle or from Keenstone Isle?”

  “To, naturally.”

  “Why naturally?”

  “The sirens attacked the ferry.” Aalis raised her eyebrows. “Yourself, Caste and Giordi were all overcome.”

  “That’s when you and Verne seemed to connect and I thought his illusion was less embarrassing than mine…”

  “Oh Judd!” Aalis put her gloved hand over her lips. “Is that what you thought?”

  “Well, what other conclusion could I draw?” Judd demanded. “I mean, I was falling over myself to rescue a scantily dressed, rather voluptuous maiden from the waters and the next I know, you and Verne were rather…close. I thought his illusion must have been so much more noble than mine.”

  Aalis sighed and shook her head, her dreadlocks shifting gently over her shoulders. “Judd…while sirens will kill any human they get their hands on…it is males that they tempt with their illusions. Males?”

  Judd stared at her then groaned and put his head in his hands. “Oh no…no, no, no…”

  “I am afraid so.” Aalis watched Judd go through the motions of revelation and felt bad, guilty and amused all at the same time.

  “But…she, I mean he…pretended that she…he had been tempted!”

  “Of course she did.”

  “But…why?!”

  “In order to preserve the presumption that she was male.”

  Judd scrunched his eyes shut. “I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me or correct my assumption. Am I that unreasonable?” Aalis shook her head as he continued. “Unapproachable? Easily fooled?”

  “Judd, Verne’s deception and my collusion in it, had nothing to do with you.” Aalis put her hand over his and squeezed. “This was about Verne and her childhood and how she thought being female was a terrible mistake…” Judd lifted his eyes and gazed at her, Aalis’ hand retreating. “She didn’t want the camaraderie between herself and all of you to change.”

  Judd held his goblet and looked at the wine. “I guess…I suppose I can see why…” He gave a small laugh. “Just…oh…when she walked in tonight…”

  “Was it that obvious that it was Verne?”

  “Well…if I hadn’t seen that blue dress hanging up in here.”

  “But I took care to cover it with the black fur cloak…”

  “It wasn’t long enough to disguise the lower half and I confess, curiosity got the better of me.”

  Aalis grimaced. “Perhaps I should have hung it beneath a curtain…” She sipped her wine. “So, Verne looked the part?”

  “If by part you mean, not like Verne at all, then yes.” Judd leaned back against the chair, stretching his legs out in front of the fire. “You should have seen Giordi falling over himself.”

  Aalis sat up. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Judd chuckled, “apparently his confidence has been a bit broken of late and he was debating about going up to her…”

  “Oh…that should be interesting.” Aalis smiled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I just…wonder how they will get along…and if Giordi will realise.”

  “He’ll probably be so distracted by his own insecurities that he won’t realise those blue eyes could belong to no one else.”

  Aalis studied Judd and put the wine down. “You do not seem angry about all this, Judd.”

  “Angry? Why should I be angry?”

  Aalis crossed her ankles and sat up, brushing down the layers of her skirt. “We did deceive you and not just in allowing the initial assumption to continue but actively purporting the lie that Verne was male.”

  Judd sighed. “I suppose if I thought about it for any length of time and really fixated on the purporting and deceptions…there would be ample and justifiable reasons to be frustrated, hurt…even angry and offended,” Aalis’ eyes dropped down to her hands, “but I find I am mostly…relieved.”

  Aalis’ brow furrowed and she looked up to see Judd’s brown eyes warm with an intensity that made her heart tremble. “Relieved?” She said in a small gasp.

  Judd nodded, his fingers reaching out to wrap themselves around her gloved hands, his body shifting forward on the rug, the warmth from the fire nothing compared to the heat that was building between them.

  “I’ve always felt like there was something there…between us,” he confessed softly, “but with you and Verne together…I was so confused.” She whispered his name brokenly which only drew him closer. “Now I know why…and the relief is just so…freeing.” He smiled at her. “I’m free to finally tell you…”

  “Judd, please…” Aalis stood up hastily.

  “Aalis,” Judd got up, half stepping towards her as she backed away from him, “if I don’t say it, I’ll go mad!” Aalis closed her eyes and shook her head. “I know you think I am stepping out with Donimede’s daughter…but Willower and I…it’s an agreement we have just to pretend to be together. It isn’t real. Nothing’s real…except for what I feel for you.” Aalis tucked her arms around her body. Judd paused to study her, confounded by how wretched she appeared and how his confession had done nothing to alleviate her fear but rather, had compounded it. “Aalis…if it is not about Willower…what is it?”

  Aalis drew back even further, her body trembling. “When I said that my collusion with Verne in hiding her gender had nothing to do with you…that was not entirely true.” Judd paused, confused. Aalis swallowed. “You see…I was aware of the growing…attachment between us and felt it would be kinder to sever it with the notion that I was unavailable.” She wouldn’t look at him, her soft booted toes pressing together.

  “Kinder?” Judd whispered. “How could it be kind?”

  “Well,” she gulped for air, “if…if what you felt became more than an inclination…”

  “It has!”

  “Oh no Judd,” Aalis moaned, “no…please…it will be cruel and painful to you when I leave.”

  For a moment all that Judd could hear was the crackle of the fire and despite its warmth, his body felt like he was standing on ice.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I will.” Aalis nodded.

  “But why?”

  “It was the condition upon which I joined you and Caste in the very beginning,” Aalis sniffed, “that, once your knighthood requirements were fulfilled, I would be returned to the village where you found me.”

  Judd’s mouth fell open. “But that was months ago!”

  “Yes…”

  “Months and months ago!”

  Aalis gave a sad laugh. “Judd, a vow does not become thinner and ineffectual the greater the amount of time passed since it was made. It is a binding promise. You promised me…”

  “I didn’t know then how I would feel about you now!”

  “That is beside the point…”

  “That is precisely the point!” Judd exclaimed. “Aalis, you are so much more to me than a random encounter in the forest, a pretty face and a healer…I am in love with you.” But where the statement should have been his greatest moment, Judd felt all his hopes slipping away as Aalis shook her head.

  “You cannot be in love with a witch.”

  “For the last time, you are not a witch!” Judd roared.

  “Then how else will I give you evidence of the slaying of one?” Aalis’ voice suddenly rose into a near shriek. “How else, Judd? How do you intend to fulfill this knighthood quest if not for the authenticity of my monster status on Caste’s list?”

  “Screw Caste’s list!” Judd retorted. “I’d throw it all away just to be with you!” Aalis sobbed and put her face in her hands. Judd groaned and pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her. “Please…please don’t cry. I thought…you and I…” She murmured something and he bent his head down to listen. “What was that?”

  “There can be no you and I,” his heart seized up into a lead weight in his chest as she lifted her chin and looked him in the eye, her lavender eyes as cold as ice, “there will never be you and I.”

  Judd recoiled from the door of love slammed in his face. He stepped back from Aalis who remained stoic and unmoving. Judd turned on his heel and simply walked out of the room.