Casen looked out his window. It had been eight days since Averin and the girl had disappeared. What was her name again, Mora? He shook his head. Life was getting hard for him. Between more court meetings, his training, and Averin's disappearance, he had somehow managed to lose it, twice.

The first time was when he was brought to the queen's court. All the giddiness made him angry, because he had no one to have fun with. He had ended up nearly choking a man to death.

The second time was when he went for a ride and almost ran over an old woman. All because his cousin was gone, and nobody knew where he went.

Casen sighed and rubbed his temples. He glanced to his right to see a large glass of wine- probably a pint- sitting on his desk. The red liquid was tempting, but he resisted the urge to down the whole glass as fast as possible. A knock on the door startled him.

"Who is it," he growled.

"It is your father," came a low, rumbling voice. He stiffened, his whole body going tense. Why would his ever-busy father be here at this hour? It was nearly 2:00 in the morning, and he hadn't gotten a blink of sleep for two days. He walked to the door, took a deep breath, and turned the knob, pulling it open.

"What are you doing here, at this hour?"

"What are you doing with a pint of our strongest wine at this hour?" Casen glared at his father. A man that had once been illustrious to him, was now nearly despised by him. It was all he could do not to hurl the closest object near him at the king. He didn't even know why he resented his father. Maybe because he had turned bitter toward his son, and was beginning to favor his daughter.

He had to admit, his sister was a lot better looking than he was, though he had hordes of women after him, and she rarely had any men after her. The thought that his fifteen-year-old sister was gaining his father's favor was insulting, to say the least. It made him feel weak. He pushed the rising anger down his gut and stalked over to his chair beside the fireplace, plopping down in it before glaring at his father.

"I wasn't planning on drinking it. I didn't even ask for it." Not quite a blatant lie, but an uncovered one nonetheless. The king eyed him angrily before sauntering over and sitting in the chair opposite him. The man was large, but not fat. His body naturally large. Unlike Averin, whose body was corded with powerful, deadly muscle. On rare occasions, he was nearly ripped apart by his cousin.

He rubbed his temples, attempting to ease away the pounding headache that began throbbing in his forehead. The sound of someone clearing their throat brought him back to reality.

"I was hoping to actually be able to talk to my son, not watch him try to be rid of some incessant pounding in his head. Tell me what's on your mind." The crown prince blinked at his father. Had he heard the man wrong, or did he truly want to know how his only son was doing?

"Just putting up with mom's annoying lists of eligible women. Along with Hayda's ranting about men that have been watching her 24/7." He shuddered at the thought of his baby sister being eyed by inappropriate twenty-year-old men who had bad intentions for her possible company. It was grotesque.

His father tilted his head to the ceiling and released a deep, bellowing laugh. It startled the prince, but a small smile crept on his face. He couldn't remember that last time his father laughed around him. Well, of course he had laughed around him, but there was never any humor in it. He supposed it was a sign, a good omen from God himself.

"How are you taking the disappearance of Averin." Casen could have sworn there was a hint of a smile on his father's face. Good omen be damned. His father seemed to dislike what he most loved. He gestured to his face in response.

"Not good, and you can tell. No woman is able to say that I'm resplendent in this state." His tone was whetting with each word. The king stared at him, as if trying to unravel the maze that his son had become. His blue eyes flashed slight vexation at his response, but Casen could tell it didn't amount to much of a verbal beating.

"You must learn to hold your tongue in my presence if you cannot speak to me with a respectful tone." He spoke with calm, lethal rage turning his warning words to venom that seeped into the prince's mind, filling his mind with an angered haze.

"Out," Casen said. More of a command than a suggestion or invitation to leave. The king roared with laughter. Yet again, their was no amusement. It was a repulsive sound, really, and it made the prince's blood turn to ice.

"I will take my leave, only because you have ruined what I thought to be an eventful meeting." The king rose and stalked out of the chambers without another word passing between them. Casen released a breath he didn't even know he was holding. It usually took him a while to comprehend anything that his father said. But, now, he understood too fast. Understood that his father would probably never try to have a pleasant conversation again.

He groaned and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees. Why did his cousin leave in the first place? Didn't Averin know that it would take such a huge toll on the prince? It didn't matter. The young lord was probably far off now. Farther than Casen would go, unless it was for a good reason.

The logs in the fireplace sparked and groaned, falling apart in the center where the wood had turned to glowing orange. The prince sighed and rose from his chair, crossing the foyer, and walking into his bedroom. He kicked his shoes off, but didn't bother to change as he crashed onto the bed, passing out from the stressful day.

********

He could see lights in the distance as they neared the outskirts of Perna, one of Terrin's major trading cities. The city had once been Averin's home, before his father was officially moved to Orit. He could still remember how the large city always smelled of expensive perfumes and exotic flowers. There was a giant market in the Main Square.

He recalled how dozens of merchants woke the whole city early in the morning as they walked to the market center to get their carts ready for the day's shoppers. The houses all had white walls and golden roofs. So did every other building in the great city.

Mora clutched his arm tightly as they passed two vagrants on the side of the road. One was bold enough to reach out and brush the girl's thigh. She screamed and kicked him in the face, sending blood flowing out of his now-mangled nose.

"Bitch," he hissed at her. Averin drew his sword. The vagrant was quick to shut up from the gesture.

"Pigs," Mora whispered in his ear. Her breath stirred the hair around his ear, spawning goosebumps all over his body. He remembered one night in a ramshackle barn. Shameful. His heart burst into the same, incessant beating as it did every time she whispered. Most nights were filled with her whispering in his ear, laughing quietly with him before he wrapped his arms around her body and fell asleep against her.

"The city folk are much more decent than those dregs," he said, gesturing to the men still sitting at the side of the road. Mora sighed and leaned in closer to him. It sent a prickling sensation down his body.

They walked on down the dirt road, listening to the sounds of the night creatures around them. Fireflies danced around them, below them, and way up in the tops of the leafy trees whose branched grew over the road, as if sheltering it. A cold breeze blew against them, chilling them to the bone.

Averin felt like even the marrow of his bone had frozen from that breeze. He winced as Mora's grip around his arm tightened. She nestled closer to him, lighting a fire where she touched him. She flashed him an apologetic smile and looked down at her feet.

He looked out at the city. Even more lights glowed as the sky slowly turned from blue to gray. The distant noise of footsteps floated up to the knoll that they were standing on. His eyes narrowed at the blur of people walking through the streets to the market square.

"So, what are the best memories you have here," Mora asked. He smiled, ever so slightly, and slowed to a leisurely pace.

"When I was five years old, my mother and I would go down with all the merchants and sell clothing, blankets, and jewelry that she had made. Every morning, I'd go down there with her and earn money to help me get by before I inherited my parents' money. I guess I didn't really need it though."

He sighed and picked up the pace. They reached the city within five minutes. The slums were buzzing with gangsters, harlots, and other lower-class people. Many vagrants sat on the side of the road, watching them as they walked through the streets.

The sky was filled with pink, orange, red, and periwinkle. He had to admit, it was breathtakingly beautiful. Mora straightened as they walked into the posh district of Perna. Many women, daughter of wealthier merchants, were walking around, escorted by noblemen and other wealthy people.

He couldn't help but feel extremely out of place. After all, it had been nearly ten years since he'd lived here, and he didn't exactly look like someone of nobility. More like a middle-class man who hadn't had a shave in a few weeks.

Averin sighed. It had been two weeks since he had left Riftbay, and would be another two weeks before they reached Orit. The attention of someone had him turn to see who it was. A rather beautiful girl was staring at him. She must have had money, for she was wearing a white chiffon dress with violet lace around the neckline, a white feathery hat, and jewelry that could have a homeless person set for a few years. She walked over to them, a young servant girl trailing her.

"What is such a handsome man doing here, and with his servant?" She gestured toward Mora.

"I am Lord Averin Soltrid, and you will treat Lady Mora with respect," he growled. The woman flushed and curtsied to him.

"My deepest apologies, Lord Averin. I am Lady Cordelia Hans. It's a pleasure to see you again." He blinked once. Twice. Three times. Cordelia Hans? She had once been his best friend, second to Casen of course.

"Cordelia! Mora, this is my old friend, Lady Cordelia Hans. She lived in an estate right beside mine. We grew up together." Mora narrowed her eyes at the woman, a fake smile slowly toying with her lips. Averin could get what the princess was thinking. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side.

"Dee, this is my lovely woman, Mora. We just ran away from Riftbay two weeks ago. Do you mind if we stay at your estate for the night?" Cordelia blushed at the old nickname.

"Of course, Avery." Her nickname for him. "Would you two like to go shopping with me? I could use a little happiness right now." Averin cast a sidelong glance at Mora. She was nearly bristling, but she hid it well with another one of her fake smiles.

"We'd be delighted to." Cordelia smiled and began walking toward a clothing store, motioning for them to follow.

"We'll start the day by getting you two some proper clothes for while you stay with me."

It had been a long day of going around the city, buying clothes and food, and eating what food they could before being whisked off to another booth or store. Averin sighed as they stopped at the end of the gravel path. Cordelia's house was bigger than he'd remembered. The woman bounced up the stairs, her servant slowly scaling the steps as she carried dozens of boxes and bags.

Averin walked up to her and plucked five boxes and three bags from her. The servant girl mouthed a thank you and continued. The young lord turned back to see Mora scowling. He rolled his eyes and walked down to her.

"What's the matter," he asked, genuine concern filling his tone.

"Nothing. Just the fact that you haven't been treating me like a lady of nobility at all. How would Cordelia keep believing that little lie of yours?" He shrugged and held out a hand for her. She grimaced and clutched his hand, walking with him into the house.

He stared in amazement at the architecture on the inside. White quarts pillars reaching from a white and black marble tiled floor, to a ceiling with crystal chandeliers hanging down everywhere. Cordelia walked over to them, abandoning the discussion she was having with some man.

"Welcome. I'll have Anita and Carmen rake your things while I show you your rooms. Across the hall from each other, of course." She cast a wink in Mora's direction. A flush crept up her neck as they followed the woman up large white stairs and down a corridor before stopping in front of Averin's room.

"Here you are. Mora, your room is the one behind us," she said, pointing behind her. "Enjoy your stay." Averin an Mora nodded before entering the room. It was decorated in whites and golds. A large four-poster bed sat in the center of the back wall. It had a golden silk canopy and thick blankets draped over it.

He grabbed Mora hand and led her to the bed, pulling her to lay down beside him. She curled up at his side, a hand on his stomach.

"It was very kind of your friend to let us stay here for the night. How old were you two when you met?" Averin turned on his side and propped his head up on a hand.

"I was four and she was three. She's twenty-one now. God, I miss running through these halls, being a carefree little boy. It was better than the weight I bare on my shoulders." He laid his head back down on the mattress. It was soft and squishy beneath his body.

"What should we do now?" Averin gave her wicked grin before shoving aside the blankets and pulling her under them, kissing her passionately.