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George was sitting in his office at his desk, his chin resting on his hand. He was picturing Elizabeth as she knelt down to touch the cold salty sea water, her hair and clothing already damp. Her lips were slightly blue, so he knew she was cold. He had taken off his jacket and given it to her.
He was finding himself more and more drawn in. He closed his eyes and he remembered the first time he had seen her.
She was kneeling outside of the tree where he and Tristan were practicing combat. He had just knocked Tristan to the ground and they were both breathing hard when they had heard silver bells jingling as the wind had blown the leaves of the large tree. A faint girl’s voice carried with the bells.
"That's not fair!" Tristan had grumbled as George made a quick shush motion with his hands. "What?"
"Shh, did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Tristan sat up, listening. He drew his legs up and tucked them under his chin, watching his friend.
"I thought I heard a girl," George answered. "She sounded nearby, yet far away at the same time."
The wind blew the leaves again as the jingle of bells danced in the air. "George! Look!" Tristan said as he scurried over to the tree. And there they saw a young girl wearing all black, leaving a small parcel and a loaf of bread at the base of the tree.
"Elizabeth! Come on now, it's time for the funeral. We must not be late," another voice said as the image faded as the bells stopped, leaving only silence.
***
Over the next few years, George would on occasion visit the tree with Tristan.
“She comes quite often.” Tristan said.
A wistful expression crossed George’s features. “I wish I could meet her.”
“I could take us through the portal, but it would sap my strength for a while. I’d need to rest and eat before I could open it to come back. I’m not that powerful yet.” Tristan mused. “Not to mention, my father would be in a major uproar. You know the fey are not allowed to venture out like that.”
“I don’t want to scare her,” George said, choosing not to remind his friend he was perfectly capable of going through the portal without his help. “I don’t think just walking out of a tree is the right way to introduce myself.”
“Indeed not. There has to be a way. When does your father go back to the hut?” Tristan asked, a teasing note in his voice when he said hut.
“Moonspire Castle you mean,” retorted George. “At the end of the month. We will meet with the Queen and make sure the borders are secure. Then I’m sure we’ll be back here.”
Tristan walked a few steps away, and returned to regard his friend. “I was just thinking.”
“Of what exactly?”
“We should stay at the old manor instead, and host a ball.”
George grimaced. “You know I don’t care for balls.”
“No, it’s the polite society that you don’t care for,” Tristan said. “Besides, it would be a way to meet her.”
“Father hasn’t stayed at the old manor in years.” George wasn’t sure he liked Tristan’s plan. He would stand out like a sore thumb. He might be better off just walking through the portal.
“A masked ball.” Tristan grinned.
George paused. A masked ball would mean he could meet Elizabeth and remain hidden at the same time. The risk was minimal. All he needed to do was talk to his father.
***