The following days were a rapid succession of parties and events held all over the city. Most were hosted by other prominent citizens, giving Lark a chance to mingle with the most influential members of her new kingdom.

Now she stood nervously behind the large, closed double doors of the palace’s ballroom, waiting to be announced for the final occasion of the week. The boring cream walls and purple trim actually felt familiar and comforting at the moment. The festivities were being wrapped up with a large banquet held in the palace’s public dining hall and ballroom.

“Are you okay?” Shamira asked with a chuckle.

“Just nervous.” Lark tried to still the wobble in her smile. “Snowy, leave my shoes alone.”

Snowy kept running around, testing the length of the leash she clipped onto. Lark was hoping the purple harness would prove enough of a restraint on the cat’s contortionist skills.

“You’ve done great this week. This is the last of it for a while,” Conan promised.

Lark tried to distract herself by admiring how her friends looked in their formal uniforms. Matching black, fitted suits allowed for ease of movement. Cords of wisteria purple draped off the shoulders and matched the tux stripe running down the side of their pant legs. Shamira had a couple of small medals on her left chest. Conan had a few more, and they both had the Spur Corps crest on their shoulder straps. The silver bracelets and a shiny belt holding a laser gun completed the ensemble.

“You guys clean up well,” Lark said teasingly. “Very nice.”

“Well, thank you,” Shamira laughed, giving a small twirl.

“You look every inch a queen.” Conan said warmly.

Lark felt her face heat up a bit. She wasn’t used to compliments on her looks, and for some reason, one coming from Conan made little flutters join in the dance of nerves in her stomach.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her skirt. She had to admit, the light purple formal dress suited her much better than she originally thought it would. The material was light and airy. The floor-length gown didn’t poof, but it also wasn’t skintight. It hinted at rather than hugged her curves. She originally thought the sweeping sleeves would look ridiculous, but she quite enjoyed the regal feel of them. A fashionable black belt wrapped around her hips and met in front with a silver buckle in the form of the Kynaston Crest, which matched the necklace resting just above her collarbone. She hated heels, so was thankful for the strappy silver sandals.

Surprising herself, Lark had instantly fallen in love with the small tiara nestled in her fancy half-updo. Thin silver branches interlocked and twisted, ending in a point at the top. Tiny jewels shone throughout the design.

She heard footsteps coming before Avi and Harold rounded a corner.

“I’m not used to dressing up,” she admitted. “I think I’ve worn more makeup this last week than my entire life.”

“Well, it suits you, dear,” Avi said as he approached.

Avi and Harold looked absolutely resplendent. Harold’s suit was close to Conan’s in design, just forest green instead of black. And, of course, his chest was full of medals. Avi wore a black tux, complete with tails. His cummerbund and tie were wisteria purple. He wore the Kynaston crest as a medallion around his neck.

“Thank you.” Lark gave a deep curtsy. “You look amazing.”

Avi beamed at her.

She hadn’t been avoiding him as much this last week, and he seemed to take that as an overture of friendship. He didn’t seem to consider she couldn’t avoid him because of all the events. But she had been making a conscious effort to speak with him more. She was still guarded, but she was curious how much he would actually help where her brothers were concerned. And how much he would still try to hide.

Now that she had officially accepted the Kynaston mantle, she wasn’t sure how to classify Avi. He was more than just the king she had to learn from, but definitely not a trusted friend, either. Maybe she would never be able to see him as true family. Which made sharing a name with him a little awkward. But for now, she had to act at least polite while in the public eye.

Avi held his arm out. “Are you ready?”

“I sure hope so.” Lark’s stomach knotted a bit more as she scooped up Snowy.

“You have been exemplary.” Avi patted the hand she had wrapped around the crook of his elbow. “I am very proud of you.”

She didn’t respond because the double doors in front of them opened. A loud voice proclaimed, “His Majesty, King Avi Kynaston. Her Highness, Larkspur Kynaston, crown princess of Lothar.”

Larkspur Bei Kynaston.

She let Avi lead her onto a balcony overlooking the lavishly decorated ballroom and smiled at the applauding citizens.

Don’t faint, don’t faint, don’t faint. Why hasn’t this gotten any easier?

Her eyes roamed the edges of the room and picked out the reassuring Wysteria Corps clad in forest green and the black uniforms of her Spur Corps, which helped her lightheadedness. She tried to pay attention to Avi’s speech, but she kept getting distracted by the hair colors. They were nearly as varied as the clothes. She wasn’t used to purple, green, and blue being natural.

Just as she caught sight of Josh, Snowy grabbed everyone’s attention by leaping from Lark’s arm onto her shoulder.

“Snowy!” Lark hissed.

But the cub, undisturbed, merely wrapped herself around Lark’s neck and yawned.

Flushed with embarrassment, Lark peeked at Avi apologetically. But he was beaming at her. Risking a glance down, everyone seemed to think it was absolutely adorable.

“Well, I shan’t keep you any longer from the festivities. Enjoy!” Avi smiled at the people below.

She carefully followed him down a grand staircase to start mingling with the guests. She was immensely thankful for the comforting presence of Conan and Shamira behind her and sighed with relief when she saw Josh waiting for her at the bottom.

Conan and Shamira were her bodyguards tonight, so Josh had offered to be her escort for the evening. She had eagerly accepted, relieved to have a friend nearby who didn’t have to be on alert for danger.

She had every intention of going around the room, greeting people on her subtle way to the delicious looking spread of finger foods and deserts. But she barely moved ten feet from the stairs before she and Josh were surrounded by people. Some of them she had met over the last week, others used their acquaintance with Josh to be introduced to Lark.

As the evening wore on, the constant stream of people were all blending into an unending chorus of ingratiating flattery and probing questions, with the occasional hunger pain.

Josh smirked as he caught her for the seventh time looking longingly toward the food.

“I had them keep some food aside in our rooms in case we don’t eat here,” he assured her.

“Thank you!”

Eventually, Lark had Shamira take a frolicking Snowy back to her rooms, wondering how much longer they had to stay. She was so tired, and it was past midnight. The crowd finally started thinning around 2:00 a.m., and Avi said it would be perfectly acceptable to leave the party.

After saying her thanks and goodbyes, Lark led Joshua, Conan, and Shamira out of the banquet hall.

“Let’s cut across the throne room,” Conan suggested. “That’ll be the quickest way to the west wing.”

Steele had been watching Lark all evening. Throughout the week, he had many opportunities to get close to the princess, but they had all failed. Every time he saw her, his head started splitting. The last time he attempted to approach her, his chest felt like it was ripping apart. Tonight was his last chance. It would be much more difficult to infiltrate the palace after this banquet.

Would he even be able to reach her at this point? It could all be for nothing, but he would have to take the chance. The risk was worth it. He might lose his life trying to get some answers, but it was better than living like this. Perhaps if he gave himself time to slowly approach her.

Sometime in the wee morning hours, he left the banquet hall to retrieve his cloak. But instead of leaving, he entered the bathroom, put it on, and activated the camouflage function.

He shimmered for a moment, then disappeared into thin air. Moving slowly to not interrupt the camouflage, he skulked on the edge of the banquet hall. He was shaking and could barely stand by the time Princess Lark left with three other people.

Steele carefully followed them into the opulent throne room, his condition worsening with every step. His plan had been to follow them until Lark was alone and then reveal himself. But he wasn’t sure he’d last that long. Nausea threatened to overcome him any second. His legs not only shook, but also felt like lead shoes were attached to them.

He made sure to stay at least three yards away from them and not make any noise, but Lark kept looking over her shoulder, frowning, and shaking her head.

“I’m so glad this week is over!” Her joyful voice caused his head to feel like it was shattering.

He stumbled.

Lark turned and looked intently in his direction. Steele couldn’t check to make sure his cloak was still working, but he assumed it was since Commander Cynbel whirled around, alert but confused.

“What’s wrong?” Conan asked.

“I thought I was just tired,” Lark said, “but I keep sensing someone nearby. And I could have sworn I heard something just now.” She closed her eyes and shook her head back and forth. “There’s a light somewhere over there.” Eyes still closed, she pointed right at him.

“Get her out of here!” Conan commanded.

Steele’s blurry vision saw Lark being herded out of the room by Director Cynbel and a woman with hair the color of fire.

No!

He didn’t think he could survive much more of this. If she disappeared now, he’d never get answers. He threw off his cloak before falling to the floor.

“You!” exclaimed Conan. Steele felt lucky he didn’t shoot him out of shock.

“What’s going on?” Lark’s voice sounded somewhere in the distance, making Steele’s head ring.

He soon found himself surrounded by uniformed guards. “I need to see the princess,” he gasped, struggling to his knees.

Conan’s voice was cold as ice. “You can’t.”

“You don’t underst–” Steele’s voice disappeared as his strength slipped away.

The floor was getting closer…oh. He had fallen down again. The cool tile felt good. Was this the end? After all his struggle, he couldn’t even talk to Larkspur? Larkspur. Why did that name send a warm spark into his chest?

He felt himself slipping away.

“Wait!” Larkspur’s scream echoed and bounced around the walls, stunning everyone into silence.

Steele’s eyes back open. When had they closed?

“I know him!” Larkspur’s eyes kept everyone at bay as she ran toward him. They had turned darkly dangerous, glowing with an inhuman light from within. Steele’s fevered brain thought he could see actual sparks coming from them.

But they melted with affection as she gathered Steele into her arms.

“I know him,” she repeated softly, a world of meaning no one in the room could begin to understand in her voice. Her words reverberated inside Steele until he could no longer think straight. He clutched at the girl desperately. His vision swam and his body convulsed. He felt that he would lose consciousness at any moment, but he knew this girl.

He had to protect her. Take care of her. He was responsible for her in the absence… absence of what?

“…ling?”

Steele knew his senses were being overloaded. He didn’t know what would happen to him if he continued to struggle. But he could not give up even if his head exploded. He had been lied to. Something precious had been ripped away from him, even though he couldn’t remember what.

He strove with all his might to fight off the dizzying waves of darkness.

He had lost his sense of sight and now he couldn’t feel his fingers, though he was sure they were still clinging to poor Larkspur with an iron grip. Like a lifeline. Even with his valiant struggle, his consciousness still steadily faded away. Sweet oblivion looked so welcoming compared to the pain of his mind being torn apart.

Somehow, he knew that if he lost here, he would never come back. Just as he was losing his resolve to battle on, Casimer’s annoying face and voice came to mind. Steele couldn’t process what he was saying, but he was sure from the tone that it had something to do with Casimer’s belief that Steele belonged to him.

As much as Steele hated Casimer, the memory of him was exactly what he needed at that moment.

I refuse to die listening to your voice!

His rage resurged, sending a new wave of pain. But carried on the wave, a different voice cut through the fog.

“Sterling! Sterling, can you hear me?”

He still felt like he was being torn apart at the seams, but Steele swam toward that voice. Though it brought unbearable pain, he knew that voice was his salvation.

Ignoring Casimer’s cold, demeaning tone and pushing aside his sulky figure, Steele clawed his way toward reality and Larkspur. He called on the last of his strength to blink his heavy eyelids open. His gaze focused on jewel-like eyes and the unending tears pouring out of them tugged at his heart.

Here she was. His key. Steele’s key to the mystery haunting his life like a shadow.

He smiled to himself right before the last reserves of his strength snapped, and all was a sweet, painless darkness.