Lord of Wisdom

Cassandra stood on a ledge of the Palace of Eden, high above the Gardens of Earth, watching her best friend on the balcony below. Perched on a narrow piece of architectural detail, the Princess watched Zoicite and Malachite talking. She could have eavesdropped if she had wanted to, but would not betray her friends in such a manner. Besides, simple, un-enhanced vision was enough. It was obvious that they were enjoying themselves. Shy conversation, momentarily interrupted by the unsophisticated prying by three certain young ladies, led to a very not-at-all-shy kiss.

The rose-colored ball gown clad woman leapt onto another balcony. As she made her way through the silent servants’ halls leading toward her own semi-permanent suite, Cassandra mused over the evening’s events. Zoicite could be so blind at times. She truly believed that a simple mask would hide her identity from Malachite. The heir to the throne of Athena sighed as she let her own ‘mask’ slip away, her carefully controlled mannerisms and expressions were far more formidable shields than any flimsy piece of colored silk could hope to be. Here, in the shadows of deserted corridors long since devoted to memory, she could let her own sadness, her own deep loneliness show. It had been two years since her near engagement to Thaddeus Setus-Ra. She was twenty-one years old and heir to one of the most powerful thrones in the Sol System. And she was alone.

By her own choice, following the heart-shattering realization that her first love, her first lover, was soul-bound to one of her good friends, she had purposefully abandoned the entire concept of romantic love. While she could see the benefits and strength that love could give a person, she had only witnessed first hand the twinned pains of loss and betrayal. Love was too big a risk for royalty, she decided. It could be too crippling, too devastating to be a worthwhile venture for someone upon whom so many people depended. As Chancellor MacIan was so fond of telling her: ‘A queen’s first duty is to her people. And those people are best served by cool, level-headed logic, not a bunch of useless emotional twaddle.’ So she had locked away her longings, her passions, her very ability to see men as anything other than friends at the very most, or as mere pawns upon a vast chessboard at the very least. Oh, she could still feel for her friends, or even for complete strangers, but she wanted no such feelings for herself. It was safe, after all, to watch from a distance as her friends slowly paired up. It was even okay to commiserate with them when they were down or laugh with them when they were up or even to intervene in order to nudge their happiness along as she had done with Zoicite and Malachite. Such things had no impact on her seemingly serene detachment. She had thought that she had become good at being an automaton, that like one of Mercury’s robotic creatures, that she was unaffected by such things any more. She was wrong.

Outside her door, Cassandra paused to regain her careful control. She entered her dimly lit rooms to find her waiting Terran maid half-asleep. She had Bitsy unfasten the line of tiny eyehooks running down the back of her dress and then dismissed her with a nod. After the maid was safely gone, she dropped all pretence of emotional detachment. For hiding under her shields, lurking behind the closed doors of her heart, anger and green-eyed, slathering, snarling jealousy raged. Unmindful of the possible damage, she tore the dress from her body with reckless abandon. Rose silk littered the floor like a field of crushed hopes. Her state tiara flew across the room to land with a thud upon the empty bed, twisting delicate gold filigree out of shape. Cassandra stood panting in the middle of the wide chamber, clad only in the multi-layered undergarments of a proper lady. She stared at her wild-eyed reflection in the mirror on the far wall. For a moment, she watched that crazed creature within the silvered glass, then she turned away, her face crumpling as the tears she had denied herself since that long ago day when Thad had told her he was in love with Reika finally flowed down her cheeks.

The room was too small. She couldn’t stay here, not until she regained her control. She slipped out of the confining petticoats and underskirts and into the simpler garments of a maidservant. With what small part of her that was not falling apart, she blessed her habit of keeping such clothing handy for occasions when royal garb would be inappropriate. Carefully avoiding another glimpse of her reflection, she hurried from the room, grabbing Bitsy’s forgotten shawl wrap around her against the deepening chill outside. The Princess fled, trying to out run heartbreak, heading toward her childhood refuge, the sprawling Garden.

******

Antony Marcones, a Healer Acolyte with the rank of lieutenant in the Silver Army, was in his final year of schooling at the training hospital located on Lilith Base. Lilith Base was the largest Silver Military instillation on Earth, and as such had been built adjoining the Capital. In fact, the Base and the Palace of Eden together formed one corner boundary of hundred-acre pride of Earth: the Gardens. Since the base was so close to the Palace, a blanket invitation had been given for all officers who wished to attend the Grand Masked Ball. As the son of Saturnese merchants, Antony had never been to a royal function. In fact, he was uncomfortable with high nobility in general and the thought of being in contact with royalty in a social situation was enough to give him hives.

“Tony,” his friend and roommate Healer Acolyte Lt. Pietre Tapalos had said, “you’ve got to get over this whole knee-jerk ‘I’m a lowly commoner’ thing. You are a fine Healer and that means you are going to be promoted and quickly. And that means you’ve got to learn to deal with nobility on something other than a professional basis.”

“I know,” Antony sighed, “but it’s easier said than done. I am a lowly commoner, no matter that my innate talents have made me more than that.” His friend snorted derisively from his comfortable chair. Antony shook a fist at him in mock anger. “Just because you come from a military family with generations of respect only for the amount of braid on a person’s sleeve doesn’t mean that you are completely complacent about hobnobbing with earls, dukes, and kings!”

Pietre shrugged. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And considering you are from a planet that is ruled by an elected Senate, not inherited station, you shouldn’t be bothered with the idea either!”

Antony ran a hand through his blonde hair in a habitual gesture that pushed his forelocks back for a time before they fell back down to frame his brown eyes. “Saturn’s people may rule themselves, but we still have a deep sense of division between commoner and nobleman. Nobility is special, separate, more so as a person gets closer to the throne.”

“Bah, nobility, even royalty, are still just people. They put their pants on one leg at a time, just like everybody else.”

“I don’t see you running out and hitting on any highborn ladies, Pete,” Antony said pointedly.

Pietre just grinned. “You don’t see me hitting on anyone. Bitsy would cut out my liver and fry it in oil if I did. Which is the main reason I’m not going along to keep you company. Look, go to the Masked Ball. No one will know who you are, so you can observe all you want. Dance with a bunch of women. It’s not like they’ll have their birth rank stamped on their foreheads. Maybe it’ll loosen you up a bit. The gods know you need it.”

“Oh, thanks a lot.”

“Go, Antony. Go and have a good time. Or would you like for me to suggest to Major Corleon that he should order you to go?”

Antony stared at his friend in disbelief as Pietre’s deadly serious tone registered. “You can’t mean that!”

The young lieutenant’s eyes were very level, and heavy with the weight of familial military history. “Oh, I mean it Tony. You are twice the Healer I am. You and I both know it. And I’m not about to let you hobble yourself with shyness and some piddling sense of unworthiness. You are too important a tool for the Silver Army to let you lose your edge through coddling.” He relented just a bit. “Besides, Tony, you are a good guy and you do need to find a life outside of studying and lurking around the base. Who knows, you may find the love of your life tomorrow night. Now be a good boy and take out your dress uniform. I’m sure it needs ironing.”

Antony raised his hands in defeat before turning to his locker. “Fine, then. Bully me and see if I help you study for that midterm you’ve been so looking forward to.” He pulled his navy and silver dress uniform with its shining buttons and gleaming new rank bars. “And since I’m going to a masked ball, why in the name of the Rings am I going in uniform?”

“Do you own anything else that could possibly be appropriate?” When silence was the only answer Pietre received, he added. “I thought so. You iron; I’ll go see about finding you some kind of mask.”

Antony sighed deeply. “I hate ironing.”

******

To his own surprise, Antony was actually able to relax and have a good time at the Grand Masked Ball held within the glittering halls of the Palace of Eden. He had talked, laughed, and danced with quite a few dazzling young ladies. The masks really did help him get over his shyness. Pietre was right; this was the most comfortable he had ever been with the high born and well-to-do. Of course, he had no intention of telling his roommate that. Pietre had a high enough opinion of his own opinions as it was. But even more important, in Antony’s opinion at least, the Ball gave him a chance to observe the mannerisms and courtesies expected of those moving in high social circles. Using the same concentration that he bent on his medical studies, he set to absorbing as much cultural training as possible. He might never truly feel like he belonged in such exalted company, but at least he could avoid making a fool of himself.

The evening passed with almost stunning quickness. All too soon, midnight tolled and masks were removed. “High time for me to be getting out of here,” Antony thought as he tucked his own mask into his pocket. He moved along the wall of the ballroom that opened out onto a series of balconies overlooking the Gardens. And he was almost run over by three young women that burst back into the room from one of said balconies. He recognized the blonde as one of his dancing partners. She threw a wink at him over her shoulder and called, “See you later, Lieutenant!” before disappearing into the crowd.

Antony stared after her for a moment, and then grinned wryly. He meandered on his way, seeking a way down into the Gardens. Contrary to what Pietre thought, he didn’t spend all of his time on Lilith Base. The Gardens were a favorite place for him to go and study in peace and quiet. And he was confidant that he could make his way through the sprawling fields and orchards and greenhouses to the back gate of the base. It couldn’t be more than two miles away. That way he could avoid the tangled rush to get out through the front entrances of the Palace. Finally, he found wide glass doors that opened directly from the lower level of the hall onto the grounds.

While avoiding various amorous couples lurking in not-so-hidden bowers near the lighted Palace grounds, Antony made good time, hurrying along and dutifully trying not to hear or see what was going on around him. When he reached the Garden proper, he slowed, for it was a beautiful night. The moon was high and full. The air was crisp and cool with only the faintest hint a breeze caring him the scent of late blooming flowers. His hands shoved into his pockets and humming tunelessly to himself, Antony strolled along enjoying the peace of early Fall.

As he neared a small lake, he heard footsteps approaching him rapidly from behind. Curious, he paused on the edge of path to see who was in such a hurry. To his utter surprise, it was a young woman, running hell bent for leather along the dark trail. Immediately concluding that she was in need of help, he stepped from shadows and said, “Miss, are you…”

Before he could get the second word from his mouth, the girl lifted her face into the moonlight. Her eyes were puffy from the tears still streaming down her face, but something in them snared him in that split second before she turned away. She swerved to avoid him, finding in her ill luck a sinkhole. She fell into the brush, accompanied by the sounds of cracking branches and the sickening snap of breaking bone.

Cursing himself for startling her, he rushed to the girl’s aid. “I’m so sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to scare you! Let me help you.” He helped her win free from the clinging holly hedge, ignoring the muttered curses and ‘damned fool’ comments for they were far milder than anything he was calling himself. She had been lucky that had been wearing a long sleeved dress and carrying a heavy shawl. She had somehow managed to pull the edge of the shawl up at she fell to protect her face. The worst damage was to the hand that she had flung out to try to save herself; it was badly cut. And, of course, the ankle she had snapped when she tripped. Her muffled shriek as her broken ankle brushed the ground cut him to the quick. “I am so, so sorry,” he muttered again and again.

When she was finally free and sitting in the middle of the path with Antony kneeling beside her, she said sharply, “I believe you. Now stop apologizing for Harmony’s sake. It was as much my fault as yours. I should know better than to run in the dark.” She laughed, breathless with pain. “At least I fell for the right guy.”

Antony blinked, taken-aback by the apparent non-sequentor. She reached up and tapped the caduceus on his collar, the ancient symbol of the medical arts. “If there was ever a time I needed a Healer, this is it.” Pain drove the attempted humor from her face as she inadvertently shifted her leg.

The young officer pulled his professionalism around him like a welcome cloak. “You’re right. You do need a Healer.” He glanced around. “And this Healer needs light if he’s going to be of much use to you.”

“There is a seedling shed in that direction,” she said, pointing with a lacerated hand. “It’s not far. If you’d just help me up…” She turned bone-white as Antony slid an arm under her knees.

“You can’t walk on that ankle. I’ll carry you. Put an arm around my neck and let’s go.” The girl did more than that. She wrapped one arm around his shoulder, the other around his neck. He lifted her as carefully as possible, but for all his efforts, still jarred her badly as he searched for his balance. She buried her face in his shoulder for a long moment as she fought to hold on to consciousness. Antony waited patiently, for he knew that joint breaks were far worse than breaking a long bone, the shock alone could send someone into unconsciousness.

Finally, she lifted her head and looked around. She jerked her chin toward the lake. “It’s that way, on the shoreline under a big oak.”

Antony walked slowly in the indicated direction, desperately searching for something to say other than another apology. Finally, he settled on, “I am Antony, by the way. What’s your name?”

As her face was again nestled against his shoulder, her reply was fuzzy. “…ssandra.”

“Sandra is a pretty name,” he said. The girl raised her head to give him a sharp look. She opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it abruptly as if she thought better of it. Antony blushed, grateful that the darkness hid his reaction. “A trite thing to say, I know. I guess I’m just not much a conversationalist when in the presence of radiant beauty.”

“Radiant beauty? Moonlight must be kinder than I thought if you think that,” Sandra said roughly. She laid her head back down on his shoulder and muttered, “Radiant beauty, ha! With red eyes, scratched face and leaves in my hair, yeah, right.”

By that time, they had reached the shed, so Antony was spared answering. It was difficult, but he managed to open the door without dropping his burden or banging her injured leg into anything. Once inside, he set her down on a pile of burlap sacks. Light balls glowed to life as he ran a hand across each of them. “There,” he said, “that’s much better.” Antony then turned to face his patient and was struck a blow between the eyes. While his remark about radiant beauty had been a bit of flippant attempted flirting, he abruptly discovered that it was true. In all honesty, she did look a sight with her huge gray eyes red rimmed and puffy and her cheeks tear-stained, not to mention the twigs and leaves adorning the remains of her hairdo. That didn’t matter; she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon, but he could name no reason for that sentiment. He merely knew it to be truth. To him, there could never be anyone more captivating than this bedraggled girl.

He dragged his attention back to business as another injudicious move sent a wave of pain across her face. “Let’s get you fixed up.” Sandra nodded and watched him through hooded eyes as he pulled off his uniform gloves. She didn’t utter a sound as he pulled her boot off as gently as possible. Her face was almost as gray as her eyes by the time he had it off. He laid hands glowing with violet light over the break. He could sense her relaxing as he massaged healing power into her ankle, re-knitting broken bones, reattaching torn ligaments and tendons. Although healing power was supposed to be used for only the most serious of injuries, he didn’t stop there. He took her cut hand into his and smoothed away the lacerations. He ran the power up her arms with the lightest of touches, healing through her sleeves wherever the holly bushes had penetrated the tough fabric of her dress and injured flesh.

Finally, still in the thrall of his power, he reached her head. He cupped her face in his hands and stared into her disbelieving eyes from mere inches away. Her eyes slid shut as he leaned toward her. He kissed each eyelid with the barest brushing of lips and all signs of sorrow disappeared as if they had never existed. With a reluctance he did not really understand, he pulled back and let his power fade away.

After an eternity, Sandra opened her eyes. “It-it’s getting late. I’ve got to get back to the palace.” She rose shakily to her feet to stand above the kneeling Healer. “Gotta get back to the palace,” she whispered and stepped around him.

“No more running,” Antony said as he still stared at spot she had been sitting.

“Running. Yes, no running.” Sandra walked, staggered really, from the shed.

Antony forced himself to stay where he was until he was certain she was gone. He didn’t trust himself not to sweep her into his arms and carry her off forever. “What are you thinking?” he said to himself in the tongue of his native Saturn, “She’s a complete stranger. She could be married for all you know. With six kids. Yes, that’s it. She’s happily married with six kids and you are a fool.”

‘Yes,’ some voice in the back of his replied, ‘you are a fool. If she’s so happy, why was she running, sobbing her eyes out in the middle of the night?’

“Shut up.”

*****

Pietre Tapalos watched with growing consternation as his roommate simply lay on his bunk and stared with unwavering attention at a spot somewhere on the ceiling of their tiny bachelor’s quarters. Antony had been acting strangely ever since he had returned from the Grand Ball two nights ago. He sighed and daydreamed and wandered aimlessly about during his off duty hours. The Saturnese man had said little other than a few cryptic mutterings about ‘damned fools’ and ‘six kids.’ It was getting to the point that Pietre was afraid that whatever was bothering Antony would start disrupting his studies or his assigned duties around the Base.

Pietre greeted the arrival of his girlfriend, one Miss Bitsy Clydesdale, with even greater enthusiasm than usual. “Bitsy, darling!” he exclaimed, jumping up to seize her arm and try to drag her back through the open door.

“Can’t I say hello to Tony first?” Bitsy said with a touch of exasperation as she dragged her heels. “Hey, Tony!”

“Hey, Bit,” Antony said with a wave, but he never even looked her way.

“Later, Tony,” Pietre said as he finally got Bitsy back outside. He paused to pull the door shut behind him and then hustled Bitsy out into the commons area. The wide room with its scattered tables and benches was mostly deserted at this time of early evening. Most of the young officers that lived in the barracks were out and about or on duty. “We’ve got to talk.”

“About Tony?” Bitsy asked. She settled down on one of the benches nearest the fire and smoothed her skirts.

Pietre nodded. “Yeah, he’s been a real fruitcake ever since the Ball. He’s been moping around and I don’t think he’s even cracked a book. It’s just not like him. And now he’s lying in there staring at nothing. He’s been at it for hours.”

“Is he ill?”

“No,” Pietre flopped down beside her dejectedly. “I checked his vitals last night while he was asleep. There’s nothing physically wrong with him. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was lovesick.”

“Have you asked him what was wrong?”

Pietre blinked. “No, no I haven’t.”

“Well, then,” Bitsy said, “I’ll ask him.” Pietre watched her get up and head briskly back toward his quarters for a few heartbeats before his brain caught up with his eyes.

“Bit!” he called as he scrambled after her, “Bit, you can’t just blurt something like that out! Bitsy!”

The maidservant gave a quick courtesy knock before flinging the door open and flouncing inside the room. “Antony, what happened that’s got you so upset?”

Antony jerked upright at the abrupt entrance and almost fell off of his bunk at the unexpected question. He regained his balance only after much undignified flailing.

“Damn it Bitsy!” Pietre snapped as he finally caught up with his wayward date. “I want to help him, not kill him!”

“It’s alright, Pete,” Tony said, “At least I have the bottom bunk; otherwise you’d be searching for a new study partner.” He swung his legs over the edge and sat up properly on the side of the bed. “What makes you think I’m upset over anything in the first place?”

Pietre rolled his eyes. “It might have something to with the fact that you’ve been going around looking like someone trampled your wolf cub.” He propped his hip on the edge of the desk and stared down at his friend. “Surely the party wasn’t that bad.”

Tony sighed deeply and stared down at his feet. “No, I actually enjoyed the party itself.” He paused, only too aware that both of his friends were staring at the top of his bent head. He didn’t know quite what to tell them about that night. It might have helped if he knew what he thought about what happened in the seedling shed. “I met a girl on the way back to the Base. I, I fear that unintentionally, I gravely insulted her.”

“Is that all?” Pietre flung up his hands in exasperation.

Bitsy popped him on the leg. “Pete! Show some consideration!” After bestowing her boyfriend with a withering glare, she turned back to Antony. “Tony, you want to see this girl again so you can apologize to her, right?”

Antony raised his head slowly. “Yes, I would like that very much. But I don’t know where she is.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Bitsy grinned at him and placed a hand over heart as she bobbed a curtsy to him, “yours truly has connections! If she was at the Palace last night, one of the servants will know her. Just give me the details and I’ll find her.” When Pietre opened his mouth to comment, Bitsy popped him again before the first syllable fell from his lips.

“She’s a servant herself, I think,” Tony said in a distracted tone. His eyes seemed to focus on nothing as he thought about his mystery woman. “Definitely Athenian, with brown hair and sad gray eyes, sculpted cheekbones, soft skin…” He shook himself and tried to stifle a blush. “Her name’s Sandra. She’s in her late teens, early twenties. Umm… about five foot seven. Ummm..”

“That’ll do, Tony, that’ll do,” Bitsy laughed. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you write her a note and I’ll give it to her once I’ve found her.” She stifled a giggle as Antony immediately jumped for his desk. “Take your time, Tony. I’ll pick it up when I return Pete here to your keeping. Come on, Pietre. I believe we have a date.” She grabbed Pete’s arm and led him from back out into the hall. “See you later Tony!” Antony waved vaguely at her over his shoulder; he was already chewing on then end of fountain pen and agonizing over a blank piece of paper.

After they were safely out of earshot, Pietre hissed, “What was that all about? I cant’ believe that Tony’s so upset about maybe insulting some wench! And you’re humoring him.”

“Pietre Tapalos it’s a good thing you are a healer of the physical body and not the metaphysical!” Bitsy bestowed another even more powerful withering glare on him. “Antony’s smitten, you big lug! Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight? Men! Humph!”

******

Bitsy tried to keep her promise in a reasonable amount of time. She asked her fellow maidservants for their help in the search almost from the instant that she returned to the Eden Palace. But unfortunately, the only Sandra they could find on the staff was the sixty year old Mistress of Chambermaids and none of the younger servants could possibly imagine that stout old battleaxe being the object of anyone’s affections, much less unrequited desire. The maidservants came to the reluctant conclusion that the mysterious Athenian girl had to have been a visitor to the Palace, perhaps a member of a visiting dignitary’s personal staff. After a frustrating two weeks of fruitless inquiries, Bitsy decided that it was time to call in the big guns before Antony pined away to nothing. The Earthling girl had been Princess Cassandra of Athena’s maid during her visits to Eden for almost ten years. If there was anyone who’d know how to find a mystery girl, especially an Athenian one, it was the Princess.

On the day that Princess Cassandra returned to the Eden Palace, almost three weeks after the Grand Masked Ball, Bitsy waited impatiently for a time that she could speak to the royal in private. As was becoming more and more common as the years went on, the Princess was often inundated with people who ‘had to see her Royal Highness on absolutely vital business.’ Bitsy, who knew Cassandra best of anyone on the planet, save Guardian Zoicite, knew that the heir to Athena resented the intrusions on her time and privacy. The Capital of Earth used to be a place where she could get away from the pressures of her station and obligations, but it was now becoming as much of a drain on her dwindling personal reserves as Pallas was.

‘Perhaps,” the maid thought, ‘this little mystery will give her something other than politics to think about. Gaia knows that she could use a little romance in her life, even if it is second hand.’ Bitsy lurked in a corner of the receiving room of Cassandra’s chambers, willing the last sycophant to finish kissing royal keester and leave. “Finally,” she muttered when the man left.

“Do you need something, Bitsy?” Cassandra asked as she stretched hugely in her comfortable chair. “I think I’m going to come down with a sick headache tonight. I do not feel like dining with another bunch of greedy, grubbing, first-second-and-third sons. Short sighted bastards. As if I have the least interest in marrying backwater minor nobility.” The Princess rose from her seat and went to get a drink from the tea service kept warm by the fire.

“Most Gracious One,” Bitsy began nervously. As much as she liked and trusted Cassandra, she could never quite forget that she was one of the Planetary Princesses. “I, well a friend of mine actually, have a small problem.” Cassandra glanced curiously at her as she added hot water to the herbs in her teacup. “It seems that he, Lieutenant Marcones, I mean, met a girl on the night of the masked ball. He seems to be quite taken with her and I offered to find her, only, well…”

“You’re having a little trouble.” Cassandra’s voice was filled with faint amusement. She inched over in front of the roaring fire to warm her backside a bit while her tea warmed her inside. “And you want my help.”

“Yes, Highness,” Bitsy answered with a bob of a curtsy.

Cassandra smiled crookedly at her servant. “I’ll be glad to see what I can do. Tell me about this girl and how the Lieutenant met her.”

Bitsy grinned as she sensed that the Princess was now a co-conspirator in the ‘romance quest’. “Okay. Well, it took some doing, but Pete, that’s my boyfriend Lt. Pietre Tapalos, was able to get a few more details from Tony. It was like pulling teeth to get the story from him; Antony’s not the talkative type, still waters run deep and all that. Apparently, Tony and this Sandra girl met in the Gardens. She had fallen for some reason and Tony healed her. He’s a Healer, I forgot to say.” Bitsy didn’t realize as she babbled on at top speed that Cassandra wasn’t merely listening politely, she was frozen in place, almost trembling with the intensity of her regard of the servant girl as the convoluted telling unfolded. “Anyway, Tony wrote this letter that he wants me to deliver but I’ve got find her first.” She pulled the letter, still sealed with a blob of red wax, from her pocket to display to the Princess. “This Sandra’s Athenian, that’s why I thought you could help out, Highness. She’s about your age with brown hair and gray eyes and….” Bitsy’s words trailed off as she realized that she was describing the wide-eyed royal right in front of her. She swallowed heavily as Cassandra’s expression finally registered. “Oh, oh, oh my. Highness, I didn’t realize. I mean, how could I? I… I…”

“He wrote a letter?” Cassandra whispered. “May I?” Bitsy wordlessly handed over the missive. The Princess broke the seal with trembling hands and read the note with shining eyes.

‘Oh, by all the gods and goddesses,’ Bitsy thought, ‘this is a pretty pickle. Tony’s gonna have a cow when he realizes that his ‘sweet servant girl’ is the heir of the throne of Athena. He’ll never have the nerve to talk to her again. Maybe I can find someone to take his mind off of her. There’s that new girl from Magdeburg. She’s a sweet little thing.’ Her racing thoughts broke off suddenly when Princess Cassandra laughed aloud and spun around in a light, dancing circle.

“He wants to meet with me!” the Princess caroled. “He thinks I’m mad with him for some reason, silly boy! Where should we meet?” Her prancing progress skidded to halt. “Where to meet? Hell, more importantly what should I wear?” Cassandra fled into to her dressing chamber and practically climbed into her wardrobe as she searched through gowns and finery.

Bitsy rushed after her lady. “Oh, oh, oh my! Princess! Highness! A moment please!”

Cassandra pulled out of the wardrobe with an armload of gowns. “What do you think, Bit? The gray silk is my favorite, but I think that we should meet in the Gardens and it’s a bit too chilly for showing that much décolletage. Ummm, maybe the brown velvet with red trim? Or violet wool with the ermine collar?” She stood in front of the floor length mirror holding up first one dress and then the other.

Bitsy slipped between the princess and the mirror with iron resolve in her face. “Most Gracious One, please. You have to listen to me for a moment!”

Cassandra blinked and with an effort reined in her enthusiasm. “What is it, Bit?”

The maidservant took a deep breath and heaved silent prayers to Gaia, goddess of growing things, and Vestia, goddess of lovers, for guidance. “Highness, it’s about Antony. He’s a good man, a real good man and one of the finest Healers in the Silver Army, but there is one thing you have to know before you meet him again. He’s Saturnese.”

“I knew that; his Common Speak was heavily accented.”

Bitsy nodded, trying desperately to find a way to tell this bright eyed, breathless stranger who had replaced her chronically self-controlled princess her very important point. “Yes, but he’s not just Saturnese, he’s the son of middle class merchants from Phoebe. And he still has most of those attitudes, including…”

“Including the traditional division between nobleman and commoner.” Cassandra’s glowing expression faded away as she sank down onto the padded bench in front of her dressing table. “Damn,” she whispered. “Damned reverse snobbery. For the first time someone is interested in me, not the ‘princess’ and if he knew the truth, he’d never even contemplate talking to me again.” The gowns fell unheeded to the ground as she raised her hands to cover her face. Bitsy had to strain to hear her next, tear ridden mumblings. “Foolish, so foolish, I know better. I wish my heart would listen to my mind. Royalty has no business seeking romance.”

“You are no fool, Highness,” Bitsy said firmly. She knew she could be dismissed permanently for daring to comment on a royal’s private pain, but she could not leave the woman that she had long ago decided was one of the best examples of nobility that she’d ever met in such a dilemma. Besides, Cassandra and Antony needed each other, even if neither of them knew it. “And everyone, no matter their rank, deserves a little romance in their lives. I can personally vouch for Antony Marcones’s character. There is no reason why you shouldn’t meet with him again.”

Cassandra raised her head to stare at her bold servant. “But, once he knows who I am…”

“Don’t tell him. Wear one of your less fancy dress and go meet him as Sandra the servant girl.” Bitsy smiled at the hope sparking to life within the gray eyes watching her so carefully. “He wants the opportunity to talk to you. Go and listen and see what happens from there.”

“I do not lie lightly, Bitsy Clydesdale,” Cassandra said flatly.

Bitsy dropped into a curtsy as the first hint of royal displeasure came into view. “Don’t lie to him, Your Highness. Tell him if he asks, just don’t volunteer the information. You can always tell him later, after he has had a chance to get to know you, not your royal self.” She watched from behind her eyelashes as rare indecision flowed across Cassandra’s features.

“You have a point, Bit,” the Princess said at last. “Could you go and tell Lt. Marcones that Sandra would like to meet him at sunset in the apple grove in the Gardens.”

“Of course, Most Gracious One.”

******

Lt. Antony Marcones, once again clad in his immaculate dress uniform, paced up and down between the rows of apple trees. Dying leaves fluttered and rattled in the brisk breeze with droves of them pulling free from their mother branches to dance in the air and join their brethren on the ground. It was already getting dark beneath the spreading boughs as the sun touched the edge of the far horizon. He was getting worried. The orchard wasn’t very big, but he was terrified that he would somehow miss her. These past weeks had been agony, but at least he had had time to polish his apology speech while Bitsy tried to locate Sandra. He had thought he had every phrase perfectly laid out, but now as he waited, he found his carefully prepared words deserting him.

“Lieutenant?” a soft voice ventured hesitantly behind him. He spun, slipping on the treacherously damp leaves. The voice’s owner sprang forward, steadying him with surprisingly sure strength. “Now, don’t you go and pull a repeat of my performance! One bad fall is enough.”

“Yes, Miss, Miss,” he stuttered as he regained his physical balance. His mental balance was an entirely different story. The woman holding onto his arms was not at all like the wild eyed, sorrow torn woman he had met so briefly three weeks ago. She was utterly calm for one thing. Her expression was pleasant and welcoming, but it lacked the burning character it had displayed in his memories. But as he studied her upturned face, something inside him whispered that that first woman was the real Sandra. She couldn’t be as in control as she seemed to be.

“Sandra Piramson,” Princess Cassandra supplied. By the standards of her Earthling father, Piram of Seven Falls, Piramson, not d’Athenae, was her proper familial name.

Antony pulled slowly out of her steadying embrace and launched into the portion of apology speech that he could actually remember. “Miss Piramson, I asked you to meet me so that I could apologize for my unbecoming conduct on the night of the Grand Masked Ball.” Unfortunately, all he could recall was that first sentence. So he stumbled on as best as he could. “I shouldn’t have, umm, kissed your eyes like that. It was unprofessional and unethical and I won’t blame you for being angry. The only thing I can think of to make it right is to resign my commission. If you want to file a formal protest, I’ll go get the forms and everything. You could ask for charges to be pressed and.” She stopped his torrent of self-recriminating words by placing a hand over his lips. He froze, unable to move under that light touch.

“Hold it, big boy,” she said with laughter sparking in her gray eyes. “I don’t recall being mad at you at all, much less wanting you punished.” She pulled her hand away from his face and placed it on the center of his chest. Her other hand crept up to hold to his shoulder. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for patching me up so well. While your,” her lips twitched, “methods were a bit unusual, they were effective. Now, if you really want to make up for some slight that exists only under that thatch of blonde hair of yours, you can take me for a walk.”

Antony blinked several times. “You’re not mad at me?”

“No, but if you don’t stop apologizing, I will get that way soon enough.”

“Oh.” He stared down at her for several long moments, long enough, indeed, for her quiet certainty to fray around the edges enough for him to see the nervousness and fear behind her serene expression. “That sounds fair.” He offered her his arm and she took it gingerly as if she didn’t quite trust him or herself for that matter. “I don’t trust me, either,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

He laughed, letting the last of his tension fall away. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at this type thing.”

Sandra glanced up at him briefly before returning her attention to the uneven ground at her feet as they strolled across the orchard toward the more established paths in the flower gardens. “What type thing?”

“This whole ‘walking with a girl’ experience. I know that Saturnese are supposed to be well versed in such matters, but I have never had to opportunity to put theory into action. Despite first impressions, I’m not usually so amorous without even a proper introduction.”

“Truthfully, I am not an expert on human relationships, especially if they involve me.” They walked on in silence for a while. “Lieutenant, I must ask you. Is this a one time meeting or are you intending otherwise?”

Antony stopped and turned face Sandra directly. The nervousness had faded from her eyes, but the fear was still there. If anything, it had grown stronger. The sight of that fear both angered him and tore at his heart. Deep inside, he knew he would do anything to make it leave her gray eyes forever. “I will be utterly frank with you, Miss Piramson. I do want to see you again, as often as possible, actually.” He trailed a fingertip along her cheek. “I’ve never been as instantly drawn to anyone, as I am to you. And I think it’s mutual. I want to understand what it is I am feeling. So please, do me the great honor of consenting to allow me that chance.” The formality of his words did little to cloak the sincerity and the uncertainty at their center.

She regarded him warily for a few heartbeats. Then she nodded jerkily and said, “Very well. So shall it be for the foreseeable future.”

He broke into a wide, cocky grin. “Great! Does that mean we can drop all this ‘high court’ nonsense and talk like normal people?” Cassandra laughed aloud at the comment. “By the way, please call me Antony or just Tony.”

“Gladly, Tony. And you must call me Sandra.” She pulled him on toward the flower garden. “But be forewarned! If you ever call me Sandy, you’re gonna find yourself tossed into the nearest body of water!”

*****

And so time passed. The Princess returned to Earth to spend time with her lieutenant whenever possible as autumn all too swiftly passed. Luckily, Cassandra was often on the Moon as the details of Princess Michiru of Neptune’s betrothal were hammered out. And the Moon Palace was just a hop, skip, and a teleportation from the Eden Palace of Earth. Every visit, every time she and Antony went on a long walk in the Gardens or spent an evening by the fire in the barracks common room or at a pub, she intended to tell him who she really was. But as time passed, she let the matter slip from her thoughts. When she was with him, she was simply Sandra. A happy, joyful, playful girl having a good time with the man she was rapidly coming to love.

For his part, Antony knew that Sandra was no simple maidservant. She was often off planet and had knowledge of happenings in the Sol System that no low level servant could ever hope to know, but he let it go. She was willing to talk to him about everything except her work and he was content with that. He figured that she was probably a member of the Athenian Information Bureau and simply could not tell him everything. But he did not mind. It was far more important to him that she was with him when possible and that the fear in her eyes had faded until it was gone entirely.

******

Cassandra sang to herself as she brushed her long brown hair. “And when the wind draws strong, across the cypress trees, the nightbirds cease their songs. So gathers memories…” Her eyes were distant, focused on something or someone far away. Her hands ran through the familiar task of twisting her chocolate locks up into simple braids to be wound into the serpentine curl of the bun she favored. Her fingers continued on almost unsupervised when Bitsy entered her dressing chamber after the briefest of knocks on the open door.

“Guardian Zoicite to see you, Highness,” the maid said.

“Let her in and then you are dismissed.” Cassandra winked at the servant girl. “I know you have someone waiting for you.”

“Aye, Highness,” Bitsy laughed. She disappeared from the doorway only to be replaced by the Lady Guardian.

“Hey, Zoy!” Cassandra called, adding the last few pins to her hair.

Zoicite braced to attention. “I must speak with you, Most Gracious One.”

Cassandra stared at her best friend with bewildered eyes. Zoicite never used such formality in private, not with her. “What’s wrong? Has someone been hurt?”

“No, Highness,” the Guardian replied, “at least, not yet.”

The princess let out a sigh of exasperation. “Well, then, drop the formality and get on with it! And don’t scare me like that again.”

Zoicite waited a moment during which Cassandra began rooting through her wardrobe before relenting. She walked across the room and propped a hip on edge of the vanity table. “Cass, I’m trying to be serious, here. I’m on official business this time.” An arm stuck out of the wardrobe and waved for her to continue. Zoy heaved a sigh of her own. “Look, I came to talk to you about all this skulking about you’re doing. It’s one thing for you to do your own thing during your time here. It’s your royal prerogative if nothing else. But you’ve gotta stop slipping away from your security detail.” Cassandra’s reply was muffled, but the meaning came through clearly. “It’s not safe, Cassie! They still don’t know who was behind the attack on Princess Michiru. And you know as well as I that there have been attempts on the lives of other Planetary Royals. This shadow organization even managed to actually kill one of the Plutonian princes. I won’t have you killed, not on my watch, not if I can prevent it.”

Cassandra climbed out the wardrobe, arms filled with a heavy skirt and blouse. “You don’t need to worry about me, Zoy. I am a Sailor Scout, after all. I can defend myself.”

“Michiru is a Sailor Scout, too. And so is Alexis of Uranus. But that didn’t stop those lunatics from coming damned close to getting the both of them. And they did succeed in killing Sir Mikhail and hurting Dame Elisia so badly that she has stepped down from being Knight Protector of Neptune. That doesn’t make me think that you, by yourself, stand much of a chance.”

Cassandra looked into her worried friends eyes and said, “I am always careful. Think of it this way, if you and the AIB can’t follow me, do you really think some anti-royalist is going to be able to? Besides, there haven’t been even rumors of an attack for weeks now.”

Zoicite looked down at her gloved hands. “You’re not going to listen to reason, are you?”

Cassandra’s voice was light and airy, as it often was when she was at her most intractable. “No, I’m not. I will not have what portion of my life I choose to live as I wish be diminished because of a possible threat.”

“Very well, then Cassandra,” said the Lady Guardian as she rose to her feet. “How long are you going to be on Earth this time?”

“A week, possibly a few days longer. We’ll have to get together and make fun of the boys some day.”

“Sure, Cassie. Sounds like fun,” Zoicite said with a smile that never reached her eyes, “I’ll see you later.”

“Good evening, Zoy.”

Zoicite left the Athenian princess’s suite with an unusually grim look on her face. Behind her bleak eyes, her mind was churning, running through her options. She was determined to save Cassandra from herself. It was a bit irrational, but the Lady Guardian had a gut feeling that the heir of Athena was on someone’s list for termination.

‘There must be someone she’ll listen to,’ she thought, ‘I don’t want to bring the King and Queen into this yet. They’d do something drastic like ordering her confined or sent home. She’d never forgive any of us for that. Endy and the other Guardians are out. Cassie’d just toss them into the nearest body of standing water and in the week before Winter Solstice, that would be a bad thing. Princess Serenity? I don’t know her well enough to ask her to smack some sense into Cass. Saraphenia would try to reason with her, but I doubt that’d work.” She froze in the middle of the hallway as the solution dawned on her.

******

The Rose and Crown was doing a bustling trade on that cold, snowy evening. The pub was set well off the road leading away from the city of Eden, but it was still a popular gathering place for young officers and their significant others despite the long walk from Lilith Base. Its popularity was due to a large and varied stock of beverages and to its owners having to good sense to realize that most Silver Army personnel liked to be surrounded by things that reminded them of home. It had taken some careful thought, but they had managed to bring in elements from each of the Planets of the Alliance. The high wooden beams were covered with Jovan carvings; the fireplaces were of Martian sandstone and spotted with sacred flame glyphs. Plutonian tapestries and Mercurian woven hangings adorned the walls. Enchanted water globes from Neptune and fanciful blown glass from Uranus occupied sheltered niches. The long bar itself was of polished Saturnese marble. The wide dance floor (a rare thing indeed on Earth) was laid out to Venusian standards even though it was made of local woods, and a raised platform accommodated the musical instruments that any Athenian would expect as a matter of course. And, of course, the Earth was well represented by the Royal Seal inlaid in the wall behind the bar and in the carefully tended potted roses scattered about the huge, open plan building.

As an energetic Venusian Reel came to an enthusiastic end, Antony led his breathless, laughing dance partner from the floor and back to their table. Sandra dropped into a chair with boneless grace and tried to push loose strands of hair out of her face. Antony tucked a vagrant wisp behind her ear and leaned close to say, “Thirsty?”

“Harmony, yes!” she responded, her voice carrying through the din of the crowded room with uncommon clarity.

“Be right back, amore.” Antony pushed and wove his way toward the bar. Sandra followed him with fond eyes. Her dreamy revere was broken when an all too familiar voice sounded in her ear.

“And what might we have here?” he said.

******

At the next table over, Pietre made to rise to his feet when the tall, black garbed man loomed menacingly over his roommate’s girlfriend. Bitsy yanked him back down into his chair. “Let go, Bit! Sandra is one of ours now and we Silver Army types take care of our own. Especially when her own boyfriend doesn’t know she needs defending!”

“She doesn’t need defending, Pete, not from him. He’s family,” Bitsy hissed. Pietre looked at her and was shocked by the indecision and dismay on his normally confidant girl’s face. “It’s not your place to interfere. And I’ve done more interfering than is smart already.”

Bitsy’s cryptic words only deepened Pietre’s confusion. He already didn’t really know what to think about Tony’s mystery lady. Sandra was just a bundle of contradictions. She dressed like a servant, but her manners and speech patterns belonged to a noblewoman. She could discuss politics and policy all day and pin your ears back in a debate, but couldn’t haggle worth anything in the marketplace. Pete had already half decided that she was nobility, perhaps from the wrong side of the bed. But as he stared and strained to listen to the conversation happening at the other table, another possibility dawned on him, one that caused his heart to skip a beat. He could only hear a few words and phrases clearly, but he recognized the distinct sound of the language being spoken. It was Auld Athenian; the old tongue of Athena. The language used only among specialized scholars and the d’Athenae family.

*******

“And what might we have here?” he said in the family tongue.

Cassandra replied in the same guttural, singsong language. “Jacob, my dear brother, what brings you to Earth so near the Winter Solstice? I thought you were celebrating on Europa this year.”

“You know why I am here, little sister.”

Gray eyes flashed up at matching gray eyes. “I know no such thing. Sit down. You are attracting attention, especially since you are dressed like you’re going to a funeral.”

Jacob suppressed a sigh and complied, pulling out one of the heavy oaken seats and plopping down with little of his usual dignity. “Cassie, please don’t be difficult. I’ve had a long day.”

“Then go back to the Palace and go to bed.”

“Not without you, I’m not,” the priestly prince leaned forward to meet his angry sibling’s gaze. “You might as well stop glaring. You know it’s foolish to run around without guards like this! You are too important risk.”

Cassandra sighed. “Look around you, Jake. I’m surrounded by Silver Army officers. I am as safe here as I would be anywhere else, up to and including Eden Palace. Until you showed up, I’ve managed to keep a completely low profile. How’d you find me, anyway?”

Jacob grinned. “I used that tracking spell Grandfather had put on you when you and Sara kept sneaking off to play in the woods. He never had it deactivated and gave me the spell-key because I’m the ‘responsible one.’”

“Oh, yeah, real responsible,” Cassandra replied with scathing sarcasm, “just because you joined one of the most obscure priesthoods, people think you’re all solemn and respectable and stuff. They just don’t know you like I do.”

“Believe me when I say the High Priests of the Church of the One God share your opinion of me,” he laughed. The siblings shared a warm smile. Jacob ruined the moment with a sigh, “Cass, you can’t keep this up. Military personnel might surround you right now, but that won’t last forever. And unless I miss my guess, they don’t even know who you are, much less that you need looking after.”

Jacob had to strain his own powers to hear Cassandra’s reply. “He thinks I’m a commoner, they all do.”

“Your escort, I assume?” he asked.

“Yes,” she snapped, “Lieutenant Antony Marcones.”

Her brother cocked his head as he studied her. “You like this stripling, don’t you?”

“He’s not a stripling. He is a fine, brave, good man.” Gray eyes blazed with offended anger.

“Then why this charade?” Jacob asked, “Are you ashamed of him?”

“No!”

“Ashamed of who you are?”

Cassandra wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her upper arms as if she was suddenly cold in the well-heated room. “No, it’s not that, never that. It’s just…”

Her words were interrupted by Antony’s return. The Saturnese man stood at her side, mugs of ale in his hands. “Is this person bothering you?” he asked flatly. Cassandra looked up at him. Antony was such an easy going, gentle man that she often forgot what a big, powerful, deadly soldier he actually was. For all the he was a healer, he was also a swordsman and a well-trained and talented one at that.

“Yes, he is,” Cassandra replied in Common Speak, some small, dark part of her relishing the sudden discomfort in Jacob’s eyes, before relenting and adding, “but he’s been doing that for as long as I can remember. Antony, I’d like to you to meet Jacob, one of my older brothers.”

******

Antony waited patiently at the three-deep-in-customers bar for his order to be filled, tonelessly humming a popular ditty under his breath. A wide grin crossed his face as he remembered the polite, yet pained expression on Sandra’s face the one and only time he had tried to serenade her. ‘Tony, m’dear,’ she had said, ‘I love you dearly, but please, never do that again. You’re a sweet boy, but you can’t carry a tune in a bucket.’ The sting of the confirmation of his lack of musical talent was more than off set by Sandra’s off hand reference to love. It had been the first time that she had ever hinted that she shared his passion.

The grin faded as other thoughts intruded on the happy memory. It had taken patience and much talking around the subject to finally pry out the reason for Sandra’s initial fear and lingering reluctance to accept his freely given affection. She had coldly recited the story of her failed engagement to a Martian by the name of Thad, before breaking down and crying on his shoulder. He suspected that it had been the first time she had admitted to anyone how very much losing Thad had hurt her. The wounds on her heart were still fresh and bleeding that night several weeks ago, but they seemed to be healing nicely, he thought with a touch of pride. It was certainly was flattering to have a beautiful, heartbroken woman rediscover her ability to love through his gentle guidance.

“Watch it, Tony,” he muttered to himself with a chagrined grin, “You heard too many romance epics growing up. No need to cast yourself as the debonair stranger who wins the heart of a princess. Besides, Sandra would laugh at you if she ever heard such a wild tale.”

“Here ya go, Lieutenant,” the barkeeper said as he pushed two brimming tankards toward him, “Ganymedian ale, nice and cold just like her ladyship likes.” Sandra was a favorite of the burly ex-sailor.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Antony called over the din, “Add it to my tab, okay?” Bobby nodded absently and hurried to fill the next order. Antony turned away from the bar and headed back across the room to his waiting date, tankards held high over his head as he wound through the crowd. As he neared the table, he spotted the black-clad stranger sitting next to Sandra. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was obvious to any who knew her that Sandra was not happy with the company. Cold, implacable anger filled him as he took those final steps to stand near Sandra. As he addressed his lady, he stared down at the other man. “Is this person bothering you?”

“Yes, he is,” Sandra replied, “but he’s been doing that for as long as I can remember. Antony, I’d like to you to meet Jacob, one of my older brothers.”

His anger dissipated as quickly as it had formed. “My apologies, then,” Antony said as he set the tankards down on the table and offered his hand to the newcomer. “I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Piramson.”

Jacob shot a quick glance at his sister before taking to offered hand. “The honor is mine, Lieutenant Marcones. And please call me Jacob.”

“I am Antony or Tony to my friends,” the Healer replied. “What brings you here? I thought that Sandra said that you were serving at a temple on Europa. Or was that another of your brothers?”
Jacob laughed lightly. “No, I am the only cleric in the family. I just came to check up on… Sandra here. I had heard disturbing things about her conduct lately.”

Antony stiffened, ready to defend Sandra or himself if necessary, but the girl beat him to it. “Jacob, that is enough,” she said her voice low and menacing with unspoken warnings.

“No, it isn’t,” Jacob kept his eyes on Antony. “I need to know if you would keep her from harm, keep her safe as she refuses to heed my or anyone else’s warnings.”

Antony met the priest’s eyes steadily and without the least hint of hesitation said, “I would protect her with my life.”

Jacob held his eyes a moment longer before nodding faintly. “Very well. I will hold you to that, young sir.”

“You will stop talking about as if I am not here.” Cassandra’s voice was deceptively light, like silk wrapped around a dagger, “It is rude. And I have my ways of repaying rudeness.” Gray eyes glittered dangerously at her brother.

The young cleric met them with a serene calm. “I know you do, my dearest sister. You have always been a bully and manipulator.”

“Necessary skills, necessary evils,” she replied.

“Oh,” Jacob said as he pushed a warming tankard of Ganymedian ale toward Cassandra, “but you enjoy it too much.” Cassandra lifted the tankard in salute to his point and drank deeply of the frothy brew.

Antony glanced back and forth between them in confusion at the turn the conversation had taken. “Am I missing something?” he murmured.

Cassandra set her half-empty tankard back onto the scarred tabletop. “Yes,” she sighed, “you are. And I don’t know how to explain it to you.”

“Sandra,” Tony took her hands in his and leaned close to peer in her clouded eyes. “One of the first things a Healer must learn is to listen most carefully to his patients.”

A faint smile crossed her face, softening the dread in her dove gray eyes. “A patient, am I?”

He trailed a finger along her jaw line. “My favorite one.”

Jacob watched them with growing concern. It was transparently obvious that the Saturnese man had fallen hard for his sister. However, the cleric wasn’t sure if Cassandra truly cared for the healer as more than a diversion, the princess was very adept at hiding her true reactions behind a myriad of shifting barriers. He doubted if even Cassie knew what she truly felt about much of anything anymore. It was getting to be a dangerous trait in the young ruler-to-be, not to mention that he hated the hardened woman his sweet little sister was turning into. If she truly did love this man, perhaps she wasn’t as far gone as he feared. If only there was some way to determine what lay behind Cassandra’s barriers.

As Cassandra began to reply, Bobby the bartender stepped up upon the musicians’ stage and waved his rag for attention. “It’s time for the lads to take a bit of break and wet their whistles.” The dance band stood almost as one and made exaggerate gestures of relief, much to the amusement of the crowd. As they trouped over to the bar to get their drinks, Bobby continued, “So I’ve got to come up with something else to keep you blighters entertained for a while. Any suggestions?”

“Get Nancy to do the Dance of the Seven Veils!” One wit called, only to have a drink dumped ‘accidentally’ over his head. “Oh, didn’t see you there, Nancy. You’re not going to hold that against me, are you?” The barmaid flounced off in a mock-huff as the crowd laughed good-naturedly.

“Any other ideas?” Bobby called over the snickers.

“Yeah,” a young woman wearing the uniform of a Silver Navy ensign called, “Winter Solstice is in three days. Why not sing some carols?”

“Now that is a good idea!” the barkeeper declared.

“Only if you’re not singing, Bobby!” someone called from the back of the pub, causing another round of cheerfully snide remarks.

“Okay, jokers,” Bobby laughed, “What we need is someone to lead us off, to get us in the Solstice mood.” He scanned his sea of patrons and spotted the perfect person. “Sandra, come give us an earful of those pipes of yours!” The crowd picked up the suggestion, flinging encouragement at the young woman. Over the months of her visits, Cassandra had become known to most of those who frequented the Rose and Crown and had on occasion sung for them.

Cassandra stood and curtsied gracefully to the room. “How can I resist such eloquence?” She whispered into Antony’s ear over the crowd’s enthusiasm. “We can talk later, Tony. I’ll appease the crowd for a bit and then we’ll find a quiet corner and I’ll tell you everything.” She brushed her lips across his cheek, ignoring the catcalls.

“Mind if I join you, sister mine?” Jacob asked suddenly. “You’ll probably want some accompaniment.” She nodded her consent. As they worked their way through the crowd, he said in Auld Athenian, “That young man is in love with you.”

“I know.”

“It is not right for you to play with him like this.” His stern voice rolled in her ears like the pounding of the surf on a hostile shore. “It is not right to hide the truth from him.”

“I know,” she answered, “I’ve known that from the beginning. But I shall reveal the truth in my time and in my way.”

“When will that time come, Most Gracious One?” Jacob said as they climbed the stage steps.

She didn’t bother to answer. Cassandra waved her black robed brother toward the acoustic guitar leaning against the piano. She took Bobby’s hand, let him lead her up onto the stage, and dismissed him with a fond smile and a regal nod. The barkeeper stiffened for a moment if he saw something in her that he recognized yet could not name. He bowed deeply in the formal abeyance to royalty and backed away. The crowd murmured at the unexpected gesture but quieted as the singer raised her hand for silence. “I thank you for this opportunity to present to you a piece of music.” Her voice was quiet, gentle, yet vibrating with a subtle power. The other Athenians in the room straightened and shifted as they felt the touch of the magic of their home planet. Recognition bloomed on many faces. “As we Athenians say, there is truth within every song. Listen for the truth in mine, this cold night.” She turned to her brother, a solemn glow in her eyes. “Song for a Winter’s Night, Jacob.” The cleric nodded and set his fingers upon the strings of his borrowed guitar.

Cassandra stood on the edge of the stage in a pool of deepening silence. Her gray eyes caught and held Antony’s brown ones as she drew a first deep breath.

“The lamp is burning low upon my table top

The snow is softly falling

The air is still in the silence of my room

I hear your voice softly calling

If I could only have you near

To breathe a sigh or two

I would be happy just to hold the hands I love

On this winter’s night with you.”

Her eyes never left his. All of her attention was focused on that one, cherished face. Therefore, neither she, nor Antony noticed the many eyes that flicked back and forth between them. Every sensitive in the building knew that a soft edged, unusual magic was flowing around them, but most did not recognize the whole truth.

“The smoke is rising in the shadows over head

My glass is almost empty

I read again between the lines on each page

The words of love you send me

If I could know within my heart

That you are lonely too

I would be happy to hold the hands I love

On this winter’s night with you”

Venusians in the crowd knew that they were witnessing a declaration of undying love wrapped in music. They thought it was another quaint custom of those entirely too convoluted Athenians who were well known to dress everything up in melody and tune. They were right in a way.

“Fire is dying

The lamp is growing dim

The shades of night are lifting

Morning light steals across my windowpane

Where webs of snow are drifting

If I could only have you near

To breathe a sigh or two

I would be happy just to hold the hands I love

On this winter’s night with you”

Nevertheless, they were also wrong. The lady’s song was not a declaration; rather it was an acknowledgement. The spell woven among the flowing notes was meant to wind her true feelings through the melody like a single golden thread twined in a skein of ebony silk. If her heart did not echo the words of the song, the false note would have twisted the harmony into dissonance. The vast majority of the crowd carried along by the gentle beauty of voice and instrument didn’t know was that only a very few people in the universe could perform that kind of magic on the spur of the moment so far from Athena. And only one of those people was a chocolate haired, gray-eyed girl. Therefore, the Athenians present followed that lovelorn gaze to its recipient, eyes sharpening to catch a glimpse of the young man across the wide room.

“And to be once again with you.”

The final notes wafted across the room, touching each listener with fairy-light caresses before sinking back into the bottomless pool of silence. Cassandra held onto the shining heart of her magic for the barest instant, exulting in the realization that she did indeed love Antony Marcones and sensing the edges of a bittersweet everlasting sorrow if he abandoned her once her true rank was known. Then she released the power, flinging it back across the vast distance to her home, her planet, the seat of her mystic strength. Breath and movement returned to the pub’s patrons and silence shattered under a barrage of raucous applause. Cassandra laughed joyously and bowed to the crowd with a grand flourish. “My friends,” she called over the cacophony, “I have begun the singing and now I leave the rest to you.” With a gesture, she called the young ensign who had suggested the entertainment up to the stage. “Ensign Lady Beverly,” the princess said softly to the blushing and befuddled woman who was a scion of one the noble houses of Athena, “if you would, please lead the singing. I have a long and uncertain conversation before me.”

“As you wish, Most Gracious One,” Beverly whispered as Cassandra descended from the stage.

Jacob d’Athenae handed the guitar to another young woman after he leapt to the floor. He watched his sister wind her way back to their table. And he watched Antony rise to greet her. The priest’s solemn gray eyes followed them as they retreated toward the entrance. Unnoticed by the loudly (and in some cases badly) singing gathering, he slipped toward a side entrance, one that led to the stables.

******

As Sandra made her way back to him, Antony’s mind was still echoing with the melody of her song. While he was not one to get a tune stuck in his head, he was certain that the sound of her voice and those lilting words would be with him forever. A vibrant memory to be recalled when needed as an almost audible reminder of the moment that he knew beyond any doubt, beyond any reasoning that she loved him. He had heard that Athenians could say far more with music than they could with words alone and now he believed it.

Conscious, although barely, of the fact that they were still in a very public place, he restrained himself from drawing her into an embrace and kiss that would inspire many an epic in its own right. Instead, he stood and offered her his arm, neither of them speaking, and escorted her toward the entry hall. In his foggy minded state, he thought nothing of the way that the crowd gave way before them. Neither did it register as unusual as some of the other patrons bowed, curtsied, or saluted as their individual ranks and customs required. Only one thing jarred him enough to begin dragging him back into the here and now: a pale-faced Pietre Tapalos crisply executing a Martian War Academy-sharp salute while Bitsy Clydesdale sank into the floor-scraping curtsy due only royalty.

Once past the main rooms and into the narrow entry hall crowded only with great coats and other winter gear, he finally found his voice. “Sandra, what’s going on?”

Her gray eyes were glowing and yet shadowed at the same time when she looked up at him. “Let’s go outside first.” Her voice quivered faintly, whether from the after affects of the unknown magic she had employed or from the urgings of whatever her secret was he did not know. Antony pulled her white hooded cape from its wall peg and draped it around her shoulders. As she settled the heavy garment in place and pulled up the fur-trimmed hood to cover her dark hair, he shrugged on his own winter issue white wool great coat. They steadied each other as they climbed into their snow boots, slipped on heavy gloves, and then he opened the outer door.

Outside, snow fell gently from the dark sky. The long road back to Eden and Lilith Base was marked only by the occasional dark building and the steady line of bobbing lightballs tethered to their tall wrought iron posts. Sandra slipped her hand under his elbow as they stepped down from the empty porch fronting the Rose and Crown. Antony stepped away slightly, letting her arm slide down his arm until he could hold her hand within his. On this strange night, he preferred the less formal and somehow more intimate gesture even with two pairs of thick leather gloves separating their twining fingers.

The snowfall combined with the late hour made them seem to be the only people of the road. Within a few paces from the pub, the muffling snow hid all sounds save the whisper of wind and the crunch of their footfalls. Antony broke the blanketing silence with unsure words. “We’ll be hard to see tonight, what with wearing wear white. Have to keep a sharp ear out for other travelers.” The lady beside him pulled him to a halt in the shadows between the pools of light cast by the lightball-lampposts. She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled her cheek into his broad chest. Antony sighed as he slipped his hands underneath her cloak, running them up and down her back. Vainly he tried to sooth away the bowstring taught tension from her rigid body. He bent his neck and kissed top of her head, wishing wistfully that his lips had caressed her sweet smelling hair instead of her woolen hood. “What is so wrong, mi amore? Tell me of your troubles and we shall find a way to make it better.”

Beneath his gloved hands, her shoulders heaved as she drew a shuddering breath. He could sense her grim resolution and her tightly controlled terror. The sensation tugged at his attention for he was not an empath; his abilities did not run to reading the psychic emanations of emotions. He dismissed the notion that he was truly ‘reading’ her, deciding that it was a figment of his imagination.

Cassandra’s soft voice snagged the whole of his being. “Antony,” she whispered, “I have been less than wholly truthful with you. I’m not the person you think I am.” She leaned back against his steadying embrace far enough to look up into his face. When he opened his mouth to reply, she laid a gentle finger against his lips, stilling them. “Just listen for a moment. I’ve… neglected to tell you so much.” Her eyes dropped and she moaned, “Why is this so damned hard?” She drew another breath. “Sandra Piramson is a convenient half-truth. My true name is Cassandra, Cassandra d’Ath…”

Her words broke off, shattered like the surrounding peace as Antony flung them from the road into the ditch. A tall dark horse bearing a black-clad rider cantered through the spot where they had been standing. Cassandra spat the snow from her mouth and yelled, “Jacob, you half-wit!”

The rider drew up a few horse-lengths down the road and turned in the saddle to peer behind him. “Cass?” he called. The glow from a nearby lightball illuminated his pale face deep within his black hooded cloak. The light also twinkled in ghastly merriment off the steel barb of the crossbow quarrel that struck his shoulder. Jacob twisted violently around, face contorting in surprised agony as he fell from atop his steed to land in a puff of impact billowed snow. A score of attackers sprang from the shadows and the ditches. They converged on the fallen prince, fell intent obvious in their silence and their drawn weapons.

“Jacob!” Cassandra screamed. As she tried to scramble back up onto the road, Antony grabbed her round the waist and flung her back down.

“Sandra, no!” Antony hissed, drawing his belt knife from its sheath, “Go for help. There’s nothing you can do here, you’re unarmed!”

Cassandra surged to her feet. “The hell, I am!” She raised a short gold and burgundy wand over her head and shouted, “Athena Power!” Time itself seemed to pause in its course as thousands of runes and musical insignia swirled forth from the wand in a fountain of light and power. Cassandra pirouetted within the glorious display, her clothing faded away leaving her slender form clad only in power for the barest instant before her Sailor Scout uniform formed around her. She posed briefly as the light and power faded away.

Antony’s first thought was: ‘By the Rings, she’s magnificent!’ His second was: ‘Gods, she’s a Planetary Princess.’ He shook off his stupor only after she rushed by him toward her brother’s attackers, her high-heeled sandals making only the faintest dints in the new fallen snow.

******

Jacob d’Athenae saddled his borrowed horse, a retired cavalry mount. His head was still spinning from the realization that his sister was in love with this Antony character. And the way she announced it! Who knew that the girl had that much ability? He sighed and leaned his head against the patient gelding. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. An elderly stable hand paused in his rounds to glance curiously at the priest. Jacob summoned up a dignified nod for the man who then went on about his business.

Jacob had known this day would come. Cassandra had found true love. And the implications tore at his heart. Joy warred with sorrow deep within him. The joy was an easily understood thing for he loved his little sister and wished her only the best. The sorrow, now that was a far more complicated matter.

Jacob had felt the call of the priesthood as a young boy. He had been all of twelve years of age when he joined the Church of the One God as an Acolyte-elect. The Church was an obscure one with few members and fewer temples scattered across the Sol System. However, it was a subtly powerful sect. The Church of the One God held that all gods and goddesses were reflections of parts of the One God. While there were other sects that stated almost the same thing, the Church was unique in its acceptance by the other religions abounding in the Sol System. While most of them thought that the Church’s elders were more than a bit off kilter, they realized that the Church’s adamantine rules of understanding and non-interference made them harmless. That harmless exterior gave the Church access to most everything, giving them eyes and ears inside many and varied temples. And from that access, the Church elders assimilated bits and pieces of prophecies and foretellings and assembled a frighteningly complete vision of the future, a bleak forbidding future that their own faith required that they do nothing to turn aside. For the end of an age was upon the Sol System, and only from the ashes of the present could a new future arise.

As the highest birth-ranked member of the Church, the Elders had taken Jacob into their confidences as soon as he reached Acolyte status. He was enjoined to watch for unfolding signs among the highborn and report their progress to the Elders. Most specifically, he was to observe the Planetary Princesses, for one of the most recognizable signals of approaching calamities would be found in the lives of the Sailor Scouts. They would all, save Vanessa of Saturn, find lovers with whom they would have exceptionally strong bonds, soul bonds. And when those bonds were all formed, the Kingdoms would soon fall.

Jacob had balked at the thought of spying on his sister and her friends’ love lives, much less not warning them of the loss to come. But then the Chief Elder himself had explained a very important thing. The End of the Age was unavoidable, it had been hinted at in the prophecies of all of the religions of the System. But there had been one final prophecy that had given the Church hope. There would come a golden age, far in the future. One that would restore the glory of the Silver Millennium. That age would be built and protected by the Planetary Princesses and their soulmates.

“Ahh,” Jacob whispered to his patient horse, “That future shall be paid for by the blood of this time.” He shrugged off his sudden melancholy. “So shall it be. Far be it from me to interfere in the turning of the eternal cycle. As these Kingdoms fall, so shall others rise in their place.” He led the gelding from his stall and toward the stable entrance. The elderly stable hand reappeared to push open the door. The priest paused outside in the gently falling snow to whisper a prayer for guidance. He then mounted the ex-cavalry horse and cantered off down the wide, smooth, snow-covered road.

*****

Antony struggled out of the ditch, plunging desperately after Sailor Athena. The ambushing marauders had been shocked into immobility by Athena’s transformation, but were now raising swords and daggers. The lone crossbowman was ratcheting back the bowstring of his weapon.

Sailor Athena skipped to a halt a dozen yards from the enemy. She raised her hands and yelled, “Athena Sonic Pulse!” Three concentric rings of pure sound energy shot unerringly from her raised palms. The mystic attack slammed into the crossbowman like a giant’s club, crushing his chest and flinging him back to die in the blood soaked snow. Athena gaped at the result of her attack spell, stunned by the gory result so different from the sterile, bloodless demise of creatures made of dark magic.

The leader of the attackers rallied his men. “Get the Scout! We’ll rid the universe of two the Royal Scum!” His men followed the instruction enthusiastically, leaving the injured priest alone to attack Sailor Athena.

The Sailor Scout managed to get off another Sonic Pulse, catching two men in its fury. They were knocked out, but not killed since neither received a full blast. As the remaining attackers converged to swamp Athena, Antony finally arrived. The attackers had ignored the lone Healer in their total focus on Athena. He made one pay for that inattention.

Antony had never been so angry or frightened. These, these bastards had attacked a man of the cloth without provocation and now they were threatening Sandra! No, a voice deep inside correct, they are threatening the princess. A second voice added, ‘Princess or not, she is your beloved. You must protect her at all costs.’ The lieutenant shook off the internal distractions. One of the enemies had circled around behind Sailor Athena and had his back to Antony. The Healer knew exactly where in the man’s back to drive his short knife to kill instantly. Antony wrenched a sword from the dead man’s hand, leaving his belt knife in its once living sheath.

The next nearest man went down with a shriek of pain when Antony hamstrung him. Another step and a swing of the borrowed blade left an enemy with a gaping throat in the snow and another sword in Antony’s hand. He was through the ring and to Sailor Athena now. He tossed the second weapon to her, knowing somehow that she knew how to weld the blade. Then they stood back to back against their foes.

Athena eyed the circling foes with trepidation. “You should have run, Tony,” she said softly.

“I couldn’t leave you. Not like this,” he answered. He knocked a seeking sword blade aside, stepping forward into the attacker’s open guard and driving a fist into his throat. The enemy stumbled back, gasping and choking. “These guys aren’t very good.”

“They make up for it in numbers,” Athena replied. She considered summoning another attack spell, but she was already tiring. And casting an attack took time and room, and she had neither. A pair of the ambushers lunged for her and she was hard pressed. The enemy would already have overwhelmed them if not for the deep snow piled beside the road by road-clearing crews slowing the scattered foe.

Forgotten, Jacob struggled to sit up over the protests of his body. The crossbow quarrel grated against his upper rib and collarbone, driving an agonized groan past his bloodless lips. The gelding was still standing beside him, a lifetime of training in the cavalry holding him in place despite the violence boiling around him. Jacob blessed the animal’s steadfastness as he levered himself to his feet by climbing up the gelding’s foreleg. He clung to the horse’s shoulder as the world spun around him. Blood loss and shock clawed at his consciousness. Jacob held out his good hand, palm upwards. He was the most powerful of the three Athenian princes, although he rarely used his magic for any purpose. Desperation lent him strength as poured all his remaining focus into the spell. “Holy Shout!” he called. A ball of light formed over his open hand and shot up to hover fifty feet above the battlefield. Jacob was already sliding back down to the snowy ground when the ball exploded. A mighty voice boomed from within the magic, shaking the walls of nearby buildings and echoing all the way to the Palace.

*****

Within the Rose and Crown, startled silence fell after an unknown voice filled the air. “Fear! Fire! Foes! Awake!”

Bobby snatched up the cudgel he kept under the bar and yelled to his customers. “Outside! Now! And quietly!” People boiled out of the pub, not bothering with their cold weather gear. Those few who had brought weapons snatched them up on their way out.

*****

The massive explosion of sound stunned the melee. Athena recovered first, firing another Sonic Pulse into the nearest enemy. The attack flung him back, knocking two of his fellows to the ground with his lifeless body. Antony quickly dispatched one of those facing him, but the others pressed forward, forcing him back. He could feel Athena moving with him, guarding his back as he was guarding hers. His arms were heavy and leaden. His captured blade was ill balanced and cheaply made; he feared that it would fail soon before the onslaught. Desperation washed over him as he realized that they could not beat off the attackers for much longer.

A pair of the ambushers decided to finish off Jacob. As they approached the downed prince, the gelding standing over him watched them with mild brown eyes. They split up, one moving to the horse’s rear, the other to his head. Jacob struggled to sit up again. When the men were within a few feet of him, the gelding suddenly leapt straight up into the air. He seemed to float in place as he lashed out with both fore and rear hooves. The attacker at the rear was lucky; a glancing blow shattered his shoulder. The front attacker did not fare as well as an iron-shod hoof caved in his face. The gelding landed heavily back on the ground, shuddering with the strain the sudden maneuver had put on an aging body. He dropped his head to nuzzle his downed rider for a moment before returning his attention to the melee. Jacob stared at the old horse in amazed gratitude.

Athena stumbled over the muddy, bloody, trampled snow, losing her balance and falling to one knee. Her current opponent charged her, batting aside her blade with a two handed stroke of his cudgel. She attempted to duck the backstroke, but didn’t get far enough down. The iron-banded wood clipped her head, stunning her as stars exploded in her vision.

Antony saw her fall from the corner of his eye. He flung a handful of dirty snow into his attacker’s eyes. As the man clawed at his eyes, the Healer leapt for Athena. In mid-leap, he drove his sword into her attacker’s chest, leaving the weapon there. As he tumbled over the Scout’s struggling body, he scooped her up with his left arm, cradling her against his chest. His right hand found her dropped sword as he rolled to his feet; using strength, he did not know he had to carry his beloved with him. Athena was standing, her back to his chest, but he knew she could not remain upright on her own. His left arm was wrapped firmly around her waist and his right held the sword in a low guard position. The remaining attackers had managed to group together; Antony faced them as squarely as he could.

“Foolish,” the leader said. He alone of the attackers brandished no weapon. “Admirable but foolish.” He paused as if waiting for a reply. Antony simply lowered his head to rest his cheek against the top of Cassandra’s head, drinking in the sweet scent of her hair. He could sense her gathering her power and knew this was it. With her wits addled by that blow, there was no way she could control the amount of magic she was summoning. At least these bastards would die with them.

The leader shrugged and waved his remaining men forward. They had no more than moved forward when a barrage of snowballs jerked their attention away from their victims. War cries from across the Sol System erupted from the darkness as the patrons of the Rose and Crown, mostly young officers in the Silver Military, ambushed the ambushers. Within moments, the enemy was over thrown.

With the immediate threat of death gone, Antony dropped the sword into the snow. Athena slumped as her gathered power fled far more quickly than it had gathered. She turned in his arms and buried her face in his chest with a moan. Antony pulled his right glove off with his teeth, ignoring the salty tang of tacky blood. He grasped her chin in his bare hand, gently forcing her to look up at him. Her pupils were uneven, a sure sign of concussion. He slid his hand up to cover the nasty gash and bump on her temple and poured his healing power into her.

As the dangerous swelling subsided, she sighed and leaned into him, wrapping her arms about his waist. “Thank you,” she whispered. A beam of light from a nearby lamppost struck a spark from the burgundy stone of her tiara as she tilted her head to glance around at the dying melee.

That spark of reflected light was enough to awaken Antony’s sense of propriety. He stiffened and stepped back out of her embrace. “It was my pleasure, Your Highness.” The instant pain that sprang to life in her eyes made him want to throw away the awful formality of his words and sweep her off her feet, carry her away to some place where they could be together, truly together.

“Antony, please,” Athena held out her hand beseechingly.

He shook his head. “I am sorry, Princess. It is not… acceptable for me to be familiar with you. I am not worthy of the honor.” He turned away, unable to face her. “Or of you.” Thundering hooves masked anything else that might have been said. Antony spun back out of reflex, ready to spring for his dropped sword when a horse and rider slid to a halt with in a few paces of them. He relaxed when he immediately recognized the gray uniform of an Earth Guardian and the lady wearing it.

Zoicite surveyed the scene from the back of her steaming steed. “What in the name of Gaia is going on here?” She dropped angry hazel eyes to gaze at the Scout. “Sailor Athena?”

Cassandra’s carriage changed slightly and Antony could sense her formal mask, the walls she had built to keep out the universe, slide into place. For the first time, he saw her public persona come to the fore; the Princess overlaid the Sandra he knew like a glove covered a hand. But somehow, he knew that the girl he had fallen in love with was her true self, the secret self that only a few people even glimpsed. “Follow me.” The Sailor Scout led the way to her brother who was being attended by Pietre and another Healer. Seeing that Jacob was still among the living, Athena’s shoulders heaved in a silent sigh of relief.

“Jacob,” Zoicite breathed. She shook herself free from the shock of seeing the prince lying in the snow. “I take it the Anti-Royalist are behind this.”

“Most likely,” Athena conceded.

“Then the first thing to do is get you back to the Palace,” the Guardian declared. She raised a hand to forestall Cassandra’s protest. “You are the heir of Athena, Cass. You cannot be risked needlessly. Besides, it’s time for investigation and clean up. And those are not in your job description.”

Cassandra nodded her acquiescence. She turned to Antony, a wordless plea in her clouded gray eyes. Antony dropped to one knee in a formal salute. “Forgive me my impudence, Highness, but duty calls.” He turned and walked away, heading toward the nearest wounded. Although he could not see her, he knew that tears threatened to brim over despite her iron will. He kept his back to her until she, the Guardian, and half of the escort had gone.

Antony soon discovered that he was not need as a Healer since so many of his fellows had been at the Rose and Crown. He slipped through the ring of royal guardsmen surrounding Jacob and his attendants. He knelt beside the downed, sleep-bespelled prince and added his own power to Pietre’s. After all, he was better at banishing pain than his roommate. Jacob murmured and slipped into a deeper, more restful doze.

Pietre looked up at him and said, “Antony Marcones, you are a fool.”

“I know.”

*******

Antony spent the rest of the night answering questions. First, the Earthling officials, then the Silver Army investigators, and finally a pair of officers from the Athenian Information Bureau had to have their turns with him. It was late in the next afternoon when he finally managed to stumble back to his barracks’ room for a few hours sleep before he had to be up for duty. As a last semester Healer student, he had to stand watches at the Base Hospital. With so many of the officers and men gone for Winter Solstice, the rambling building was practically deserted. He did try to find out Jacob’s condition, but the cleric prince had been taken to the Palace infirmary, not the hospital. Only Antony’s stubborn sense of duty kept him going through that long, long Solstice Eve as his own heartache ground away at him. To make it worse, he was beginning to fear for his sanity. He knew he had no hint of Empathy or Telepathy within him, but he could swear that he could sense Cassandra in the back of his mind, in the center of his heart. And she was so, so very sad. He could almost physically feel her grief, her grief over his desertion, as if it were a steadily growing lead weight tied about his neck.

“Thank the gods,” Antony muttered as he stumbled back into his room as the sun set behind distant snow clad hills. “Thank the gods this day is over.” He rolled onto his bed, not even bothering to take off his boots.

“Do you really think it’s going to get any better?” a voice asked. Antony opened one eye to glance at its source. Pietre sat in his desk chair, regarding him sorrowfully. “Do you?”

“I can only hope so,” he answered, rolling over to try to end the conversation.

“Tony, answer me truthfully. Do you love Cassandra d’Athenae?”

“Yes.” It was the one thing he had not admitted to the investigators. He could not stand the thought of those impersonal persons pawing through his feelings, but Pete was different. Besides, his friend already knew the truth. The gods knew he had told him so enough times before Sandra had been revealed as a Princess.

He could hear Pietre shifting in the rickety chair, leaning forward as he was want to do when trying to make a point. “She loves you.”

“The Princess cannot. I was but a passing fancy for her, nothing more.”

“Bullshit.” Pietre’s flat derisive tone stung like a whip. Antony bolted straight up to stare at him in angry disbelief. The Silver Army man ignored his expression and continued in that same voice. “Let me explain something to you, Antony Marcones. I know you know nothing about Athenian magic, but ignorance is no excuse in this case. That night at the Rose and Crown, Cassandra d’Athenae wove a truth spell in her song, a heart’s truth spell. And then she declared her love for you. You, Antony, no one else. Everyone there felt it. Do you know why every Athenian bowed to you? Because they knew that you had won the heart of their next ruler. Like it or not, comfortable with the concept of loving Royalty or not, it’s the truth. Now, you can sit here and wallow in your misery like a damned fool. It’s your prerogative and you deserve every bit of pain that’ll bring you.” Pietre stood slowly to loom over him like a magistrate passing judgment. “The only problem is Cassandra does not deserve the pain she is getting in return.” Lt. Tapalos strode from the room, shutting the door behind him with a careful deliberation that was more forceful in its way than slamming it clear off of the hinges would have been.

Antony stared at the closed door for a long time before lying back down. “She can’t love me. Not truly. I’m just a commoner and she, she is the most beautiful wonderful woman I have ever met. And I cannot have her. Cannot have her.” He closed his eyes as his thoughts chased themselves round and round his mind. Try as he might, he could not take his mind from Cassandra, from the pain and the plea he had last seen in her eyes. Finally, after several long hours of self-torment, he drifted off to sleep.

******

Sobbing. Someone was sobbing heartbrokenly. No, not someone. Cassandra. He’d kill the bastard that hurt her like this. Kill him with his own bare hands!

Antony jerked awake, the faint sound of sobbing still echoing in his ears. As slumber faded, the sick realization that he was the ‘bastard,’ hit him hard. He climbed unsteadily to his feet, glancing at Pietre’s empty bed.

“That’s right,” he muttered, “Pete’s got third watch tonight.” He reeled as another wave of inconsolable grief hit him. It merged with his own sorrow and threatened to take him to his knees. He clutched the bed frame in desperation. Tormented brown eyes, red rimmed with unshed tears locked onto a flickering image crystal. Sandra’s picture looked back out at him, smiling and carefree while her sobbing still tugged at the edge of hearing. “This is ridiculous! I must go to her. Convince her to look to some other worthy man. Surely she will listen to reason.”

A short time later, he was running toward the Garden gate, skidding and falling repeatedly in the snow.

******

Cassandra lay on her bed, wrapped in misery that she had been careful to hide during the day. It was well after midnight and so quiet that it seemed she was the only one on the planet. She had finally felt alone enough to indulge in the tears that had threatened to overwhelm her ever since the horror of the battle with the Anti-Royalists. The deaths she had caused were bad enough, but it was the almost certainty that she had lost Antony forever that truly shattered her heart.

She had almost managed to cry herself to sleep when something started banging repeatedly against her balcony doors.

*******

Antony launched another handful of pebbles at the second story balcony just as the doors opened. A yelp and an exotic curse heralded Cassandra’s appearance. She was wrapped in a pale violet blanket with her dark hair cascading in disheveled waves across her shoulders. His breath caught once again at her beauty. The kindly, streaky moonlight of a swift-clouded sky hid the puffy eyes and drawn cheeks he knew were there, just as he had known which window was hers. The profound unhappiness that had spawned those tears tugged at him even stronger now that he could see her with physical eyes as well as with the vision of his heart.

Her eyes scanned the snow-covered courtyard, searching for the one who had disturbed her. The Healer stepped out of the shadows of a skeletal tree. “Antony,” she whispered, the single word was a plea, a prayer.

He scrubbed a hand across his burning eyes, clinging grimly to his purpose despite the almost painful surge of hope that streamed through the strange linkage between himself and the princess. “Your Highness,” he said, his voice low and rough with suppressed passion, “Your Highness, please stop this! Stop… mourning me! I am not worth it.”

“Worth it?” she hissed, drawing herself up, wrapping herself in sudden fury. “Worth it!” She leaned over the railing to glare at him. His heart quailed at the fierce glitter in her eyes. Then almost stopped altogether when she gathered up the trailing ends of blanket, hiked up her nightgown and vaulted the railing.

*******

Awakened by a sentry’s message about an intruder, Zoicite and Malachite had hurriedly dressed and crept out onto their own third floor balcony. The soldiers following the intruder had sent word as to the interloper’s probable destination. As per their orders, they were trying to determine his purpose before capturing him. The two Guardians waited hidden in the shadow cast by the main palace wall above them. When Zoicite had caught sight of the uninvited guest, she had ordered the soldiers back to their posts. She overrode their protests with a few sharp words.

“And why, pray tell,” Malachite asked her, “should we let this guy toss rocks at Cassandra’s window?”

Zoicite tossed her lover an amused glance. “Because I, for one, do not want to get tossed into the pond. It would be most painful at this time of year.” She suppressed a laugh at the confusion on his face. “Just watch, Mal.”

*******

The Princess landed lightly in front of him, no more bothered by the two-story drop than a normal person would have been bothered by a leap of a few feet. She took the few steps necessary to reach Antony, ignoring the cold of the snow seeping through her house shoes. One hand clutched at the blanket that trailed behind her like a cape; the other latched onto the neck of his rumbled uniform. With unnatural strength, she dragged him down so that their eyes were on a level. Gray eyes bore into brown eyes from mere inches apart.

“Let’s get something straight, here and now.” Cassandra’s anger was almost a living thing, woven through with the ominous rumble of deep voiced strings and woodwinds. “I will not have anyone talk ill of you, Antony Marcones. Most especially not you!” Antony opened his mouth to protest, but his voice died as she rose on her tiptoes so that their noses touched. All he could see was the stormy gray of her eyes as all around them formless power built and swirled. “Do not speak to me of your thrice blasted Saturnese social propriety!” she continued, “I know that you believe that as a commoner you have no right to even think of courting nobility, much less royalty. If it takes a title to make you want me, so be it! What do you want? A knighthood? An earldom? By Harmony, I’ll make you a duke if that’s what it takes!”

“No,” Antony moaned. “No, Cassandra, I want no title, no lands.” He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against her. His voice dropped to a bare whisper. “May the gods forgive me, but I want you. Just you.” Her lips found his just as the power around them imploded. He wrapped his arms around his soulmate and straightened up, lifting her out of the snow.

He was only dimly aware of the unseen orchestra playing a glorious aria, not to mention the joyful clangor of every tower bell in Eden ringing madly.

******

“What the hell is going on?” Malachite yelled over the beautiful, yet overwhelming, noise.

“Soul-bond side effect,” came the answer from an unexpected source. Malachite and Zoicite turned to stare at the strange woman on the next balcony. Jadeite, whose balcony it was, waved at them with a cocky grin on his face. He was wearing only the trousers of his uniform, which made sense considering that the woman was wearing the jacket, and seemingly nothing else. The pink-eyed blonde woman pitched her voice to be heard over the magic music. “Her powers are Athenian, hence the aural manifestation. His are healing, so I suspect that there won’t be an ache or a cold left in the palace.” She smiled widely. “Not as spectacular as a column of fire, but really impressive just the same.”

Everyone’s attention returned to the couple in the courtyard as the aria ended and the bells ceased their dance. The kiss had ended and the soulmates were staring quietly into each other’s eyes.

Zoicite raised her communication crystal. “I guess I better send someone to open the outer doors.” As the words left her mouth, Cassandra squirmed down out of Antony’s arms. The Princess hefted the Healer over her shoulder and leapt back up to her balcony. Antony’s startled yelp carried clearly through the quiet night air.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Malachite drawled. Across the courtyard, Cassandra set her love back on his feet. Antony returned the favor by sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her inside. The balcony doors closed behind them, leaving them in their own little world.

“Now they have the right idea,” the strange woman said with a sultry look at Jadeite. She sauntered back into his quarters, hips swaying entrancingly. “It’s too cold out here.” Jadeite threw a knowing grin and a flippant salute to the other two Guardians before following his guest.

Zoicite rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Wasn’t that the Vestal Priestess that showed up yesterday and insisted on having a room in the Palace?”

“Looks like she found one.”

*****

Epilogue

It was the wee, small hours early on Winter Solstice on Athena when the magus felt one of the strands of his intricate web snap. He staggered as mystic backlash ran like molten lead across his mind. Gnarled hands tightened around the lectern holding the ancient book he had been studying. As the pain subsided, he began tracing back through the hundreds of spells he had laid, looking for the damaged one. He found it almost immediately. A snarl of dark fury transformed his grandfatherly face into something demonic.

MacIan cursed long and loud, secure in the fact that his rooms were inviolate and that no one could hear him. Somehow, the control-spell he had laid over the heir to Athena’s heart had been utterly destroyed. After his breath failed him, the tirade died down to angry muttering. It took more effort than he would have liked to admit to regain control, but he finally calmed enough to test the other spells he had wound about Cassandra since the day of her birth. He nodded in satisfaction as all of the other subtle influence spells appeared unharmed.

There was only one way his heart-spell could have been nullified while leaving the others intact. The Princess had found her soulmate. That would make fulfilling his goals more difficult, but MacIan was confidant he could work his way around any obstacle.

No matter what it took, absolute power would be his.