Author's Note: So...to make up for last week's late post I decided to do a second update this week:-) Fiona leaves the city and tries to make sense of her audience with the Prince...Enjoy!

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Fiona

Fiona remained extremely conscious of the unresponsive men who had escorted her from Salam Palace. She was almost certain she would have safe passage from the Palace complex, but she couldn't be sure. She had spent the long walk down the corridor past the tortuous labyrinth of rooms, keeping her eyes fixed on her escort's weapons while simultaneously concentrating on the only defense she had. Fiona could feel the power pulsating through her staff in rhythm with her beating heart. As both men were armed with swords and two single shot pistols apiece, she knew it would do little good against the amount of force they would use to retaliate. It was unfortunate she'd been unable to bring another weapon to better defend herself if the need arose.

She tried to evaluate the meeting in her mind. There was no question she had learned a great deal more about their new potential king, there was that at least, although she could not report a favorable impression to the Council. The Council. She almost shuddered to imagine what Avery would think of her account of the Prince and the words that had passed between them. Fiona wondered if the meeting had ultimately gone predictably, even though she'd certainly hoped for a less contentious exchange. But from the moment she'd received the Prince's note Fiona had been reserved in her expectations for her journey to the Capitol, and fully aware that this "peaceful meeting" could be a mere front for more insidious intent. 

That had of course been one of the Council's main objections with her decision to accept the Prince's invitation, the prospect of potential danger. 'Do not invite trouble,' that was the perpetual motto of the Elder Council, and they'd likely judge that, in talking to the Price, she had done just that. But as they dug their heads in the sand, the Council failed to realize that the trouble had already begun long ago and no amount of denial could change that. Their failing relations with the Crown and the King's persecution against the Senmin could not be ignored. Even if she had refused to journey to Auresir, there was no guarantee that the Senmin would have not have offended the Prince more than she had in their less than amicable dialogue. Still, the man's final words continued to echo in her ears.

            I do hope the God grants you safe passage home 

            Henry had undoubtedly intended his tone to put her on edge, but Fiona resolved to remain calm and not let her thoughts be clouded by such mind games. She had always recognized a vague possibility that she would find her life at risk in journeying to Auresir. She had calculated that the risk was minimal, and nothing crucial had changed. Henry did not have nearly as much power within the city as he pretended. Nonetheless, as she felt her hand tiring from her tight-fisted grip on her staff, Fiona knew some part of her wished that she had, in fact listened to the Council's initial advice and respectfully declined Henry's invitation entirely.

            It seemed clear now that the reports of the Prince's provocative nature and over-confident demeanor were not exaggerated. She'd learned that much at least, and was glad she'd taken advantage of the chance to assess Henry herself. But Fiona was greatly disappointed to see any optimism she'd held that the Senmin's position in the Empire might improve under Fredrick's heir had so quickly been dashed. She'd hoped the future King might become an ally to her people but now Fiona was fairly certain that she could only hope that the Henry would not become an outright enemy. She thought of the whispers that Fredrick never intended for his son to return from battle alive. Perhaps rumors that suggested the King was still searching for another heir would prove true and the Prince would never gain the crown. Either way, it seemed the Senmin would be waiting quite some time before a truly sympathetic leader once again took the throne.

            The coach was awaiting her at the front steps of the palace along with the same two armed horsemen to follow. The Prince's men were courteous and deferential as they helped her inside, but Fiona could not help but feel on edge.  Henry's arrogance had been intolerable to be sure, but Fiona was well aware that she had pushed him too far in retaliation. When they reached the palace gates and the guards at the gates let them pass without hesitation, Fiona breathed a guarded sigh of relief, trying to calm her nerves. 

The Prince had allowed her to leave the palace grounds in peace, a positive sign to be sure. Hopefully, any repercussions of their discourse would come later. Fiona consoled herself with the knowledge that Henry was unlikely to take the drastic action of ordering an attack on the leader of the Senmin within the Capitol. To do so would force him to admit to their having met in an official capacity without the King's consent, not to mention causing a major incident within the walls of Auresir. 

Henry's reaction to her mention of his father had confirmed that their relationship was contentious. Still, he had been unafraid to make slights against Fredrick in the sight of the guards and servants in the receiving hall. She had to wonder now if Henry cared at all of his father's wrath. The thought was unsettling, and in spite of her efforts to push down her nagging fears, Fiona could not stop her heart from beating one or two thuds out of step as they rode towards the gates of the city.

            The carriage rolled along the cobblestone streets back through the market square, past the bustling mélange of bright colors, sounds, and smells that accompanied the end of the day as people hurried to make their final sales and purchases before returning to their homes. With the streets so crowded, their little entourage moved far more slowly than she'd hoped, and by the time their party managed to near the western gates, Fiona couldn't help but notice the day was quickly fading. The crowds of people only increased as they drew closer to the checkpoint. Fiona felt her anxiety building.

            Given the timbre of her meeting with the Prince, she had no desire to remain near the Capitol City any longer than was necessary. With her belongings still awaiting her at the inn where she had stayed the night in Fenwick however, it would take time before she could gather her things and set out for Manna's home. Fiona had held the fleeting hope that she might be able to at least set off for Gregorn before nightfall would hinder her progress and make her more prone to attack along the road, but with the pace of their carriage only slowing further, it seemed unlikely she would get her wish. Fiona pulled aside the curtain to peer out at the vast array of citizens gathering at the border, a long line of peddlers and craftsmen waiting for inspection. No doubt they too were anxious to leave the city walls well before darkness fell.

            "Make way, make way!" she heard the shout of one of Henry's men, attempting to force their party's path through the dense mass of people. The coachman gave a sharp crack of his whip and Fiona felt the carriage return to a faster clip as it attempted to plow through the line of citizens assembled in the middle of the road. They were almost to the gate when Fiona was thrown back in her seat as she heard a crash and the horses' panicked whiney as the coach nearly overturned. They came to an abrupt halt. Her heartbeat quickened.

            "God damn it!" She heard the coachman curse.

            Fiona looked out to see the mounted guards drawing their weapons. She opened the door of the carriage for a better view of the scene. The frazzled coachman had climbed down from his perch and was attempting to calm the horses. Fiona watched him grasp their bridles firmly as the animals twitched their heads away, stamping their hooves in distress and breathing heavily through flaring nostrils.

            "Easy boys. Easy," he soothed.

            In front of the carriage, she could see that the road was littered with an assortment of wears and an overturned cart that blocked their way. In the midst of the debris was a boy, no more than twelve, presumably the owner of the ruined cart. He appeared to be in pain, clutching his leg with one arm, while the other hung at his side, scratched and bleeding. The guards had their rifles fixed on his struggling form. As he tried to rise, the guard nearest the boy cocked his weapon.

            "Hold," Fiona said, as she climbed from the carriage.

            "Get back inside," one of the guardsmen commanded in a clipped tone. Fiona ignored him, walking quickly around the horsemen towards the boy.

            "Lady Amoral!" the guard said, shocked at her daring, " he could be dangerous. Return to the carriage at once." She turned and gave him a hard stare.

            "Can't you see this young man is hurt?" she asked, "I can help him." Fiona knew that she should not make a spectacle but she couldn't help but feel she should at least make sure the boy on the ground was not badly injured. The guards' reaction seemed entirely unnecessary. If she could put herself between the boy and her entourage, she knew there was a chance she could help him to leave the scene without a bullet in his head. Fiona felt the hot gaze of the crowd watching as she walked to the boy's side. She could sense. the guardsmen hesitation in how best to act, uncertain how to stop her without taking their eyes off the injured boy. Or perhaps the boy's age had given them pause. Whatever the reason they remained in their saddles she was glad for it.

            "Are you alright?" Fiona asked, kneeling down at the child's side.

            "I think so," the boy responded.

            Fiona gently placed her hands on his injured leg and then repeated the process on his arm, checking for any broken bones. Aside from the few surface scratches and a nasty bruise forming on his left bicep, he seemed unhurt.

            "Nothing appears to be broken," she said. "Do you think you can walk?"

            "Maybe," the boy answered. " Give me your hand. I think I just need a pull."

            Fiona stood and reached down to him offering her hand. Though he reached up tentatively, as boy's hand tightened around her own Fiona was shocked by the sudden strength of his grip. She could feel something in his palm. Fiona looked at the boy in confusion and he stared up at her with a look so intense, she felt a shudder of surprise trickle up her body, heart thudding in her chest. He tugged on her arm so she was forced to lean down towards him.

            "In your hand," he whispered, "an important message." Fiona went to pull her hand away but he squeezed even tighter. "You can't let the guards see," he said. "Don't open the note until you are back in the carriage and keep it hidden."

            She was speechless.

            "Help me up on three. One, two, three." Fiona pulled and he followed, hand slipping deftly from her grasp. She kept her palm flat to her body, concealing the paper held within. " Thanks lady," the boy said, standing awkwardly, trying to balance his weight on his good leg. The intensity in his gaze just a moment before had entirely vanished. "Thanks for your help."

            "Lady Amoral, move out of the way," one of the guards said, his gun still trained on the boy.

            Of course Fiona had no intention of following his order. "Lower your weapons," she commanded, refusing to step aside.

            "That man jumped in front of a royal carriage," the guard answered. The grip on his weapon did not relax. "He may be an enemy to the crown."

            "I didn't!" the boy shot back desperately. Fiona watched him stumble onto his bad foot and a small gasp escaped his lips as he grimaced in pain. She put a protective hand on his shoulder as he steadied himself again.

            "I'm quite certain the boy did not wish to be run down in the street," she replied.

            Fiona could see the skepticism in the guards' gaze. She was not deterred.

             "This young man has done nothing wrong," she said. "Now lower your weapons."

            Fiona watched the two guards give each other an uncomfortable glance, clearly uncertain how to respond to her repeated order. Fiona wondered if her authoritative tone would be enough to command their obedience. They likely had no idea of her position aside from the fact that it warranted royal escort. She imagined Henry would have kept her title from as many as possible to avoid Fredrick hearing of their meeting.

            "I will not move from this spot until you give your word that you will let him leave here unharmed," she said.

            The guards reluctantly let the barrels of their rifles lower slowly.

            "You," Fiona said to one of the gaping spectators. "Help the boy collect his wares." The man looked wearily at the royal coach and the guards, then back to Fiona. He nodded.

            "Come on, Charlie," he said to a man next to him. The two walked to the overturned cart and began to clear the scene and soon others filled in to help.

            "Lady Amoral, we must be going," one of the guardsmen prompted. The coachman was waiting, holding the door for her. The carriage had been turned to avoid what remained of the accident. Fiona nodded. As she walked back to the carriage she turned to take one last glance at the injured boy. He was nowhere to be seen, swallowed up by the crowd.

            Fiona allowed herself to be helped back into the coach, making sure to keep the note baring hand closed, hidden within the folds of her skirts. She waited until the door was shut and the carriage had once again resumed a steady pace before opening her hand to reveal the paper the boy had secreted to her. The writing was immediately familiar, though she hadn't seen the scrawling scratches in nearly twelve years.

Fiona,

We must speak. Things are more dire than you know. If you have met Henry yourself,      I'm sure you have already seen the danger. Meet me in one month's time, on the first of October, near   the north gate of the city at the dawning of the day. I will find you. Do not ignore my words. I know we have had our differences in the past, but heed my warnings. Of course it goes without saying, tell no  one of this message or all will be lost.

             Only an emblazoned seal marked the bottom of the page. The three sword crest of the Vox Populi. Though he had not signed the message, Fiona knew the note had been penned by his own hand. After all, he had always had a flair for the dramatic. Alexander Harrison was alive.

♫Dun dun duuuuun....♫ (hehehe... sorry I couldn't resist:-)). So Alexander Harrison is alive! What does that mean???? Who the heck is he? Why does it matter??? Guess you'll have to keep reading to find out;-) As always, any comments, critiques (and of course VOTE(s)) are welcome! Will probably be returning to Wednesday posting next week so keep your eye out then for a new chapter. Thanks for reading!!!!!!!