I was engaging in a very boring conversation with Count Asger and his wife Fabia on the proper allocation of farmland when the page burst through the court room doors. My fake smiles and nods of acknowledgement to a topic I really knew nothing about was disrupted as everyone, including myself, turned to stare.

"My gods," Count Asger gasped next to me.

Framed by the large doors, and practically being dwarfed by them was a young Elf in his early teens. His clothes were rumpled and dirty and there was a smear of mud across his freckled nose. He wore the traditional tunic of the pages, with an additional yellow sash across his body that indicated he was part of the Ithican army.

"I come to give a message about the attack on the rebels." His small voice cracked with puberty at the end, but the words still hung heavily in the air.

"Well come on now child, tell us," Luciana eventually said after a long pause.

His large, doe like green eyes scanned the room and he nervously pulled his hat from his head. His thing fingers twisted the fabric anxiously before he spoke. "The attack on the rebels was unsuccessful."

More gasps echoed through the room and whispers soon erupted into a cacophony.

"Silence!" Luciana demanded and everyone snapped their mouths shut. "What do you mean the attack was unsuccessful."

"The majority of the rebels had already fled the area before we arrived, your majesty. The few the soldiers could get to were killed, but it is barely a dent in the resistance numbers."

"How could this be?" Luciana seemed to ask more to herself than to anyone else. The silence of the room was the only reason her words were carried to our ears.

"King Heinrich said it appeared that they had known ahead of time. Maybe from a scout in the woods."

"That or someone here, who knew of the attack, warned the rebels." Queen Luciana's voice was hard as glass and I felt a shiver run down my spine. "This action would be a danger to our king and our army's life and a clear effort to undermine the monarchy – this is an act of treason. If anyone here betrayed us, please step forward and confess to your guilt now." A wave of magical power swept across the room as she finished her sentence. The power of her persuasion wove around everyone's mind's like ghostly fingers, beckoning them to confess to their crimes.

When the feeling dissipated we all waited, wondering who exactly had done it, but no one stepped forward. As more time went on and the occupants of the room began to glance back and forth between one another with suspicion Luciana eventually said, "Very well then, no one here is a traitor to our country."

With a nod of her head everything resumed as if nothing had happened. A burly guard directed the page of out the large hall and the doors closed behind him. Most conversations resumed, but there were still whispers of speculation of how the rebels knew.

As I left court later that day I heard Marleen, Onna, and Odelia gossiping with Guinevere about who they thought could be the traitor. Apparently one of the cooks had always seemed more partial to the ideologies of the resistance, or so Guinevere thought. Odelia thought Duchess Victoria was a better candidate.

Of course, I had also overheard Duchess Victoria tell a group of counts that another man, Marquis Clearwater, had been acting strange lately. There was enough blame and finger pointing to go around that I was thankful when I was in the quiet, empty hallway outside.

The silence was interrupted by a very familiar voice, "Amberleigh," he said.

I had heard my name on his lips many times before, most often when he barked orders at me from magic or combat lessons. Today it was much gentler.

"Hello Ulric," I greeted, turning to face him.

"May I walk with you?" He asked. He was wearing his usual garb, black pants tucked into calf high black leather boots, and a loose black blouse that tied at the neck. Most people dressed up for court, not Ulric. He relished in the defiance of not wearing the proper clothes that signified the respect of the event.

"Yes, of course. Did you have something on your mind?" I began walking down the hall planning to head towards my room. I was curious as to this informal interaction. I never really talked with him outside of our lessons, and it wasn't for a lack of trying. He was often in court and in and around the palace. Every time I saw him I tried to greet him and engage in conversation, but his words were usually clipped or he ignored me for the most part, but that was just how I had come to know Ulric.

The few times he had opened up, if you could even call it that, was in the seclusion of our own two eyes. Traveling with him he seemed to share more, and the same is for our lessons in the empty training room and the garden maze.

"I wanted to ask you how you had been settling into the palace, I forget that you have only been here for a few months now."

"It's still a lot, I feel like I can hardly keep up with my lessons. I also think it's a lost cause to even try to keep learning Syreni speech, I'll never pick it up."

He chuckled at me, "Syreni is one of the easier languages."

"So I've been told, but it's still very difficult. Leda even helps me practice, but I'm still terrible at it."

"Who is Leda?"

"One of my servants, and well, she's also a great friend."

"Ah, I see. I'm glad that you are making friends within the palace, that is not always easy to do."

"What do you mean?"

"Too many folks grovel at your feet just for your title and power."

I arched a questioning brow at him, "Are you speaking from experience."

"Yes." His tone was final and I refrained from asking him any more question on the topic. Ulric would always be a mystery to me.

I decided to change the subject as we turned down the hall that my bedroom was on, "Ulric, I probably don't say this often enough, but I truly appreciate you teaching magic and combat. I feel safer and stronger now because of it, because of you."

"Of course, Amberleigh, that is what your father wanted me to do. You will find those skills very important in your time as queen."

I tried to ignore the familiar bite of frustration when Ulric reminded me that his actions were not for me, they were because of me. They weren't something he wanted to do just for me, he did them because he received payment or rewards. I was a means to an end for him.

"You are also progressing better than I would have expected, I enjoy teaching you." He added to my back.

Was that a small admittance of personal investment I detected? I turned back to face him. "Really? You enjoy it? I couldn't tell behind you trying to kill me." I joked.

He cracked a small smile, "What you endure can only give your soul and form strength for the next battle."

"Must everything be a lesson with you?" I smiled in amusement.

"If you didn't have so much to learn, maybe not," he joked back.

"Did the Ulric just tell a joke?" I teased and he rolled those transfixing blue eyes at me. "How about I teach you something for once?" I challenged.

A small knot formed between his eyebrows as he considered my words, clearly unsure of what I meant. As he started to speak I cut him off and said: "Painting, I'll teach you to paint."

"Do I look like I have even the smallest artistic inclination?" He said.

I looked him up and down and his all black outfit and large, strong hands. Ulric's art was battle, not the fine detail of painting, but that didn't mean he couldn't learn, and I was partial to a chance of asking him more questions. "Anyone can paint, come on." I beckoned him forward as one of the guards opened the doors to my room.

He didn't make a move to come in so I walked towards my easel and paints without paying him any mind. "I guess, if you would be willing, I could learn a few things." He said stiffly behind me.

I smiled to myself and then addressed him. "Well, first thing is first I have to change or else Leda will have my head for ruining another dress with paint."

The overalls I had come into Erivale with had been returned to me, clean of dirt and blood, a few days after my arrival within the palace. They still held countless paint stains and splatters from wearing them to work in and I had begun wearing them again when I painted here.

When I walked back into the room Ulric was surprisingly sitting on the floor with Fenrir sat next to him and they were in the middle of what appeared to be an important discussion.

"What's going on here?"

"Just catching up," he said.

"Okay then, well how about we get started? The first rule to art is that there is no rules. That's just my personal opinion and it contradicts every art class I've forked over the money for in the past few years." I grabbed a small canvas and stick of wrapped charcoal that I had been using like a pencil. I held the objects out towards Ulric.

"I think I would do better watching first."

"Really? Art is kind of a more hands on kind of thing."

"Yes, I'd much rather watch. I can listen to your lack of painting rules."

"Well technically there are rules, but you don't always have to follow them. I think they are more like suggestions." I got sidetracked. "Are you sure you don't want to try."

"Yes Amberleigh, I am positive. Now begin, we don't have all day."

Ah, there he is, classic annoying Ulric. Returning the supplies I had collected for him to their home I grabbed a slightly larger canvas and set it on top of the easel.

"I don't really know what kind of paints these are called here," I admitted. "But they remind me of acrylic paints which I used often back in the human realm."

I sprayed my palette with a fine misting of water before selecting paints to use: black; white; red; a lighter, turquoise blue I had mixed a few weeks ago; and green, another color I had mixed from my primaries.

"Pretty simple, but red, yellow, and blue are your primary colors. Mix them together and you get the entire rainbow. Add in white and black and you get the entire spectrum of colors." I explained as I dipped one of my brushes in and mixed some white with the blue to lighten it.

I began applying a light washing of the blue with a large brush to the top of the canvas. Ulric was silent as I began to use white and mixed grey to shape the mountain on the page.

"What are you painting?" He asked.

"Home," I said with a faint smile. It was Mount Hood, the backdrop to my entire life. I had missed the sight of the familiar mountain and it felt good to pay homage to the natural wonder through paint.

"What was your human home like?" He asked.

"It was very different to here, technology is everywhere in the human realm, but magic here replaces a lot of what technology does for us humans. Or, them I guess I should say. I'm not really a human." My hand paused in it's painting to run over the rigid scar across my ear instinctively. They were my mark of humanity.

"I like it, I had a good life. Nothing super fancy or rich, but quality and meaningful. I'm always grateful for my adoptive parents for taking me in and caring for me, but at the same time there was always something that never felt quite right, now being in Erivale it made sense. I never truly belonged in that life. I never really got along with my mother well, she wished I was her own flesh and blood instead of being adopted, and my head was always in the clouds of Erivale so I wasn't the best at interacting with other people my age. I was a bit of an outsider. How about you? What was your home like?"

"Cold," was all he said at first. "Cold in every sense of the word. Being up in the Draeton mountains the temperatures rarely get above a point to melt the ice, even in the summer season. The people are cold and callous, and my mother used the cold as a threat to anyone who wronged her."

I probably spent a solid few hours painting. I would occasionally explain what I was doing as apart of my painting progress or mention things about the human realm. Ulric was mostly silent and never told much about himself or his home again. There was still plenty of bantering back and forth since that seemed to be our primary form of communication, but other than Ulric lounged with Fenrir just watching as I painted Mount Hood in its cotton candy sky. I never once saw his face as we spoke and only looked back when he mentioned that it was nearly time for dinner.

The sun was shining on half of his face making his pale skin glow gold and a long shadow stretched out from him across the room indicated the time. That was the end of our conversation as I had to change and get cleaned up for dinner with Queen Luciana, Soren, and Guinevere. The dinner was a welcome home with Soren who had just returned from a family emergency, his mother had been struck ill and he was unsure if she would make it.

King Heinrich still wasn't expected back until tomorrow morning so his chair would be empty at dinner. The palace felt different when both Soren and Heinrich were gone, much quieter without their direction of traffic. Even so, it was nice to have Soren back, and he was his usual jovial self over dinner. We also received the happy news from him that his mother was doing much better.

When I came back to my room from dinner my painting sat, nearly complete on the easel. Fenrir was gone, most likely outside or getting food scraps from the kitchens. The ferocious wolf was an expert at begging for food.

Everything seemed normal, until my eyes landed on a small piece of paper on my bed. Not again, I thought to myself. I didn't even have Fenrir to comfort me this time as I picked up the innocent looking card with tentative fingers. The back was blank and I steeled the courage to flip it over, afraid at what I would find.

Instead of fear I felt confusion. Staring back at me was the words, "Thank you." And the rebel insignia was stamped in red ink directly underneath it.