Cassie's chamber was dark. The candles and lanterns were left unlit. They had been that way for hours.

She was in bed, but restful . . . she was not. Her pillow was saturated. Her eyes should have run dry by now. Somehow, she was tapping into a reserve of tears she had never needed access to before.

Her despair took her away from the present. Her mind was veering toward a place of eternal darkness. She had been there before. Though she promised herself she would never return, she couldn't thwart the descent.

A knock on the door, however, changed her mind's course. "Just a minute," she called out.

Cassie lit a single candle and grabbed her handkerchief from her nightstand. After blotting her eyes and nose dry, she pulled out a handheld mirror from the bedside drawer.

She caught a glimpse of herself and lost all hope. There was nothing she could do to conceal the redness and swelling that had long overcome her entire face.

Joe had said he was going out for the evening. But if he heard about her episode with Chris, he would want to talk about it. And when he saw the miserable state she was in, he would make accusations and demand an explanation.

The life she did have was about to fall apart. Cassie knew her mother would find this so amusing. So predictable. So deeply deserved. You're a fool. You'll never be happy. I'll make sure. And you will too. . .

She lay back on her pillow and covered her eyes with her arms, the handkerchief still clutched in her tight fist. The tears and intermittent sobs resumed. There was no point trying to hide them.

The door creaked open. "May I come in?"

The voice was gentle and feminine. Lyra. It was unmistakable. Cassie felt some comfort knowing she could easily send her away with a 'no' or a 'leave me alone,' but that was the precise reason she said, "Yes."

Lyra flew into the room carrying a tray. "I thought you might need some tea. I have sticky buns too. Your favorite."

Cassie dragged herself into a sitting position. It took every muscle she had. She draped the covers aside and sat at the edge of her bed. Once her head stopped spinning, she set the handkerchief aside and rubbed her aching temples. "I need more than tea and pastries. I need a tranquilizing tonic. I wish I could sleep until the end of time."

"What ever could be wrong, my dear?"

Lyra set the tray on the nightstand. She mixed the cream and sugar into Cassie's tea the way she liked it—milky and sweet—and handed her the teacup and saucer.

Cassie took a sip, its warmth, comforting, and one nibble of the sticky bun, which didn't sit well in her mouth or stomach. She set it aside. "Thank you, Lyra." After another gulp of tea—she had never been thirstier—her shaky sobs resumed. Warm tea dribbled over the sides of the cup. Cassie placed the cup and saucer back on the tray and bit down on her trembling lower lip. "I'm sure you've heard that Christopher has returned to Pyxis."

Lyra sat on the bed beside her and placed a hand on top of Cassie's bandaged hand. "I more than heard. Those who've missed your lovers' quarrel directly will be familiar with every detail by morning."

"Wonderful." Cassie collapsed back onto her pillow and covered her face with her arms. "And that was no lovers' quarrel. I am outraged."

"Outraged. Is that so?"

Feeling suddenly energetic, Cassie shot from bed and began pacing in circles. "The very nerve of him to show up here . . . alive! After what he said and what he did to me? I've moved past this. I am over him. Really, I am! I have to be! I'm marrying Joe tomorrow. He's perfect for me, isn't he? All a princess could ever ask for. Whereas Chris . . . is so thoughtless and inconsiderate, so cool and withdrawn sometimes, so unmoved by my existence, so hot-headed and so . . . so . . ."

"Handsome?" Lyra chimed in.

"Don't remind me! I thought you were on my side!" Cassie pivoted around wildly. "No! I'm finished with him."

"Then why are you so upset?"

"I'm not upset," Cassie's voice quivered amid a mouthful of fresh misery.

She forced it into her stomach, wiped her eyes with her bare arm, and continued to pace. Since she was too distraught to change into her nightdress earlier, she was still wearing her emerald-colored dress, one of Alexander's. It was wrinkled, but her motion was whirling away the bed damage.

Finally, she sat down on her bed again and resumed crying tears as large as the wide eyes that created them. "I'm upset because. . ." She fell to her pillow once more and reached for the handkerchief by her side. "Oh, I don't know anything anymore!" Though it was pointless to clean her face again, she did so, and then gathered the soggy handkerchief back in her grip. "Even if I did still have feelings for him—I'm not saying that I do—it doesn't matter anyway. He doesn't return the sentiment."

"I suspected all along that you two have a past. Would you like to hear my thoughts?" Lyra waited for Cassie's nod and continued once it was reluctantly offered. "I don't think you should be so hard on him."

Cassie sprang into a sitting position. "Why do you say that?"

"Because he made a mistake. But his wife was just murdered. It must have been an incredibly painful, disorienting time for him even if he did desire you. And though you believe he should have known better, can you truly blame him for having doubts?"

Cassie took that in for a long moment and then sighed, more at odds with herself than ever. "I'm not sure what I believe. If he had feelings for me, if he even cared if I lived or died, then why did he leave Pyxis without telling anyone? He left me alone to guess, and wonder, and regret, and self-destruct! For years I stared out that window, waiting to see if he would ever come back for me. And now he is back, and I can't filter out his true intentions. It could be for the wedding, exactly as he claimed."

Lyra sat up straighter and her expression brightened. "He left, yes, but he loves you, no question."

"What makes you so certain? Did you ever have the pleasure of meeting him?"

Cassie lowered her eyes, preparing for disappointment. Chris was only in Pyxis for less than a day the last time he was there. The only fairies he "met" were likely the ones who were trying to kill him.

"Yes, I did, as a matter of fact."

Cassie's head snapped toward Lyra. If it were possible for her attention to be more than complete, she would have achieved it.

"It was after the Victory Battle, early in the morning before he disappeared. And you would never guess where I met him." Lyra paused to let Cassie guess.

"I suppose if he loved me, he would have been at my bedside. Or perhaps he was pacing the halls waiting for news from the doctor."

"Well, yes, he was doing those things for much of the night— supposedly—but I came across him in your old quarters . . . in the North Tower. I admit that I wanted to hate him. I certainly had my reasons. But he was polite and sincere, and he was cleaning. Do men of power actually do that? It was every shard of glass from your floor. Maybe it was his way of making things right with you or protecting you from having to experience more pain. Indeed, his actions were telling, but his eyes spoke the truth. If you had died, he would have died with you."

Cassie recalled what she had told him on that unforgettable night by the lagoon. She mentioned her near death experience. She failed her one last chance to prove herself fit to be Andromeda's daughter and her mother intended to kill her. The room was a disaster, but her brother, in one of his most surprising and courageous acts ever, came between them, allowing Cassie to slip away.

While trying to escape that dark memory, Cassie noticed that Lyra was lost in one too. "There's more, Lyra, isn't there?"

"Well. . ." Lyra's blinking and wandering eyes demonstrated that her mind was working hard to conjure up details, deep and buried, and kept that way for a reason. "Christopher said, 'sorry for your loss.' He didn't know me. He didn't know my link to your brother. But he did recognize my suffering as 'loss.' I felt invisible to others and he just knew." She shook her head, wiped her own tears away, and looked to Cassie. "That's all I can recall. It was many years ago. I'm sorry. And here you are, listening to my problems at such a critical time in your life."

They sat in companionable silence for a minute or two. In that time, Cassie lifted her broken hand and tilted her engagement ring around in the candlelight.

"I haven't yet convinced you of Christopher's love for you, have I?" Lyra asked, breaking Cassie's trance.

Cassie stashed her hand beneath her dress, not wanting to see or be seen looking at the ring anymore or be reminded of the day it was wrenched from her finger. "He can be a kind, caring, compassionate individual . . . when he has a reason to be. Any fem-fairy would be fortunate, indeed, if she were to win his heart and be the reason," Cassie lamented softly. "But did I? Am I? In the weeks that followed his wife's death, how could I have possibly accomplished the impossible?" Cassie shrugged and her body collapsed into itself. Then her back suddenly went rigid and her feet hit the floor, ready for action. "Why do you ask? Is there more, still?"

"Rumors, really. Perhaps I shouldn't tell you. I can't vouch for their accuracy."

"You will tell me, Lyra!"

"I have to warn you that Ursa is the source for this tale. Where gossip is likely to materialize, my sister is never far."

"I appreciate the warning. But please, go on."

Lyra shook her head, clearly self-reproachful and afraid of the consequence of saying more. Even so, she found it in her heart to continue: "I believe Ursa was eavesdropping in the hall while they were fighting to save your life. Christopher supposedly had to be escorted from your room. When his father told him you were not likely to survive, he just snapped."

"Snapped how?"

"He went raving mad! I caught the tail end of his episode. That poor suit of armor down the hall. . . ."

"The one by the washroom? Everyone used to call it—"

"Mr. Bastille," Lyra finished for her. "Christopher put him out of his misery, centuries of it. He threw him over the banister of the Grand Staircase."

Cassie tried to prevent more tears from falling, but her overburdened eyelids could not contain her sorrow. "Why haven't you mentioned this before? No one ever tells me anything! No one even speaks his name around me! Why does it seem like our world and everyone in it is trying to keep us apart?"

"No one wanted to upset you. And now that Christopher is here and alive, I think it's fair that you know the truth so you can make the right choice for you. And to be fair to Joseph, I think he would also be a good match."

Cassie closed her eyes again, this time determined to will her tears away. She dabbed her eyes and nose with the handkerchief still in her right hand, abandoned it for good, and then bounded out of bed. Moments later, she was at her bureau, grabbing for her heaviest traveling cloak.

"Where are you off to at this time of night?" Lyra asked, but she was smiling, so she already knew.

Cassie whirled the cloak over her bare shoulders. "I have to find him before he leaves and never returns. If he loves me, I can't take your word for it. I have to hear it from him."

"I thought you were over him?" Lyra called out as Cassie was making her way to the door.

Cassie waved dismissively and hurried out. But halfway down the East Hall, a thought came to mind and she returned to her chamber.

Lyra was tidying up the tray of refreshments and started at the sound of her name. "Did you forget something?"

Cassie removed a small black sack from her top bureau drawer. "I suppose you could say that. If for some reason I don't return, I want you to have these." Cassie dropped the sack on the bed and the contents bobbled onto the sheets, sparkling in the candlelight.

Lyra fumbled to replace the contents. "Cassiopeia . . . I can't take your jewels."

"Where I may be in a few days, I won't need them." Cassie could practically feel the warmth of the sun and hear the soothing sound of falling water. "They're for your son. Consider it his inheritance. Canis would want the best for him. For you both. I only wish I had more to give." Cassie picked up the sack and stuffed it inside her pillowcase. "If I return tonight, I'll put them back in my drawer. If, however, I do not, you will take the pillow to the linen room and then start your new life with your family."

Lyra sighed and shook her head in apparent disagreement, but she didn't argue with words. Cassie took that as consent.

"Good-bye, Lyra," Cassie said with fresh tears in her eyes and for a fresh reason. "I will miss you, more than you know. You have become a true sister to me. You are more my family than my family ever was. For that, I thank you. For your service, your perpetual kindness, and your keen ears and eyes. Thank you for the truth as you see it. You are braver to say it than I am to act upon it."

"Somehow, I doubt that." Lyra embraced her firmly. "I will miss you too. Pyxis will not be the same without you. Good luck and take care of yourself and the one you love."

They moved apart and Cassie nodded. "I will. Same to you."

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