As my options seemed rather limited, I decided to simply remain where I was, trying to keep weight off my left leg, facing the approaching knights. My first impulse was to zip over to the carriages and be gone before they could get to me, but all things considered I was probably better at talking than I was at running at the moment. I could feel individual blades of grass poking the underside of my injured left foot in a way I found annoying, which caused me to wonder exactly how badly I'd been cut. Being barefoot on a well-manicured lawn is not usually a feeling most people become annoyed with.

The two knights slowed as they got nearer, stopping entirely a few feet away from me. One was huffing lightly and glaring at me, as though choosing to blame me for the fact that his brief sprint had winded him.

Time was of the essence - Talia needed me. I had to make this quick, as well as convincing. My mind was already racing through some of the possible reasons I could have for being there, preparing myself for the inevitable questions I was about to be asked.

I smiled at both of them.

"Sir knights," I said amicably, giving them a slight bow. "What can I help you with today?"

"Oi!" said one, eyeing me suspiciously. "What were you doing over there by the rocks? And why are your trousers wet? Are you bleedin' crazy or something?"

"Where's your boots?" the wheezy fellow asked. Then he looked closely at my face, and his eyes squinted the tiniest bit. "Wait a minute . . . Bren, this is Lord Tucat! Aren't you supposed to be in the jails?"

I gave them both an easy smile, took a breath, and opened my mouth to speak.

Then I closed it.

Maybe it was the fact that my brain was working a little slower than usual, but it seemed like all of those questions were going to be pretty difficult to find convincing answers for.

Okay, so talking was probably out. Back to my first idea.

"Well," I said, giving a light shrug, "Here's the thing. I- . . ."

Mid-sentence I slapped my hands together to activate Connor's bracelets, turning away from the two knights as I did so. Then, hands thrust behind me, I took off in the direction of the nearby carriages . . .

. . . and veered to my left unexpectedly, causing me to trip. I slammed shoulder-first into the grassy lawn, mere feet away from where I'd begun.

Only one of the bracelets had activated, I realized.

I closed my fists and began to rise, at which point I felt firm hands grab both my forearms. Very quickly they were wrenched behind my lower back, and then used to shove the rest of me against the ground, face-first.

"You know Dal, if I didn't know any better, I'd say Lord Tucat here was trying to escape from the Crown Jails or something," the knight who'd been called Bren grunted conversationally, adjusting his weight and pressing my torso against the ground. My ribs took a quick moment to remind me that they were still hurting as well.

"I wasn't . . . arrested!" I managed to groan.

"With how many times you've been in and out of this place lately, who can tell?" said the one named Dal, a hint of derision in his voice. "We'll just hang on to you until we can find out for sure, if that's okay."

"Or even if it isn't," laughed Bren. "We got orders, and . . . say, what do we have here?"

Bren's grip shifted slightly, and a moment later I could feel him fiddling with Connor's bracelets, the only real asset I had left, trying to work them off my wrists.

I began bucking and rolling my shoulders, moving my arms in an effort to keep the bracelets away from him.

"Hold still!"

"Look," I said, half-snarling into the grass that was poking at my face, "I really don't have time for-"

The rest of my air exploded from my chest with a 'hoof!' as Bren slammed his knee down on my upper back, pressing my chest against the ground.

"Hey . . . he doesn't have time for hoof, Bren! What do you suppose that means?"

"I think our honored Lord here wishes to be difficult," my captor said, carelessly pulling one of the bracelets from my wrist, followed by the other. I felt him force my right wrist high up between my shoulder blades. "Dal, I might need your cuffs."

I eased my struggling a little. Cuffs I could probably handle.

Soon an entirely different pair of metal bracelets were clamped tightly around my wrists, and I felt Bren lift his knee from my back, much to the delight of my injured ribs. Once that was done, he grabbed the chain connecting my wrists to one another and pulled me up into a kneeling position, wrenching both of my shoulders uncomfortably in the process. Then I was grabbed by my upper arms and lifted into a standing position.

Feeling a bit dizzy, it took me a moment to get my bearings. The coaches were right in front of me, sitting there on the road a mere couple dozen yards away.

My view of them was quickly obscured by the knight known as Dal, who was no longer wheezing, but who was still glaring at me accusingly.

"I got a good friend, Tucat. A Crown Knight, like myself. Jax. We been best mates for near twenty years now, and worked together for fifteen of those." He considered me briefly. "I rarely get to see him any more. Want to know why that is?"

I could sense where this was heading, and I sighed.

"Not really, no," I said.

The big man gave me a crooked smile, and then belted me in the gut with his balled-up fist.

Pain danced around my insides a while, eventually settling in the whereabouts of my ribs.

Coughing reflexively, I doubled over and stared at the grass for a bit. It looked different when your eyes were watering, I noticed. I also realized that at some point I had fallen back down to my knees.

"You're hilarious, you know that? Got yourself a real keen sense of humor, setting my buddy up the way you did. He had to be relocated to a post in the country because of you and your little joke," Dal said as I was once more hauled to my feet. He stared me in the eye. "When I do finally see him again, I think I'll have a bit of news that'll cheer him up a bit, neh?"

With that, he belted me in the stomach again. This one managed to lift me off the ground a little ways, and even though I'd managed to tense my abdomen in time, the blow winded me. He was a big, powerful guy.

I was once again staring at the grass, caught between wheezing and gasping for breath, focusing on the pain in my stomach.

"Whaddya say, Dal? Good?" asked Bren.

"Nah," chuckled Dal. "One more shot. I wanna see what Lords have for breakfast."

I was hauled roughly back to my feet, propped up from behind. My vision was fairly unsteady, but I couldn't tell if that was from having the wind knocked out of me, my watering eyes, my aggravated head injury, or something new.

Dal gave me an ugly smile and drew his arm back once more.

"What in the name Baduhenna's horse is going on here?!" a new voice bellowed from somewhere behind me.

Looking somewhere beyond my shoulder, Dal hastily lowered his fist and stood up a little straighter. I was turned in place by Bren so that I faced the newcomer as well.

Peyla was about twenty or so feet away from us and was stalking forward, her eyes ablaze with anger.

"Preceptor," Bryn called out from behind me as the preceptor strode before us. "We're taking this fellow, Lord Tucat, into custody."

I tried saying something, but was still coughing desperately from the blows to the stomach, and didn't yet have enough breath to power my voice.

"Oh? And why is that?" she spat. "What's he being arrested for?"

"Resisting arrest," said Dal.

Peyla's eyes narrowed. "And what else? You can't exactly resist arrest if you weren't under arrest to begin with."

"We spied him coming from the water's edge over by the Stonepike Shoal . . . no boots, ragged-looking, and in a hurry. When we stopped him, he assaulted us, and we-"

"He assaulted both of you? Unarmed?" Peyla snorted derisively. "Release him at once."

Dal bristled slightly.

"Preceptor, we've got standing orders from Borshank concerning Lord Tucat-"

"And I'm overriding them!"

"It's a prison-related issue, Preceptor Albusequa," Bren put in. "Andwe're also within sight of the palace, which is the purview of Preceptor Borshank. I'm afraid you don't have the authority to-"

"Peyla!" I finally managed to gasp between gulps of air. "Borshank! He's done something. It's Talia!" I coughed a couple of times, trying not to wince too much from the pain it caused. "I've got to get to her right away!"

Peyla tilted her head to one side and considered me briefly before looking down at my feet. Then she took a step towards Dal, inspecting the boots he was wearing.

"Good sized feet," she mused.

Dal appeared confused by her words, and after a couple of seconds he looked down at his boots.

Without warning, Peyla struck at the back of the knight's neck with a chopping gesture, following it up instantly with a powerful-looking knee directly to the sternum. As Dal curled himself around his injury, Peyla twisted her torso and threw a brutal-looking sideways elbow to the big man's temple, at which point he crumpled to the ground and was motionless.

Somehow, she'd made the whole thing look effortless.

Bren, likely astonished by the sudden vicious assault perpetrated by the ivory-haired preceptor, relaxed his grip on my arms marginally.

I tossed my head sharply behind me, feeling a momentary flash of pain as the top of my skull struck my captor's face.

Slipping one wrist out of my cuffs, I spun to my left, whirling around and behind the stunned knight, whose hands were now busy clutching his nose. I leveled a quick heel-kick to the back of his knee, then snaked my still-cuffed arm around his throat as he fell forward. I completed the choke by reaching over his far shoulder, grabbing the other end of my cuffs with my free hand and then pulling, cinching my forearm tight against the side of his windpipe.

He gave a surprised 'urk!' as he slowly fell to his knees, hands moving from his bloodied nose to the arm that was circling his neck. A few seconds later, his arms relaxed and dropped to his sides, limp.

I relaxed my hold, and the knight fell face-first to the grass.

Peyla had already removed one of Dal's boots.

"You'll probably need these," she said, wresting the second boot from the unconscious knight's foot and tossing the footwear towards me.

"May not fit," I croaked, slipping a second wrist from the cuffs before allowing them to fall to the grass. "My ankle's swollen."

"I saw. They're big boots, and they'll be better than nothing. Here, take this as well," she said, hurriedly unbuckling her sword belt and tossing it to the grass beside the pair of boots. "Two of my knights are less than three minutes from here. Do you need assistance?"

I shook my head as I quickly collected the boots and Peyla's sword and belt from the ground in front of me, along with Connor's bracelets. "Peyla, if anything's happened to Talia, I'm going to be doing a few things I'd prefer you and your knights didn't witness."

She nodded. "I'll take care of these two then. Go."

"Thank y-"

"Run!"

I turned and bolted for the carriages.

It was only a few dozen yards or so, but by the time I had hopped through the passenger door and into the coach nearest me, I was once more feeling dizzy, and a little bit sick as well. I let the boots and Peyla's sword tumble to the floor, sitting down heavily on the padded bench.

Remembering I had no money on me, I cursed silently.

"Hey!" I called to the coachman, whose back was to me. "Driver! Do you know me?"

He snorted softly, and turned in his seat.

"Buddy, do you have any idea how many passengers I-" he began, tiredly, at which point his eyes latched onto the scar on the bridge of my nose. His eyebrows went up in surprise. "Lord Tucat!"

At long last, my scar had actually proven itself useful in some way.

"I'm in a tight spot, and this is urgent! I don't have money on me, but you have my word that by day's end you'll be paid more than enough to cover a carriage ride. Finchpipe tea shop, corner of Stillwater Trail and Yellow Shoal Road . . . and the faster I get there, the happier I'm going to be!"

He didn't even pause long enough to nod. Instantly spinning around in his seat, he snapped the horse reins he was holding and yelled "Hyah!"

The carriage lurched forward, and we were off at a gallop.

During the rough, bumpy ride I busied myself checking for injuries, though there was little I could do about them. My ankle was now quite swollen, but as Peyla had said, the boots she'd tossed me were quite big. I tried them on. Despite being roomy around the rest of my foot, they seemed to fit my injured ankle nicely. I tied the boot straps as tight as I could to give my ankle some support.

The remainder of the ride was a whirlwind of frustration and stomach-churning anxiety.

I'd occasionally hear my driver bellow wordlessly or yell for people to get out of his way as we continued down the streets at a breakneck pace. I looked out the window for a quick second to try to place where I was, and then called forward to him.

"Driver! What time is it?"

"I'd make it a little past seven bells," he called over his shoulder.

I grit my teeth, and resumed looking out the window for any building or landmark I could recognize, frustrated that I could do little but wait.

One thing about Talia - she was never, ever late.

About a minute or so later I did manage to recognize a building, followed shortly after by a familiar street, at which point I knew precisely where I was. I'd been about to yell at the coachman to take the street on his next left, but just as I'd opened my mouth he'd hauled on the reins and angled the coach towards that particular street, doing exactly what I'd been about to ask him to do. Once we'd turned onto the new street, he began yelling obscenities at people and waving them aside urgently, already making adjustments for the next turn we'd be making.

It seemed I'd picked a pretty good coach.

As we got closer to our destination I became more and more anxious, and by the time the carriage slowed I was already hanging out the half-open passenger door, scanning the streets for some sign of Talia.

We stopped entirely, and I leaped out of the carriage and onto the ground, landing mostly on my uninjured leg. Then, clutching Peyla's sword in one hand, I sprinted awkwardly to the tea shop entrance, pausing only long enough to gesture warningly at my driver not to go anywhere.

Gripping the handle of the unfamiliar sword, I slammed my shoulder against the door barring the entrance and burst inside the tea shop, causing it to strike the wall adjacent with a loud bang.

A dozen faces abruptly turned my way. I recognized one of them as the tea shop's proprietor, Nadia Finchpipe.

Talia was nowhere to be seen.

"Milord Tucat!" Nadia said, hurriedly making her way over to me. "The young lady you were with when last you visited my shop . . . she was just here. I thought it odd, and figured you might wish to know. A man came, and-"

"Where did they go?!" I demanded.

"I watched as they left," she said, already making her way outside and beckoning me to follow, though I was on her heels so closely she needn't have bothered. Once at the door she pointed down the street. "Down there a ways. First corridor on your right. Perhaps three minutes ago. They-"

"My keep, tonight!" I said hurriedly as I ran past her in the direction she'd pointed. "Reward!"

Halfway down the street, I remembered the coachman. I turned and quickly gave the driver another warning gesture to stay put, then spun back around and continued running towards the alley.

As I rounded the corner my ankle reminded me that it wasn't doing so great, and I ignored the pain as best I could. It wouldn't do to twist it a second time, however, so I slowed my pace marginally and concentrated on listening for sounds up ahead, my eyes taking in the drab, narrow, poorly cobbled alleyway before me.

It went on for about fifteen yards before it turned left. There were no doorways I could see, and aside from a couple of empty wooden crates sitting a few feet away from the entrance, the alley was completely empty. Not just empty, but that eerie kind of empty you get with shadowy back streets . . . the sort most people instinctively decide to avoid.

It felt like the kind of place where unfortunate things happened.

Hobbling my way down to the end of the alley as quickly and quietly as possible, I peered around the corner on my left. The passage was pretty much identical to the one leading to it, except that it had a few more crates, as well as two side-alleys, both on my right.

For a moment I thought I could hear something, and I went absolutely still, craning my neck to listen.

The side-alley at the end of the corridor, maybe twenty yards distant.

I broke into a kind of graceless, loping gait, but it was the best that I could manage with ill-fitting boots and a twisted ankle. During one misstep, I felt a pain shoot all the way up my calf, causing me to hiss through clenched teeth as I continued doggedly lumbering forward.

I briefly inspected the first side-alley when I arrived, but it turned out to be nothing more than a small-ish alcove with a bit of trash in it, and I continued on to the next. A part of me noticed the sounds were definitely getting louder, and I thought I caught a fragment of speech that sounded like '-wench!'

Pulse quickening, I turned the corner . . .

And I froze.

Talia was pressed up against the aging brick wall not a dozen feet from me, struggling against the large, rough hand that was clamped over her mouth and most of her jaw. I saw that the large, rough hand belonged to a tall man with a severely hooked nose, lanky black hair, and a half-cloak bearing the Tucat crest.

The man's fierce eyes looked to me at precisely the same moment as Talia's frightened, tear-streaked ones.

Pain fled my body. It had to.

There was no room for anything but rage.

I was on the man in seconds, bolting forward and throwing myself shoulder-first into his midsection, angled away from the wall he'd been pressing Talia against. My shoulder connected just below his waist, and I wrapped both arms around his legs before pushing forward and down, screaming inarticulately.

The big man gave a grunt of surprise as we both fell to the ground in a tangle of elbows and knees. I landed on him solidly, but I quickly found myself being rolled over to one side, and saw him readying a massive fist to throw in my direction. At that precise moment I heard Talia sob, and out of the corner of my eye I could see her practically collapse against the wall.

Her soft cry caused the immense mountain of anger in my chest to hone itself into something sharp and dangerous.

Snarling, I rolled toward my attacker and back on top of him, ignoring the flash of agony I felt as his knuckles rammed into my cheek. I then threw one leg over his stomach and postured up on my knees, at which point I began raining savage blows down on his face, his neck, his stomach . . . anything within reach.

Thick, calloused fingers raked at my face, and I lifted my chin to avoid them, still throwing punches at the man beneath me. My throat let loose a furious roar of anger that grew louder with every strike I threw.

His knee rammed against my tailbone in an attempt to buck me off. I managed to grab the front of his shirt with my left hand just as he was about to send me over, forcibly pulling myself back into my original position atop him. Once recovered, I resumed throwing punches at his throat and the side of his jaw, the impact rippling up my arm with every strike. When he started using his elbows and forearms to shield his face from those blows, I began swinging wide, savage shots to his ribs.

When his arms moved to protect his torso, I went after his eyes.

Soon the man's screams were mixing with my own furious cries, increasing steadily in pitch as I landed blow after blow, hitting him over and over, again and again. His hand flicked upwards and grabbed my wrist firmly in an attempt to prevent me from hitting him, at which point I pulled my arms to my chest and head-butted the cleft of his chin.

He let go of my arm instantly and began clawing at the lower portion of his face with his blood-spattered hands, desperate to shield himself.

My knuckles began to hurt, so I began using my elbows, striking at his temples, his nose, anything that he wasn't covering up with his forearms. A few times, for lack of a better target, I simply attacked his hands.

Each time I felt myself slowing a little, I would tap into that reservoir of rage I'd felt upon first seeing him - borrow energy from the white-hot hatred that still burned in me. I would redouble my efforts, banishing tiredness from my limbs with a snarl, punching him as quickly and viciously as I could.

Curling up, he attempted to roll over onto his stomach to protect his face from further damage, and I immediately moved to take his back. Once he was face-down and feebly holding his hands up over his ears, I realized that I was perfectly positioned to sink in a choke, one that would render my opponent unconscious and quickly end this whole fight.

I didn't want to.

Grabbing the side of his head with one hand, I began swinging wildly with the other, forcefully pulling him into every punch so that he couldn't soften the blow by shying away. He tried turning his face to one side, at which point I took a handful of his lanky black hair, twisted his neck back into position and renewed my assault.

His blood-covered hands relaxed completely, and I could see him go limp, but I barely noticed. I didn't want to notice. Nothing at all mattered except destroying this man - this animal - who had tried to-

I could hear weeping.

Talia.

Panting heavily, I stopped myself mid-swing, pushed myself upright and quickly looked to where I'd last seen her.

Talia was now standing exactly where she'd been initially, and was leaning heavily against the grime-covered brick of the walls, covering her mouth with one hand. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and there were fresh tears around her wide, red-rimmed eyes. Her shoulders were shaking, and I couldn't tell if she was looking at me or through me.

My arms shook as I knelt there, looking over at her. The only thing I could hear was my ragged breathing, as well as my pulse thrumming in my ears.

Blood.

I could smell blood, and it seemed to snap me back into the present. There was blood on my hands and forearms.

Turning back, I inspected the man I was currently kneeling atop of. His face was turned to the side I'd left it, and I noticed he was still breathing, though it was more of a gurgling wheeze. Blood matted his hair and neck, but was mostly covering his hands, which lay limp and half-curled beside his neck. I turned him over onto his side, and saw a small pool of blood was also collecting just under his nose, which-

I closed my eyes and tried not to shudder. There were two large cuts and some swelling around the eye that was visible to me, but what had immediately gotten my attention was the mass of blood and flesh that had at one time been a prominently hooked nose.

Then I saw what I'd done to his ear, and I actually did shudder . . .

Another of Talia's sobs found its way to my ears.

"Are you okay?" I asked hurriedly, turning back towards her while attempting to stand. I caught myself mid-fall a second later and tried again. "Did he hurt you?"

Still staring at the two of us, Talia didn't move.

"Did he hurt you?!" I asked, urgently, finally managing to stand upright. "Are you alright?!"

"I'm- . . . I'm fine," she sniffed weakly.

Unbeknownst to her, those two simple words had just saved a man's life.

Talia hadn't yet moved, and I saw that her tearful eyes were not focused on me, but on the form of the large man laying on the ground. Her short, halting breaths were punctuated by irregular sobs.

The memory of that man's injured face appeared in my mind's eye.

I distinctly remember hearing the words 'What must she think of me?' in my head, and at that precise moment I felt-

Unworthy.

I'd never been that angry before. Hades, not ever.

And I'd done it in front of her . . .

I'm not exactly a stranger to violence, but the results of thisencounter had even been enough to make me queasy. And Talia had been right there during the whole thing - had seen everything.

Would she even want to look at me now?

Forcing myself to remain upright despite the momentary dizziness that was washing over me, I attempted to straighten out some of my clothing before quickly realizing it was a hopeless task. My shirt was torn, muddy, and bloody, much like the rest of me. One of my large, ill-fitting boots had come off at some point during the fight. My left eye was sore and felt like it was beginning to swell, though I couldn't recall getting hit there.

I was a wreck.

Standing up straight, I took an unsteady breath and sent Talia the most apologetic look I could manage.

"I'm sorry, Talia," I said, coughing and clearing my throat a bit before continuing. "I apologize for this . . . this truly horrific display of . . . of-"

I trailed off uncertainly, not really knowing what I should say, or how to say it. My head hurt, and I was feeling dizzy and nauseous.

Part of my problem finding the right words just then might have stemmed from the fact that although the thought of what I'd just done to that man was threatening to make me ill, I wasn't sorry I'd done it. This particular outcome was infinitely better than the alternatives, like what might have happened if I hadn't arrived in time. The fact of the matter was that Talia was safe, and if I had to do the exact same thing a hundred more times just to keep her from coming to harm, I wouldn't even hesitate.

But I didn't want to lose her. Not over something like this.

I cleared my throat, took another deep breath, and tried again.

"I know what you must think of me right now. It's just that I don't want something like this to- . . . you're safe though! You're safe, and that's what matters. And I know that I could have perhaps handled this a bit better, but what you saw just now is actually- . . . it's . . . that's not who I really am at all. And I'd hate for something like this to . . . to- . . ."

Talia took a couple of steps towards me, her eyes still locked on the unfortunate wretch who lay at my feet. When she got close, she lifted her uncertain, woeful gaze high enough to look at me briefly, then back down again.

I swallowed hard, afraid to say anything more.

After staring down at him for several more moments, Talia's face seemed to crumple. She let out a tearful choking sound . . .

. . . and she kicked the prone figure sharply in the ribs.

The fellow twitched, and gave a gurgling cough.

Hardly pausing, she followed her first kick with a second one that was even harder, and then a third and fourth, her sobs quickly turning into emotional battle-cries.

"Hey . . . whoa whoa whoa . . ." I said, stepping between them and gently guiding Talia off to one side, away from the fallen man. She struggled briefly and tried kicking at him a few more times, but once that became impossible she simply turned to me, buried her face in my shoulder and began to weep.

I carefully embraced her, shifting weight from one foot to another, depending on which was starting to hurt more. As I held her, I noticed something shiny lying on the ground, not too far away.

It was Peyla's sword, still in its sheath. In my fury I'd forgotten I even had it.

That had been pretty dumb.

"Oh gods, Vincent!" she finally said, clinging tightly against me, her voice a shuddering whisper. "He just . . . he said he was-"

"Shhh . . . Talia. Just breathe. It's okay now," I said, running my least-bloodied hand over her upper back in a way I hoped would be comforting. I could see that the shoulder of her dress had been torn, and the mere sight of it resulted in a surge of anger I fought to suppress.

Then I realized I didn't need to suppress my anger entirely, just delay it a while. I'd probably have need of a good helping of anger later, once night had fallen.

I noticed Talia's sobbing had become less frequent, and she wasn't clinging as desperately to me. I glanced behind me at the prone, bloody figure.

"Come on . . . let's get out of here," I said. "I've had just about enough of this particular alley, how about you?"

She drew back from me far enough to give me a nod, sniffing and wiping away a tear as she did so. Then she seemed to notice the condition of my clothing, looking both surprised and confused. "What . . . what happened to you?"

"We can talk about that once we're somewhere else. I don't think either of us wants to be here if anyone happens to show up asking questions. In fact . . . hold on for just a second."

I limped over to Peyla's blade and picked it up, then hobbled back over to the unconscious man on the ground. Pulling the sword from its sheath, I bent down and grabbed part of the cloak he was wearing.

"Vincent?" Talia said, sounding alarmed. "Vincent, you don't need to-"

With a quick sawing motion, I sliced off the Tucat crest from the stolen cloak, then stood and briefly held it up for Talia to see.

"Oh," she said faintly, sounding a touch relieved.

"Yeah. If someone found that on him, I have a feeling we'd be entertaining a few Crown Knights later on this evening. Which also reminds me - I'll need to find a good place to ditch these boots." I retrieved the boot that had slipped off during the fight and limped my way over to her. "I've got a carriage waiting up the street a ways."

I held out my arm, which she took, and the two of us started out of the alley. I even managed to pretend that I was the one assisting her for a good three-count before she wedged her own shoulder under my arm in order to support me, propping me up as I walked.

Upon arriving at the entrance to the street, we both stopped. I sent Talia a sad little smile.

"Happy birthday, darling," I said. "Has it been memorable?"

Talia's laughter was quiet, and laced with tears, but she did laugh.

"Yes," she sniffed, smiling weakly at me. "Definitely unforgettable."

"Well, I had originally planned to give you your birthday present tonight, but with everything that's happened just now, would it upset you terribly if we waited until sometime tomorrow?" I asked. "In addition to getting ourselves fixed up, I figure you'll need some time to unwind from all this excitement. Plus, I'll be needing to prepare a few things - it would appear that I've got a very, very busy evening ahead of me."

"Oh?" She wiped an eye and gave me a look. "Why's that?"

"I've decided it's time I had a bit of a sit-down with Prince Tenarreau," I replied. "I have a few interesting new thoughts I'm suddenly keen to share with him."