A few hours after she had woken, Zia set off to find Heath. She had been told by many people that he was fine and was just recovering from blood loss, but she had to see him with her own eyes. She found the room where he was recovering and gently knocked on the door.

"Come in," a familiar voice said, and her heart skipped a beat. It certainly sounded like Heath's voice, but she told herself to not get too excited before she even saw him. She took a deep breath and prepared herself before she opened the door slowly.

Unlike her room this one was brightly lit, with the drapes drawn back to allow sunlight to stream through and lighted candles on a tall candlestick. Lying in bed, propped up with feathery pillows, was Heath, looking as pale as a ghost, but beautifully alive and well. A large grin split his face when he saw Zia, and she couldn't stop herself from rushing to the bed and wrapping him in a tight hug.

"I wasn't sure if you were awake yet or not," Heath told her.

"I wasn't sure if you were alive or not," she replied, her throat feeling tight as she sat on the end of his bed. "Don't do that to me again or I'll kill you myself."

Heath laughed, but winced and clutched his stomach. "Still a bit sore," he told her as he rubbed his belly gently right where Daxtor had stabbed him.

"Or maybe you're just being a pansy," she teased.

Heath chuckled, careful not to laugh too hard this time.

Zia's brows drew together as she studied him. He was very pale. It was as if all the color had been drained from his skin, leaving him white as a sheet. He blended in quite nicely with the pillows behind him. He didn't appear to be feverish or anything like that, though, Zia noticed with relief.

"I'm fine," Heath told her when he saw her look of worry. "Link says I just have to take it easy for a little while. I'll be back on my feet in no time."

"Puh-lease," she rolled her eyes. "You're probably just faking the whole thing for an excuse to stay in bed."

Heath sighed melodramatically. "You've caught me. Looks like l will be cleaning out the pigsty in the morning after all."

"First thing," she agreed.

She laughed, and it felt good to laugh. After the anger, fear, and exhaustion she had felt recently, laughter was like a warm bath for her spirit, washing away all the layered grime and dirt.

"Thank you for saving me," she said for the second time today. "You came just in time."

"You would have done the same for me," he said simply. "You have, come to think of it."

"But not like you did."

He waved her thanks aside. "It's done, Zia. No thanks required."

"But-"

Heath covered his ears and sang, "La, la, la, la, la! I can't hear you!"

Zia huffed and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Heath, you're such a child sometimes."

"And you're a such a stubborn mule sometimes," he countered. "What part of 'no thanks required' did you not understand?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Did you just call me a donkey?"

"No," he said seriously. "I called you a mule."

Zia's brows shot up higher. "Very nice, Heath. You're very charming, you know that? Everyone knows that women loved to be compared to livestock."

Heath roared with laughter, wincing because of his wound, but laughing still the same. Zia couldn't help but laugh along.

In the days that followed everything seemed to be strangely calm after all that had happened. Each day more people awakened from their deep sleep, and all the Skilaen soldiers were sent home with a message for their King that General Myrna had failed and have been taken as a prisoner of war. All the Skilaen soldiers except for Borton, that is. Despite the years since their last meeting, Queen Fraya instantly recognized him and insisted that he stay, saying that she wasn't going to let him disappear again without a trace. Not that Borton would have gone anyway. Now that he knew his daughter was alive, he was determined to be there for her.

Zia had been questioned by everyone from Jay to Ed about what had happened, and she did her best to explain it, even though she hardly understood it herself. She got a variety of looks once she finished, ranging from confusion to pure joy. 

There were no serious wounds to take care of, thanks to the cauterizing that Zia's gift had done. There was still plenty for Link to do, though. He made poultices and potions for aches, pains, and fevers of every kind. Seven different times he had to send someone out to gather more herbs.

Arch and King Donathan spent much time together organizing something that they kept very secret, and no one could get anything about it out of them. Zia wondered briefly if it had something to do with her and whether or not she agreed to be the heir.

Ike woke up two days after Zia did, and was very upset when she told him all of that had happened. "I can't believe the most exciting thing that's ever taken place in this kingdom happened while I was knocked out!" he cried angrily. "Just my luck. Also, I think I speak for everyone when I say you've got a dragon in your head? That explains a lot."

Jay spent his days taking inventory of weapons and helping bury the dead on both sides of the fierce battle, so Zia didn't see much of him. But he did make an effort to stop by once in a while to check in on her.

Zia kept busy helping the refugees. There were many families that had been separated in all the chaos, and some that were mourning lost fathers and mothers. Zia spent her time helping families find each other again and offering her condolences to those who had lost loved ones. Other refugees, however, were preparing to travel back home. They would arrive just in time for the planting season, for as the war had ended so too had the harsh winter, and Zia helped where she could: Keeping the children entertained while the adults finished packing and gathering supplies for those with a long way to travel kept her busy. She was so grateful to be out and about rather than confined to a bed like Heath. 

Heath didn't seem to mind being in bed at all. He was much more patient than Zia would have been with the lack of activity, and even seemed to enjoy it. "After everything that's happened, I think I deserve a break," he told her when she commented about it. 

She had laughed and replied, "I think you're sick with a terrible illness called lazybutt-itis."

As for Daxtor and Elaina, they remained in the dungeons, awaiting their trials. Daxtor's sentence was sure to be execution, for both his missed execution twelve years ago and for his treasonous acts since then. Elaina, on the other hand, was a different matter altogether. She would be charged with attempted murder, but since she had never lived in Otar and was not King Donathan's subject, the matter of her sentence would be a bit harder to decide. Surprisingly, Zia didn't care whether either one of them lived or died. Perhaps because either way, Zia knew she had beat them. It didn't matter what happened to them next because Zia knew they could do nothing more to her.

Two weeks after the war had officially ended, the King gathered together everyone in the castle and the nearby villages, including the one where Zia, Ike, Arch, and Heath used to live, and made a happy announcement.

From atop the castle battlements the King told the gathered people, "We are finally at peace with our most ancient enemy." His deep voice carried to all the people gathered below him in the courtyard. "How long that peace will last, I do not know. But I do know that our enemy will think twice before attacking our nation again."

A loud, ringing cheer rose from the crowd.

"We have lost many loved ones," Donathan continued. "Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, friends, foes, sons, and daughters alike have perished." 

A solemn silence fell over the multitude. 

"But we must not lose hope. The people of Otar have a long and rich history, one that makes me proud to be your King. But during that history, there have been dark times- times of war and bloodshed. We have all just witnessed one of those times. But always when things seem the darkest is a light found. We have found that light- the light of peace, and we must do all we can to hold onto the light and keep it burning."

A deafening roar of approval rose up from the crowd, and Zia had to resist the urge to cover her ears.

"I know I have not always been a great ruler over you," the King said, and the crowd fell silent again. No one dared breathe. "I have forsaken your loved ones when they were in need of my help. I have placed a grievous tax upon your heads for the war effort. But now that the war is gone, so shall be the heavy tax."

An even louder cry of joy rang off the citadel walls and echoed long after the cheering had stopped.

"In celebration of our newly found peace, there shall be a ball here in the castle for any and all Otar citizens. We shall drink to the memories of those lost to us and to the health of those who have bravely fought for our lives."

A wave of excitement buzzed through the crowd. Few in the sea of people had ever been to a ball.

"At this ball I shall explain in detail the mysterious surroundings of the sudden end to our conflict." The King's eyes found Zia's and he raised his eyebrows. Zia knew this look to be him asking for her permission, and she nodded. After everything that had happened, worrying about others knowing she was the descendant of some long-forgotten girl with yellowish eyes seemed laughable. 

The King returned the nod and turned back to the congregation. "At this ball there shall be one or two special announcements made concerning the fate of our strong nation. It shall be held in one week's time. Until then, enjoy yourselves and the peace our fine kingdom now has." 

As the King spoke about the "special announcements", Zia's eyes found Queen Fraya's. Her aunt was staring at her with the most scrutinizing look.

When the crowd departed, Zia made her way to the Queen and asked her quietly, "One of these 'special announcements' doesn't have anything to do with me, does it?"

Fraya lifted an eyebrow. "That's up to you," she said. "We will be revealing your identity as Lady of Gylden House, of course, but I'm sure you took that into account when you gave my husband permission to inform the people of our mysterious and sudden peace."

Zia hadn't taken that into account, but she supposed it didn't matter- she had already given permission to Donathan.

"Whether or not we will be announcing you as our heir is still entirely up to you," she said. "But know that Donathan, Arch, William, and I will all support you in whatever you choose. The noble life has its merits, but so does the common life. Your task is to decide which one holds your fancy more." She gave Zia a motherly smile and placed a soft hand on her shoulder. "Your mother would be proud of you, and I know she'd want you to do what's best for you." She left without another word.

As the time for the ball drew nearer and nearer Zia was more and more unsure of what she should do. It was not an ordinary decision, but one that would affect the course of the rest of her life, so it could not be taken lightly.

She sought out Arch for advice, but he was still so busy with the King and their mysterious project that she couldn't explain her feelings of dilemma properly, so she then asked Borton, but he was no more help than Arch.

"Your mother could never make big decisions either," he said. "That's why I was so surprised when she agreed to marry me."

With no help from either of her fathers, she turned to Heath, Jay, and Ike, finally explaining the situation to them, but once again she received no useful advice. Heath just said, "Well, that's an unexpected development." 

All Ike had to say was, "I always knew you were a prissy princess." Only Jay had anything helpful to say.

"You're a fighter, Zia," he told her. "You always have been, and you always will be. Accepting to be the heir to the throne of Otar would be a great honor, but it doesn't bode well with the fighter within you."

The day of the ball finally came, and the castle was abuzz with business and excitement. Servants dashed in and out of rooms, putting up banners and carrying platters heaped with food. No one even noticed Zia when she snuck into the kitchen for a snack, they were so busy!

As evening drew near, people started to flow into the castle like a river. The villagers wore their best clothes, which had been washed clean for the evening, with belt buckles polished until they gleamed and faces scrubbed until they shone. The better-to-do people were dressed in all manner of finery from simple pearl necklaces to long cloaks and gowns. They all mixed and mingled together in the Grand Hall- something that hadn't happened in centuries, if ever.

Zia saw quite a few Thieves in the mix as well. She saw Ed, Will, Ryker, and Hamish all standing together, looking around nervously. Zia knew that all the people made them feel trapped, because she felt the same. Thieves were best suited to stay in the background, and surrounded by people in the Grand Hall of a large castle was definitely not the background.

Zia had only been in the Grand Hall once in her life, when she had come to testify at Daxtor's trial. The room itself hadn't changed much- the same marble pillars connected with arches on the ceiling- but tonight the room seemed to have stepped out of a fairy tale. There was one long wooden table that stretched through most of the Hall that was piled with food of every variety: potatoes, eggs, soups, vegetables, and a whole roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. Bright blue banners and flags hung on the walls, the Silver Dragon flying proudly on a sky blue backdrop. Zia stared at these tapestries and thought of her own visit with the Silver Dragon. He had said that he had watched her from birth. She wondered briefly if he was watching her now.

"You look just like your mother," a voice said behind her. She knew before she turned around that it was Borton. She thought that perhaps she should feel insulted that her father kept comparing her to her mother, but she supposed it was only natural. Besides, Felicity had been a good person- of that Zia was sure. To be compared to her mother was a compliment as far as she was concerned. 

"Thank you," Zia said with a small smile. The smile grew when she saw her father's attire. "You're dressed very fine this evening!"

Borton shifted in his red doublet uncomfortably. "This beastly collar is too tight," he said, pulling the top back away from his neck. "I'll never forgive Fraya for making me wear this ridiculous thing."

"You too?" she asked. "She nearly had to force me into this." She gestured to the dress she was wearing. It felt rather odd to wear one after going so long wearing trousers and a tunic, but Zia could not deny that it was a beautiful dress. It was a brilliant scarlet red with gold embroidery intricately woven through the fabric. The dress also had golden armor-like fittings, which gave it a sense of familiarity. It was, indeed, a lovely gown, but Zia still would have preferred to be back in her regular clothes. 

Borton chuckled. "Well, you know what they say- the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

The Hall fell silent when the King and Queen entered, Donathan looking radiant as the sun as he smiled at all the guests. Fraya had always been lovely, but tonight she looked like a goddess. Her brown hair was piled elegantly on top of her head, and her maroon gown seemed to glow in the soft candlelight. She drew every eye as she entered holding her husband's arm.

The King spread his arms wide, as if he were embracing the entire room. "Friends, it truly warms my heart to see all of you here tonight. Welcome! Before we begin our feasting and dancing, I have a few announcements to make, the first of which I am sure you've all been waiting for anxiously- the matter of our victory over our enemy."

The Hall went silent as the grave. No one hardly breathed, afraid to miss a single word. Only Zia did not listen as King Donathan told the tale of the Golden-Eyed One and the gift of the Silver Dragon. She did not listen as he explained that the first King of Otar, King Dirk, made the Golden-Eyed One nobility so that he could keep the power of the Silver Dragon safe and close at hand. The only part she comprehended was when he said, "That gift has passed through the members of the Gylden family for generations, and it was the youngest member of that family that saved us. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my niece- Lady Zia Borton of Gylden House, daughter of Lady Felicity Borton."

Zia was met with a roar of applause so loud she thought her ears would explode. The King found her in the crowd and gestured for her to come to the front of the room.

Zia hesitated. She wasn't scared of people knowing who she was, but she wasn't a fan of standing front and center for everyone to gawk at her.

Sensing her unease, Borton offered her his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. "Shall we?" he asked.

She gave him a smile of thanks and accepted his arm. He escorted her to the front of the room where every eye was trained on her. She shifted uncomfortably at their stares but she held her ground. She tried not to appear too nervous as the King raised his hand for silence and the applause died out.

Donathan lowered his voice and spoke softly so that only his wife, Zia, and Borton could hear him. "Have you made a decision?" he asked Zia.

"I have," she said. "And while I'm honored, I fear I will be declining your offer."

Zia was half worried that the King would get angry, but he only smiled and nodded his head.

"You did the right thing," Borton told her, and it was such a relief to hear those words. Zia had been worried that by declining she would cause more trouble than she would have by accepting. But to hear that she had chosen the right course was a great comfort. 

"On a different note," the King said, turning to the gathered guests again, "I have an announcement concerning the notorious group known as Thieves of Otar."

The room fell utterly and deadly silent, as if all the sound had been sucked from the air. Zia could understand their fear- many of them were Thieves or knew one. Could this have been a trap to capture them all in one go? The only sound was the deep voice of King Donathan as he said, "This band has been formed as a result of desperate men trying to provide for their families by any means possible. They have stolen from many innocent people. But I do not hold any of these men accountable for any crime."

A feeling of shock passed through the crowd at this announcement, and Zia felt it as well. Where was the King going with this?

"Instead," Donathan continued as though he had not noticed the guests' reaction, "I blame myself for the unfairly high taxes that I have set upon you, my people. But I've seen the error of my ways. I have learned that the Thieves of Otar are good people, whose only crime is trying to provide for a family. They never acted with a desire for bloodshed or personal gain. It was the Thieves who have played a key part in ending the of our conflict with our enemy. It is because of a small band of Royal Guards and Thieves, of which my niece was a part, that we were made aware of our enemy when they tried to flank our forces. This gave us the needed time to gather our forces to fight.  And when things looked most dire, the Thieves showed up at an opportune moment to help drive our enemy back, bringing with them weapons and supplies that were much needed."

The King paused a moment to let the information sink in before he continued, "I owe the Thieves an apology for my transgressions against them, and I hope with time they will come to forgive me. And we all owe the Thieves of a debt of gratitude, for without them, our kingdom would surely be lost."

The crowd clapped politely, some looking full of pride and some looking unsure. Zia noticed that those dressed more finely were looking very angry. She could understand why- these were the very kind of people that the Thieves stole from.

The King held up his hand for silence again and the multitude fell quiet. "In recent days I have been in negotiations with the Thieves' leader, and we've come to an agreement. From this day on, this band of individuals will no longer be called 'the Thieves of Otar'. Instead, they will forever be known as 'the Keepers of Otar'. They shall be our first and best line of protection, for they have proven to be far superior in fighting to even our most trained and decorated soldiers." Did Zia imagine it, or did the King's eyes drift to look at her when he said that part? Could he know that Zia had beaten Abner, the leader of the Trodaithe?

Most of the villagers who had attended the evening's events roared with delight and others looked nervous, while the faces of the nobles ranged from worried to mutinous.

"And now," Donathan roared over the crowd, "we feast!"

Zia couldn't believe how much food there was. There were puddings and soups, custards and meats of every variety, crystalized fruit and steamed vegetables. There were pitchers of water and platters piled with sweets that she could never have imagined. She wanted to try everything, but it became clear shortly into the meal that this was not going to happen. The foods were much too rich to leave enough room in her stomach of a little of everything. 

"I've never seen so much food in my life!" Ike said next to her around a rather large mouthful of pudding.

"You're going to get a stomach ache," she warned.

Ike swallowed. "Who cares?" He closed his eyes and sighed. "It tastes like milk and honey." Then he turned to Zia and said with an impish smile, "That's how I know you didn't help make it."

Many guests turned their heads in confusion at Ike's sudden loud exclamation of pain.

Zia had to agree with him, though. Each bite was more delicious than the last one, and Zia knew she could never make anything ever remotely this good. The meat was heavily seasoned and dripped with juices. The soups had a warm, creamy broth that coated her tongue in a pleasant burst of flavor. The pies had a crust as light as a cloud and a filling as sweet as honey.

Slowly, the food disappeared and people began to sit back and rub their stomachs contently. It wasn't long after before the minstrels struck the first note that signaled that the dancing was about to begin. 

The villagers leapt to their feet when they recognized the first few measures of a familiar folk song to an energetic dance. It was a very common song, and nearly every citizen of Otar knew all the steps by the time they were three. They were eager to dance it here tonight since it was normally danced only once a year at the harvest festival.

Zia laughed and clapped along with the beat as the dancers spun and twirled at an alarmingly fast pace. She saw Ike dancing with a pretty girl with black raven hair and she couldn't help but smile widely. The Grand Hall was full of high spirits tonight. 

The song came to an end and the dancers all bowed deeply to the wild applause of the onlookers. The minstrels picked up a new tune, this one soft and slow.

"May I have this dance?"

Zia turned to find Heath with his hand held out for hers and a small smile on his face. He was dressed more finely than Zia had ever seen, with a dark blue jerkin and a soft leather jacket. His usual messy hair had been neatly arranged, and his boots had been polished until they shone. His face had much more coloring in it than it had a few days ago, and his wound didn't seem to be bothering him as much.

Zia smiled and accepted his hand. When they arrived in a clear spot on the dance floor he spun her in a circle and they began to dance.

"Lady Zia Borton," Heath said. "I'll have to get used to calling you that."

"You'll call me nothing of the sort," she warned him. "My name is still Zia."

"Zia Borton, though? Are you going to take on your father's name?"

"I might as well," she answered. "He is my father, and 'Zia Borton' sounds better than 'Zia No-Name'."

"If only we had a middle name to stick in between the two," he said, trying to look innocent.

Normally, Zia would have rolled her eyes and smiled smugly at the fact that Heath did not know her middle name. But not this time. Instead she smiled and said, "Jane."

Heath blinked. "What?"

"That's my middle name. Jane."

Heath smiled widely as he spun her around.

"Do I get to know yours?" Zia asked.

"No, I think I'll make you keep guessing." Heath smiled when she glared at him. "Thomas. It's Thomas."

"Thomas? I'm sure I've guessed Thomas before," Zia insisted.

Heath shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"So, what do you think of the new 'Keepers of Otar'?" she asked, changing the subject before she accused him of lying when she guessed his middle name.

"It has a nice ring to it," he admitted. "Arch seems really excited about it."

"Arch? You've spoke to Arch? I've been trying to speak with him all week!"

"He's here tonight." Heath nodded his head to a general part of the Hall, and when Heath turned her around Zia caught a brief glimpse of Arch standing next to Ike, laughing joyously at something the dark-haired girl Ike had been dancing with had said. "He's actually the one who suggested I ask you to dance."

"Oh, no, what are we being punished for this time?" Zia teased.

Heath laughed. "As I recall, you were the one making all the trouble that made Arch decide we needed dancing lessons."

She raised an eyebrow. "Me? You were the troublemaker."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said in a sly voice. "I was the perfect gentleman."

"Oh?" she asked. "So you don't still think I'm fat, then?"

"Well..."

Zia punched him on the arm, which only made him laugh. Zia shook her head with a look that clearly said, What am I going to do with you? 

Heath's face turned serious and he looked her directly in the eye as he said, "No, I think you're beautiful."

Zia expected to feel embarrassed and her face to heat up, but it didn't happen. Her heart did start to beat very fast, though.

She pretended to glare at him. "Beautifully fat," she grumbled.

Heath sighed. "Why do you always have to make things complicated? I'm trying to be nice and give you a compliment, and you go and twist my wor-"

"Heath?" she said with a smile. "Shut up." And when she kissed him he did exactly that.

Elaina could hear the music from the Grand Hall ringing through the castle and echoing in her small jail cell. She was lying on the cold stone floor, her eyes stinging from the salty tears she had been crying off and on for the last three weeks.

Elaina heard some shuffling behind her. "Papa, what are you doing?" She sat up to watch her father do something she could not see to his cell door.

"I'm breaking us out of here," he said as he stepped away from his door, which swung open noisily. Elaina checked the stairs to be sure the sound hadn't attracted any guards before she spoke.

"How did you do that?" she whispered.

Daxtor held up a key. "I swiped it off the Guard when he brought our lunches." He made his way to Elaina's door and she scrambled to her feet as he quickly unlocked it. The door swung open and Daxtor grabbed her hand. "Come, we're getting out of here."

She followed him up the stairs and crept along the wall behind him. Daxtor checked around the corner and whispered, "There's a Guard- stay here," before disappearing. There were sounds of struggling, but it wasn't long before Daxtor returned and grabbed her hand. "Come on."

They met two other Guards on their way and Daxtor silenced both of them quickly. It wasn't long before they were both creeping along the walls in the courtyard outside the castle to stay in the shadows and out of the sight of Guards patrolling on the battlements. When they finally made it to the other side of the still-damaged portcullis Elaina felt it safe to whisper the question that had been burning within her since her cell door had swung open.

"What are we going to do now, Papa?"

"We get away," her father replied. "We find provisions and we focus on staying alive. And then, when the time is right, we enact our revenge."

Book 2: The Keepers of Otar