Posted on: 2014-04-09

Chapter 16

As the two men began their journey, the morning sun shone brightly overhead, its cruel beams producing beads of sweat on Will's forehead and mocking his anxious mood. As soon as they had exited Dottie's home, Will found that he could no longer maintain the confidence and sense of purpose he had expressed to Lizzy. Instead, the anger he had lived with for so many years surged anew within him, now mixed with a foreboding sense of confusion and fear.

When they passed Truman's home on the way, the old man stopped and instructed Will to enter. Inside, Truman asked Will to help him move his bed away from the wall. The Auroran man then bent down and lifted one of the floorboards underneath, revealing a small boxlike space. "Your weapon, young man. You need to place it in here."

Will looked at him in disbelief. "You cannot possibly think I will enter your kingdom's castle unarmed!"

Truman shrugged. "The castle guards will search you, and if they find your weapon, they will seize it. If you want to keep it, I suggest you leave it here."

Will exhaled, and reluctantly removed his scabbard and dagger. He handed them to Truman, who set them in the hole and replaced the floorboard. The two men returned the bed to its place.

"I'll have you know that the idea of being without my dagger makes me very uneasy."

"Then you must trust your destiny, young man. If it is in line with what is good, then all will be well."

Filled with pent-up tension, Will suddenly exploded. "It is not my damned destiny! If I were to choose, I would carry my dagger and use it to slaughter every wretched Auroran I encounter!"

"Including me?"

Will looked at the sorrowful expression on the man's face and felt ashamed. "Not you, Truman. You know I don't mean you."

"Why not? After all, I am a wretched Auroran."

"You and Dottie are good people. You are not like the others!"

"How do you know that? How do you know if either is true--that Dottie and I are good, or that we are not like the rest of our countrymen?"

Will suddenly felt weary, and sat down on Truman's chair, running his hands down his face. "Because I've seen it. I've seen both your goodness, and the wickedness perpetuated by your people."

"I see. Of course, many from Aurora could make the same statement about your people. If I were not such as old man--if I had not lived at a time when our nations were at peace, when Pemberleans and Aurorans could call each other brother--then I might feel the same way."

"Your childhood was a long time ago. Everything has changed since then."

Truman sat on the bed facing Will. "Why have you come here, young man?"

"I do not know. I did not come willingly."

"Yet here you are. Miss Lizzy seems to know why you are here."

"She is the one that believes in peace, not me." He wanted so badly to be the man of honor Lizzy considered him, but now, away from her presence, he knew he was not. "I am a soldier, Truman. A man of war. I cannot count the number of Aurorans I have killed."

Truman did not seem shocked by this revelation. "Yet here you are," he repeated.

"I did not choose this destiny."

Truman observed him for a few moments before speaking. "No, but it chose you." He stood up. "Come, young Will. It is time."

They rose again and in silence, made their way to the castle. Will's apprehension grew with each step. He had no idea what he was to do when they arrived.

As they drew near to the slow-moving throngs lined up outside the Auroran seat of power, Truman whispered, "It might be best for you to keep your head lowered, and not speak." Will nodded.

As Truman had warned him, they were searched by the royal guards when they finally reached the gates of the rampart. They had already witnessed the removal of a knife and a sword from others in the crowd ahead of them. A guard inspected the bag Truman carried, which contained several sticks of dried mutton, a flask of water, and two pears. The bag was returned, and they were allowed to pass on and enter the gates.

They endured another long wait before they finally crossed the castle threshold. Once inside, the environment was instantly familiar to Will--walls covered with rich woven tapestries, floors lined with statues sculpted by the finest masters, furniture inlaid with gold, discreet servants about their business, and guards posted at every corridor.

Nonetheless, the milieu also felt distinctly alien, and not simply because this was the castle of a foreign land. Will had spent the last eight years living in crude encampments. He had viewed firsthand the grinding poverty in which many of his subjects dwelt. This display of opulence now somehow seemed wrong to him.

They were led into a large room where a multitude had gathered, each waiting for his or her opportunity to have an audience before the king. The wait again was long, and several hours later, the purpose of Truman's bag became apparent when he opened it up and offered Will lunch.

Will was about to bite into a mutton stick when he noticed a very thin woman sitting on the floor not far from them. She was holding a child of about four in her lap. The gaunt little boy was eyeing his food.

He walked over to the woman and handed her his mutton sticks and pear. She cried out, "Bless you, sir, bless you!" He nodded to her and walked away.

When he returned to Truman's side, the old man said, "Very good, young Will."

Their turn finally came, and they approached the table outside the king's throne room. "State your name and your business," said the scribe sitting there.

"I am Truman the Tailor, and this is my assistant," the old man said. "We are here to speak to the king about his royal sash."

The scribe checked his scroll and nodded. "You may enter."

A servant pulled at a gold-plated door handle to open the cavernous door. Will and Truman entered, the sound of their boots echoing on the tiled floor.

"Truman the Tailor and his assistant," a herald announced, and then departed.

At long last, they were in front of Thomas, King of Aurora, seated on his royal throne. "Your Majesty," Truman greeted him, and he and Will bowed deeply. Will again felt a sensation of strangeness, remembering how at one point in his life, he had been the one bowed to.

The king rose. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with piercing dark eyes, no doubt an imposing figure to his subjects. His hair was completely gray beneath his crown, but he did not look very old--mid to late forties at most, Will guessed.

The man smiled. "Truman! What a surprise. Why have you sought audience with me today?"

"Sire," Truman began, "although it is not my usual time, things are changing rapidly. I thought that changes in your sash might also be in order."

The man's smile broadened. "Right you are!" he shouted with great cheer. "Jerald's armies may have made some inroads of late in regaining their southern lands, but it is a futile effort. We continue to hold the Pemberlean capital under siege, and it will soon fall. At long last, Jerald's kingdom will be no more! Truman, begin making a new sash to honor my greatness!"

This news of the potential fall of his kingdom filled Will with rage, a fury he had no intention of hiding. The king apparently felt the white heat emanating from Will's direction, because he turned his eyes toward him. Will realized that he had also caught the attention of the ten guards stationed about the room.

The king approached Will and stared at him with a fierce gaze that would likely cause most men to tremble in fear. Will, however, was not most men. Thomas was a king, but he was a king's son. So far they were equals; he would neither flinch nor cower before this man.

Their staring competition continued. Will sensed the king's guards standing at alert and ready to strike if needed. Abruptly, the king's expression changed into one of surprise; nay, shock. At once the reason Truman had forbidden Will to shave became blindingly obvious: King Thomas had recognized him. He knew that he was Prince Fitzwilliam of Pemberlea. And Truman, Will now realized, had known all along. He should not have been surprised; as with his cousin, the old man's perception was uncanny.

"What is the meaning of this, Truman?" the king shouted, turning back to the old man.

The small man also stood bravely. "This young man has come a long way to see you, sire. Do you recognize him?"

"Yes, I recognize him; do not take me for a fool!"

"Who is he, sire?"

Will held his breath, awaiting the king's pronouncement of him as Jerald's heir, followed by whatever punishment he considered fitting.

What happened next took him completely by surprise. "Leave us!" the king demanded.

For a moment, no one moved. Truman and the guards, like Will, were probably unsure to whom Thomas was speaking.

"Guards, I said leave us, NOW!" With this, the ten royal soldiers lined up in formation and departed the room obediently.

When they were gone, Truman asked again, "Sire, do you know who this man is?"

The king's demeanor unexpectedly softened. "He is Angelia's son."

"You knew my mother?" The words came forth from Will's mouth before he could stop them.

Thomas turned his severe countenance toward him once more. "Of course I knew your mother. She was my sister."

Chapter 17

Dirt and hay. That was Lizzy's first sensation. Dirt stinging her eyes and filling her nostrils, and hay poking her skin. Where was she?

She tried to move, to sit up. She found she could not. Her entire body ached. Her boots had been removed and her ankles and hands, she realized, were bound with heavy rope. She shivered from the cold and from pain.

How had she come to be here? What had happened? She tried to think, but it was difficult. Her head was throbbing.

The marketplace... Dottie... what had happened? She had been helping Dottie and then...

The Pemberlean man! George! She had met him that day, so excited to find another of her countrymen desiring peace.

Dottie has returned with their lunch and she'd introduced them. Ever hospitable, Dottie had invited him to sup that evening. He had told them he'd return at the end of the day.

He'd come back, and then what? Something about a friend. George had wanted her to meet a friend; he'd told Dottie that he and Lizzy would be back in a moment.

She was walking with him, telling him about her home in Merrytown, and then... from there all went black. What had happened? Where was Dottie? Where was she?

Will. Had he returned from the castle? Was he safe? Had peace come?

Why was she tied up? Why was she in so much pain?

Her breathing was ragged. She tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse, her mouth dry as ashes. Her heart began racing as panic set in. She'd never been so terrified. Where was she? What had happened to her? Where were her friends?

Bravery without measure. The words came to her in that moment and she started to calm. The acorn of courage! Where was it?

She was lying on a dirty floor. She looked around, as much as she could from her cramped, bound position, as much as her aching head would allow it. Wherever she was, it was dark; but she spotted a beam of light. It was coming from a window. She rotated her eyes upward. It was dark out the window, but she could see the moon. Wherever she was, it was night.

She rolled a bit on the floor. Her belt was around her waist and she could feel the acorns in it. Which one was the green one? She thought for a minute, trying to recall how she'd placed them--was it only last night when Will had given her the belt?

Right side. It came to her. The green acorn was on the right. She rolled painfully onto the right side of her body, pressing her waist against the ground. She could feel the acorn poking her side. She continued to roll, trying to force the belt's pocket to expel it. It took some time, but eventually, the acorn popped out and rolled a few feet away from her. Its bright emerald light suddenly lit up everything around her.

Lizzy coughed, dust filling her throat. But at last, she could now see. She was in a room of some kind, she knew not where. The floor seemed to be devoid of any furniture. She could see a double door, like that of a barn. Was that where she was, some sort of barn or stable? If so, it would explain the hay; but the building had apparently been abandoned, the animal smells long dissipated.

Now she had to reach the acorn. She scooted her body along the floor toward it, feeling sharp pokes and scratches as she did so. She reached the acorn, but could not grab it with her hands tied behind her back.

She would have to turn her body so that her hands faced the acorn, but then she would be unable to see it. She'd have to feel her way toward it, estimating its location by the brightness around it. Many minutes passed of her scooting and rolling, trying to reach the acorn with her fingers. Several times she'd touch it, but it would slip from her grasp.

Finally she had the acorn in hand. Her fingers rolled along the green gemstone, uncertain what would happen next. Would it be a vision, the way there had been with the red one?

No vision came to her; instead, she heard a voice. "There is no fear in love," she heard. And then, "There are rocks in here."

She paused, puzzled. She rubbed the acorn again. Once more, she heard the voice. "There is no fear in love. There are rocks in here."

That was it. The light in the room dimmed, and she knew the acorn's glimmer had gone out. She kept what she was sure was now a simple brown nut in her hand, unwilling to lose it.

She heard a noise, and saw a door open. Feet entered the room, attached to a pair of long legs and a body. She couldn't stretch her painful head enough to look high enough and see the face that went with it. Whoever it was held a candle or torch, because light had returned to the room.

"My, you've been busy! You look as if you've been rolling all over the floor. Didn't your mother teach you not to play in the dirt?"

It was George's voice. Somehow, some way, he was responsible for her condition.

He approached her and knelt beside her, looking into her face.

"Oh my," he said, reaching out to touch her cheek. She flinched at his touch, which was painful. "Sorry about that, my love. I didn't mean to hit you quite so hard, but you did bite me. I'm afraid your punishment knocked you out for some time, and will leave quite a bruise on that pretty face."

No fear in love, Lizzy thought. She thought about those she loved: her family, Dottie and Truman, and Will. Most of all, she thought about Will.

He pulled out a flask and uncorked it, holding it up to her mouth. "I'd take some if I were you, my dear. I'm sure you're thirsty."

Lizzy was dreadfully thirsty, but he provided only a few sips. When he pulled the flask away, he smiled. "No food for you, my love. I'd have to feed you myself, and you bit me before. I can't take that risk."

It is no loss, thought Lizzy. The man's food would sicken her.

"Sorry it's taken me so long to come back to you. I had to do a bit of research. I found no answers this afternoon, but this evening the results were much better. I have quite a few friends among the king's guard."

He laughed as if he'd made a joke. "Not friends, really, but people who will talk for the right... incentives."

He smiled down at her, his face leering. A jagged scar ran across his cheek, but even without it, his expression was grotesque. "You gave me quite the mystery to solve today, but it was so much fun! Let's see, you came here from Pemberlea seeking peace with a friend named Will. That was my first clue.

"At the castle, I learned that the king had a visitor today, a tall, dark-haired, bearded man. It quite upset him, something that almost never happens with King Thomas."

Lizzy listened without reacting, realizing that she felt no fear. She filled her thoughts with the love she felt for Will.

"I tried to put it all together: Will, Pemberlea, tall, dark hair, important enough that he could upset the king. Now who could that be? I realized, I know someone who fits that description! Yet it seemed impossible to me. The man I know would never seek peace with Aurora."

He sat back on his heels. "Then I remembered, it's all about incentives. What incentive would he have to seek peace?"

He paused, raising his eyebrows and tapping his lips with his forefinger as if he were thinking. "The fact that his kingdom is about to fall, perhaps? Trying to stave off the inevitable? And of course..." he drew closer to her, but she did not flinch, "...the biggest incentive of all for most men, a willing woman."

He waved his hand in front of her face, as if trying to understand her lack of response. She blinked, but did not otherwise react. "You're a brave one. Or perhaps I hit you so hard your mind is no longer functioning?"

I love you, Will, she thought. She dreamed of someday being wed to him, of having a life and family together.

"But I wonder, what were your incentives to come here? Are you just a peace-loving idealist? Or perhaps the chance to engage in carnal knowledge with the prince was incentive enough?"

Carnal knowledge? The prince? thought Lizzy. What was he talking about?

"Hmm, you reacted to that. Did you have big dreams for yourself? Did you imagine he would see your lovely face and overlook your common background? You expected him to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? Were you imagining marriage someday, harboring delusions of becoming a ..." he stopped to emphasize the word, "princess? "

Lizzy tried to keep her mind focused on her love for Will, but this man was confusing her.

George smirked at her. "I am rather amazed you snagged him at all. He's always been so careful. I guess every man has his breaking point, even the great Prince Fitzwilliam!

"What, did you not know?" George said, catching her expression of confusion. "You perhaps only knew him as Captain Darcy? Ah, I see. You're a camp girl who finally caught him in a moment of weakness. Oh, my dear, dear! Wouldn't it be fun if you were with child? I can only imagine the proud, disciplined Fitzwilliam, having a bastard child with a farm girl! What a delicious scandal that would be!"

"I love him," Lizzy unexpectedly said aloud. She knew she should not speak, but she could no longer hold the words back, "and he loves me."

George laughed again, a deep-throated sound made more abhorrent for its near pleasantness. "He loves you? Oh, you are delusional! You really think you're more than a diversion for the prince? Believe me, a woman like you is the last one he could be prevailed upon to love, let alone marry. He despises camp girls."

Lizzy closed her eyes, trying to form the words again that had given her such strength, but she could not; her mind was too clouded. She suddenly heard a loud crack and felt as though her head were splitting in two. George had struck her with the back of his hand. "Keep your eyes on me!" he demanded.

She opened her eyes again, barely able to see as double images floated in front of her face, her head throbbing in agony. He continued to taunt her until he seemed to grow bored, finally exiting the building and leaving her alone to mull over what he'd just told her.

As her mind slowly began to clear, she struggled to understand what was going on. She did not know why George was holding her captive, but she gathered it had something to do with Will. He seemed to know Will, and worse, seemed to hate him. And he had declared that Will was the crown prince of Pemberlea.

Could that be true? She recalled seeing something more than just Will's military position when she had rubbed the red acorn, but the vision had disappeared too fast for her to grasp it. No wonder--the truth she had been searching for at the time was Will's purpose for coming to Merrytown, and that is what the gemstone provided. Yet it had given her a glimpse that there was more to him. Now she knew what she had almost seen. It all made sense--Will's secrecy, his apparent wealthy background, even the air of nobility he carried with him. Most of all, it made sense that he was the only man destined to bring peace.

She could not be angry that he had chosen to withhold his true identity from her and everyone else. She could only imagine the danger he might have been in had his royal status become known. George was proof of that. And she had revealed Will's presence to George. A sharp jolt raced through her belly. If harm came to Will, she would never forgive herself.

As she lay there, a new sensation overwhelmed her: she felt her heart begin to break. In his jeering words, George had spoken truth. If she survived her captivity, there would be no future between her and Will. He was no longer Will at all--he was His Royal Highness, Prince Fitzwilliam, heir to the kingdom of Pemberlea. And she was a commoner.

She could not still the ache that was building inside her as she thought about how they had exchanged words of love and affections with one another other. What had that been about? She trusted his integrity enough to know that he would never toy with a woman. His feelings had been sincere, but were they real?

She realized with a shock that it had been scarcely a week since she and the prince had had their first conversation, walking back from the Widow's house. A week of acquaintance was not adequate time to create anything genuine and lasting, even if the differences in their positions in life hadn't existed. The prince had been a lonely man, spending a lot of time in the company of a young woman, during a journey in which their emotions were running high. No wonder he had fancied himself in love with her, but he would soon come to his senses. He would bring peace--she did not doubt that--and return home to marry a nobleman's daughter, or perhaps the princess of another land, who would one day become his queen. That was the duty expected of him. If there was one thing she knew about Will--Prince Fitzwilliam, she corrected herself--it was that he was strongly committed to doing his duty.

As she lay on the floor, she no longer cared about the pain she was in, or the dirt, or her captivity. Bitter tears rolled down her face as she cried herself to sleep.

Posted on: 2014-04-12

Chapter 18

"Your sister?" Will echoed.

"My twin sister," Thomas stated.

Will looked at him in shock. "How did I not know this?" He searched the man's face for some resemblance to himself or his mother, which he had not to this point perceived. His anger had blinded him during the last several minutes they had stood face to face, but now he saw it: the eyes. They had the same eyes, not only in color but also in shape and intensity. "How is this possible? Was there some sort of alliance between our families?"

"There was no alliance!" Thomas shouted. "Only broken promises and deception and betrayal!"

Will was quiet for some time, unsure he wanted to hear more but desperate to know the truth. "Tell me," he finally said softly. "Please."

Thomas returned to sit on his throne, regarding Will warily, as if skeptical that the younger man was sincere in both his ignorance and his request. At last he sighed. "For many generations, Aurora and Pemberlea have had disputes about the lands along the border between us. Around the time my sister and I turned seventeen, skirmishes among the peoples on both sides of the border were increasing. Hoping to stem the bloodshed, my maternal grandfather, who was one of my father's dukes, asked permission to open negotiations with your grandfather Archibald. He was certain your grandfather was a man of reason and that they could settle this conflict once and for all.

"The old duke was given consent to invite Archibald and his son to our capital city for these talks. Your father, I believe, was in his early twenties at the time. They supped with us each evening during the five-day meeting. That was how your father met my sister.

"My father considered me old enough to join meetings that concerned our country's fate, so I had many opportunities to observe your father, more so than my sister. I considered Jerald arrogant and disdainful, clearly considering himself superior to us."

My father? Will thought in disbelief. He had always been a loving man toward his son, and in the last dozen years of grief and hardship, had been anything but arrogant and superior.

"My sister, however, was completely taken in by Jerald, regarding him as handsome and charming and other superficial qualities that seem so appealing at that age.

"On the final day of talks, an agreement was reached: Pemberlea would relinquish all claims to the contested lands. In exchange, Aurora would enforce order, ensuring that our people no longer engaged in cross-border attacks. To seal this agreement, my father would give my sister to your father in marriage."

"So there was an alliance," Will said.

The king's eyes burned at him. "Ignorant fool! Your grandfather had no intention of honoring his side of the treaty, but they would enforce our part of the bargain in blood! Archibald and Jerald departed for your homeland, while my mother and sister traveled to an area of healing springs in our northlands for a final holiday together before my sister's marriage. Within days, Archibald's armies had invaded our border lands, slaughtering hundreds of our people. Meanwhile, your soldiers abducted my sister during her travels right in front of our mother's eyes. Our mother was injured during the scuffle and died a few weeks later. My father, heartbroken about losing his wife and daughter, was never the same after that, and within two years he followed my mother to the grave."

Will's heart beat rapidly. This couldn't be true! His parents' marriage, which he had always considered one of great affection and respect, had begun in deception and captivity. No, it was not possible!

"So now you understand," Thomas said.

"Understand what?" Will snapped. "That you've lied about my parents, who loved each other? That more than 12,000 Pemberleans have died because of your adolescent dislike of my father?"

"More than 15,000 Aurorans have died in this war and the one your grandfather started!" Thomas thundered. "Do not start counting your dead, for I can more than match you! I restrained myself from avenging them as long as my sister was alive, but once she was gone, I began my revenge! And I will not stop until it is completed, for Pemberlea will never again invade our lands or destroy my family!"

The king stood up and strode toward the room's entrance. "I have other orders of business to attend to. You"--he pointed at Thomas--"are to leave immediately."

"You will not harm him!" Will shouted.

The king glared at him. "I would not harm my tailor," he spat. He rapped on the door, and the ten guardsmen returned. "Escort Truman out of the castle," he said to one, who took the old man by the arm.

"Godspeed, Will!" Truman shouted as he was shown out the room.

The king turned back to Will. "You are to stay here until I decide what to do with you. These men will escort you to an upstairs chamber."

Will found himself being led forcefully by three of the king's guards up a flight of stairs to a door at the end of a long corridor. They shoved him inside and slammed the door shut behind him.

There was no handle on the inside of the door. He pushed at the entrance, which did not budge. It was obviously locked, and most certainly guarded on the outside. Will knew that he was now a prisoner. He had no idea what Thomas' plans were for him. Perhaps he intended to hold him as some form of leverage against his father.

He exhaled and looked around. The room was enormous, but practically bare, furnished only with a bed in the center, a chamber pot beside it. The ceiling was high, at least thirty feet above his head, and edged in decorative mouldings. Several small windows dotted one of the walls close to the ceiling, letting in sunlight and air. From them, at least, he would be able to tell whether it was night or day.

He walked around the edge of the room, tapping the walls to determine whether there were any openings, any other way out besides the door. There was none.

Unlike the room itself, the walls were completely covered. Huge portraits hung on all four walls of men in uniforms or fine robes, and women in magnificent gowns. The paintings were so large he had to stand in the center of the room to take them in fully. He turned slowly in a circle, studying each one.

One of the portraits made Will catch his breath, that of a man of about fifty, with dark eyes and hair that was just starting to gray at the temples. The man stood tall and proudly, his expression determined. Will stared for a long time. The man was the very image of himself twenty years' hence. More shocking was the emblem he wore on the breast of his uniform: an acorn. A golden acorn.

He had been standing still for so long that he jumped in surprise when he heard the doors opening. A maidservant entered, accompanied by two guardsmen. "Stay back!" one of the men ordered.

Will did not move as he watched the woman place a tray of food on the floor. He waited until she and the guardsmen departed, and then approached to pick up the tray. Carrying it to the bed, he sat down to eat a meal of spiced beef, apples and ale. When finished, he carried the tray to the door and knocked. He stepped back as two guards entered, swords drawn, while a third one removed the tray. While the guards were still present, another servant entered carrying a flame on a long pole; he used it to relight several torches that rested in wall sconces at least ten feet above the ground.

Time passed; Will could not tell how much, except that the high windows revealed that it was now dark outside. There was nothing to do in this room but think, and so think is what he did, thumping his forehead painfully.

His parents had lied to him. His mother had been the princess of Aurora, and they had never told him. Her Auroran tutor story was a falsehood; she had come by the accent naturally. If their marriage were formed from a willing alliance, there would have been no need to lie, at least not to him. Why the deception unless Thomas' horrific story was true?

A new realization filled his mind. His mother had been Auroran. Because of her, he was half Auroran. Therefore, he had spent a lifetime hating his own blood, and the last eight years killing his own people. He groaned in shame, his headache intensifying.

The door opened again. This time neither servants nor guardsmen entered. Instead, his new visitor was a boy.

The boy carried two folded blankets in his arms, and to his surprise, walked right up to Will. "For you," he said, offering the blankets. "It gets cold at night."

Will took the blankets from him and placed them on the bed. "Thank you."

The boy did not depart. Instead, he stood there examining Will. His tousled dark hair and round brown eyes reminded him of his own as a child.

Finally, Will spoke, remembering to use the Auroran accent. "Pardon me. Who are you?"

"I'm Lawrence," the lad answered.

"And you were sent to bring me blankets?"

The boy grinned and pointed at the door with his thumb. "That's what I told the guard, so they'd let me in."

Will arched his eyebrows. "You're not supposed to be here?"

The boy's grin broadened. "The castle is buzzing with rumors about a stranger who came today with the old tailor. My father sent all the guards out of the room to meet with them, and has been acting oddly ever since. I came to see who it was for myself."

His father. Of course. This was Thomas' son. Will shouldn't have been surprised, noting the similarities between himself and Lawrence.

"Who are you?" Lawrence asked.

"Ask your father."

"He won't tell me." The boy pouted his lips. "He always says I'm too young to know things."

"How old are you?"

"Eleven."

"He's right; you are too young."

The boy scowled, and then returned to studying Will. "You must have done something naughty."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, not very naughty, or you'd be in prison. But naughty enough. This is where they send me when I'm in trouble."

Despite his headache, Will found himself grinning as he looked around. "Fitting punishment. I imagine an empty room like this would drive you mad."

Lawrence rolled his eyes. "It's very boring. All there is to do is to look at paintings of dead people."

Hearing the lad mention the portraits prompted Will to ask a question. "Do you know who that man is?" he said, standing and pointing to the one wearing the acorn insignia.

The boy nodded. "That's Allard, Duke of Darcy. He was one of my great-grandfathers on my father's side."

"What does his emblem mean?"

"The acorn?" Lawrence shrugged. "Something about peace. He tried to make peace with the Pemberlean brutes back during some war we were fighting a long time ago. It was stupid."

"Why?"

"Because Pemberleans are barbarians and can't be trusted. They ended up betraying him and taking a bunch of our lands."

Will didn't know how to respond, so he said nothing.

"Now, me?" Lawrence said, his grin returning, "I wouldn't be so stupid. I'd pretend I was going to make peace, but I'd surprise them and slay them all with my sword!" The boy advanced and lunged toward an unseen enemy, thrusting with an invisible weapon in hand.

Just then they heard a woman's voice yelling outside the door. "You let him go in there by himself with that man? How many times do I have to tell you not to listen to his fibs! You'll be punished for this!"

"That's my mother. I've got to go." Lawrence flashed Will an impish smile. "At least she can't put me in here, since you're here."

The door opened and an elegantly dressed woman entered, accompanied by three guards. She looked at Will with alarm as though she thought he might harm the boy, and then shouted her son's name. Lawrence winked at Will and turned to walk out with her, the door shutting behind them. Will listened as the scolding she was giving him gradually grew less audible, the boy and his mother apparently walking away.

Will sat down on the bed, feeling both delighted and disturbed by the encounter. Growing up with no siblings and no extended family at all except paternal grandparents who died when he was young, it was a peculiar sensation to meet his cousin.

The boy reminded him of himself as a child, pretending with Charles and George to fight Auroran foes. They had been as scornful as Lawrence was of anything related to peace. He thought again of Truman's words, "Each nation is the hero of its own story." Its inverse was that each nation's adversaries were always the villains. At this point, Will no longer had any confidence in who the true heroes or villains were, and he no longer cared. He was tired of deception, tired of lies, and tired of war.

Another sentiment overcame him, that of deep longing. Lawrence looked enough like him that he could be his younger brother, or his son. Would he ever have a son, or a family of his own? He thought of Lizzy and how much she had come to mean to him in just a few days, so much that he could no longer imagine his life without her. A vision came to him of coupling with her and producing children together.

Was it just that morning that he had held her in his arms? It seemed a lifetime ago. He had fallen asleep the previous night considering how foolish and impossible it would be to pursue her. When he awoke and saw Lizzy lying on the bed near him, all rational thought had fled his mind; he desired only her.

By now, Truman should have returned and told her about his meeting with the king. He hoped she was not filled with worry about him, and that she knew how much he was thinking of her and how deeply he missed her. He filled his mind and heart with many of the things he loved about her: her courage and strength; her sweetness and joy; the way her teasing could bring a smile to his face or one look into her fine eyes could take his breath away; and most of all, her faith in him. If he survived this, he vowed, he would marry her, his crown be damned.

Chapter 19

Will was awakened in the morning when a guardsman entered the room and barked at him to carry his chamber pot to the door and then step back. He obeyed, and soon a servant returned with the emptied pot and his breakfast. He ignored the food, his thoughts preoccupied with more important considerations. Lizzy was again the first and foremost thing on his mind. The prospects of marriage and family with her were now so tantalizing and real that he knew he had to say his next words out loud. "I can no longer go back to the battlefield." Eight years as a soldier and it was finally time to give it all up.

This wasn't just a selfish desire. He thought of Charles, eager for contact with a woman that was more than just an hour of sexual relations; of the parents and daughters of Merrytown eyeing them desperately because there were no other marriageable men; of the heartrending cry of the miller's son, and those of so many others who had buried their dead far too soon. He even thought about a mischievous boy, sharing a connection with a stranger who was supposed to be his enemy, but in actuality was family. All of them deserved a chance at life and love and something other than endless warfare.

These hostilities had gone on far, far too long: three generations and then some. There were no pure heroes in this story, or absolute villains, not in Aurora or Pemberlea, only selfish men carrying out cycles of greed and vengeance to the detriment of tens of thousands. Where does it end? Lizzy had asked him the night he had found her in the tunnel. Right here, he decided. It ends right here and right now.

He pulled the golden acorn out of his pocket. Rub it, Lizzy had said. Was that all he had to do? Was he supposed to chant something, too, or perhaps think peaceful thoughts? When she had used the ruby acorn, all she appeared to do was rub it between her fingers. So he took a deep breath and began.

Nothing. The gemstone glowed just as brightly, just as golden as it had before. He closed his eyes and tried again while thinking thoughts of peace. Again, he looked at it. The acorn remained unchanged. He tried once more, this time rubbing it between his palms. Still nothing.

He exhaled in frustration. What was he doing wrong? Maybe it took more time. Bringing an end to an extended war was a far more difficult task than revealing someone's identity, even for a magical acorn. He closed his eyes a second time, determined to keep rubbing the gem until something changed.

With his eyes closed and thoughts focused, he did not realize someone had entered the room until he felt the sharp, cold edge of a sword at this throat.

His eyes snapped open. Three men faced him, each with weapons trained on him. The face of the one whose sword tip pierced his neck was all too familiar to him. "George," he hissed.

"Well, well, well!" George said, a wolfish smile crossing his face. "I never expected to find myself in this position. I imagine you never expected it, either."

"What are you doing here?"

George pressed the sword and he could fill it prick his skin. "Careful. You're in no place to demand anything."

Will swallowed hard, but said nothing, making his face a mask.

George nodded his head at one of the other men, who took his place at Will's neck. George re-sheathed his sword and began to walk around. "Since you're an old friend, I'll answer your question. When I had to leave Pemberlea unexpectedly, I decided to seek refuge in this fine kingdom. King Thomas was quite pleased with the information I was able to provide him about Jerald's army, and has given me great privileges here in his realm."

He began to walk around the bed. Will didn't turn his head to watch him. Instead, he slowly placed the acorn on the sheet, covering it with his hand.

George leaned toward Will. "It also helps that I grew up in a castle. I learned at a young age how to probe other servants for information, and how to tell which ones are open to bribes." He stood upright again, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

"Do you remember the time we were wrestling at nine years old and broke the vase given to your parents by the Duchess of Sandburg?

"Speak!" George screamed when Will didn't answer.

"I remember," Will said, his nose flaring.

"You were punished for that by being sent to bed without supper. And I... well, I was whipped. For you were just a prince being naughty, but I was a servant who had to pay for that vase. WITH. MY. FLESH."

He leaned toward Will again, his voice low. "I still have the marks."

Will again remained silent, his heart thumping. He had not known about the whipping.

"I came to understand something important that day. I realized that it didn't matter that I was as clever as you, or as strong as you, or as tall as you. I would never be you, for you would one day be king, and I would always be a servant, simply by virtue of our births. Now is that fair?

"I said, is that FAIR!" George screamed again.

"No."

"I decided that day that if I wanted anything in this life, I would have to take it. I would never be handed anything the way you are, neither a rank in the army nor a crown."

I was not handed my rank, I earned it, Will thought, but said nothing.

"That philosophy served me well for some time. But when camp girls are giving you what you want freely, it gets a little boring after a while, so I had to seek other challenges. After one such... challenge, I learned that once more you were planning to take a piece of my hide. I couldn't let that happen again, so I came here."

George stopped pacing and looked closely into Will's eyes. "Now the story really becomes interesting. For the first time, I learned what it was like to no longer be just a servant or a drudge in the army, but a key advisor to the king, one who knew secrets no one else could tell him! And Thomas has rewarded me very handsomely for my knowledge!"

Will could only say a silent prayer of thanksgiving that George had fled before he had formulated his plan for protecting the northlands.

"Keep your eyes on me, Will. I can call you Will, can't I? For here in Aurora, you are no longer Prince Fitzwilliam or Captain Darcy. Here, you're nobody.

"As I was saying, I've been rewarded here in Aurora for helping Thomas. I remain valuable to him as long as the war continues. So imagine my surprise when I met a young woman in the marketplace who recognized my Pemberlean accent! And my even greater surprise when I learned that her friend had come here to seek an end to the war!"

Will's stoic expression began to falter. Lizzy, oh God, Lizzy, he thought.

"Behold the look on your face! She actually means something to you, doesn't she? Shocking--you, who never looked at any woman but to see a blemish!"

George started laughing as drops of sweat began to roll down Will's face. "Oh, this is rich. At long last! What else but the taste of a woman could convince you of all people to come to Aurora to seek peace?"

He leaned toward him and whispered again. "She was that good, wasn't she, Will?"

"You'd better not touch her!" Will shouted.

"I'll admit she is enticing, but she's a bit too old for my tastes."

"You monster!" Will yelled, almost jumping up until he felt the prick of the henchman's sword once more.

George laughed again and drew his own sword. "You know, I'd almost be tempted just because it upsets you so much. There's only one problem"--he touched the tip of his sword to Will's chest--"It's too late. I've already killed her. After all, I couldn't have her talk of peace stopping my plans."

In that moment, Will felt his heart collapse as though George had sliced through him.

Just then the door opened and King Thomas strode in, accompanied by a half dozen guards. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

George sheathed his sword and bowed. "Your Majesty, this man is a captain in Jerald's army. I learned he was here and decided to question him for information."

The king glared at him. "I was neither consulted nor did I give you permission to take such an action. Do not presume to act without my consent again!"

"Yes, sire," George said, bowing his head. "I beg your pardon."

"Now depart!"

George and the two men with him left.

The King kneeled in front of Will, no doubt astounding the guards in the room by taking a position of humility before the mysterious stranger. "Fitzwilliam," he said, using Will's given name for the first time, "are you all hurt? You're bleeding." He turned toward the men behind him. "Bring this man some ale and a wet cloth for his neck!

"Speak to me, Fitzwilliam. What did they do to you?"

In a state of shock, Will could not speak. When a guard returned with the ale, he shook his head and refused it.

His life, his heart, his dreams... everything gone. All turned to ashes in an instant. He wished George had thrust his sword, because he no longer had anything to live for. He closed his eyes. Not true, he suddenly thought. There was one last thing he could do, not for himself but for all the people of Pemberlea and Aurora.

The king himself dabbed the wet cloth against the wound on Will's neck. Will watched him for a moment, and then grabbed Thomas' hand and pressed the acorn into it, rubbing it between their two palms. In that instant, he felt his mind transported. He saw everything at once, Archibald betraying the treaty, his mother's capture, his grandmother's death, Archibald's invasion, his mother dying, Thomas' invasion, death and tears, pain and weeping. He saw each man he had ever killed at the moment he slew them, and then he saw the families and loved ones of each of those men. He heard Lizzy's voice over and over, "Where does it end? Where does it end? Where does it end?"

Suddenly, it was over. Will's mind returned to the room, where the guards watched him and King Thomas in hushed silence. The king's face was as white as a ghost, his expression one of horror. "Leave now," the king whispered. "Leave now and never return to my presence."

Will didn't move, couldn't move. "Guards!" Thomas attempted to yell, but his voice was hoarse. "Escort this man out of the castle and see him safely to the home of Truman the Tailor."

Will was barely aware of two guardsmen helping him stand, and walking with him out of the castle and through the streets of the city until they arrived at Truman's cottage. The two men knocked and waited until the old man answered, and then departed.

"Young man!" Truman cried, ushering him inside. "Are you well?"

Dottie, who had been sitting at the table, stood up and came toward him, her face covered in tears. "Oh, Will, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. Lizzy..."

At her words, Will collapsed to the floor. The old couple rushed to his side and wrapped their arms around him as he sobbed in anguish. He had failed. He had failed Lizzy, and he had failed all of the people of two different nations.

The acorn fell from his hand. It was still golden, and it glowed as brightly as ever.

Posted on: 2014-04-16

Chapter 20

When she awoke the next morning, Lizzy had no more tears to shed. The pain in her head had ebbed to a dull throb, and the ache in her heart had transformed into anger. To her surprise, her fearlessness had not diminished. "Bravery without measure," she recalled the fox saying. She had it, and thus she was determined to no longer remain this man's prisoner.

George entered the barn shortly after she woke, provided her with a few sips of water, and then departed again.

After he left, she considered her options. She had to find a way to escape, but how? No fear in love, she heard again. Well, love was now lost to her. Perhaps it was time to concentrate on the other part of the message: There are rocks in here.

Rocks. That might be something she could use to help her escape, but where were they? Although the window revealed that it was day, it was too small to provide much more than the dimmest of light to the stable. She would have to use her body to find them, rolling around again on the ground. It took some time and many more scratches, but eventually she located a few sharp rocks buried beneath the hay. Grasping one in her fingers, she struggled to use it to gnaw against the ropes around her wrists.

After many hours, the ropes around her hands broke. She was parched, drenched with sweat and completely exhausted, but she couldn't stop, not when freedom was so close. She used her free hands to unlash her legs, and then stood to get the blood flowing again. She had returned the now-brown acorn to the pocket in her belt and was preparing to leave when she heard the barn door opening. Quickly, she dropped to the ground again, resuming her position with her hands behind her back and her legs beneath her, the ropes hidden underneath her skirt. The rock remained in her hand behind her body.

George had returned. She prayed he would not look behind her and see her untied hands. "Ah, my love, who do you suppose I saw today? Your lover. He is a prisoner of King Thomas even as we speak." He paused, pursing his lips sorrowfully. "I'm afraid your hopes for peace have come to naught."

Lizzy remained silent. She would give away nothing. A setback for the prince, but she knew he would find a way through it.

George crouched down in front of Lizzy, his face so close to hers that she could smell his foul breath. "I must say I was surprised to see how much he cares for you. I suppose I was wrong about that. Happens now and then." He sat back and laughed. "However, realizing his affection solved a dilemma I had: what do I do with you? I've left you alone because I like them younger, but you are quite beautiful. And it would be so heartbreaking to Will to hear that I've brought his lover to bliss in a way he never could."

Do not react, Lizzy told herself again. Again, she felt no fear.

"So come, let me take you to places you've never gone."

The rock was still in her hand as he came toward her. Without thinking, she swung, hitting him in the temple. "Agghhh!" he yelled, and grabbed her wrist, wrenching it backward until she screamed. "I'm going to kill you!" he shouted through gritted teeth as he lunged to throw himself on top of her. Her knee shot out between his legs, causing him to howl in pain and making him loosen his grip on her arm enough that she was able to use the rock again, bashing his head three more times.

He toppled off her. Lizzy wasn't sure whether he was dead or just unconscious, but she didn't wait to find out. She jumped up and raced for the door.

Outside the stable, she found herself not in the city but a more rural area, filled with scraggly shrubs. She had no idea which direction to go; she just wanted to get as far away from her place of imprisonment as she could. The sun was setting as she began to run, and as she had come to expect of the Auroran night, the temperature soon dropped rapidly. She kept moving, her feet freezing and painful from the rocky terrain, but the silver acorn retrieved from her belt lighting her way and protecting her from falling.

After she had traveled some distance, a dark figure appeared from behind a bush, making her stop short. Then she smiled. It was her friend the kit, now an old reynard. He bowed before her and said, "My lady."

"It's good to see you again, my friend!" she said, almost crying with joy.

"I am here to lead you home," the fox told her.

"Oh, no!" she shouted. "I have friends in the city the tunnel led me to. I must go back to them, or they will be worried."

"The tunnel will not take you there, my lady. It will only guide you to where you are most needed. Right now, that place is your home."

Lizzy nodded, trusting him despite her frustration. As if knowing her desperate thirst, the fox led her first to a stream, where she drank. She then followed him behind the bush from which he had emerged. A hole was dug beneath its branches. She kneeled down and crawled in, and soon found herself back inside the magic tunnel, where she stopped in exhaustion to rest. She awoke sometime later, refreshed and ready to begin again. This time, her journey through the maze was easy, and within a few hours she had re-emerged into the familiar woods outside of Merrytown just as dawn was breaking.

As much as she wanted to see Will, Truman, and Dottie again, she was suddenly filled with a deep longing for her family. She limped as fast as her sore body, cramped legs and bleeding feet would carry her, bursting into her house to find them at breakfast.

"Lizzy!" cried Kitty, the first to see her. Within seconds, her family had surrounded her, engulfing her in hugs and kisses.

"How we've missed you, Lizzy!" shouted Mary.

"Dear Lizzy, I thought we'd lost you!" her father said.

"You smell bad but you're alive!" Lydia cried. "That means the Aurorans did not kill you!"

Lizzy laughed. "Yes, I am very much alive! And yes, I do smell bad!"

Her mother wept as she squeezed her. "How you upset me, child, but I am so glad you're home!"

Swept up in the joy of seeing them again and realizing that one of her greatest fears had been set to rest--that because of her oddness, her family did not love her--it took her a few minutes to realize one was missing. "Where is Jane?" she asked.

"She took to her bed the day after you left, Lizzy," said Mary. "She refuses to eat."

"She misses Charles," Kitty chimed in.

"We so thought he would make her an offer of marriage, but he and his friend disappeared the same night you did. She has not been the same since," said Mama.

"We have feared losing both of you, child," Papa added.

"I must see her," Lizzy said in alarm, turning toward the steps to their upper floor.

"Eat first, Lizzy, you must be hungry!" Papa admonished, but Lizzy was already half way up the stairs.

When she entered the room she shared with her sisters, Jane lay asleep; her face was paler and thinner than Lizzy had ever seen it. Lizzy sat down on the bed next to Jane, taking her hand in her own. Jane's eyes fluttered open. "Lizzy!" she cried when she saw her sister. "I can't believe you're really here! We thought you were gone forever!"

"Oh Jane," Lizzy said, tears filling her eyes.

Jane started crying, too. "I've been so miserable since you were gone!"

"And losing Charles, too, must have broken your heart," Lizzy said with compassion.

"What is losing Charles compared to losing my most beloved sister?"

"But you love him," Lizzy said, based on her family's earlier words, although she herself was uncertain of Jane's affections.

"Not as much as I love you. You're my dearest friend, Lizzy, and I didn't know how I would go on without you."

The two women embraced, and when they pulled away, Jane took a good look at her sister. She touched Lizzy's bruised cheeks tenderly. "Oh, Lizzy, what has happened to you? You are hurt!"

Lizzy took Jane's hand in her own. "It's a very long story, and I promise you I will tell you everything. First, I must get cleaned up." She laughed. "Lydia tells me I smell, and she is right. I must bathe, and then I must eat, for I am starving."

Lizzy spent the next week being pampered by her family. They helped her bathe, tended her wounds, and fed her. Her mother was especially doting, wanting to do everything she could for her "sweet Lizzy" until Lizzy finally had to insist that she stop being so accommodating.

During her time of recuperation, Lizzy shared her story with Jane. "Do you believe me?" she asked when the tale was half told.

"Of course I believe you, Lizzy! If anyone were worthy of being bestowed with a magical treasure, it would be you. I have always known you were exceptional. In fact, I was often jealous, because there was something mysterious and wonderful about you that I was not a part of."

Lizzy took her hand and squeezed it. "Jane, I'm so sorry."

Her sister's eyes filled with tears. "No, it is I who should apologize, for it was I who was wrong. The night I was invited to the widow's home, I was thrilled to be singled out and so excited when Anne gave me her dress. I thought, 'At last, my chance to be special.' Then you arrived, and I was so angry that I wished you were no longer my sister. When you disappeared, I was devastated that somehow I had made that wish come true and I would never see you again. The thought that I caused you harm has made me want to die. Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry!"

Lizzy looked at her in a bit of shock. She had not realized that her sister had envied her, or that she had ever wished her away, and the initial realization was painful. Yet she could clearly hear Jane's deep remorse, and she knew that what she had always longed for--to be close to her sister again--was now possible. Lizzy reached out to embrace her sister. "Oh, Jane, you are not to blame for what has happened to me! I am here, I am alive, and I forgive you! And I promise you, nothing will come between us again!"

Her words seemed to bring her sister great comfort, and with Lizzy's encouragement, Jane began to eat again. Lizzy continued to share her story, not knowing what telling Jane would do to the power of her last remaining gemstone, the silver one; but decided it did not matter. Love seemed to be in neither of their futures, she concluded as the two sisters discussed the topic.

"I can't believe Charles' friend is really the prince of Pemberlea! And you fell in love! Oh Lizzy, that means that you could one day be a princess!"

Lizzy stiffened; she would not allow herself to hope for something that could never be. "Jane, he and I were together but four days. That's hardly time to create true love. And I am a commoner, so we cannot marry."

Her sister looked at her sympathetically, taking her hand.

Lizzy patted Jane's hand and smiled. "Do not worry about me. I had long ago accepted that I would never marry, so I have been preparing myself to be the ideal aunt to all my nieces and nephews. I will spoil them when they are young, and be the one they confide in when they are older!" Perhaps one day, if the gemstone still had power, she would use it for her younger sisters.

"Well, Lizzy," Jane said with a smile, "I will join you as their other spinster aunt, for Charles is gone, and I will never marry either!"

Both young women laughed. "Oh, Lizzy, I'm so glad you're home!" Jane said.

"So am I, dear Jane, so am I."

Soon enough, both young women's spirits and health revived, and they returned to their chores on the family's farm in time for the start of harvest season. Lizzy was grateful for the chance to absorb herself in hard work again. Thinking of the past, especially of what she had left behind in Aurora, brought her too much pain. She would forget that there were dear friends she had made in that country and a man she had loved. She would remember instead that her nation's prince was the man of honor, and was even now striving to fulfill his destiny. No word of peace had yet come, but her faith in this eventual outcome persisted. She would soon have reason to rejoice with the rest of her people, and thus, she would remain untouched by worry, fear, or heartbreak.

Despite her firm intentions, however, thoughts of Will continued to intrude upon her, as it did one day in which she was in the barn with Kitty, sharing the task of mucking the horses' stalls. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she turned to leave.

"Where are you going, Lizzy?" Kitty cried. "We're not yet finished!"

"I'm sorry, Kitty, I'll make it up to you!" she shouted back as she started to run.

She sprinted to the widow's house. The prince and Charles had arrived on horseback. She did not know whether Charles had departed the same way, but she knew for certain that the prince had not. What had happened to his horse?

She arrived at the widow's barn and opened the door. Inside she saw John, Charlotte's younger brother, brushing down a large brown steed.

"Oh, good day, Lizzy," he smiled when he saw her. "What brings you here?"

"I suddenly remembered the southlanders' horses."

"Charles must have taken his, but I've been caring for this one," John said.

"How did that happen?"

"The widow's daughter, the older one--you know, the one who never comes out? She came to our house about a day or two after the southlanders left. Everyone was so surprised to see her walking up the path to our door. She said that she thought she had heard a horse in her barn and was worried that he was hungry or scared. She couldn't convince her sister to come tell us, so she came instead."

Good for Anne, thought Lizzy.

John went on. "She offered to pay us to check on him and look after him. Papa said Tommy is too small to take care of a big horse like this, and Luke said what she was offering was worthless. But I liked it, so I told her I would be glad to help."

"What did she offer you?"

He stopped and pulled a large pearly white object from his pocket, speckled with pink and beige patches and coiled like a snail's shell. Lizzy had seen objects like this sold in the Auroran market. "She said it's a seashell. She gave me a whole bunch of them, all in different shapes. She said her father brought them back to her once after a trip to the sea."

He returned to brushing the horse. "I'm calling him Seashell, even though he's the wrong color, since I don't know his name. He's starting to answer to it. Every time I say it, it makes me believe that one day I'll get to see the sea."

Lizzy smiled and stroked the horse's neck. "Seashell is a fine name, and you appear to be doing an excellent job caring for him. How is he doing?"

"Very well, but I think he misses his master."

Struck with sympathy, she blinked back tears and laid her head against the steed's shoulder, thinking, I miss him, too.

Chapter 21

"Power does not always come with size and swords, my son." No words were ever truer than these as a description of Truman during the days that followed Will's return from the Auroran castle. The small man showed an enormous amount of inner strength, maintaining his business while keeping a man nearly twice his size alive and preventing two people he loved from falling into utter despair.

Will remained in Truman's home for some time, too overcome with sorrow to consider what his next steps in life should be. The old man had to coax him repeatedly to eat. Rest was difficult; sleeping on the tailor's floor reminded him of his words to Lizzy about holding her instead.

Ironically, it was Dottie's sorrow and guilt that seemed to rouse Will from his own. She was disconsolate about Lizzy's death and blamed herself for trusting George. Will forced himself to stop wallowing in order to comfort her and reassure her that she was not to blame.

About ten days after he had returned to Truman's home, Will was once more summoned to the castle. After being ousted by the king and told never to return, he could not imagine why he was being called back. This time he traveled alone, filled with a combination of curiosity and fear. When he arrived, he was ushered immediately into the king's presence, bypassing many who had been waiting ahead of him.

In the king's throne room, the guards were again dismissed. Thomas looked older than he had the last time Will saw him, with dark circles under his eyes indicating that he had probably had as little sleep as Will. The two men remained in silence for several minutes before Thomas finally spoke. "I want you to know that I sent men to arrest George for what he has done. He did not come back to the inn where he was staying for several days, but he finally returned and was captured."

"I thank you, sire, but he deserves prison for far worse than his crimes toward me. In Pemberlea he violated a girl of sixteen. And here--"

"I know that," the king interrupted. "It was ... made clear to me, and that was the main reason I ordered his arrest. Fitzwilliam, I would never condone such behavior, and would never have trusted him had I known. I hope you believe me."

Will nodded, his mouth dry. "There's more. I came to Aurora with a woman. He told me he killed her."

The king observed him closely. "This woman... she meant something to you?"

"She meant everything to me."

Thomas folded his hands together. "I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, the man is dead. Apparently he made an enemy rather quickly in prison, who killed him."

News of George's death filled Will with no satisfaction. It would not bring back Lizzy.

"My men told me that he had some rather nasty welts on his head when he was arrested. Perhaps the woman caused it before she died."

"But she's still dead," Will said bitterly.

"I am very sorry," the king repeated. He sounded sincere.

"I have other news for you. After you left I sent couriers with a message to Jerald, letting him know I would be willing to discuss terms of peace. They were refused entrance to your capital city."

Will looked up, surprise breaking through his grief. Thomas had offered peace? But it had been refused? He waited to hear whether the man would say anything further. When the king did not speak, Will asked, "Will you try again?"

"I have made my overture. There is nothing more for me to do. I will not send my men on a fool's errand again."

"So you will continue fighting."

"I have offered peace, and your father has rejected it," Thomas said sternly. "I shall not give in when I hold the advantage. Yes, I will continue my fight."

Will nodded, resigned. Indeed, Thomas was no fool; there was no incentive for him to surrender.

"I am sending you home."

At this, Will looked up again.

"I have given instructions for you to be carried back to Pemberlea in one of my royal carriages, accompanied by fifty of my soldiers. They are under strict orders to protect you at all cost. You should be able to travel safely through Aurora and into the Pemberlean territories under my army's control. When you arrive at your capital city, I assume they will grant you entrance."

Will paused for a second before saying, "Thank you, sire."

"It's the least I can do for Angelia's son." King Thomas rose from his throne and approached him. "Fitzwilliam, talk sense into your father. At this point, I will demand nothing less than his absolute surrender. I do not want you to come to harm, but when my armies enter the walls of your city--and they shall--I can no longer protect you."

Will swallowed hard. "I understand."

The man's eyes were strangely soft as he regarded him. "You have a lot of your mother in you. Because of that, you are a better man than your father." He looked away. "You are a better man than I am."

Will reflected on his words for a moment. "Sire, may I request a favor?"

"You may."

"I would like to say goodbye to Truman."

Turning his back to return to his throne, the king said, "Granted. Now depart."

Per the king's orders, the carriage that would transport him back to Pemberlea stopped at Truman's home. Will stepped out to be greeted by the old man, who had heard their approach.

"What news?" the man asked when Will entered his cottage.

"I am being sent home. I have come to say goodbye."

Truman asked Will about his meeting with the king. When Will's story was concluded, he said, "Young man, I am truly sorry. If I could do anything to take away your pain, I would."

Will nodded, his heart feeling like lead.

"I wish Dottie were here. I know she would want to say her goodbyes, also."

"Truman, please give her my farewell. I cannot thank you and Dottie enough for everything you have done for me. I will miss you greatly, and I shall never forget you."

"And I shall miss you. I have never had children; my time with you and Lizzy was the closest I ever came to being a father."

At the mention of Lizzy's name, Will winced in pain.

Truman placed his hand on Will's heart. "She will always be here with you, my son."

Will covered the man's hand with his own. "I know."

"Never forget how much she loved and believed in you, Will. You are a young man yet; you still have time to do much good in the world."

Will embraced Truman for several moments. Unable to speak, he released the old man and turned to depart.

"Wait!" Truman cried. "Do you want to retrieve your dagger?"

Will shook his head. "Keep it. Sell it, or dispose of it if you wish. I do not need it anymore."

The procession traveled for many days, stopping periodically to rest and refresh. Throughout the ride, Will fingered the golden acorn, thinking that perhaps it was a good thing the gemstone had not changed; it was the one thing he had left to remind him of Lizzy.

When they crossed the border into Pemberlea, Will's heart sank as he viewed the widespread destruction to his kingdom. Village after village lay in ruins; newly homeless families trudged slowly along the roads, carrying what little possessions they had left on their backs.

Soon enough, they had arrived outside the fortified walls of the capital city. Will looked out the windows to witness the standoff at the city gates. Auroran soldiers surrounded the city, while Pemberlean soldiers stood ready along the walls, bows and arrows trained at their adversaries. About one hundred feet from the city gate, the carriage came to a halt.

Will inhaled deeply, realizing that he was very worried about his reception. Would any of the Pemberleans recognize him? He had left home as a smooth-faced adolescent. He was returning eight years older, an inch taller, more muscular, and bearded.

He stepped out of the carriage and began to walk toward the gate. When he was still far enough that the arrows would not reach him, but close enough that his voice could be heard, he stopped. A hush seemed to fill the air as everyone waited.

"I am Prince Fitzwilliam of Pemberlea!" he shouted. "I am here to see my father!"

A buzz went up among both armies' soldiers, but no one moved from his post. He repeated his words again, and then thrice.

About fifteen minutes later, a new face appeared at the tower above the city's gate. Will recognized Benjamin, the head of his father's royal guard. "We will open the gate for you and you alone!" the man shouted back.

A few seconds later, the city gates began to open, barely enough to let a man through. Will walked slowly, wondering whether both sets of soldiers would remain still while he approached. They did.

He reached the gate and entered, hearing it slam shut behind him. A short distance away, he watched a man draw near, surrounded by a dozen royal guards.

It was his father. Not yet three and fifty, King Jerald walked like an old, frail man. Tears were running down his face. Will strode faster to bridge the distance between them, sweeping his father into his arms.

"My son!" the king whispered, clinging to him. "My son has come home at last!"

Posted on: 2014-04-20

Chapter 22

"Let's feast tonight!" Will's father, seemingly reanimated by the presence of his son, shouted when they entered the walls of the castle. Servants began to scurry about to carry out his request.

Will looked at him in alarm. "No, Father. I want no feast!"

"But you've come home, my son! It's time to celebrate!"

"No!" Will shouted. "No celebrations!"

His father stopped suddenly. "Tomorrow, then. After you've had time to rest."

Will shook his head. "Not tomorrow, either. Father, I have not come home to celebrate. I have come home to talk to you. We need to talk, now."

King Jerald stared at him, baffled. Will was struck again by how old his father looked. His light brown hair had gone entirely gray, his face was deeply lined, and his once muscular frame had wasted away. "Does this have anything to do with you returning home in Thomas' carriage?"

"Yes, it does."

His father's eyes flashed in concern. "Have you betrayed me, Fitzwilliam?"

"No, Father. I would never betray you. But I need some answers."

The king pursed his lips, and then summoned a servant. "Call off the feast," he instructed, "and bring a small supper to my chambers. My son and I are not to be disturbed."

"Why did you never tell me my mother was Auroran?" Will demanded as soon as they were settled in his father's chambers.

"Why did you return home in Thomas' carriage?"

"I asked you first."

His father sighed. "There was a lot of bitter blood between our countries. Our people might not have accepted an Auroran princess and queen."

"I did not ask why you did not tell the people. I asked why you did not tell me."

King Jerald leaned back wearily in his chair. "Your mother and I decided when you were a child that it would be better for you not to know."

"Because the way your marriage came about was so repulsive?"

His father suddenly sat up angrily. "What do you want me to say, Fitzwilliam? Yes? Yes, my father betrayed a treaty with her father? Yes, we had your mother seized? Would it have made you feel better to have grown up knowing all this?"

"Maybe! Perhaps then I wouldn't have gone off to war and spent eight years killing my own people!"

"I tried to talk you out of it, in case you hadn't forgotten!"

Will swallowed, remembering. His father had not wanted him to go off to war.

"Now, I've answered your question. Will you answer mine?"

Will looked at his father, uncertain at first how to respond. He could hardly tell him about Lizzy, the fox, the tunnel, or the acorns. The overall purpose that led him to Aurora, however, his father needed to know. "I went to Thomas to try to bring peace. Perhaps I made some progress. He sent messengers to you to discuss terms, but you turned them away. Why?"

"Earlier this year, I was prepared to surrender, but you instructed me not to. You sent word that it would make all the Pemberlean deaths and sacrifices worthless."

Will blew out his breath. The war had been prolonged because of him. He had to accept the blame for that. He recalled the first day Lizzy had tried to give him the golden acorn in the Merrytown forest. "You have the power to end this before anyone else dies," she had said. How many people had died because of his stubbornness? Was he any better than his father, or Thomas?

"I was wrong, Father," he admitted, "and because of that, many more people are dead. I will live with that on my conscience forever. But regardless, this war now needs to end."

"No, you were not wrong! The tide is turning. We've regained some of the southlands, and the northlands are holding."

Will shook his head. "But for how long? This city is under siege. Have you been outside the walls of this castle? Our southlands are virtually destroyed."

"You're saying we should just give up?"

"Thomas was offering terms before, but no longer. We had an opportunity for something other than capitulation, but we've missed that chance. At this point, we need to surrender."

His father did not answer for some time. He looked at Will quizzically. "What is that?" he suddenly asked.

"What?" Will said.

"In your hand. What are you holding?"

Will looked down. The golden acorn was in his hand. He had been fingering it absentmindedly, wanting somehow to maintain his connection to Lizzy.

Will looked up at his father and opened his hand. "What does it look like?" He wanted to know what his father could see.

"An acorn."

"What color?" Will asked.

His father continued to look puzzled, but curious enough--or perhaps relieved enough by the break in their quarrel--to answer. "Brown, as acorns are."

Will nodded. His father could not see the gemstone.

"The acorn Thumpin sewed into your sash... I always wondered why he chose it for you," King Jerald said softly. "Your mother's grandfather ... used to wear a similar symbol."

At the king's words, Will looked up in wonder, a thought suddenly occurring to him. Perhaps the golden acorn still had purpose. It had clearly had an effect on Thomas, but had not changed because... because peace was not a one-sided endeavor.

"Give me your hand, Father," he said.

"What?"

"Your hand. Please give it to me."

His father hesitated, so Will grabbed his hand and placed the acorn in it, rubbing it between their palms. It began to vibrate, but this time no visions came to Will.

King Jerald abruptly pulled his hand away, his eyes wide with terror. "What is this?" he whispered. "What are you doing to me?" Suddenly enraged, he began screaming. "Traitor! TRAITOR! You have betrayed me! You have betrayed me!!!"

Shaken by his father's hostility, Will backed away, and turned to leave the room. He looked at no one as he left, walking directly to his own chambers, a room that he had not occupied for more than eight years. The room was not dusty, so apparently servants cleaned it regularly, but otherwise it looked unchanged from its condition when he was eighteen.

He sat down on the bed and tried to calm himself. After inhaling several times, he dared to open his hand and look at the acorn.

It was brown. At long last, the acorn was brown. So, peace would come, but Will felt no joy, only numbness. His father had accused him of treachery, but by withholding the truth, it was he who had betrayed his son. Everyone he had loved most in the world--his mother, Lizzy, and now his father--was gone to him forever.

With the help of servants for the first time in years, he spent that evening caring for himself: eating his fill, bathing, and shaving. He peered at himself in a mirror once the facial hair was gone. He looked much older and more hardened than he remembered, his eyes haunted by shame, guilt and grief.

As the night wore on, Will sat in his chambers staring into space before being disturbed by a knock on his door. He called out, "Enter." His visitor was his father.

King Jerald walked in, carrying a large, polished box made of oakwood. He sat down on a footstool near Fitzwilliam. Will looked at him, but did not speak.

His father handed the box to him. "Open it," he said.

Will took the box from him and unlatched it. It was filled with folded slips of paper, worn and faded from time, each stamped with a wax seal. He recognized the seal; it was his mother's. He lifted one and saw that it was addressed to Thomas. This was not meant for his eyes; he would not read it. He placed it back into the box.

"Is this box filled with letters my mother wrote to her brother?"

"Yes."

"But they were never sent."

"I was always afraid that she might send messages to him that would reveal secrets about our kingdom. They were twins. They surely knew covert ways of communication that might seem innocuous on the surface."

"Why would you be afraid if you trusted her?"

His father wrung his hands together, as if from nervousness. Or guilt, Will thought.

"I was two and twenty the first time I saw your mother. She was the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen, with dark, shining hair that hung down her back, and eyes that sparkled when she smiled or laughed. And she dearly loved to laugh.

"My father and I were visiting the Auroran capital to meet with her father and grandfather to settle some border disputes. I knew I was supposed to care about these talks, but once I saw your mother, all I cared about was Angelia. I told my father that I wanted her, and he said, 'I'll get her for you.'"

"You took her, like an object to be possessed," Will seethed.

"It was not like that! Our fathers made an agreement, my marriage to Angelia in exchange for Pemberlea giving up claims to the disputed lands. But those lands had been solely ours one hundred years' earlier, and my father was not willing to cede them so easily."

"And you went along with your father's plans."

"What else should we have done? They had done the same to us a century before!"

"But where," said Will slowly, "does it end?"

His father shook his head, as if resisting Will's censure. "I promise you, son, I did not know that my father planned to betray the treaty. All I cared about was that Angelia would be mine."

"So it wasn't your fault? That's what you're saying, even though you were the reason my mother was stolen?"

"She had agreed to come. She liked me well enough, perhaps even loved me. She had agreed to the marriage contract!"

"But not under those circumstances! She did not agree to be snatched by your soldiers and have her father betrayed!"

King Jerald continued to twist his hands. "I know. But still, she seemed to love me. At least, she behaved as if she did."

Will felt sick inside. "What choice did she have?"

His father looked away from him and did not answer.

After several minutes of tension-filled silence, King Jerald sighed heavily. "You are right. I have been a selfish being all my life, and I know it was my insistence upon having Angelia that led my father to do what he did. I did not know his intentions in advance, yet once I learned of it, I accepted it as my due. But please believe me, Fitzwilliam, I did love your mother. I strove to be kind to her. She lost two babies before she had you. I tried to comfort her, but her grief made me realize that the beautiful young girl with the shining eyes who loved to laugh was gone. And it was my fault."

Will rubbed his forehead. His head was throbbing.

"You were our miracle child, Fitzwilliam, in so many ways. She had a very difficult lying-in, and after you were born, the physicians said she would never bear another. But the child she had given me was perfect! You were such a sweet, happy child, son. We both fell in love with you. In loving you, our love for one another grew. Because of you, the light in your mother's eyes and the laughter in her heart returned."

Will clenched and unclenched his fists to keep from screaming out in anger. His father's love for his mother--was that enough to make up for the travesty that had come before? "You shattered her family." Having lived through those events in his vision, he did not care how cold his voice sounded.

"I know," his father whispered hoarsely. "I saw." Will did not have to ask what he meant. The acorn.

"I am sending this box to Thomas in the morning." The king cleared his throat, and his voice came out a bit stronger. "It is rightfully his. I cannot make up for anything else I have done, but at least I can give him this. I am including a letter of surrender with it. You are right; the war needs to end."

Surrender will bring peace, Will thought, but the outcome felt bitter and unsatisfying to him. If he hadn't stubbornly persisted in fighting months earlier, the war would have already been over, without the help of the magical acorn.

The king sat in silence for several minutes before speaking again. "More than five hundred years this kingdom has stood, and now it ends with me. My biggest regret is that I will have nothing to leave you."

"It does not matter. I was going to relinquish my crown anyway."

"You despise me that much." It was a statement, not a question.

Will shook his head. "No... it was because of a woman, a commoner with whom I fell in love."

His father nodded. "Well. Now you can be with her."

"She's dead," Will said. He would never lose the bitter taste of those words in his mouth.

His father was silent again. "What will you do now?" he finally asked.

"I do not know. All I know for certain is that I will never be a soldier again."

King Jerald looked at him tenderly before standing. "I have done only two good things in my life. First, I loved your mother. And second, I had you."

He glanced at the acorn, which now rested on the stand beside Will's bed. He placed his hand on Will's shoulder for a few seconds, and then picked up the box and departed.

Will sat there for some time, his breathing heavy as he struggled to control his nausea. He did not know which was more devastating to him, the evil his grandfather and father had committed against his mother and her family, or what his own pride had wrought against his people in both nations.

At some point, he knew not when, he fell asleep. His rest would be brief, because he was awakened shortly thereafter by a buzzing sound. He looked around the darkened room. What was that noise?

When his eyes caught a flash of light on the stand by the bed, he identified the source of the sound: the acorn. It was buzzing and jumping, seemingly alive with energy. Color and light flickered through it, alternating between brown and gold, dull and gleaming, as if the gemstone were trying to reignite itself, fighting against being extinguished forever. What could it mean? Will wondered.

He sat up and took the pulsating acorn in one hand, thumping his forehead with the other. Finally, an idea came to him. He summoned a servant, asking him to bring him paper and ink. Will had a letter to write.

Chapter 23

Harvest season had come to Merrytown. It had been a fine spring and summer, Pemberlea's good weather belying the concurrent violence throughout the country. As a result, Merrytown's yield was plentiful, and its people quite busy with reaping the crops.

Plenty to share, Lizzy thought gratefully. Refugees from the devastated southlands were making their way north. The people of Merrytown had opened their homes to many, providing them with food and a place of respite.

Reports from the battlefront continued to be sparse. The northlands held, but the siege of the capital city continued. Thus, when one of the king's royal couriers arrived in their village, announcing that all residents must gather, everyone was eager to hear the news.

When the villagers had assembled, a herald blew his trumpet. He unrolled a scroll and began to read. "On this day in the year of our Lord ______, by royal decree of His Majesty, Jerald, King of Pemberlea, and by royal decree of His Majesty, Thomas, King of Aurora, all hostilities between our two nations shall henceforth cease."

A roar went up from the crowd. People began to cheer, to laugh, and to celebrate. Tears flowed as many embraced and started to dance. After nearly thirteen long years, the war was over!

The herald continued to read, and Lizzy drew closer, perhaps the only villager who listened to the entire announcement. Thomas would immediately end his siege of the capital, and withdraw all his armies from Pemberlea. Disputed lands seized by former King Archibald would be returned to Aurora. Representatives of both kingdoms would work together to heal the two nations and create a lasting peace.

Lizzy closed her eyes as she listened to the herald's final words. "Our thanks be to God for His mercy, and to His Royal Highness, Prince Fitzwilliam of Pemberlea, for his efforts in bringing peace to our lands."

Tears rolled down Lizzy's face as her heart swelled with pride and thanksgiving. He had done it. The prince had brought peace, as she had always known he would.

In the days that followed, more changes took place. Refugees continued to stream northward. Some of the Merrytown villagers began to speak resentfully of the poor exiles that were overrunning their homes. Lizzy started to worry that a new form of violence, this aimed at driving away the pitiable newcomers, would begin.

At one of the village's harvest celebrations, she rose to make an announcement. "Good people of Merrytown," she began, "I know many of you are troubled by the newcomers, worried that we not be able maintain our homes with so many coming. But they come because there is nothing left for them in the southlands. Furthermore, in two short months, winter will set in, making them more desperate.

"I propose that some of us begin to travel south to help rebuild. We have much to spare. We can bring them food and clothing, and seeds, materials and tools. If we start now, we have time before it becomes too cold. We can build new houses and villages for the southlanders, so they will have homes to call their own."

"Lizzy, child!" her father stood up to chide her. "You cannot travel south! It is too dangerous."

"Papa, I've seen great danger and I've overcome it. I am not afraid." The assembled crowd seemed to look at her in understanding. Other than to Jane, she had told no one her story, but she knew everyone assumed that she had been seized by the Aurorans and somehow had managed to escape. Her visible injuries when she had first returned had lent credence to that rumor.

Lizzy turned back to the rest of the villagers. "I know I cannot do this alone. Is anyone willing to come with me?"

"I will," said Lucas the Blacksmith. "The southlanders are our brothers. We must help them."

Anne, the Widow Burg's daughter, stood up. "I will join you!"

"Anne!" her mother cried. "You cannot travel to some godforsaken part of the country! Think of your health!"

"I am, Mama," she said, looking at the widow. "I have been taking walks every day and I find they invigorate me, they do not weaken me. I have never done anything in my life for someone else. That ends now. I want to help."

"I will, too!" shouted William, the miller's son, who had just turned sixteen. His widowed mother also protested about his safety, and like Anne, he also pushed back. "If I do this, Mother, my father's death will not be in vain."

In all, eight villagers agreed to join Lizzy on the journey south. The residents of Merrytown as a whole gathered bushels of grain, crates of vegetables, sacks of dried fruits, jars of oil, wood and seeds, and whatever other items they could spare, loading them onto wagons for the trip.

Anne, Charlotte and Lizzy were among four women who traveled with the party. Several of the five men in the group carried weapons, something Lizzy reluctantly acknowledged was a necessity, given that they might encounter thieves along the way.

After two days of traveling, they arrived at a makeshift camp set up alongside a burnt-out village. More than thirty men, women and children were gathered, sleeping on the ground at night, and eating squirrels they had captured and roasted during the day as their only food.

The people were overjoyed when they told them why they had come. After a few days of good nourishment, the campers were strengthened enough to be able to join the Merrytown delegation in clearing fields and constructing permanent cabins for themselves. Within two weeks, the two groups celebrated the completion of a new village and the Merrytown party departed.

About a week after their arrival at their second such encampment, one of the southlanders from the new site came running up to them. "A carriage has arrived," the man said breathlessly, "carrying an official from the king. He said he needs to see you."

Lucas looked troubled as he lowered a hammer. "I'll go see what this is about."

"I'll come, too," said Lizzy. When Lucas moved to shake his head, Lizzy argued, "This was my idea, sir. If the king is displeased with anything we are doing, I want to take responsibility."

They did not have to travel far, for the carriage, bearing King Jerald's insignia, was coming their way. It stopped in front of a house the group was building, and a slender blond man emerged.

The man's face broke into a huge smile when he saw them. "Why, bless me, if it isn't the inhabitants of Merrytown! I should have known!"

"Charles?" Anne cried out. "Is it really you?"

Charles rushed over to give firm handshakes to the men and to greet the women. "I had heard about a group that was traveling about doing this, and I had to see for myself."

"You're a man of many disguises," Lucas chuckled. "First, you were a farmer from the south; next you were a soldier; and now you are one of the king's officials. What will you be tomorrow, the bishop of the land?" Everyone laughed.

Charles joined the Merrytown party and the southlander community for their midday meal. While they ate, he told them of his purposes for being in this part of the country. "King Jerald and Prince Fitzwilliam have commissioned me to oversee the rebuilding of the southlands. I have been working to organize groups just like yours, but you have beaten me to it."

At his mention of the prince, Lizzy's heart skipped a beat.

Charles continued to discuss his plans with the group and then asked about their own. "We will return to Merrytown after finishing this village," Lucas told him, "because we need to replenish our supplies. I estimate that we can rebuild two more communities before winter sets in."

"I wish you all the best," said Charles. "I will provide whatever support you need that is at the king's disposal."

After the group finished their meal and rose to resume work, Charles asked Lizzy if he could speak with her. "How is your family?" he asked, as they started walking together.

"They are well, thank you."

"And your sisters? Are they all still in Merrytown?"

Lizzy looked at the mixture of eagerness and apprehension on his face, and wondered if he were asking about one specific sister. "Yes, they are."

Charles pressed his lips together, nodding. "I had to leave Merrytown so suddenly, and I have always regretted not being able to say goodbye. Will you give my greetings to your family and let them know I am thinking of them?"

"I will," she replied.

He started to walk away. Lizzy suddenly called his name, and he turned back. "How... how is your friend?" she stammered.

He looked at her as if puzzled. "You mean Will?"

"Yes," she said, feeling breathless.

"He is well."

"Do you see him much?"

"Now and then. He is very busy with responsibilities of his own."

"Will you give him my greetings as well?"

Charles continued to regard her curiously, no doubt because of her forwardness given that she and the prince had interacted very little during his time in Merrytown. But he nodded and said he would pass along her good wishes.

Lizzy could not move for some time after Charles departed. The ache in her heart, which she had successfully repressed for many weeks through her labors in the southlands, had returned. She had been able to endure her separation from Will by pushing him from her mind, or by thinking of him only as Prince Fitzwilliam, a distant ruler whose leadership she greatly admired, but not a man to whom she had opened her heart, touched, and loved.

Noticing her distress, Anne and Charlotte approached her. "Are you well, Lizzy?" Charlotte asked. "Did Charles say something that upset you?"

Lizzy found her voice. "No... he just asked about my family, and about my sisters."

"He made a point to ask about your sisters?" Charlotte said with a smile. "That's sweet. Perhaps he intended to inquire about one sister in particular."

Anne still looked at her with concern. "Does your disquiet have anything to do with Will?" she asked.

"Charles' friend?" said Charlotte in surprise. "What has he to do with Lizzy?" Seeing Lizzy's pained expression, she added, "Something, obviously."

Anne nodded. "Lizzy, I couldn't help but notice how much he watched you the night you supped at our house. Caroline was trying so hard to get his attention, but he had eyes only for you. I wondered at the time whether there was something between you two. Is there?"

Lizzy swallowed hard and shook her head. "Please... please, can we not talk about this?"

Anne put her arm around Lizzy's shoulder and hugged her. "All right, Lizzy, we will leave you be. Please know that we are here for you, if you do want to confide in us."

Lizzy nodded her thanks, but knew that she had no way of sharing the hurt she was going through. It took her a while to compose herself. She wished she had never asked Charles about him. Suddenly Will--her Will, the man, not the prince--had come back to life in her mind's eye, and she could not shed him from her vision. He had watched her that night at the Widow's home? Why? He had thought her a despised camp girl at the time. He could not possibly have been looking at her with any sort of regard. Two days later, he'd called her insane, reacting in disbelief to her tale of the acorns.

Yet he had come to believe her and almost instantly, had given her his protection, his friendship ... and his love. That, too, had happened quickly. She had told herself these many weeks that their love could not have been real, given that it had fired up to such intensity in so short a time. Like a shooting star, its luster would die just as quickly, would it not? Then why hadn't it? Why did the mere mention of his name fill her chest with a pressure so heavy she thought she might stop breathing?

Her love for him was real and enduring, she now realized. Was his? If so, why had Will not come for her? He would have no way of knowing what had happened to her, but would he not have sought out her home and family, to find out whether they had learned of her whereabouts? He had not, so it must be as she had thought during her captivity--he had come to his senses.

"He is very busy with responsibilities of his own," Charles had said. Of course he was. Lizzy wiped her face, unaware until that moment that she had been crying. How dare she be so selfish? Prince Fitzwilliam had responsibilities toward the entire nation in his hands. Her heart ached for the dozens displaced by the war that she'd seen over the past few weeks. The prince no doubt had seen hundreds, or even thousands, just like them. Knowing his compassion, she could only imagine how deeply he felt the pain of his broken people. Maintaining peace and restoring their country were enormous tasks. She had no right to expect that a silly country girl like her should occupy a minute of his thoughts. He might reflect on their time together with fondness during some rare quiet moment, but even that was unlikely. She would stand tall and exert herself, and no longer allow herself to wish for what was not possible. In this small corner of Pemberlea, people were depending on her.

The Merrytown party returned home about a week later to a hero's welcome, and many others decided to join them for their next venture. They planned to spend a fortnight at home resting and reloading supplies before starting out again.

Lizzy was glad for the break, because she had something important to find out. While she might spend her life unloved and unwed, Jane did not need to share the same fate. When she and her sister had a moment alone together, she told Jane about seeing Charles in the south, and of his regrets for not saying goodbye. Watching the mixture of emotions crossing her sister's face, she asked, "I know you suggested you do not miss Charles. Is that true?"

Her sister closed her eyes and exhaled. "Oh, Lizzy, that was a lie. It was indeed true that I was far more heartbroken about your loss, but I have never stopped thinking about Charles."

Lizzy took her sister's hand. "Come with me."

The two young women donned their cloaks and walked out to the woods together, their boots crunchy the fallen leaves scattered over the ground.

"Lizzy, where are we going?" Jane asked, after they had walked for some distance.

"A special place I often went when I wanted to be alone," she answered.

They arrived at the tree stump where Lizzy used to sit to look at her gemstones and wonder at their purpose. When they were settled, Lizzy retrieved the silver acorn from her belt.

"Is that one of the magical acorns, Lizzy? It looks like an ordinary acorn."

Lizzy smiled. "To your eyes, perhaps. I know it seems odd, but to me, this looks like the finest of silver gems."

She began to rub the stone between her fingers. "This," she said, "is the acorn of love. The fox told me to rub it when I wanted love to come to me or my family."

Jane eyed her skeptically. "Is this meant to bring Charles back to me?"

Lizzy nodded, but her brow began to furrow. Nothing was happening. Had telling Jane about the acorn hindered its power? Or perhaps returning to Jane was not Charles' wish. Would the acorn act against someone's will?

Suddenly she had an idea. "Give me your hand, Jane."

Jane extended her palm, and Lizzy placed the acorn in it and began to rub it.

"What's happening, Lizzy?" Jane asked in wonder. "It feels so warm, as if it's alive!"

Lizzy smiled. The acorn's magic was working.

"Oh, Lizzy, it's so wonderful! I see an image of Charles, as if he's right here walking toward me!"

The acorn's silver color flickered out, and a small brown nut remained in its place. Jane's face looked nearly angelic, she was beaming so. "It is magic!" she cried. "He's coming back to me! Charles is coming back!"

The two sisters stood and began to walk back to their home, Jane practically singing in excitement. Lizzy's own heart leaped wildly in her chest, for she hadn't seen a vision of Charles when she rubbed the acorn.

Instead, she had seen Will.

Posted on: 2014-04-24

Chapter 24

Will reclined in his chamber wearily after a long day, rubbing his forehead. The peace treaty with Aurora was a huge beginning, but many issues needed to be resolved. Soldiers needed to be sent home; captives released and repatriated; and the multitudes left homeless and hungry fed, clothed and re-housed.

To not grow discouraged by the overwhelming responsibilities, he sometimes allowed himself to marvel at how it had all come about. When the acorn had burst back to life, Will had become convinced that the resolution his father and he had accepted, one that would lead to a victor and the vanquished, was not how the war was meant to end. Instead, another option was possible, one that would leave both countries stronger. It would, however, require magnanimity on Thomas' part.

No sooner had he signed and sealed the letter than the acorn dimmed again, confirming his decision, yet he still was in awe that his letter had had its intended impact. In his correspondence to his uncle, he had made note of his father's letter of defeat. Will had written, "I know it is your right and privilege to accept my father's surrender, for you are the victor in this war. Nevertheless, I ask that you consider an alternative. For the humiliation of my country will leave many bitter and angry, and perhaps lead to another war in a later generation. I say this not as something I would wish to see, but only in understanding of human nature.

"You told me that I am a better man than you. I believe that there is a better man in you, as well. Right now, you hold the power to make the future different, and better, than the past and present."

He sometimes wondered what Thomas had seen when he rubbed the acorn, recalling the stunned look on the man's face. Will was certain he had seen something of George; the man had hinted as much. Perhaps he had also come to understand the suffering he'd wrought through his thirty-year hatred of Jerald and acts of revenge. Or perhaps reading his sister's letters had softened his heart. Whatever it was, the Auroran king had acted in response to Will's letter, sending a delegation to offer to negotiate a peace treaty once more.

King Jerald was staggered, deeply humbled, and at this point more than willing to accept Thomas' offer. Will knew about the vision the acorn had given his father, for they had discussed it many times. Like Will, his father had come face to face not only with his iniquities, but with the pain and suffering he had caused. As they talked Jerald's contrition had deepened until he was weeping in sorrow and begging his son's forgiveness. "It's not my forgiveness you need, but God's," Will had told him. "Furthermore, we can't change the past. The most important thing we can do is to make amends where we can and to exercise our power more justly going forward."

Since Thomas' overture, Will had made several return trips to Aurora to work out the particulars of the peace settlement, getting to know his aunt, his cousin Lawrence, and Lawrence's two younger sisters in the process. Thomas had shared a few of his sister's letters with him, describing her joy at watching the son she had borne grow from infancy to childhood to young adolescence. Will was deeply moved by reading her words, connecting once more to the mother he had lost so long ago.

During his visits to Aurora, Will had also spent time with Dottie and Truman, who were overjoyed at his success, although they still grieved for Lizzy. They had become much more than friends to him; they were now family. They were the only ones who could understand how acutely his heart ached. They gave him the strength to endure the pain, helping him to remember that peace had been Lizzy's dream, and thus his work now her lasting legacy.

A knock at his door interrupted his contemplations, and he granted a servant permission to enter. "Charles is here to see you, Your Highness," the man told him.

Charles entered a moment later, and Will rose to greet his friend. "Tell me what's happening," he said as they sat down.

"It's been wonderful!" Charles said, smiling. Then he frowned. "Well, not wonderful exactly. Many people are still homeless, and winter is coming soon. But the response of the northlanders to helping the southlanders has been heartwarming. Villages have begun to be rebuilt, and we are gathering enough supplies that I believe we can keep people fed and clothed throughout the winter."

"That's good to hear," Will nodded. "Keep at it. I trust you, Charles. There is no one better than you for this job."

Charles inhaled and exhaled several times. "Sire--" he began, and then said no more.

Will smiled. "What do you want, Charles? You only call me sire when you want something."

"I would like your permission to take a few days' holiday."

Will frowned. "Now? This is not a good time. There is so much to be done."

Charles sighed. "I know, but it's very important to me. A team of northlanders had taken upon themselves to begin collecting goods and rebuilding villages in the southlands. I went to visit this group. They were friends of ours, from the village of Merrytown."

Will's eyes snapped to attention, looking at Charles in amazement.

"It's true," Charles said. "Lucas the Blacksmith was there, Philip's son, even Anne."

"Widow Burg's daughter? She is too weak for such an undertaking, is she not?"

"Not anymore. She looked haler and more radiant than I had ever seen her. The point is, seeing them reminded me of Jane. When I left Merrytown in pursuit of the Auroran soldiers, I was unable to say goodbye to her. I do not know what she thinks of me now, but I feel so driven to return and let her know I did not purposely abandon her."

Will thought for a moment. "All right, Charles. You may go."

Charles stood up, smiling broadly. "Thank you, Will, so very much!" He turned to leave, and then stopped. "Oh, I almost forgot! Lizzy was among the group. She sends her greetings."

"Lizzy?" Will felt the blood drain from his face as he stared open-mouthed at Charles.

"Yes, Jane's sister." Charles looked at him intently. "What's going on, Will? She acted very strangely when she asked about you. I thought that perhaps she'd developed an admiration for you when we were in Merrytown, but now you're behaving oddly, too."

"Lizzy's alive?" Will whispered.

"Of course she's alive. I just saw her." Charles sat back down and peered at his friend. "Talk to me, Will. Is there some sort of understanding between you and Lizzy?"

Will could not speak for several moments. Then he said, "It's a very long story. Do you have time?"

Charles raised his brows in anticipation. "For this story? All the time in the world."

Will began to tell him everything, having to stop several times to address Charles' questions or expressions of incredulity. Finally, he shouted in irritation, "Charles, please! Be quiet and listen until I'm finished!"

When he was done, Charles stared at him in silence for a few moments and then remarked, "It's an unbelievable tale, but you are the sanest man I know. I cannot imagine you making it up." In the next second, as if he'd suddenly realized the import of what he'd heard, Charles started laughing, and was soon practically hysterical. "You're in love!" he cried between chortles. "I can't believe it! You're in love with Lizzy!"

Will wanted to glower at him, but couldn't stop the smile that crossed his face. "This is amusing?"

"Yes, it is!" Charles snorted. "I shouldn't laugh, you've been through so much suffering... but I always knew that someday a woman would somehow work her way past the walls around your heart, and you would be completely lost to her power! And that day has come!"

Will's smile grew, and he soon found himself joining in Charles' joyous laughter. There was no more appropriate response to the discovery that his dear, sweet, darling Lizzy was still alive!

Charles stopped laughing to smirk at his friend. "Tell me, Will, did she first catch your eye the night she wore the gown at the widow's? She looked very fetching that evening."

Will sighed happily as he remembered the image of Lizzy in that figure-flattering dress. "That, and when she sang so sweetly at the party." He realized then that he had been drawn to Lizzy from the first moment he'd seen her--and he knew what he needed to do. He had made a vow when he was trapped in the Auroran castle, and it would be his life's greatest pleasure to fulfill it. "I'm going with you to Merrytown," he declared.

"After this revelation, I would have it no other way."

They departed by carriage before daybreak the next morning, Will stopping first at his father's library to check a few records, and then leaving word with the servants to let his father know where they had gone. They arrived in Merrytown by late afternoon, making excellent time, but still taking much too long by Will's estimation.

The time of day was such that many of the good folk of Merrytown were concluding their work, and so were free to come running to the village green as word spread of the carriage's arrival. A footman announced Charles as the king's official when he exited the carriage, to the collective gasp of many of the villagers.

That was nothing compared to the reaction that occurred when Will emerged and was announced as the crown prince to the gathered crowd. He soon found himself surrounded by the people. "Charles," he whispered, eager to see Lizzy as soon as he could, "How are we going to get out of this?"

Charles shrugged. "They're your subjects, not mine." With that, he slipped through the crowd and was gone.

Questions began flying at Will from the astounded villagers, and everyone seemed to be reaching out to try to touch him. He searched the throng for Lizzy, but did not see her. Caroline and Anne approached him, reminding him that he needed to compensate the widow. They had, after all, used her field and barn for rather unsavory purposes. He would give the funds to Anne, he decided, the most capable in the family of managing them.

"Your Highness, what a surprise!" Anne said, and curtseyed. He smiled in greeting at the two women, and to his shock, Caroline swooned. He started to kneel to attend to her, but Anne shook her head. "She'll be fine," she said, holding her sister in her arms. "See to others."

Will rose and began to scan the crowd again, his anxiety growing. Where was Lizzy? Perhaps noticing his distress, the blacksmith yelled out, "Enough! Back up and give him room!"

The crowd listened and backed up in time for Will to see young John approaching him, leading his horse by the reins. Will smiled and the horse whinnied in pleasure at seeing his old master. When they drew near, horse and master nuzzled each other for a moment.

Will turned to look at John. "Have you been caring for him while I was gone?"

"Yes, indeed," his father Lucas said proudly, "And he's done a fine job."

"I can see. Well, John," Will went on, "you deserve a reward for that. How would you like to keep him?"

John's eyes grew huge. "I can have him?"

Will laughed. "Yes, you may, for I now have horses aplenty, and would not be able to give him the attention that you can."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, Your Highness!" The boy started to rush off, and then stopped. "Wait, what is his name? I've been calling him Seashell."

"His name is Chestnut, but yours is far more original. Why don't you continue to call him that, for Seashell is a fine name."

John grinned. "Lizzy said the same thing."

Hearing her name, Will bent down and whispered to John. "I know I just gave him to you, but I need to borrow him for a while. Would that be possible?"

"Of course, sire! Anything for you!"

Will stood and turned to Lucas, who was still standing nearby. "Would you please help rid me of this crowd?" he whispered. "I need to see a young lady."

Lucas gave him a knowing grin and nodded. He turned toward the villagers and declared, "Tonight, we throw a feast for our honored guests! Let us begin the preparations!"

This man, thought Will, deserves to be knighted.

The crowd began to disperse, eager to return home to prepare their finest meals for the prince and his official. Will then mounted the steed and rode as swiftly as he could to the fiddler's house, jumping off to dismount and tying the horse to a post.

He knocked on the door, and was admitted by Mary, the middle sister. Jane and Charles sat together in the family's main room, their hands linked together.

"Oh, bless me, it is true!" the farmer's wife cried. "Your friend is indeed the prince of our kingdom!" She stood and curtsied. "Welcome to our home, Your Royal Greatness Majesty!"

The rest of the family rose to their feet. "A prince!" a younger daughter cried. "A prince has come to our house!"

"Greetings to you all," said Will, before looking around wildly. He did not see Lizzy.

Charles walked over to clap Will's shoulder. "Congratulate me, my friend. I am now an engaged man."

"Congratulations," he said. "Where is Lizzy?"

"May we visit your palace someday?" said one of the other daughters. "Perhaps when Jane and Charles marry?"

"Where is she?" Will cried again in desperation.

The family continued to chatter, until someone shouted, "SILENCE!"

Everyone turned in astonishment to see the source of the command: Jane. "Our prince has asked us a question, and I will now answer. Lizzy is out in the barn," she said.

Looking around at the family, most of whom were staring at him with great curiosity, Will mumbled, "Please excuse me." He knew he was being horribly rude, but did not feel capable of anything more mannerly in his current state of distress. He then turned to run out of the house, hearing yet another sister say, "Why does he want Lizzy?" followed by Jane shouting, "Lydia! Do not follow him!"

He arrived at the family's field behind the house, looking eagerly for her. He wondered why she was not with her family on this happy occasion. Did she still feel isolated from them? Or had Charles' return caused her pain, if she did not yet know that Will had accompanied him? In short order, he spotted the barn and ran inside, seeing her there tending to some of the animals.

"Lizzy!" he cried. She turned and looked at him, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld. He ran to her and scooped her into his arms, embracing her tightly. When he lowered her to the ground in order to see her face, Lizzy's expression was one of pure joy.

"You are here," she said, her eyes moist as she stared at him. "You are really here."

The sound of her voice filled him with delight. "Yes," he smiled, "and so are you." He placed his hand on her face and gently caressed her check. "I am in rapture right now. I thought I would never see you again."

When he bent his head to kiss her, however, she stepped back and curtsied. "I am happy to see you, Your Highness, and honored to have you visit us."

He was puzzled by her sudden formality, and by the way the light in her eyes had so quickly dimmed. He remembered his promise that he would come back to her. Was she hurt that he had broken it? Or had he wounded her by not telling her of his true identity?

"Will you walk with me, Lizzy?" he asked.

She glanced around. "I am very busy..."

He looked at her with concern, trying to understand what was troubling her. "Lizzy, why are you here? Your family is inside celebrating. Are things still difficult with them?"

She shook her head. "No, it's much better with them, sire. I thank you for your concern. We can go in and join them, if you would like."

A pit began to form in his stomach. Why was her behavior toward him so altered? "I'd like some time alone with you first. Please walk with me, Lizzy."

She nodded, wiped her hands on her apron, and stepped out of the barn beside him. As they walked along the outskirts of the family's field, he spoke. "I am sorry it has taken me so long to come to you. I knew that George had taken you, and I did not know what had happened to you after that. He told me you were dead."

"I was so stupid!" she cried. "He seemed to be one that desired peace, and so I told him about you."

"Lizzy, you are not stupid. You are the wisest woman I know. But George is a master of deception, and you are trusting person. That is no discredit to you; the fault is all his."

She pressed her lips together. "I think I killed him," she said quietly, her expression pained.

His heart wrenched. No wonder she seemed filled with sadness. A woman as loving as she would not want to cause harm to anyone, no matter how villainous. "You did not kill him," he assured her.

"He lives?"

"No, he's dead, but you did not kill him. King Thomas had him arrested for his crimes, and he died in prison at the hands of another captive." Will stopped walking and looked at her, unable to prevent the smirk that crossed his face. "He apparently had some welts on his head when he was arrested. Did you do that?"

She nodded. "With a rock. That's how I escaped."

"You're very brave."

"I rubbed the green acorn. It gave me much courage."

"For that, I am ecstatic. I was devastated when I thought I had lost you."

She looked away from him as though his words meant nothing, leaving him confused. Will suddenly stopped short, realizing something that should had occurred to him months ago. The filthy scum had had no injuries when he had lied about killing his beloved. Will was horrified that he had believed the scoundrel's lies and thus abandoned Lizzy for these many months. She must despise him, but could he convince her he was still worthy of her love?

"Lizzy, are you angry with me? I know you must feel forsaken by me after all this time, and lied to, for I did not tell you who I was. I do not deserve your regard, but I will do everything in my power to make it up to you."

"No, sire," she shook her head. "I understand. For the first, you had responsibilities, and for the second, you had enemies. I know that all too well." She turned to look at him. "I was elated to hear of your success in bringing peace, and your efforts to heal our nation. I always knew you were a true man of peace. One day you will be a great king, Your Highness."

"Oh hang it, Lizzy, do not call me Your Highness!" he shouted in anguish and confusion. If she was not angry at him, what was the reason for her strange behavior?

"I... I am not used to being around royalty. What shall I call you instead?"

"Call me Will, like you did before. Please, Lizzy."

"That would hardly be a proper form of address from one of your subjects."

"It would be entirely proper from you. Surely you know that you are much more to me than one of my subjects. You're my dearest friend and the woman I love. You're the woman I want to marry." He sighed as the words left his mouth; he had hoped to tell her of his intentions in a more romantic way.

Lizzy licked her lips and her voice seemed to catch. "Some lucky noblewoman will one day have the privilege of calling you by your Christian name."

"I don't want a noblewoman. I want you."

She looked around and at the ground, anywhere but at him. "You cannot marry me, sire. It's the law."

"Is that your fear? Believe me, my lovely one, it is not the law, just a custom."

At this, she looked up at him in surprise. "I checked," he said, thinking of his late night run to his father's library. "And if there were such a law, I would give up my crown for you."

She stared at him, her expression flickering between hope and pain, igniting hope in him once more. "Will, we were only together for four days. That's hardly the basis for marriage."

"Lizzy, in those four days, we experienced a lifetime together. It was more than enough time for me to know how much I love you." He smiled. "And you called me Will."

He saw a flicker of a smile cross her face. "I suppose I did. You have really come ... for me."

He could not tell whether her last words were a statement or a question, but he would do whatever he could to reassure her. "Yes, I have come for you, dearest. I have missed you, I have longed for you, and my deepest desire is to spend my life with you."

He paused, swallowing before he said his next words. "If you do not feel the same, however, one word from you will silence me on this subject forever." In this, he would not be like his father. Lizzy would choose.

She stared at him for a few moments, during which he barely breathed. "Will," she began, thrilling his spirit. "I love you with all my heart and I always will. I had just convinced myself that we could never be together."

"Through no fault of your own, but mine," he said gently. "Had I known you still lived, I would have been here in an instant."

"The silver acorn showed me that you would return to me. I should have believed it. I, who has believed in their power since I was twelve, and yet I doubted that love could be mine. Oh, Will, forgive me. I have missed you so much!"

To hear her affirm her love for him made him want to cover her precious face with kisses, but he had something important to say first, and this time he would do it properly. He took her hand and kneeled before her. "My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth," he said, "there is nothing to forgive, but more important, there is no longer anything to keep us apart. My beloved, will you do me the great honor of accepting my hand in marriage?"

Lizzy eyes were now shining again. "Yes, my darling Will, yes!"

He stood and drew her toward him, and felt her arms wrap about his waist. His joy bubbled over into laughter, and her peals of delight matched his own. Lizzy was alive and she was his. He had never felt so good, so right, or so complete. She lifted her face to look at him, the adoration in her eyes and smile taking his breath away. Their lips met, and they were at long last able to express the depth of their affection for each other.

When they finally stopped for air and stood gazing into each other's eyes, Lizzy caressed his smooth cheeks. "Do you like it?" he asked, realizing that she had never been able to kiss him when he was clean-shaven.

"Very much!" she laughed. She regarded him for a second. "You know, you do not blush anymore."

"That's because I'm no longer shy around you."

She tilted her head. "Shy? A strong leader like you?"

"I was not shy when I was acting as a soldier protecting one of his people. But when I looked at you as a woman, and not just any woman, but the handsomest one of my acquaintance--in those moments, yes, I was very shy."

She smiled. "I will miss it. I did find your blushing very appealing."

He drew closer to her, whispering in her ear, "Then perhaps I need to find other things that appeal to you."

"Yes, indeed!" she whispered back. They began to kiss again until they were both breathless and Lizzy uttered, "Will, I cannot wait until our wedding night!"

He felt the red instantly creeping up his cheeks. Lizzy covered her mouth and cried, "Oh, Will, I'm so sorry! I did not do that on purpose!"

He threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Lizzy, one of the many things I love about you is that you say exactly what's on your mind! Believe me," he laced his fingers with hers, "you spoke for both of us."

"My sister is going to be a princess!" he heard someone shout, and he turned to see Lizzy's youngest sister, along with the entire family and Charles, gathered along the edge of the field and staring at them. He laughed again, this time in embarrassment, wondering whether they had witnessed the passionate kisses he had shared with Lizzy but a few short moments before.

"I always knew it!" her mother cried. "I always knew Lizzy was the most handsome and good-humored of my daughters, and would one day marry so well."

When Lizzy excused herself to embrace her mother and sisters, he took the opportunity to approach her father. "Sir, I must apologize for my earlier rudeness. I had been too long separated from your daughter, and I had feared her dead."

The fiddler's lips quirked into a smile. "Yes, well, I do not believe I am in any position to question your behavior."

Uncertain of the man's meaning, Will plowed on. "Then may I ask for your consent to marry--"

"Yes, yes, of course, sire," the man interrupted. "You're the prince. I should never dare refuse anything which you condescended to ask."

"I would prefer your willing consent, rather than something inspired by my position."

Ben regarded him for a moment. "Do you love my daughter?"

"Very much. She is the best woman I know."

"And does she love you?"

Will glanced over at Lizzy, his heart filling with joy. "Yes, yes, she does."

The man smiled, this time in genuine pleasure, not sardonic humor. "That is all I need to know. My wholehearted consent is yours. I could not have parted with her to anyone less worthy."

Posted on: 2014-04-28

Chapter 25

A great feast was held that evening at the home of Widow Burg and her daughters. After discovering the true identity of the southlanders who had temporarily resided in their village, the people of Merrytown were more than honored to share their bounty with them.

The prince's carriage pulled up in front of the widow's house, with young John, the blacksmith's son, riding ahead on a grand brown steed. The villagers were astounded to see Farmer Ben, his wife, and their three youngest daughters step out of the carriage. Lucas had sent John to retrieve the horse and guide the carriage to the fiddler's home after his daughter Charlotte told him where she suspected the prince and his friend had gone.

After dropping off the fiddler and part of his family, the carriage departed and returned again a short while later. The people were even more surprised when Charles and Prince Fitzwilliam exited, each one with one of the fiddler's two eldest daughters on his arm. The young women were wearing breathtaking gowns of red and emerald green.

Caroline, now recovered from her fainting spell, attempted to lead Will to his seat at the family's table when he entered the house. She frowned when she saw Lizzy remain by his side to accompany him. "Your Highness, you are the guest of honor! She cannot sit with you!" she declared.

"Caroline," Will answered, placing his hand on top of Lizzy's as it rested on his elbow, "Lizzy is my guest of honor."

A mixture of expressions crossed Caroline's face, from bafflement to displeasure to disbelief. At last she sniffed and nodded, then walked away.

"I'm very sorry, dearest," Will said as they sat down.

Lizzy smiled; Caroline's expressions had been amusing and Will's protectiveness quite charming. "Do not worry. She's always treated me this way. Feeling superior is important to her." She laughed a little. "Somehow Anne has persuaded her to join the next journey to the southlands. I am convinced that Caroline only agreed because we received such a great welcome when we returned. She is thinking of the honor, and has no understanding of the work involved."

Will looked thoughtful for a moment. "The trip will be beneficial for her. She will have the chance to see great hardship and to help others. It might change her."

When Lizzy raised her eyebrows skeptically, he reminded her, "I changed. I doubt that she's more stubborn than I was."

Lizzy wanted to protest that beneath his stubbornness lay a tender heart, one that she was unsure Caroline had, but she refrained. Perhaps he was right. A new day of hope had begun, even for Caroline.

During the meal, her sister Mary played the fiddle for the crowd. She strummed a few simple tunes with no false notes, far too slow for dancing but perfect to accompany supper conversation. As Will nodded along in time to the music, Lizzy told him, "My father has been giving her lessons. I insisted."

"It's made a difference," Will said in appreciation.

"It's good for them," Lizzy added. "She wanted to learn to play, and he needs to spend more time with his daughters."

When supper was concluded, Lucas rose to speak on behalf of the community. "We are all very grateful to you, Your Highness, and to Charles. Because of you, our village was spared." The people responded by raising a toast in their honor.

Will rose to acknowledge their tribute. "Charles and I would also like to thank all of you for welcoming us to Merrytown and allowing us to serve you. As to your village being spared, however, the credit is all yours. Many, many around this room were involved in defending this community. It is you yourselves who have saved it."

"Here, here!" a man shouted, and the villagers began to cheer again. Will waited until the commotion died down, and then spoke again. "There is another here to whom great honor is due. Before I tell you who that is, I have news to share. This village will always be special to Charles and me, for it is here that we met two very special women. Today, Charles asked Jane, daughter of Ben and Fanny, to be his wife, and she has accepted him."

Cries of delight and a round of applause went up around the room. "And I," Will went on, his smile beaming, "asked the bravest and most wonderful woman in the world, her sister Elizabeth, to be my wife, and she has accepted me!"

This time the noise was deafening. Liz felt herself blushing as Will took her hand and helped her stand up beside him. When the clamor finally receded, he placed his hand on her arm and addressed the crowd once more. "This is the woman to whom honor is due. Our nation owes a great debt to Elizabeth. She first spoke to me about making peace with Aurora at a time when I wanted to hear nothing of it. But she led me to think, and to question, and to grow, until peace at last became something that I longed for. I can truly say that it is because of her that the hostilities have ended, that Pemberlea still stands, and that our nation has a great future."

"Long live Elizabeth!" someone shouted and the cheering began again. Lizzy closed her eyes, humbled but also pleased. For so many years, she never would have believed that her community would feel this way about her.

Will turned toward her, taking her hands in his own, and she opened her eyes to see him gazing at her, his own eyes shining in a way that stilled her heart. He spoke to her, but in the hearing of everyone. "My dearest Lizzy," he said, "my love for you is limitless. I am so honored and grateful that you will soon be my wife and my princess."

She could not stop the tears that sprang to her eyes.

Will smiled, his grin a bit mischievous. "And now, my beloved, I have a request. At the very first feast I attended here in Merrytown, I heard the most beautiful woman I had ever seen sing in the most beautiful voice I had ever heard. Will you sing for us again tonight?"

She leaned toward him as tears started to roll down her face. "Will," she whispered, both laughing and crying, "I cannot sing right now! I am a wreck!"

"Dearest," he whispered back, looking concerned, "I did not mean to cause you distress. I will rescind my request."

The assembled villagers, however, had begun to shout, "Sing, Lizzy, sing!" so she decided to wipe her eyes and pull herself together. She squeezed Will's hands and said, "No, I can do this."

She turned to the people of her village and inhaled deeply. She would sing an old melody of their land, one they were all familiar with, but one to which she had added words of her own.

In darkest night, when all alone,
I found strength to persevere
'Twas you who gave me hope to own
For in love, there is no fear.

**~**

Will and Charles stayed in Merrytown for two more days, before being required to return to the capital city to resume their official duties and begin preparations for their weddings, which would take place one month hence. None among the two couples wanted to part after being so recently reunited; but in this circumstance, at least, all would be able to bid one another farewell, and with the knowledge that they would very soon meet again.

On the day after the feast, Lizzy and Will took a long walk into the woods in order to be able to discuss the many things that had happened in their lives since they were last together. Lizzy began with a pressing question: why had Will made his very public pronouncements the night before?

Will smiled. "I am certain the people of this village are wondering how you and I came together, given that they did not see me court you when I lived here."

Lizzy laughed. "Unfortunately, it's a story we cannot share."

He chuckled. "No, we cannot." Will stopped and gazed at her, gently stroking his hand down her cheek and along her jaw. A feeling of warmth flowed through her, as it did each time he looked at her or touched her this way. "Thus, while they may continue to wonder about our courtship, I wanted everyone present to have no doubts about how much I love you and how worthy you are to be my wife."

His words left Lizzy breathless, as she realized that the sentiments he expressed were meant not only for her fellow villagers, but also for herself. He wanted her to have no doubts about how deeply he loved and esteemed her. Before she could say this, however, Will spoke again. "Indeed, it is I who am not worthy of you."

"That is not true!" she protested.

"No, Lizzy, it is. I have much to tell you." He began to look around. "Is there a place where we can sit?"

Lizzy led him to her favorite tree stump, the place where he had first seen her with the gemstones, and they settled themselves. The chilly air became more biting now that they were no longer walking. Will placed his arm around her shoulder and drew her closer for warmth.

He began to tell her about his time with King Thomas, his discoveries about his parents, and his use of the acorn with both warring kings. When he finished, he said, "I am heartily ashamed of myself when I think about how you tried to give me the acorn sooner, and I would not accept it. I could scarcely look Philip's family in the eyes when I met them yesterday."

Lizzy took his hand and squeezed it. "It seems to me that the acorn would not have worked had you tried to use it sooner. Your father, your uncle... they both needed to be involved. And I dare say that the magic would not have been possible until it was your own belief that peace was the right course of action."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Perhaps, but I did not need to be so stubborn about listening to you."

Lizzy touched his face gently. "Allow me to tell you something about Philip's son, who is also called Will. He accompanied our group to the southlands. He told his mother that he wanted to go so that his father's death would not be in vain. He made a choice not to live in anger or hatred for what has happened. That is all any of us can do. We cannot change the past."

"I said something similar to my father," Will told her.

"There, you see!" she smiled. "You realize the truth of what I am saying."

Will still appeared troubled. "My father asked me to forgive him, Lizzy, for what happened with my mother, and perhaps also for his neglect of me after she died. He was lost in his own grief, and I was left on my own to mourn and to grow into manhood. I could not say the words he wanted to hear. I told him it was God's forgiveness he needed, which is true, but I believe he also feels the need for mine."

"And now? Do you feel the same?"

"Perhaps not. I have watched you with your family. Your relationship with them is very different than it was before, is it not?"

She nodded.

"Mine is with my father as well. He has his flaws, but I also have mine. He is changing, and continues to change for the better."

"It sounds as if you do forgive him, and should perhaps tell him when you return."

"You're right; I shall," Will nodded. "I believe I have learned that none of us is beyond redemption." He frowned. "Well, George perhaps. Is it wrong of me to hope that he is now rotting in hell?"

"I share your sentiments, but fortunately that is not for us to determine. Meanwhile here on earth, most people are not so given over to evil as George is. Caroline might put on airs, but there is potential for goodness in her also, as you reminded me last night. I just could not see it before."

He grinned. "Ah, my perfect Lizzy had a blind spot!"

She smacked him lightly on the arm. "Yes, well, now that we are to be married, you will have plenty of time to become well acquainted with my flaws. I hope I do not disappoint you too much."

"You could never disappoint me, Lizzy."

For that, she gave him a kiss, one that quickly became passionate. He finally pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. "Sweet Lizzy, I could kiss you all day. However, I have something I want to share with you, something my uncle gave me."

Will pulled a few folded sheets from his overcoat. Lizzy opened the fragile pages delicately and looked at the markings on them. She could make out part of it, but many words she did not recognize. Her face began burning as she admitted to him, "Will, I do not read well. I have not had many opportunities to learn."

He looked at her with some surprise as if the possibility had never occurred to him. She wondered if he would now consider her inadequate for the role of representing their nation as his wife. Will, however, smiled gently. "We'll have to correct that. I shall hire tutors for you. You are so intelligent that you will learn quickly. I will love being able to share books with you."

"I'd like that very much," she said with relief. It seemed a small thing, given how greatly her life was soon to change, but Will's acceptance of her limited education and his belief that she could overcome it touched her deeply.

He took the folded sheets from her hand. "I'll read it to you." He cleared his throat and began.

My dear Thomas,

With all my love, Angelia

When he lowered the letter, Lizzy, whose eyes were misty, placed her hands on his face and drew him toward her, kissing a tear on his cheek. "I have read this many times already," he told her, "and I am filled with emotion each time. I can't help but wonder how our history might have been different had my father sent this letter and Thomas read it and taken it to heart."

"I understand," she said, "but as we both have said, we can't change the past, only the future. In some ways, it's as if your mother wrote this letter to us and for the children we will have, and the many other children of Pemberlea and Aurora. We can do much to create that world of peace and happiness for them. Perhaps that is our destiny."

"Oh, Lizzy," he whispered. He kissed her lips then, lingering for some time. "I love you so much, my darling. I cannot believe sometimes that I have been so blessed to have you."

She returned his kiss. "And you are my blessing, my beloved Will."

They remained in the woods a while longer, talking about the past and the future, but most of all appreciating their present moment together after so long a separation. Will and Charles were to depart the next day, while Lizzy and Jane would remain on their farm to prepare themselves for leave-taking. So many others in Merrytown had agreed to go on the next journey to help in the southlands--Caroline included--that Lizzy would not be needed. She was a little sad to not rejoin the group, but even more eager to be with Will again. In a fortnight, Will and Charles would return to retrieve them. The sisters would live in the castle for the final two weeks before the wedding ceremony, being fitted for their dresses and preparing for their new lives. Their family would join them for the Christmas holidays, and their weddings would take place shortly thereafter.

On the day of Will and Charles' return, both sisters watched the windows anxiously, and ran outside to greet their carriage when it arrived. Jane and Charles entered the house to bid farewell to the sisters' family, but Lizzy, entwining her fingers with Will's, told him that they had an important task to complete before they departed.

She led her betrothed into the woods, noticing how windy the air was and how bare the trees had become. Winter was almost here.

"On our way back to the capital," Will told her as they walked, "Charles and I paid a visit to the village of Lambton."

Lizzy grinned. "Ah, your so-called farming village."

"That was a falsehood, Lizzy," he admitted, "borne of the nervousness that comes from being interrogated by a beautiful woman."

She laughed. "I concluded as much."

"Nevertheless, it is an important place to me."

"Is it Thumpin's home?" Lizzy asked. "You told me he lived in the northlands."

"Very clever," Will answered, "yes, it is. I had to see the man. I had many questions for him."

"Is he very much like his cousin?"

"He is, in both appearance and personality. More intriguing to me, I now know that he and I share a connection. We are both the children of a Pemberlean and an Auroran parent."

"Hmm," said Lizzy, "and what questions did you have for him?"

"I wanted to know how he had come to make sashes for my family, and why he knew that the golden acorn was meant for me."

Lizzy reached into her belt and removed the small piece of cloth Will had given her. "Did Thumpin make this for you?"

"He did. I confess that I did not like it at thirteen. I wanted warrior images on my sash, not a small nut that he claimed represented peace."

"Why did he choose it for you?"

"He told me he learned his craft of sash-making from his father, a service which they had provided to the royal family of Aurora for many generations. When he reached adulthood, violence was increasing between our countries, which disturbed him a great deal as the son of an Auroran man. He wanted to have an influence on events in Pemberlea. He sought an audience with my grandfather and shared a sash he had made for him. My grandfather was impressed, and commissioned him to keep making them, as did my father after him. During his service, he would gently offer advice without actually seeming to, and eventually, my father especially came to rely on his counsel. Of course, my father did not realize that Thumpin had firsthand knowledge of the kingdom of Aurora that contributed to his wisdom."

"And what of the acorn on your sash?"

"He noticed the resemblance between me and my maternal great-grandfather, an Auroran duke who believed that peace was possible. He wanted to encourage me to have the same heart."

"You do," said Lizzy with a smile.

"I only came to have it thanks to your vision, and Thumpin's, and Truman's."

Lizzy thought about Will helping to hide her from Aurorans in the Merrytown forest, searching for her when she was missing, and cutting himself to protect her--much of this during a time in which he did not have a high opinion of her. He had always been a man of great compassion, now even more so since he had learned to extend it to those he had formerly called enemies. "No," she shook her head firmly, "that heart was in you all along."

He gazed at her for a moment and then lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Thank you."

As they continued to walk, Lizzy felt certain she would find the right place. As she expected, they were soon able to locate the large oak tree under the root of which lay a foxes' den. "The golden acorn," she asked when they arrived at the spot. "Do you still have it?"

"I used it, Lizzy," Will answered.

"Yes, but do you still have it?"

"I do; I somehow could not bring myself to part with it." He reached into his pocket and retrieved the brown nut.

He stared at the nut for a moment, and then looked up at her, mystified. "It was naught but an ordinary acorn as recently as yesterday, but now it appears as if the gold color is returning."

Lizzy smiled. "Indeed. Mine are doing the same." She opened a small box she had carried with her into the woods. Inside, the three brown acorns had recovered the faintest hints of their formerly jeweled appearance.

"What does it mean?" he asked. "Is there more for us to do?"

"No, I do no think so. Place your acorn with mine, and we will wait."

Will dropped his acorn into the box, and they waited. Soon, a young vixen emerged from the den. Lizzy had not seen her before, but somehow knew that she was the granddaughter of the recently departed old reynard.

The vixen bowed her head when she saw them. "The worthy maiden and the man of honor," she said. "I have heard much about you."

"We have come to return your treasure," said Lizzy.

"You have used it well," the vixen replied. "Much of the world has been set right because of you. Please, restore it to its hiding place."

Lizzy bent down, lifting the large rock at the base of the tree to reveal a hole. She placed the box in the hole and returned the stone to its position.

"Thank you, my lady," the fox said. "I will guard it, and my kits, and their kits after them, until such a time as it is needed again."

"Thank you," Lizzy replied as the vixen turned to reenter her den. She stood and returned to Will's side, noticing the look of marvel on his face.

"She spoke," he said. "I heard her speak."

"She did," Lizzy acknowledged. "You and I were entrusted with a great magic, but now it is our time to go out into the world and do good without it. I am ready for a new adventure with you."

He gazed at her in wonder. "You told me I would be a great king, Lizzy, but you will be an extraordinary queen."

"Yes," she said, taking his hand again, "Together, we shall be."

Epilogue

In two weeks' time, a splendid double ceremony was held in the capital city of Pemberlea, uniting Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth, and Charles and Jane, in the bonds of holy matrimony. The wedding of the kingdom's prince brought much joy to the people, instilling a belief that hope had at last returned to their land. The Pemberlean people were delighted with their new princess, who, along with her husband, would go on to spend much time visiting the communities of the southlands, participating alongside the people in the rebuilding efforts.

The wedding itself was attended by Will's Auroran relations, his three young cousins serving as ringbearer and flower girls. King Thomas and King Jerald greeted each other in civility. Too much had passed between them for them to ever have friendship, but they were united in contrition, in their desire to maintain peace, and in their respect for the young man who shared both their blood.

Among the honored guests were Truman and Thumpin, reunited for the first time in more than thirty years. Truman's joy at seeing his cousin again, and at witnessing the union of his "children," was so great that he worked up the courage to propose to Dottie, who had come with him. This time, she said yes!

In seven years' time, upon Jerald's death, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth ascended to the Pemberlean throne together. They ruled their nation in peace and wisdom, and maintained close ties with Aurora throughout the reigns of Thomas and his son Lawrence after him. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had more than fifty happy years of marriage together, giving birth to four children, whom they named Angelia, Truman, Dottie, and Thurman. Throughout their days, and for many generations thereafter, the people of Pemberlea and Aurora were at peace and called one another brothers and sisters. And they all lived happily ever after.