Castle Walls

By D. Jordan Redhawk

Prologue:

The air was moist with fog. Muffled sound reached her ears, a minstrel singing nearby. Blindly, she focused on the song and its sedate beat, moving with care over the uneven terrain.

As she neared the music, other sounds could be discerned - the tumbling of water, dove calls gentle in the slight breeze. Her slippered foot stumbled over a rock and she could hear it clatter against others, splashing. The wind picked up, brushing a lock of hair across her forehead, dissipating the mist before her. Flickering light beckoned her closer as she picked her way across a stream.

Motion caught her eye and she saw the minstrel for the first time. His voice was soft, chanting a tale of war and betrayal. A white dove in his hand contrasted with his bloody story, cooing in counterpoint to his words. She could barely see his musicians through the darkness behind him, the torchlight only catching their movements as they played the drum and lute. Walls rising steeply into the fog told her where she was, her heart filling with dread. She was outside the castle. Again. As if on cue, the minstrel sang what she knew would be the last of his song. When he finished, he dropped his head and the musicians paused in their playing.

Sharp strains from the lute began, eerie in the dark mistiness. Unease filled her heart for she knew what was coming. Wanting to turn and leave, her feet wouldn't move. The deep rolling of the drum caused her to flinch in apprehension.

Startled by a sudden, intense beat of the drum, the dove flew from the minstrel's hand. Her fearful eyes could not look away as its path took it up into a clear blue sky. Shrill cry of a hawk, sickening impact, bloodied feathers floating through the air.

Another drum beat. Another vision.

She waited with impatience, squatting beneath the table in her father's chambers. Her little sister should have found her by now. Just as she was about to climb from her hiding place, the sound of booted feet chased her underneath again. Wishing she'd never begun this game, she shrank back, watching several pairs of legs stomp into the room. Their voices were quiet and serious, rough with concern, and her ears perked up in curiosity.

"What have you learned, Angus?" her father asked.

"My liege, the Invader is closing on our southern borders. He's moving fast, burnin' the farms behind him."

A younger voice, similar in timbre to the king, cursed. "Why destroy perfectly good farmland?" he demanded in righteous anger. "He'd need it to support his troops should get too far past our borders."

"Calm yourself, son," the king insisted, moving towards the man.

Waiting quietly under the table, she recognized her brother's boots. He fancied those silly flaps on the sides to help pull them on. She wanted to know who this Invader was and why he was being so dim but if her father found her now, she'd be in real trouble. The voices had continued above her and she focused on them again.

"Let me go, father! With the Third Army, I could lay waste to him!"

With reluctance, the king asked, "Angus?"

"Aye, your Majesty. If we can get to him before he gets to the Wynsul River…"

"See?" the young man said. "Please, father! I beg you."

In the following silence, she entertained herself with the notion of her strong older brother on his knees, begging. She bit her tongue to keep from giggling.

"Go."

After a startled pause, the son dashed forward. "Thank you, father! I'll make sure that bastard never invades another kingdom!" He turned and clattered out of the room.

"Angus," the king said. "Go with the crown prince. He'll have need of your wisdom."

"Aye, sire."

Another beat of the drum. Another vision.

Her mother's hoarse cry interrupted her. She looked up from her studies, a boring book on history, catching movement near the doorway. Ignoring her tutor, she dashed into the main hall of the castle, hearing many voices.

Several people were in the hall. Puzzled, she stepped closer, wondering why her mother was on the floor. The woman was hovering over something, hugging it to her breast and sobbing loudly. Others around her either stood back in embarrassed silence or appeared to be comforting her.

The king appeared, face stricken as he clearly saw what his daughter could not, one of his aides gasping in shock.

"It's your fault!" the hysterical woman spit at him. "Your fault!" Her voice faded into loud sobs.

Unable to stay away, fear and inquisitiveness filling her, she stepped closer. Others were in her way, blocking her view. She edged around them, peeking between. Even when she was able to see, it took a moment for the vision to sink in. Tears welled up in her eyes when it did.

Her brother's boots were bloody.

Another beat of the drum, the tempo increasing.

Even at this distance, the stench made her nose twitch. Acrid smoke rose less than a mile away, evidence of the Invader's progression towards her home. Below her window, she could see increasing activity in the courtyard. Injured were straggling in from the front lines, women and older children providing supplies to the overworked surgeons. The guard on the walls had tripled in response to the threat, but half of them were walking wounded. She'd heard the orders given by her father's aides - all foodstuffs and potables were to be brought into the castle in the event of a siege.

A lone rider approached from the battlefield, his horse galloping at full tilt. Reaching the castle, he nearly toppled his steed as he pulled it up short. Even at this distance, she could hear a captain's voice challenging him, distinctly hear his response.

"The king is dead! The king is dead!"

Drumbeat.

Darkness, whispers, rustling noises. A hand across her mouth, smothering her, scaring her. Startled shriek, heart pumping.

"Hush, lass!" The voice of a servant. "It's time to rise and dress. The Invader's at the castle walls. We must get you and your family away!"

Hurried dressing, barely enough time to grab a favorite doll as she was hustled from her room. In the hall, her mother clutched an infant brother, her sister staring wide-eyed at the small gathering of loyal guards and servants. She grabbed onto her younger sibling, feeling the smaller girl tremble as she did.

As they were herded from the castle, the ringing of metal on metal filled the courtyard.

"They've breached the walls!"

Drumbeat, relentless nightmare.

Flash of moonlight on water, gentle music of the horses' tack, muted whispers, arms wrapped about a servant as their mount swayed gently.

"There's a small boat ahead, majesty," a voice drifted back.

The world turned to thunder; pounding of hooves, rattle of armor, and cries of alarm. She clutched the servant before her as their steed leapt into a full gallop. Branches tugging at her clothes, hair whipping in the dark, heart in her throat. Suddenly flying, landing with a grunt on a patch of peat, she tried to catch her breath.

Standing, alone, the horse's hooves raced away. In the near distance she could hear fighting, angry curses and her sister's cry. She clutched her doll to her chest, terrified and frozen with indecision. The baby was shrieking in the dark, a man's scream mingling with the sound for just a moment before choking off. Unable to stay away despite her fright, she pushed through the foliage.

On a small strip of sand next to the river was her family. Bodies lay all around, evidence of the guards' attempts to save the royal family. Her mother was on her knees, clutching the screaming baby to her chest. Before her was a man in armor holding a sword. Several other soldiers and horses were gathered around them, some of the servants on their knees in a small knot nearby. Her sister was nowhere to be seen.

The armored man pulled off his helmet. His air of command reminded her of her father, though he wasn't as handsome. An ugly scar ran across his face from the base of his nose to curve down and around his cheek. He was saying something, his voice so low that she couldn't make it out.

When the blade pierced her mother's chest, pinning the babe to it, her scream matched theirs.

Drumbeat.

Panting, heart thumping, crashing through the wilderness. Noises everywhere, the call of wild animals urging her on. Behind her, she knew the Invader and his soldiers were chasing her, tracking her down to kill her. She was royalty and her life was forfeit; she'd been instructed since a toddler that she lived for her people. Her people were gone.

Bursting from behind a bush, she screamed silently at the armored figure before her. Moonlight on blade flashed above her and she cowered, afraid of the deathblow that was coming. Cuddling her doll to her chest, she could only hear the scuffle, the rattle of armor, could feel the ground tremble as a heavy body hit it.

A gentle touch on her shoulder and she peered fearfully at her savior. The minstrel smiled down on her, a bloody dove in his hands. "Hush, child. You're safe now."

As she struggled with the familiar nightmare, barely coming to consciousness, she could feel fingers caress her forehead.

"Shhh. It's just a bad dream," a familiar voice murmured. "You're safe now."

Sighing, she relaxed back into sleep.

Chapter 1

 Furtive movement gained her attention.

To her credit, her flinch to wakefulness was minor, causing hardly a sound. Cracking her eyelids a fraction, her mind raced as she remembered where she was. Warmth was behind and beside her, evidence of her sleeping handmaiden. Aching from a root that had dug its way into the small of her back, she'd been so exhausted when they'd stopped running, she hadn't realized it was there. Her cloak was wrapped about the both of them, hardly touching the chill of the early morning mist.

Steam rose from her mouth and she tried to keep her breathing even. There, the movement again; a rustling of cloth just outside her vision. A twig snapped, sharp in the silence, and her heart fluttered in her throat. Beneath the cloak, her hand grasped the ornamental dagger her father gifted her on her last birthday. Despite her attempt to appear asleep, her dark eyes widened and she held her breath.

The bush to her left rattled, someone trying to get into the tiny clearing where the women were hiding. Unable to keep up the pretense, she threw off the cloak, pulling the dagger from its sheath. Her handmaiden, rousing at the sudden movement, looked wildly about, keeping her tongue at the warning wave from her mistress.

A figure pushed slowly through the thick undergrowth on hands and knees. With shaking hand, she prepared to launch her attack, gripping the hilt with white knuckles. The figure raised his head, their eyes meeting.

"By the gods, Your Highness!" the man breathed. He used one grimy hand to tug at his forelock. "It's me! Hector!"

Terror quickly faded to elation and the princess scrabbled forward on the hard ground to draw the servant in. "Hector! You survived!" Her hands were frantic on his shoulders, grasping at his tunic and pulling him, unable to believe he was still alive despite the tactile proof. "Mother? Prince Liam?"

Hector, his weathered face sagging, shook his head. "Nay, Your Highness. I saw the Invader run them through."

She drew away, looking down and sheathing her dagger with heaviness in her chest.

"I'm sorry, Your Royal Highness," the man whispered.

Flinching at the added 'Royal,' an indication of her new status as Crown, she shook her head. "Nay, Hector." Taking a deep breath to quell the need for tears, she looked at her two servants. "Call me Katerin. Both of you. If we're to survive this night, the Princess Sabine must not be mentioned."

The handmaiden, Ilia, made a soft noise in her throat and reached out to grasp the younger woman's shoulder.

"Hector, did anyone see you escape?" Survival first.

He seemed slightly hesitant as he shook his head. "I don't think so, Your… Katerin. The guards were busy with the royal family. Two of us slipped away, but Matteo was killed by a wandering patrol after we'd gone less than a league."

Nodding, the dark haired princess looked up into the overhead foliage. "Get some sleep, Hector. Ilia and I will remain on watch." With a sad smile, she leaned forward and touched his shoulder. "It's good to see you, my friend. I'm glad you stayed alive."

Hector's face twisted into a smile. "And I am greatly happy to see you, High-… Katerin."

"Have you found her?"

Swallowing nervously, the captain shook his head at his sovereign's back. "Nay, we've not, Sire." In a gush, he added, "All but one of the men have reported back. And he's not been seen or heard from in two days."

Thoughtful, the Invader stroked his bare chin, staring out over the city with muddy blue eyes. He held himself with the power and grace of a man half his age; a scar marring his lower cheek drew his mouth into a permanent frown. His hair was turning gray with a vengeance, the rich mahogany color of youth fading away.

He was standing on a balcony, behind him the main chamber of the previous Dulce king - unwitting victim in the ordained destiny of the Invader. One of many who'd attempted to resist the inevitable. Below the Invader, tendrils of smoke still rose from outside the castle walls, smoldering remains of a long siege and welcome success. He inhaled deeply of the acrid scent reminiscent of so many other battles in his long and bloody career.

"In which direction was my man going before he disappeared?" he finally asked, voice gravelly from an old scar across his throat.

"Southwest, Sire," the captain piped, hard put to refrain from wiping at the sweat on his face. "I've already taken the liberty of sending a full patrol in that direction."

"Good." The Invader turned, eyeing the guardsman. "Catch up to them. If you don't personally bring her head back, I'll take yours in its place. Is that understood?"

Ashen, the captain nodded. "Aye, my liege," he whispered, swaying on wobbly knees. He flinched a bit when a hand waved at him.

"Get out." A worried frown crossed the Invader's face as he watched the man tumble out the door as though all manner of demon were upon him. Sardonic, he thought, I suppose I'm close enough to that particular description. He approached a large oak table in the center of the room. Beneath a layer of expensive, clear glass laid a map of the kingdom he'd just taken and he regarded it with partial satisfaction. Hearing movement, he looked up, seeing an aide standing at the door leading into the king's bedchambers. Frowning, the scar only made him look fiercer, he growled, "You said you'd take care of the royal family. I should send you out with my captain and the same instructions."

The man bowed obsequiously. "My apologies, Your Royal Majesty," he said, voice oily from too many years at court. "You'd be well within your right, though my success would be limited - I'm not well-versed at tracking errant princesses."

"Had you done as you bargained, no one would need tracking. If I recall, you were to drug the royal family and get my men into the castle with a minimum of fuss." The Invader studied the aide, disgusted with the finery the man insisted on wearing. "You failed, Dominic."

"Aye, sire," the aide responded with another bow before stepping further into the room. "But you'd still be outside the walls had it not been for my assistance. It's hardly my fault that Cook decided have a go at the stew before it was served."

Distastefully turning away, the Invader picked up a goblet of wine from the table and sipped at it. "What's done is done." He returned to the balcony, staring out over his kingdom. "Get out, Dominic. Pack your belongings and see my quartermaster for your reward before you leave."

The aide froze for long seconds before a flash of anger crossed his face. He took an automatic step forward as he spoke. "That's not what you promised me," Dominic insisted. "You said I'd remain as a member of your court when it was over."

"Aye," the Invader agreed, turning to glare at the dandy. "And you promised me that the royal family and a good number of the guard would be drugged before you opened the gates. Too many of my men died as a result. Since you failed on your end, I hardly need to hold up mine." His manner became that of a hunting beast as he padded closer to Dominic, circling him. "You betrayed a king to whom you had sworn allegiance. Do you think I can trust your oath of fealty to me?"

Dominic ground his teeth, not trusting himself to respond. Stories were rampant of this man laying waste to all in his path when angered, friend and foe alike.

"You're a traitor now and you'll be one in the future - you don't fool me." Stopping behind him, the Invader leaned close, voice soft. "Now get out, before I decide to add another head to my walls."

With a swallow, the aide turned and backed towards the door, refusing to respond. Once there, Dominic intoned, "Your Majesty," before stepping into relative safety.

The Invader sighed and resumed studying the map of his new acquisition - the fourth in his military career. He was now master of more land than any remaining realms put together. Sipping his wine, he recalled the witch that had set him on his path.

Fidgeting on the stool, young Prince Germaine peered at the strange designs on the witch's cards. He wasn't supposed to be here; his father would have a fit if it were discovered his youngest son had visited a soothsayer. But when the teenager had rode past, he felt something call to him and here he sat.

The decrepit old woman cackled, rubbing stones together in her hands before casting them upon the cards. Leaning close to study them, she said, "You'll be a great warrior, a great king, young pup. You'll not be defeated in battle."

Germaine puzzled over this. "But I've two brothers before me in line for succession. How can I be king?"

"Never mind the present," the hag dismissed, waving a wrinkled hand. "You will be king."

Leaning closer, dread and fear and intense yearning filling him, the teenager asked, "Can you see my death? How will I die if I'm never defeated in battle?"

The witch clucked a bit, poking at this stone and that as she muttered to herself. "You will die by a sword, young kingling. It will be wielded by the child of your enemy, one of royal blood who will avenge those before and after."

After his brothers had been killed in assorted wars, his father gasping his last at the end of a spear, the Invader had begun his trek across the map. Of the four kingdoms he'd taken, all of royal blood were slain. There'd been an instance or two of trouble, but he'd been ultimately successful.

"And I'll be successful now," he stated, finishing his wine.

Stepping into the courtyard, Dominic cuffed a page that inadvertently impeded his path. He smiled in grim satisfaction when the lad yelped and ducked away from a further beating. The physical attack did nothing to ease the deep anger in his heart.

Bastard! How dare he toss me off as so much rubbish!

Dominic made his way across the crowded courtyard, ignoring the soldiers still in the process of sorting through the Invader's new wealth. "Wealth he wouldn't have if it weren't for my intervention."

"Eh? You say somethin'?" a passing guardsman asked, carefully balancing a large tapestry on one shoulder.

Startled, his anger deepening at his slip, Dominic growled, "Nothing for your ears."

The guardsman snorted derisively but held his tongue.

Dominic arrived at his destination, a low door on the east wall, without further ado. The hall he entered was dark with an aroma that was coolness and death, the usual scent of musty stone mingling with a coppery tang. As he closed the thick door behind him, the rattle and activity of the courtyard faded away.

Sighing in relief at the audible reprieve, Dominic moved silently through the hall. The aide sidestepped a dried pool of blood, thoughts intent on his abrupt dismissal.

Bastard would never have taken the castle without my help, Dominic grumbled to himself.

Most of his life at court had been aimed at attaining power. Dominic wasn't presumptuous enough to desire the throne. He was a realist; no one would follow a king who had more interest in the fashions of the day than his people. But to be the man who had the king's ear... That was a worthy goal. Initially, things had worked in Dominic's favor and his career flowered as he progressed along the path to become the king's personal aide. All shriveled away when he ran into the stone wall called Queen Mugaion Caesarin Elizabeth Dulce Annaatje.

To say the queen disliked Dominic was an understatement of grand proportions. He was never sure whether it was something he'd done
or a distinct loathing for no other reason than he existed. Dominic assumed the latter for nothing he did or said seemed to alter the queen's distaste. Unfortunately for the ambitious man, Caesarin also had her husband's ear.

Dominic slipped into the small chambers he had called home these last few months. Throwing open an oak wardrobe, he looked at his clothes in dismay. There was no way Dominic could take all his belongings and he began weeding through the clothing as frustrated musings continued.

Every attempt at getting into the monarch's good graces was met with resistance. Dominic soon realized his future hopes were dashed and he began searching for another way to attain them. It had been a difficult decision but, with no other way of reaching the king, only one avenue remained. Moving on to another kingdom was out of the question - Dominic's network of informants and hoodlums couldn't be moved. Either find another throne, starting from scratch, or remain and bring another to power.

The Invader had been a difficult man to reach. Once their initial meeting was complete, however, Dominic felt a renewed sense of purpose; his proposals and offers accepted, a pact was made that would further his desires. That the Dulce king and his bitch would be dead was only added incentive.

With a frustrated sigh, Dominic slammed the wardrobe closed. Everything would have to be replaced. Opening a trunk at the foot of his small bed, he pulled out a travel pack. A few pieces of jewelry, a couple of changes of clothing and three small scrolls were all the space Dominic could afford.

Shouldering his bag, Dominic took a final look at his furnishings. I must take the bastard Invader down. Another frustrated sigh escaped him and he left the room.

Somewhere, there was a renegade princess on the run from a usurper. I wonder, Dominic speculated, What if I found her first?

A full day of travel had passed and Katerin was bone weary. Their pace slowed to a crawl now that night was upon them, the added smell of nearby wood smoke urging them to greater caution.

The trio kept to the forest, evading one patrol after another, with no chance to rest. The Invader was not content with spilling most of the royal bloodline; he was obviously hunting for the final heir between he and the throne. Fortunately, Hector had served in the guard as a younger man. His experience was invaluable as the need to hide their trail was tested again and again.

Wrapped in the only cloak, the women waited in the shadows of a large elm while the ex-soldier scouted the cause of the smoke. Stomach grumbling, the princess blushed in embarrassment at the din. Just what we need - to be discovered by the noise from my belly. Ilia heard it, as well, placing a hand on the young monarch's shoulder in a comforting gesture. Katerin's blush deepened, happy it was unnoticeable in the darkness.

Though the moon was full, the night was cloudy, sending intermittent splashes of light upon an encampment in the hollow below them. The sight of Hector ducking into the undergrowth was a welcome one; he'd been gone for some time and the princess was beginning to worry.

Moving close enough for the women to see, Hector held a finger to his lips, urging them further into the forest. Once far enough away, he whispered, "It's a caravan of some sort, Katerin. Maybe merchants. I couldn't tell in the darkness." He pulled two sacks from under his shirt. "But here's some food and water from one of the wagons. We can get more before we leave." He pulled foodstuffs from the sack - a half round of cheese, a loaf of bread and the leg of some sort of animal.

Despite the sudden ache in her belly, Katerin held her handmaiden back. "You stole it?" she asked, reprimand in her tone.

Drawing himself up to full height, Hector nodded. "Aye, your Ladyship, I did." He frowned, peering into her dark eyes with intensity. "We don't have the crowns to pay for it and it'll hardly be missed. I'll not have you starve out here in the wilderness! Your father would haunt me 'til the day I die."

Realizing the truth of his statement, the princess dropped her gaze. With a sigh and a nod, she gestured for Ilia to take the food. "You're right, Hector," she murmured. "We must survive at all costs." Glancing back down the hill, she vowed, "I promise to repay them… somehow."

The servants looked at each other behind her, worry lining their faces.

Much as she wanted to eat it all, Katerin knew it would be folly. As Ilia used the dagger to slice the cheese, the princess doled out a portion of meat, deciding to leave the bread for later. Filling the sack with the remaining items, she tied it shut, patting it gently.

They made short work of their meager allotments, sharing the water skin between them. Acid burned in Katerin's stomach as it demanded more, her appetite hardly whetted. With a sigh, she put the enticing smell of venison from her mind. "We need to find a place to sleep," she announced.

"Aye, lady," Hector agreed, glancing around with a calculating gaze. Pointing away from the encampment below, he said, "P'rhaps we can follow this ridge here and see if there's a safe place."

Nodding, the princess picked up her skirts with one hand and the food with the other. Beside her, Ilia gathered what few personal items they'd been able to scramble during the attack. A lifetime ago, Katerin mourned.

As the women stood, however, Hector grabbed both of them about the waist and pulled them back. Hissing their surprised gasps to silence, he cupped his ear and pointed up the hillside.

The distinct sound of a horse snickered. It was near.

Sudden terror filled Katerin's heart as the servant waved at the encampment below, urging them onward. As quietly as possible, the trio moved along the hillside. Behind them could be heard a muffled curse and the heavy thud of someone dismounting. Reaching the edge of the forest, clouds still covering the moon above, Hector threw caution to the winds and herded his charges across a cleared area and into the encampment itself.

Ducking behind a wagon, the princess leaned her back against it, watching her one and only aging guardsman peer around the side and back the way they'd come. Before her were several other wagons, their coloring indistinct in the lack of light. Her eyes narrowed as she studied one - Is that a design painted on the side? Hector's hand on her arm refocused her attention.

With exaggerated movements the servant urged them along the line of wagons until they came to the fourth. Here, he stopped them, hands held aloft, indicating they should wait. Stealthily, he eased around the wagon to have a look behind them.

The smell of food almost made Katerin swoon. It was overpowering and she knew that this must be the wagon from which Hector had taken their repast. She grasped Ilia's hand for comfort, her stomach growling in demand, and she closed her eyes against the faintness. Above them, clouds drifted aside and the moon illuminated the area.

"Bleedin' Sif!" came the soft curse.

Startled at hearing such language from her servant, the princess' eyes opened wide.

Hector returned to the women, face visible in the moonlight, clearly concerned. Leaning his head close, he breathed, "Only one man. He's got our trail and following." Glancing quickly about, accessing the situation, he grabbed the princess' arm, pulling her toward the back of the wagon.

As he eased the wagon door ajar, the aroma that assailed them nearly made Katerin faint. His hand on her arm pushed towards the opening and she stumbled on her skirts as she was forced inside, her handmaiden following. Turning in the darkness, the princess could see Hector's silhouette against the moonlit encampment, the tense set of his shoulders, his hand reaching out.

"Give me the dagger, lady." He glanced once backwards at a noise. "Quickly! I'll try and draw him away!"

Katerin knew there was no other choice. She handed it to him. "Be careful, Hector," she insisted. "I need you now more than ever!"

"Aye, lady," Hector grinned, tugging his forelock. "I'll do my best. Now, get back!"

The princess obeyed, darkness closing in as the wagon door was shut. She heard the latch click into place with a thrill of fear. Groping about her blindly, she found Ilia and the pair sank down to their knees.

Cautious movement could be heard, the slight jingle of chainmail as someone neared the wagon. Then a silence dragged on for eternity. Katerin felt her eyes widening as she tried to see in the pitch black, her ears nearly growing in length. She held her handmaiden tightly, comforted by arms wrapped about her as well.

A sudden blur of sound, some sort of skirmish. The wagon thumped once, rocking at the impact of two bodies running into it, and the women were hard pressed not to cry out in fear. More scrabbling, the sound of metal on metal, dogs nearby sounding an alarm, a voice grunted in pain. Ominous silence, only dogs barking in excitement.

Dread in her heart when Hector did not immediately reappear to open the door, Katerin rose and pushed further into the wagon, pulling her handmaiden with her. Outside voices were raised in sleepy question and irritation. Curling into a corner with Ilia, the princess wrapped her cloak tightly about them, drawing it over their heads. The barking drew closer and soon there were sounds of happily snuffling hounds all about.

"Freya's tears, Daiki," somebody cursed, getting closer to the provision wagon. "Your hounds raising a ruckus for a midnight snack? Thought you had 'em better trained than that."

Snort of derision. "If you wouldn't sleep on watch, Tommaso…"

A gasp of surprise, followed by another curse. Rustling movement.

"Ros is not going to be happy with this," Tommaso commented. After a pause, he continued, "Both dead and no good comes of that. What do you think they're doing here?"

Katerin bowed her head in mourning. Poor Hector… All this death and destruction. And for what?

"Don't know," Daiki answered. Another set of footsteps could be heard. "Habibah! Get Ros."

Further away, a woman agreed. Only the men shuffling about as they waited broke the silence. After a few moments, other footsteps could be heard, nearing the wagon.

"What's going on, Daiki?" The voice was low and gruff, filled with command.

"That, Ros."

"Bleeding Sif!" Ros cursed. "Tommaso?"

"That's how we found 'em, Ros," the man responded, tone a bit desperate. "I didn't hear or see nothing - I was on the other side of camp when it happened."

Another derisive snort from Daiki.

There was the sound of a resigned sigh. "Well, we can't stay the night here. Someone will be looking for the guard. And who knows what people are waiting for this poor fellow." Pause. "Tommaso, wake Martim. I want you two to clean up this mess. Hide the bodies as best you can. Daiki, Habibah, lock up the dogs. We need to get water from the creek and clean up this mess before we move." As Ros walked away, the orders continued. "We leave within the hour. Roust everyone!"

A chorus of agreement followed and soon the encampment was a buzz of activity.

Even if Katerin could leave the provision wagon, there'd be no way she and her handmaiden would get far without detection. And now we don't even have a weapon, she sighed.

The wait was long and the terror of previous days was taking its toll. Eyelids drooped heavily, startled wide only when the wagon jerked into movement. Making a decision, the princess sat up, pulling the cloak away from her head.

"Your Highness?" Ilia asked faintly.

"Katerin or Lady, Ilia," the princess reminded in the dark. She felt for the bag of food that Hecktor had stolen. "We'll be here awhile, I think. It's high time we had more food and some sleep. We're not getting out
of this wagon without help."

"Aye, lady."

The women, bread split in half between them, devoured the remainder of the meat and cheese. Finally sated, Katerin leaned back, weariness washing over her. The gentle rocking of the wagon lulled her into sleep.

After two days running, her exhaustion was deep. A full belly and the lazy swaying of the wagon didn't help matters any. Katerin's slumber was sound, as was her handmaiden's. Bright sunlight spilling across her closed eyes woke her and the princess jerked upright with a start. Wincing, she raised her hand to block the unwelcome light, turning her head to one side. Beside her, Ilia pulled the cloak up over her face.

"Well, what have we here?" a gruff voice asked in amusement. "A pair of sleeping mice?"

Memory crashed in on Katerin, her heart thumping in fear. Eyes adjusting to the brightness, she lowered her hand, peering out the wagon door at a dark silhouette. Her handmaiden peeked over the edge of the cloak.

"Well?" the voice asked again.

Swallowing, Katerin cleared her throat. "My name is Katerin. This is Ilia," she nodded at the blonde beside her. She became silent, at a loss.

The sound of running could be heard and a small voice piped, "Da! Mum says she'll make cherry hotcakes for breakfast!"

"Hold, Wilm," the man ordered, looking over one shoulder. "Go get Ros."

"Aye, Da." Small feet pelted away.

Children. There are children here, so these people can't be all bad. The princess pulled the cloak from her shoulders, preparing to rise and move towards the entrance.

"Hold there, girl," came the gruff voice, his attention back on the women. "We'll just wait a moment until Ros gets here, all right?"

Katerin nodded. "Of course," she answered softly. Remembering the terror of the night, she recalled the sharp command in Ros' voice, the obvious respect from the others. She could feel Ilia trembling and reached over to pat her knee comfortingly, dark eyes warming with the promise to get them both out of this alive.

As they waited for the mysterious Ros, sounds of people making camp were heard. Voices called back and forth in cheeriness, men and women alike. Somewhere in the near distance, a man yelled out, followed by the rumble of a tree being felled. Footsteps approached.

"What's the hold up, Willem? We've got hungry people to be fed."

The man at the entrance stepped back and to one side. "Looks like a pair of mice have crawled into the provisions," he said with a grin, nodding into the wagon.

It took a moment for Katerin to realize that the new arrival was a woman. She was dressed in black, tunic and breeches, the only color a splash of light blue from her undertunic. Her curly, golden hair was cut scandalously short, giving her a roguish appearance that was further aided by the sword strapped to her hip.

Eyes narrowed, the woman studied the stowaways. "Come out of there," she demanded, hand resting gently on her sword hilt.

Recognizing the voice as Ros', the princess obeyed, helping Ilia to her feet. With no sudden movements, Katerin guided her handmaiden out of the wagon, wincing at the bright sunshine that assailed her eyes. Despite the circumstances, she sighed in happiness, finally able to stand to her full height, surreptitiously stretching in pleasure. Eyeing the strangers before her, the princess subtly stepped in front of her handmaiden.

Ros raised an eyebrow. "I can only assume that you are the reason we had to leave in such haste last evening?" she asked, directing her question at the princess. Hazel eyes flickered up and down the smaller woman with disdain. "While you are beautiful, you hardly appear worth fighting for."

At first surprised, anger soon followed. Having been rousted from her bed in the dead of night, watching family and friends be slaughtered and running for two days, it took supreme effort to hold her tongue. She bit down fiercely on her cheek. Simpleton! Unable to remain completely silent, Katerin responded, her tone icy. "A dear friend is dead and you've been inconvenienced. My utmost apologies."

A faint glimmer of amused understanding lit Ros' eyes, a corner of her mouth quirking. She bowed her head. "Apology accepted."

Katerin's teeth ground together.

Looking at the man beside them, the blonde asked, "Is Sati to make breakfast this morning?"

"Aye. Wilm says it's to be cherry hotcakes."

"Good," Ros said with a chuckle. "The troupe needs the extra sweetness." Her eyes returned to the two bedraggled women before her. "At the very least to make up for the night's unscheduled festivities."

"What of these two?"

With a calculating look, the woman studied the stowaways, ignoring Katerin's obvious hostility. After a thoughtful pause, Ros said, "Have Lucinda and Gemma get them cleaned up. I think they might have some clothes that will fit." Her gaze became less guarded. "I'll see them at my wagon when they're presentable."

"Aye, Ros."

Still angry, though somewhat relieved that they were not in any immediate danger, Katerin found herself being escorted towards a tall, rather colorfully painted wagon. Holding Ilia's hand, she watched the encampment's proceedings with a calculating gaze.

Ten tall wagons were in the clearing, each with its own intricate decoration. Nearly twice that number of people of all sizes and colors were out and about, working with happy industriousness. It appeared that most of the wagons were traveling abodes as the inhabitants set up awnings, chairs and tables outside them. To one side of the clearing, several men were unrolling a vast length of canvas. The dark figure of Ros was among them, calling direction and lending a hand. From what Katerin could gather, they had stumbled onto a circus.

Nearing the wagon, a voluptuous redhead looked up from the colorful flowers she was arranging in a vase. "Ho, Willem! What have you there?" she asked, a welcome smile on her face.

"Katerin and Ilia," the man responded, pointing to each in turn. "Ros said for you and Gemma to assist them. They need cleaning up and clothing."

Hands on hip, the woman nodded, looking the pair up and down. "Aye, that they do." Looking over one shoulder, she called, "Gemma! We've guests!"

Katerin started when the side of the wagon opened up, realizing that there was a shuttered window there. Another woman looked out, her hair and skin nut brown. Solemn green eyes regarded them and she nodded respectively. The redhead - She must be Lucinda - rubbed her hands together.

"Well, let's get started then, shall we?" she asked. Waving her hands at their escort, she said, "Shoo, Willem. I think Gemma and I can handle these two dangerous creatures."

Chuckling, he responded, "Aye, I know you can, Lucinda. I'll be helping the men with the tent in the meanwhile. Give a yell when they're ready."

"I will that." Lucinda remained where she was until he'd gotten out of earshot. Casting a conspiratorial look at her visitors, she winked. "Men! What they don't know about women could fill a book."

A smile crossed Katerin's face. I think I'm going to like this one, she thought.

"Let's have a look at you, eh?" the redhead insisted, waving the pair closer.

Chapter 2

 Being clean again certainly feels wonderful, Katerin thought, tugging at the unfamiliar skirt. Gemma had been a near perfect fit for the princess, the waist and length of the clothing being of a size she could wear comfortably. The blouse belonged to Lucinda, however, the dark woman's bosom not quite as small as Gemma's. Beside her, Ilia kept pace in a gown borrowed from the redhead. A bit baggy in places, it fit well enough.

Willem returned to his escort duties when the pair was declared fit for viewing. He guided them towards one of the wagons in silence.

Still busy with activity, the clearing looked much different than it had earlier. A large tent had grown in the center and the men were tying down the last of the ropes. The wagons created a crescent around the main entrance, each an advertisement for the available acts. Pictures depicting brightly dressed clowns, a lion tamer, graceful bodies flying through the air and jugglers teased the eye. One wagon sported bars instead of a painting, a large animal curled up in one corner.

Katerin stopped her wool gathering and focused on a wagon they neared. Ros was lounging before it, idly watching them approach, feet upon a stool. On a rough wooden table beside her were several familiar items. Ilia's gasp matched the princess' sudden recognition of the few items they'd been able to steal away from the castle. Instantly furious, Katerin marched forward, passing Willem to plant herself before the relaxed woman, hands on hips. "How dare you go through our personal things!" she growled.

"How dare you disrupt the lives of all these people," was the response. Ros stood, towering over the smaller woman. "Do you realize the danger you've put us in? Whoever those men were, one wore the insignia of the Invader. You can imagine he'll not be happy at the death of his personal guard."

Blinking in surprise, the dark woman's anger faded. She's right. It's not these poor people who are at fault. Katerin dropped her hands and gaze, properly chastised.

Taken aback at the sudden change of demeanor, the blonde sucked in a breath, quelling her irritation. "What's done is done," she finally said, sitting down. Waving to two other stools, she continued, "Please, sit. We must speak."

"Do you need me to stay, Ros?"

"No, Willem," the woman answered. "Though perhaps you could have Sati bring breakfast to these fine ladies…?"

Willem smiled. "Aye, Ros. I'll do that," he agreed, walking away.

Waiting for the women to settle, Ros studied them. Once she had their attention, she said, "As you've no doubt gathered, my name is Ros and I own this fine circus where you find yourselves. You've stowed away and stolen our food. The Invader is chasing you for gods know what reason and two men are dead. Is there anything else I should know?"

With a sigh, Katerin shook her head. "Nay, I think not. That's more than enough."

"Then the next question is what I should do with you?" An interminable silence followed, broken only by the people around them going about their business. Sighing heavily in irritation, Ros said, "What do you think will happen to two women such as you if I sent you away?"

Recalling the very unexpected recent events, Katerin raised her chin. "We'll be dead or worse inside a fortnight."

Mouth turned down, the blonde agreed, "Aye. And it's the worse you should be worried about." She eyed them shrewdly. "I'll not have your deaths on my head, despite the pain in my arse you've become."

Katerin ignored the flash of anger, instead considering her immediate future. There's nothing left for me - my family is dead, my people ruled by another. Looking at her handmaiden, she made a decision. "Ilia is a fabulous seamstress. I'm sure you could find a use for her," the princess said, leaning forward on her stool in earnestness. "And, should you have a lute about, she plays it very handily."

"I see. So you would have me hire your servant?"

"Aye," the princess nodded. "She has a pleasant demeanor and is loyal to a fault. You could do no wrong in taking her on."

Ros crossed her arms, one hand stroking her chin in thought. "And what of you?"

Looking away, Katerin swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I shall be on my way."

"Your Highness!" the handmaiden whispered. "Nay!"

"Ilia!" the dark woman snapped, cutting her off. She glared intently at her companion, warning her. "It's for the best." Returning her gaze to Ros, she searched the woman's face, hoping she hadn't caught the royal title.

The blonde's face remained serious, her hazel eyes revealing nothing.

Stifling a relieved sigh, Katerin continued. "What say you?"

Ros was slow to respond, eyeing them both in contemplation. With a reluctant nod, she said, "I've one open bunk right now. I'll hire Ilia at three coppers a week. She'll help with costuming, play the lute at showings and learn to clown." To the servant, she continued, "You'll be sleeping in Lucinda and Gemma's wagon. They've an additional bunk now that Tilly's gone off to have a babe."

Katerin felt a heavy weight lift from her shoulders. At least Ilia will be safe now. She won't have to follow Hector beyond. She refused to look at her handmaiden, hearing the gentle weeping, not wanting to be caught up by the emotion.

"And what of your qualifications?"

Surprised, the princess' dark eyes latched onto the circus owner. "Me? I have no qualifications. Not for any task you would have here."

Ros sat forward, taking the smaller woman's hands in her own, studying them. "Aye, I can see that you're a stranger to hard work. Your hands are too fine for menial labor. Do you play any instruments? Sew? Cook?"

The remarks stung and Katerin yanked her hands from the other woman's. "Nay. None of those." She rose to her feet. "I ask for your generosity in supplying me with one meal and I'll be on my way."

A slow, impish smile crossed Ros' face as she stood as well. Her face took on a decidedly wicked appearance as her eyes roamed the smaller woman's body with a lascivious familiarity. "I think not," she said. "I could… use a woman of your breeding."

It took a moment for Katerin to comprehend what was being insinuated. When she did, she blushed furiously. She's a… a… a sapphist! she thought, shocked. Taking a step back, she shook her head. "Nay. I'll be on my way." The princess turned, preparing to leave the clearing and her handmaiden behind when Ros' next words froze her blood.

"Then take Ilia with you. She'll be of no use to me while she's pining away at your loss."

Katerin swallowed, eyes staring blindly at the clearing and it's occupants, weighing the choices of another death on her head against prostituting herself for both their survival. Hearing her handmaiden hastily rising to follow made the decision for her. She spun around, holding out one hand to stop Ilia. Tentatively, she looked at the circus owner, heartened to see the leer had left her handsome face. "You have me at a loss, madam." With a swallow, she drew herself up. "I'll stay."

Ros nodded slowly, an expression of grudging respect in her eyes. Gesturing to the table, she said, "Sort through your things. We've no other bunks; you'll be staying in my wagon." She looked to one side, waving a dark complexioned woman forward. "And eat the breakfast Sati has made. We've a long day ahead of us. Rehearsal is this afternoon and there's much to do." The woman strode away from them, dismissing their presence as she headed for the now finished tent.

Watching her go, the princess bowed her head. A sapphist harlot or a princess with a death warrant on her head, what more could I ask for?

Reaching Ilia, she hugged the taller woman close. At least my handmaiden will not die, as well.

Ros circled the tent, her practiced eye scanning the structure. Occasionally, she'd pull on one of the thick ropes, checking its tautness. Despite her apparent attention to the task, Ros went over her conversation with the strangers.

The Invader's personal guard and an obvious man at arms dead, she mused sourly. As if we've not enough trouble surviving in the midst of a neighboring war. Ros kicked at a thick iron tent peg, grunting in satisfaction as it remained firm in place.

During a normal season, the troupe would have spent some time in the Dulce kingdom. Ros had diverted from their usual route when word of the Invader's activities had reached them.

And now we've a blasted royal in our midst! Growling to herself, Ros ducked beneath a flap of canvas, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkened interior. The lack of light reflected her attitude. Again she circled, pushing against poles, noting where more logs could be added for seating, ignoring a handful of her people rigging the backstage area.

Ilia's comment was not lost on the blonde, though Ros hadn't reacted. The title was an immediate give away. A Dulce princess. And the Invader rabid as a wolf, no doubt.

Notorious for hunting down all heirs to any throne he stole, the Invader stopped at nothing to attain his goals. Neighboring realms, their leaders already nervous of the potential threat, would now be doubly paranoid until the princess was found or an innocent substitute was executed in her place to appease the tyrant.

Ros and the circus had had the misfortune of occasional dealings with the Invader in the past. The blonde could still remember the terror of her childhood when this same thing occurred. It was both fortunate and unfortunate that the child had been discovered, her head delivered to a displeased new monarch.

Sighing in frustration, Ros left the tent and stood in the main entrance, scanning the small encampment. She spotted the women in question, their breakfast finished and returning to Lucinda and Gemma's wagon. I can't very well leave them behind. Hazel eyes lingered on the dark one, a mixture of sorrow, sympathy and dull anger in Ros' heart. Life's never easy, is it?

Dominic awoke, shivering. With a curse, he pulled his cloak tighter and attempted to go back to sleep. Every pebble and root made its existence known as they pressed into him. After an interminable time, the aide yielded to nature with utter gracelessness and rolled out of his makeshift bier. Quiet surrounded Dominic; he heard only his heartbeat, breath steaming in the chill gray of early morning.

He had been roaming the countryside for two days, irritated apathy his only companion. Remaining within the Dulce capitol was out of the question as long as the Invader was in residence. Still uncertain of his future, Dominic was loath to leave the area. Better to be near. Just in case. In case of exactly what was a mystery.

With no fire to give away his tiny encampment to roaming brigands, breakfast was a distasteful affair. Dominic sniffed at the meat he'd taken from the castle larder, suspicions confirmed by the faint sweet odor. Grunting in disgust, he tossed it into some nearby bushes and proceeded to nibble at a crust of bread, his thoughts filled with sumptuous royal feasts. Once finished, Dominic brushed uselessly at his travel stained clothing. An internal debate rose - move on or remain here for the day? A check of his water bag solved the dilemma and Dominic hefted his pack onto thin shoulders.

By now, the light beneath the trees was golden, the sun finally breaching the eastern horizon. Regardless, the air was still cool and Dominic groused as he plodded along, holding his cloak tight about his neck. That bastard will pay for this! he promised himself.

Just how the Invader would be punished for his infraction was unknown. Dominic was painfully aware of his odds of finding Princess Sabine; if she was giving experienced soldiers and trackers difficulty, there'd be no way he could locate her.

The sound of running water interrupted Dominic's thoughts. At nearly the same instance, he stumbled upon a tiny game path and froze. Several moments of silence passed before surrounding insects and birds felt comfortable enough to continue their racket. Relieved, the aide turned right and followed the trail, searching for the source of sound.

A few strides away, the game trail opened up to reveal a small clearing with a creek. Dominic dropped his pack, retrieved his water bag and, after a moment's consideration, removed his cloak. Cold and filthy or cold and clean - one is preferable to the other. He crouched shivering upon the bank and began filling the bag. Shortly thereafter, the aide hissed as he splashed icy water on his face.

In mid scrub, Dominic froze, peering between his fingers. Directly across from him along the edge of the clearing, one of the small deer that lived in the forest nibbled at tender new growth. The aide's eyes lit and he reached for his belt knife, mouth watering at the thought of fresh meat.

Suddenly tensing, the deer raised its head, looking about with wary intensity. Once again Dominic stilled, mentally cursing at whatever was disturbing his future meal.

An arrow seemed to sprout like magic from the animal's ribs. Startled, the aide fell backwards onto his butt with a grunt even as the deer leapt and crashed away into the forest. Before Dominic could do anything, more noise was heard as the hunter pursued his prey. The stranger could be seen rushing forward just inside the tree line, a flash of metal and green.

Dominic blinked. That was one of the royal guard! They should all be dead! Leaping to his feet, he barely had time to grab his pack and cloak as he chased after the soldier.

Does the princess have a guardsman with her?

After breakfast the new arrivals sorted through their meager belongings, collecting the few items that belonged to Ilia. The remainder was returned to the carry sack and set under the table. Katerin wasn't willing to step foot into the now ominous wagon where Ros lived until necessary. They then returned to Lucinda and Gemma's abode.

Properly pleased at the new additions to their troupe, Lucinda gave them both a boisterous hug. "Here, now!" she exclaimed, leaning back to peer at them. "Why the long faces? Surely it's better to be here than where you were?" Seeing the women's reticence, she dismissed the question. "No, don't answer. You'll discover soon enough that Ros only bites when she's backed into a corner. Now go inside, Ilia, and Gemma will show you where to stow your things."

Only after receiving an encouraging nod from Katerin did the handmaiden obey. Silent and solemn as was her nature, Gemma waved the blonde into the wagon.

"Why does she look so grave?" Katerin asked, once they were out of earshot. "Why doesn't she speak?"

Lucinda's eyes became sad in reflection. "She's had a very difficult life for one so young. When Ros found her, she was near dead from her injuries." The redhead looked into the open window, watching her friend. "Her tongue had been cut out."

Katerin's hand flew to her mouth in shock. "The poor woman!"

"Aye," Lucinda agreed with a nod. "It's a good thing Ros found her when she did. Someone else might have left her for dead." With a gentle shake, the redhead forced a smile onto her face. "Enough sadness! You're both here and alive, new sisters added to our family!"

Nodding reluctantly, the dark woman forced a small smile. Lucky me. A flash of Ros' leering gaze, her low voice ringing in the princess' ears, and Katerin swallowed a sudden thrill of dread. To distract herself, she asked, "What do you do here?"

Lucinda's smile widened. "I dance." With a provocative look, she raised
her hands over her head with feline grace, her belly undulating seductively. Seeing the other woman blush, she laughed merrily and dropped her stance. "I sing, as well. And play the tambourine. But the men don't care of that."

Unsure of what to say, Katerin murmured, "I can imagine they'd not."

"What can you do?" the redhead asked in curiosity.

I can run from danger. I can get loyal servants killed. I can fade away in obscurity as a harlot. "Nothing," the princess said. "I've no skills that you talented people could use."

"Well, no worries there," Lucinda said, patting the smaller woman's shoulder. "I'm sure Ros can find something for you." She looked to the wagon as Ilia and Gemma stepped out of it, failing to see the troubled expression cross Katerin's face. "All done then?"

Gemma nodded as the blonde woman beside her looked to Katerin.

"Let's take you visiting then, shall we?" the redhead asked cheerfully. "I'll introduce you to the rest of our fine troupe."

"Certainly," Katerin said politely, nodding. "Lead on."

With a happy excitement, Lucinda led the way towards another wagon.

Names and faces whirled about in Katerin's mind as she entered the large tent with the rest of the circus. The tour of the wagons had been short, there being only a score of performers, but meeting them all at once was baffling. She doubted she'd be able to remember one in three for the next fortnight. They were of all colors and sizes, old and young. Wilm was the baby at a tender four years, Daiki the eldest at fifty-six - though he appeared hardly older than thirty.

Around her, people laughed and joked as they entered the tent's cool interior. Eyes adjusting from the direct sunlight, she saw Ros standing in the center awaiting them. Several logs had been felled and trimmed, laid out in a rough circle. Outside the circle more were placed in semi-neat lines.

"What are those for?" she asked Lucinda, pointing.

"Seating for our guests," the redhead confided. "And the center is the boundary for our stage."

Ros gestured for the entertainers to settle down. Even little Wilm was in attendance, though the black and white monkey he was playing with distracted him. Once everyone was assembled, their leader clapped her hands to gain their attention.

"You've all done wonderfully on short sleep. We're all weary from our travels and toils, so there'll be no show tonight." Grinning at the applause and whistles, Ros ducked her tousled head in acceptance. "Rehearsal this afternoon, as usual, and we'll take the evening off." More cheering with a few groans were interspersed.

She should smile more often, Katerin mused. It eases the stern lines of her face.

Ros's expression turned serious. "I'm sure the reason why we left in such haste has reached your ears. I'll not lie to you; two men are dead, each killing the other. We've enough problems without the added headaches of dealing with a feud." She waved the two new arrivals forward. "Ilia. Katerin."

Startled at the candor the circus owner was showing her troupe, the brunette rose and stepped before the audience. Her handmaiden followed timidly, wringing her hands.

"You've probably already met both of them, if Lucinda's had her way," Ros said with a grin, standing between them and placing a hand on each woman's shoulder.

"Aye," a black man called from the rear of the gathering. "And when does Lucinda not have her way?" Laughter was his response.

The woman in question stood and whirled about, hands on her hips. In a scolding tone, she said, "You're just jealous, Usiku, because I haven't had my way with you!"

Katerin wasn't certain which was more disconcerting - the warm hand placed so proprietarily on her shoulder or the bawdy humor of the crowd laughing and teasing each other in such a manner. She could feel her face heat up as she blushed.

"Be that as it may," Ros called out cheerfully, regaining the people's
attention, "this is Ilia and Katerin." She indicated each with a nod. "For whatever reason, they found their way into our cook wagon. I've decided to keep them on. Ilia will be our seamstress and can play the lute. She'll train with Gemma and Minkhat as a clown."

"Can you do the Russian Swing?" a swarthy man questioned Ilia.

The blonde gave a half shrug and a shake of the head, uncertain as to what it was.

"For now it's not necessary," Ros interrupted. "Should she decide to remain longer, she'll have the opportunity to learn." Indicating the brunette beside her, she said, "And I've hired Katerin as my personal attendant."

Guffaws of laughter rippled through the small crowd, several of the men making colorful remarks. One or two women joined in or glared in mock anger at the raucous comments. Katerin stared at her toes in embarrassment, feeling the initial flush suffuse every inch of her skin. That the circus owner didn't disavow any of the comments didn't help matters.

Chuckling at some of the observations, Ros held up her hand to gain their attention once more. "Again - be that as it may…" she trailed off at the laughter. "We now have two more mouths to feed. And a potential danger." Her face became solemn. "As far as anyone need know, these women have been with us since we stopped at Aimsbury near a month ago. Understood?"

There was a general rumble of agreement.

"Good." The owner's hazel eyes scanned her people with practiced ease, making contact with each individual, calculating. "We're in this together - have been for many a year. I trust you all with my life, as you trust me with yours. Trust me in this."

"Aye, Ros!" a woman called. "We're better together than apart. You've said so yourself. We'll stand by your decision."

Again, the sound of several voicing their approval.

With a slight bow, Ros said, "Thank you, Sati." A smile returned to her face. "Rehearsal after lunch. Eat light and until then, enjoy the morning."

The performers dispersed, chattering at their good fortune. Katerin attempted to join them, but the hand on her shoulder tightened.

"Stay," Ros ordered.

Swallowing the bile in her throat, the brunette fought with anger and fear as she nodded hesitantly. She watched as Ilia was urged to follow the rest, giving a false smile of encouragement. When they were alone, Katerin was relieved when the hand fell away.

"I'll not lie to you, either," Ros said. She walked away, turning to straddle the first log she came to. "May I speak frankly, lady?"

The brunette blinked, surprised at the clear gaze directed at her. "Of course," she answered softly.

"I may be a sapphist, but I do not condone rape." Seeing the small woman blush, she looked away. "You'll be as safe in my bed as you would in your mother's arms."

Flustered, it took a few moments for Katerin to respond. "I… Thank you."

"The Invader's not someone to play lightly, however," Ros continued, still not looking at the brunette. "I'll get you away from his clutches and you can stay as long as you wish, but you must make the decision when to leave my troupe." With that she rose, dusting woodchips from her breeches. "Lunch is promptly at midday. As I said, eat light. We work hard at rehearsals."

Katerin watched her stride from the tent, puzzled yet intrigued.

Chapter 3

Ros certainly didn't speak in jest, Katerin thought, wiping a sweaty brow on the sleeve of her blouse. She watched as half a dozen of the troupe performed feats on what they called Chinese Poles. Two tall poles were in the center of the 'stage', a series of ropes holding them upright in their bases. On each were three of the clowns, leaping and bouncing from one to another, passing each other by mere breaths. At one point, the brunette could only gasp as the performers levered their bodies parallel to the ground below using only their arms.

Ros clapped. "No, no!"

Pausing, all eyes and ears were focused on the owner. Those on the poles shifted their stances, locking their feet and arms about the wood and giving her their attention.

Stepping into the ring, the blonde continued, "Minkhat, your timing is off. Is your shoulder still paining you?"

"Some, I'll admit, Ros," the swarthy man who had asked Ilia about the Russian Swing said. He rolled one shoulder with a wince. "I can still have a go."

Ros shook her head, her tone and face brooking no argument. "No. Pain means it's not healed. Hop down - we don't want you to do further damage."

Slightly disgruntled, Minkhat did as ordered, pushing away from the pole, flipping into a backwards somersault and landing on his feet below.

"Katerin, do you know any of the healing arts?"

Startled at being called upon, the brunette blinked in response. At the irritated look she received, she quickly spoke up. "Aye, a bit."

"Good. Have Sameer show you where our herbal supplies are and see to Minkhat's shoulder." Dismissing her new charge, Ros returned her attention to the performers. "Let's start from the top. Gemma, Sati, close up the gap and we'll try it with five people."

Sameer, the troupe's only dwarf, put down the length of rope he'd been repairing. Climbing off a log, he ambled toward Katerin with an awkward gait. "This way," he ordered, his voice surprisingly mellow compared to his craggy appearance.

The princess followed, Minkhat trailing slightly behind.

Bright sunlight met the trio, the muggy warmth of the tent chased away by a mild breeze. Sighing, the brunette wiped sweat from her forehead, enjoying the cooling wind. Arriving at the cook wagon, Sameer clambered up the three steps and began struggling with the latch.

Katerin watched for long moments, becoming concerned as she watched him fight with the simple mechanism. He was obviously not quite tall or strong enough to open it with ease. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the swarthy man would be of no assistance as he gazed idly back at her.

Vexed, the brunette tsked. What was Ros thinking? she demanded. The little fellow can't do this! Stepping forward to intercede, she felt a hand wrap about her upper arm, pulling her back. Head whipping about, black eyes fearful and frustrated, Katerin saw Minkhat holding a finger to his lips and shaking his head. As her heart slowed, she heard the latch finally give way and the dwarf's lusty sigh of satisfaction.

"There we go," he said, a wide smile creasing his face as the door swung open. In moments, he was in the wagon, shoving boxes and rough-hewn sacks aside as he rummaged about.

Minkhat released the woman, winking at her as he pulled up a nearby stool and settled down.

Still uncertain, Katerin kept her expression neutral as Sameer found what he was looking for. Wood grated on wood as he pushed a medium sized chest towards the door. Opening the lid, he waved at it with a flourish and bowed. "All of our healing supplies - at your disposal, Lady Katerin."

Despite irritation at forcing the dwarf to work so much harder than a normal man, the brunette smiled, dropping into a curtsey. "Thank you, kind sir." His answering chuckle caused her smile to widen.

Sameer climbed down the steps. "That's all we have. We've not had anyone skilled in the healing arts for some time. If you need anything else or would like to restock what we have, let Ros know," he chattered. "She'll purchase what we need at the next village."

"Thank you for your assistance, Sameer," Katerin said. "I shall go over what we have."

Minkhat finally spoke. "Thanks, Sammie," he said with a wave and a sardonic grin.

The dwarf's eyes flashed in feigned anger. "That's Sameer to you, 'Minkie.'" With a final wave at the pair, he returned to the tent.

When he was far enough away, Katerin turned and glared at the man on the stool. "Why wouldn't you let me help him? He was obviously unsuited to the task; it would have been far easier to do it myself."

Holding his hands up and leaning backwards, Minkhat said, "Because he'd have been insufferable for the remainder of the day. And you," he continued, pointing at her, "would have made an enemy."

The brunette blinked, trying to comprehend. Finally, she murmured, "I don't understand."

"Obviously," the man muttered. At her sharp glance, he shook his head with a smile. "No, I mean no insult, Katerin." Warm brown eyes studied her. "You've not spent much time with commoners, have you?"

Swallowing, Katerin looked away, not wanting to give the man any more information than he could already discern.

"No matter. Let me tell you the way of it with people such as Sameer." Minkhat's eyes became unfocused with thought. "You spoke truly that he wasn't suited to the task at hand. But do you believe he'd enjoy being treated as a child his entire life? Would you?"

"What?" Surprise lit Katerin's eyes. I'd not thought of it in those terms. "Certainly not." She considered Sameer, how life would be for a commoner of that stature, how her life would have been in his place. To always be looked down upon as less, regardless of intelligence or skill - a tedious existence indeed. And to forever be denied the opportunity to prove myself…

Seeing comprehension, the swarthy man smiled. "You understand how he would be insufferable for the remainder of the day?"

The brunette grinned sheepishly. "Aye. I can."

"And how you've brightened his day considerably with your acceptance?"

"Again, aye." With a slight bow of her head, Katerin said, "Thank you for my lesson. I'll not forget it."

Minkhat raised an eyebrow, keenly studying her until he realized she was amused rather than annoyed. "You're welcome," he responded, nodding.

"Now, turn about on that stool and take off your shirt," the woman ordered in a matter-of-fact tone.

Obediently, he did as he was told.

From the welcome shade of her awning, Ros watched her troupe in the waning light of afternoon. She'd long since removed her black over tunic, the pale blue shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, neck lacings open. Her long legs were propped up on the stool before her, feet crossed at the ankles, and she held a rolled up parchment in one hand.

Supper was being served and her people were clustered about the central cookfire, chattering and laughing. Despite Minkhat's stubborn injury, it had been a decent rehearsal and merited cheerfulness. The dark man had reported that Katerin had been gentle and knowledgeable in her treatment of his shoulder.

Her hazel eyes lighted on the new arrivals, studying them. Ilia was still uneasy, she being the less gregarious of the two. The blonde's smile was hesitant, her movements gentle and understated. She seemed to have been a gangly youth, all elbows and feet, her adult form still awkward and clumsy from adolescence. Katerin, on the other hand, appeared to be dealing well with the heady mix of the performers, treating each with pleasantness.

Watching the brunette's face melt into a laugh at something said, Ros' lips twitched to match it. Aye, she's a beauty. I'll give her that. It's too bad she's… Shaking her tousled head, she banished the thought. Enough of that! You've got much more on your trencher to deal with.

Sighing, Ros considered her next step. She'd already begun with integrating the pair into her troupe, insuring that the score of people would insist they were from Aimsbury. Now, to get Ilia firmly established with the clowning and lute, to lend respectability to the lie with her obvious experience. Katerin was going to be tougher, though. Perhaps she'd allow her hair to be cut, to aid in her disguise.

Her stomach rumbled. Aye, perhaps. But not now. Slapping the rolled parchment against her leg, she dropped her feet from the stool and rose. With a negligent toss, the paper landed on a nearby table, unfurling to show a portrayal of a woman billowing fire from her mouth. Supper first, a night of enjoyment with my family. Tomorrow's another day and another show.

Ros left the shade beside her wagon, striding towards the fire and food, smiling and returning the calls of her friends.

It was dark when Katerin returned to the owner's wagon. She'd waited as long as possible, drawing performers out in conversation as she attempted to stall. That Ros had told her she'd be safe didn't help ease her heart. It was the obvious weariness of her handmaiden, Ilia unwilling to leave her mistress' side, which finally decided the brunette. With a gentle smile, she urged the blonde to bed, walking her part of the way and watching until she was safely inside her wagon.

Katerin inhaled the night air deeply, turning to scan the encampment. She could see only Abdullah, a hulking beast who played the circus strong man, on first watch at the fire. He sang quietly, his voice a sweet alto that belied his size, as he poked at the fire. Everyone else had gone to bed.

Her dark eyes finally reached Ros' wagon and her heart thumped. The owner had left the fire long before and the wagon was dark. Katerin hadn't even seen the interior, not wanting to step foot inside when she'd had the opportunity earlier. Now, she'd be a stumbling fool. Probably trip and break something, she mused. A thought occurred to her, the worried expression on her face fading. "I'll just sleep out here on a chair."

Pleased with her idea, she stepped closer to the shadows of the awning. Katerin's eyes widened and she gasped in shock at the dark form seated there. "Ros!" Patting her chest, she said, "You scared ten years out of me."

"My apologies, lady," the blonde murmured, rising to her feet. "I have an unfortunate tendency to brood at night, as my friends will attest." She yawned, politely covering her mouth. "Are you ready to retire?"

Katerin swallowed nervously, her heart beating double time. She tried to stutter an answer, but her tongue betrayed her.

Amused, Ros raised an eyebrow. "Come with me, lady. I'll not ravish you yet."

The sardonic tone lit the brunette's anger. Before she knew it, she stepped forward to glare up at the older woman. "You'll not ravish me at all!"

A wicked smile grew on the owner's face. "True," she said with a nod. "Not until you ask it of me."

Gasping at the audacity, Katerin could only bluster at the woman's gall.

Ros, her smile turning genuine, wondered how many shades of red the smaller woman could turn. Perhaps if it was light out, I'd become truly informed. Rather than remain outside the entire night, she stepped closer to Katerin, towering over her, her face returning to seriousness. "I've told you, lady. I do not condone rape."

The words were ice water on her anger, leaving Katerin gaping in the aftermath.

Relaxing her aggressive stance, the owner stepped back, studying the shocked brunette before her. "Come, Katerin," she said, brushing past and opening the wagon door. "Bring your things and we'll find a place for them."

Left standing alone, the smaller woman collected herself, anger and
uncertainty warring within. She could hear Ros rummaging about inside the wagon and she shivered against the cool air. Moving to the table, she located the sack she and Ilia had carried for so many fright filled leagues. Katerin sighed, face somber, and squared her shoulders before approaching the wagon door.

The interior was lit, Ros having a hooded lantern within. Gathering her skirts, the brunette stepped up inside. It was cramped and cluttered, as was to be expected. On the right was a row of cupboards, spanning the length and height of the wall. To the left were the shuttered window, a small table and two chairs beneath it. The bed against the far end looked soft and comfortable, a quilted blanket decorating it.

Katerin's body ached for that bed, regardless of her situation. Just the sight of it made her bone deep weariness come to the fore and she could feel herself sway at the sudden rush of exhaustion.

Digging in the cupboards, Ros pulled a handful of items from one and stuffed them in another. "You can put your things here, Katerin," she said, stepping back in the cramped space to allow the smaller woman access.

Quelling her fear at the close proximity, the brunette slipped past Ros and stashed her bag within. She closed the cupboard quickly and spun around, not liking that her back was turned to the owner. At the blonde's knowing smile, she blushed but raised a challenging eyebrow.

Ros' smile widened and she gave a slight bow in acknowledgement. "If you'd like, I can step outside while you change for bed…?" she asked gallantly. Opening another cupboard, she pulled out an oversized shirt. "You can wear this until we've had time to outfit you." Not waiting for an answer, the owner turned and stepped out of the wagon, closing the door behind her.

Katerin blinked, holding the shift in one hand. She didn't know what to make of Ros - honest and honorable one moment, a cad the next. Sighing, she shook her head. Best get changed quickly then. No telling when she'll decide to pop back in here. The small woman turned her back to the door, lest her knight in shining armor decided to catch a peek of her attributes, and removed the blouse she'd borrowed from Lucinda. Pulling the shift over her head and smoothing it down, she could see that it dropped to mid thigh and felt a bit easier.

When she was finished changing, Katerin folded the clothing and looked about the wagon for a place to put it. Shrugging, she opened her cupboard and placed the items inside, adding her shoes to the pile. There was a knock at the door just as she closed the cupboard.

"Are you decent, lady?"

Swallowing against the familiar thrill of fear, the brunette nodded and called, "Aye, I am."

Ros stepped inside, eyes flickering over her charge. She noted the embarrassed blush but chose to ignore it. "If you'd like to get into bed…?" she asked, beginning to remove her overtunic. "You can sleep on either side, I've no preference."

The smaller woman paled as she turned to look at the bed. If she slept on the inside, against the wall, she'd be trapped. On the other hand, sleeping on the outside would mean that Ros would have to climb over her. Katerin chewed her upper lip in consternation. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that the owner was naked from the waist up and untying the drawstring on her breeches. Gods! she exclaimed to herself, jumping into the bed and scooting as far away as possible. Does she have no modesty!?

Aware of the other woman's discomfort, Ros couldn't help but smile as she kicked off her boots and breeches. She paused long enough to blow out the lantern and open the shutters a bit before climbing under the covers herself. Sighing in pleasure, she stretched and settled comfortably on her back. Beside her, she could feel the waves of tension radiating from the other woman. "Good night, Katerin. May your dreams be sweet."

Dark eyes wide in the darkness, the brunette listened to the fluttering
of her heart, Ros' nearness agitating her no end. "Good night," she finally whispered. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the other woman moved in the bed, quelling her fear when she realized that Ros was simply rolling over onto her side. For some reason, having the owner's back to her helped her to relax.

Despite the panic, her body eased into the mattress. Well fed and warm for the first time in days, weariness took over and Katerin drifted off to sleep.

Cold sweat, chattering teeth, thunder and jolt of hooves. Warning yell, clash of metal, screams.

With a shuddering gasp Liam awoke, struggling to get to his feet. Sharp pain lanced through him, a strangled gasp forced from his over dry throat as he fell back, writhing in agony.

"By the gods! He's awake!" a voice exclaimed. There was a thump and assorted noises. "Get that witch in here!"

Uncertain of his fate or surroundings, Liam opened his eyes, relief flowing through him as he recognized the face above his. He tried to speak but nothing would come.

"Hush, my liege. You're as dry as sand. Be still while I get water."

Nodding weakly, he shut his eyes, hearing the trickle of liquid being poured. More noises, shuffling, and a hand was helping him partially sit, holding a wooden mug. Despite more pain, the water was ambrosia to his parched throat and he drank what little was given him with qreed.

"That's enough for now," Dominic said, pulling the cup away, "until the witch has a look at you. You've given Sim and I a scare, Majesty. I'd rather not take any chances."

Majesty? My liege? It took two tries before Liam was able to voice his question. "My brother?"

Dominic's face became somber. "No, Majesty. Of the royal family only you have survived. The rest of them have gone to the afterworld."

Before Liam could form a response there was more noise; a door opening, voices speaking low. Another hovered over him, face craggy and gray, toothless mouth drawn into an intent frown.

"How do ye feel, lad?" the old woman asked. She pulled back blankets to peer at his chest, ignoring the burst of protest from Dominic.

"Keep a civil tongue, witch! This is your king!"

Grimacing, the old woman glared at the interruption. "Nay. He's a lad and one that should count himself lucky to be breathing 't all."

Their squabbling made Liam's head ache and he raised his hand, shocked at how heavy it weiqhed. "Please, don't fight. It's all right, Dominic. She means no disrespect."

Dominic's eyes narrowed in warning at the witch before softening as he looked at the teenager. "Aye, Majesty. As you wish."

With much muttering, the woman examined her patient. Surprisingly, her touch was gentle, causing little pain as she removed bandages from Liam's chest.

In an attempt to distract him, Dominic leaned closer. "You're a very lucky young man, my liege. Had the Invader's blade been a finger span off, you'd be in the afterworld, as well."

"How long has--" Gasping at the sudden sharp pain in his chest, Liam ground his teeth. "How long has it been?"

Dominic left off glaring at the witch to answer. Face saddened, he said, "Four days, Majesty. Your guard, Sim, was knocked unconscious and left for dead. When he woke, he found you still breathing."

Try as he might, Liam couldn't remember the cause of his pain. There had been war, his family fleeing the Invader. Shaking his head, he admitted, "I don't recall."

"And doubtful ye would, lad," the witch stated with a grin. "Ye'd been spitted like a pig for feast. If'n your man hadn't found me, ye'd be feedin' the ravens now." Finished with her ministrations, she laid a clean cloth over the wound. "Ye need to drink this, lad."

A stinking cup was held to his lips and he recoiled.

"Drink it, Majesty," Dominic urged. "Your kingdom needs you whole and hale." Watching the young man obey, Dominic smiled. "When you're well, we'll begin the task of returning you to your riqhtful place."

Prince Liam Dulce Caesar Alfric, heir to the Dulce throne, drifted off to sleep as Dominic held his hand.

Waking was a slow process, muscles languid from sleep. The urge to stretch too much for her, Katerin followed her body's instruction. Sighing, she luxuriated in the feel before cracking open dark eyes. Vague light filtered through the cracked shutter, reminding her where she was, what had happened. Dread filled her heart and she searched for the cause.

Ros was no where to be seen, the blankets on that side of the bed tossed to one side, a hollow on the pillow where she'd laid her head. Sounds from outside were heard - quiet movements of camp just awaking, low voices as people talked quietly while others slept.

Rising from bed, the brunette breathed a sigh of relief. You're being a ninny! Ros hasn't hurt you in any way. Katerin shook her head, moving to the shutters and peeking through the crack. She could see the circus owner by the fire, talking with some of her troupe, reaching out to tousle Wilm's head. It presented a very familial picture and a smile crossed the small woman's face as she watched. Cad or no, she has a wonderful way with her people.

Reminded of the owner's less than proper remarks and looks, Katerin stepped away from the window. "Time to get dressed," she murmured, "before Ros comes looking." She opened her cupboard and pulled out the borrowed clothing. In minutes, she was dressed, tucking the blouse into her skirt. The brunette looked back inside and removed her shoes and the sack.

Settling on the bed, she rummaged among her meager belongings and removed a brush. After several minutes, her hair appeared somewhat normal. She pulled it back, tying it into a knot before returning the brush to the sack. Katerin paused, fingers finding her doll within and caressing the flaxen hair. It had been silly, grabbing Isabella the night of the attack. Should have grabbed food. Or another weapon. Shaking her head, the brunette pushed away the need to cry, thumb running along a porcelain cheek. "Now's not the time," she said, clearing her throat against the knot.

Briskly, she closed the sack and returned it to the cupboard. Sniffing and blinking against stinging tears, Katerin slipped on her shoes and purposefully made her way to the door.

Sunlight had yet to make its way into the clearing, only the tops of the surrounding trees aglow. That hadn't stopped a good number of the performers from waking, however, and the clearing was abuzz with activity. A handful was around the fire, drinking tea and watching one of the men stirring something in a pot. Others were at their wagons, doing any number of odds and ends chores.

As Katerin made her way to Ilia's wagon, she received several calls of greeting. She smiled and waved in return, heart warmed by the honest welcome. Upon her arrival, she found her handmaiden throwing two balls in the air and concentrating on Gemma who was juggling three.

"Good morning, Ilia."

The blonde, startled, caught one ball but dropped the other as she whirled to curtsey. "Morning, Lady," she murmured, looking at the ground in deference.

Horrified, Katerin rushed forward. "Nay, nay, Ilia!" she said, grabbing the taller woman by the shoulders, forcing the bowed head to look at her. "You mustn't curtsey any longer or we'll never survive the coming weeks." She looked at Gemma, finding hazel eyes watching curiously.

"Of course, Katerin," Ilia responded, chagrined. She almost curtseyed once more but stopped herself. "I'm sorry, Lady!" she exclaimed, blushing.

Pulling the handmaiden into her arms, Katerin held her close. "Nay. You've no need to apologize. I surprised you." Feeling the need to gloss over the incident, she released Ilia and stepped back. "And what are you doing this fine morning?"

"Learning to juggle, though I fear I'm making a mess of things," the blonde said, ducking her head, face tinting.

Gemma shook her head vigorously, giving them a thumbs up signal. She held the three balls she'd been tossing about in one hand with a fair amount of ease as she stooped to pick up the one Ilia dropped. Tossing it to the woman, she again began juggling, nodding at the blonde to resume.

Katerin stepped back. "I believe Gemma thinks you're doing a fine job, Ilia," she soothed. "I'll go see about breakfast while you continue your lesson."

"Aye, lady," the handmaiden responded, already distracted as her eyes concentrated on the clown's movements. Her hands twitched in mirrored reaction before she began tossing her two balls back and forth.

Attention diverted from her, the brunette eased away lest she disturb the lesson once more. Looking about the clearing, she found there was really nowhere else to go but the fire. With a resigned sigh, Katerin approached the central gathering place of the circus, hoping the others would keep Ros distracted and deter further discourteous remarks.

"Good morning, Lady," the owner welcomed in smooth tones.

Perhaps it was only imagined, but Katerin thought she detected a note of mocking humor. Raising her chin in cool defiance, she said, "Good morning, Ros." Smiling at the others, she greeted them with a bit more warmth. That they appeared amused didn't faze her, aside from a slight blush.

The man who'd been stirring the pot waved a wooden spoon at her. "Would you like some breakfast, Katerin?"

"Very much, thank you…" She tried to recall the dark young man's name to no avail. Her eyes reflected her embarrassment as she stammered.

"Amar," he supplied with a chuckle. He scooped porridge into a bowl and handed it to her.

Accepting it, Katerin gave a small curtsey. "Thank you, Amar," she grinned.

"Eat well this morning, Katerin. We've a busy day ahead," Ros interrupted. To the others gathered, she asked, "Who has the midday meal today?"

"T'would be Gemma, if I don't miss my guess," Lucinda announced, looking up from a shirt she was mending.

Calling to the juggling woman, Ros said, "Remember, Gemma. We work today - make the meal light and easy to carry."

Gemma nodded, eyes never leaving the balls she juggled in her hands. Eyes begging the question, Katerin looked about the fire.

"We'll be eating afoot today," a woman with skin as dark as night explained. "Once breakfast is complete and we're preparing for our pageant, Gemma will fix our midday meal."

"Aye," a blond man agreed with a wink. "And we'll pack it with and eat when hungry until the show's over and our guests go back to their homes." He leaned forward with a ready smile. "Be sure to get plenty. It'll be a long day."

Ros interjected, "Of course, Cristof eats like he's never had enough. Which is why we make him last in line for meals." As everyone laughed, including the blond, she added, "Else there'd be nothing left for the rest of us."

Unable to help but laugh with the others, Katerin watched as the blond patted his belly, his skinny form contrasting the gluttonous look on his face.

Clapping her hands together, the owner gained the attention of her troupe. "Time to prepare!" she called, her voice reaching all in the clearing. "We leave at midday for the township of Hodsin down the road. Gemma, the fire's yours. Ilia, you'll need to stick close to Minkhat and Sameer for the remainder of the morning. Lucinda and Katerin, I need to speak with you at my wagon when you've finished eating." Rising from her stool, Ros smiled at her troupe. "Today we give our guests the best show ever!"

There was a rousing cheer as the clearing became industrious. Ros, her manner that of a proud and indulgent parent, watched over them a moment before striding to her wagon. Caught up in the excitement, the dark princess watched her go, mind puzzling over what motivated the owner.

Chapter 4

Katerin scratched her scalp, wishing it didn't itch so much. Her waist length hair had been cut, now only reaching her shoulders. With its sheer weight no longer hanging, the gentle breezes made it move, tickling relentlessly. Her nose also itched, but she refused to touch it, not wanting to smear the makeup so diligently applied by Lucinda. Turning in her seat, she looked behind her at the remainder of the troupe.

Four wagons trailed Ros', each with an assortment of colorfully dressed people. A vague grumble could be heard from the next cage, the circus' only tiger pacing about in reaction to the excitement. Cristof was the driver of that particular wagon, the cat being his. Each of the horses had been decorated with feathered headdresses, their manes neatly combed and braided. A handful of people were still at the encampment, finishing last minute preparations for the show. Ilia was there, lending a hand with final costume stitching and practicing the lute for her first performance.

Despite the princess' circumstances, anticipation filled her and she was hard put to not fidget in her seat. Beside her, Ros clucked at the horses and held the reins. Occasionally, she'd glance at her charge, lip curled in humor at the barely contained entrancement.

Breaking through the trees, a small valley of farmland opened before them. Homesteads sprinkled the green patchwork, small dark knots in the distance. The road stretched out before them, bearing directly toward a larger cluster of buildings.

Ros pulled up her steeds, tying their reins about the brake. "Come, Katerin," she said before disappearing over the side of the wagon.

Gulping, the brunette obeyed, stopping long enough to peer down the suddenly very tall traveling abode. She saw the circus owner looking up, impatience flashing, and Katerin lifted her chin in response. With ginger steps, she eased over the side, feet finding the rungs that would carry her back to the ground. By the time she planted herself firmly on the dusty road, everyone else had gathered around Ros at the back of her wagon. The princess drifted closer.

"Hodsin is up ahead," the blonde was saying. "Daiki, release the dogs and have Minkhat help with the hoops. Martim, Tommaso, Cristof, Willem and Katerin will drive the wagons. Sameer and Abdullah, post the flyers and make it fun. Gemma, Minkhat, Usiku and Sati, do some tumbles and the like. Wilm will stay with the monkey. Have I forgotten anyone?"

The gathering looked at each other, a general murmur of dissent rising.

With a nod, Ros continued, "Fantastic. Hodsin was a godsend last season when we came through. Rumor has it they've done twice as well with their crops this year. Make it good and we'll have food for our table for a fortnight." With a final scan of her people, the blonde grinned rakishly. "Let's have at it, then." They parted with excited babble, each bent to their task.

Chewing her lower lip, Katerin edged closer to the owner. "I've not driven a wagon before," she murmured, blushing at her inability.

"No matter, Katerin," the blonde answered in a distracted tone as she pulled on soft black leather gloves. "Just hold the reins and keep them from being tangled. You'll not need any experience for it, the horses have been well trained." When the smaller woman still hesitated, Ros' eyes fixed upon her. Her voice warmed and she grinned slightly. "No worries, lass. I'll be holding their bridles down below. These big lummoxes don't spook easily."

Coloring further at Ros' attempt to ease her mind, the brunette ducked her head. "Aye. No worries." Swallowing hard, she turned without another word and climbed the rungs up the wagon. Katerin untied the reins, staring at the mess of leather in her hands for a moment.

To give the woman a bit more time to collect herself, Ros made a final check of the wagons and people, stopping here and there as needed to adjust costume or placement. Once all was well, she returned, looking up to see that Katerin had finally figured out which rein went where. "Ready?" she asked softly as she took the lead horse's bridle.

Katerin inhaled deeply, bolstering her courage as she nodded.

Ros craned her neck to look down the procession. "Let's go!" she called, tugging on the steed to get him started.

All in all, driving the wagon wasn't as difficult as Katerin thought. True to Ros' word, the mounts appeared to be steady and properly trained. All the brunette did was hold the straps of leather in loose hands as the circus owner lead the team.

About them, Hodsin woke up to the new arrivals as the wagons passed the first low buildings. Children called in excitement and ran towards the center of the township, announcing their visitors as a pair of wandering geese honked in displeasure at nearly being trampled. The adult inhabitants left their abodes and businesses to trail along with the circus, grinning in welcome at the pleasant interruption in their day, and a fine procession arrived at the town square. Once there, people stood aside as the troupe circled about a time or two, showing off the richly painted wagons and themselves before stopping.

"Township of Hodsin!" Ros called, her voice ringing through the square. She raised her arms and stepped forward, all eyes upon her welcome smile. "Let it be known that tonight - tonight! - a performance beyond your wildest imaginations shall occur not two leagues east of this spot!" The blonde stamped her boot to punctuate her sentence. "You are all invited to join us, to witness spectacular acts that will tease your fancy and boggle your mind!" Turning to the wagons, the blonde waved her people forward.

Katerin blinked from her reverie, chagrined that she'd been so openly staring at Ros' presentation; the energy fairly crackled about the circus owner. Glancing around, she could see the others climb from the wagons, moving toward the blonde and, scrambling, she followed suit. Unsure of what to do, however, the brunette opted to stand at the head of the team, gently holding a bridle as she watched.

"Witness just a sampling of what we have to offer," Ros finished, bowing elegantly and stepping back.

Daiki and Minkhat surged forward, four small dogs yapping at their heels. The swarthy clown held two medium sized hoops in his hand. At the dog trainer's instruction, the animals began an intricate pattern of leaping through them. In response, the people clapped, laughing when one dog appeared to take a liking to Minkhat, jumping up to bounce off his chest and through a hoop.

While this was occurring, the others were not idle and neither was the audience. Some of the people had drifted towards Cristof and he was regaling them with horrific tales of how many men his tiger had killed. At one point, he rapped the cage with a cane and the cat snarled and growled in response, scaring the living daylights out of the youngsters. Wilm was wandering about the crowd, the monkey on his shoulder, answering questions about the animal and allowing children to pet it. The boy's mother, Sati, was being chased about the crowd by Gemma, their behavior ludicrous in the extreme as they ran circles about people and generally caused havoc. Usiku, his midnight skin sporting a patchwork of colorful paint, closely studied an old man's clothing, half undressing the fellow in his inspection.

Once the dogs finished their exhibition, Daiki called them back, tossing them each a treat before taking the hoops from his assistant. Free from aiding the trainer, Minkhat leapt into the air with a whoop, doing a backflip before joining the chase of Sati and Gemma. Taking their cue, Tommaso and Martim stalked forward and glanced confidently about the clearing. After a moment of sizing the crowd up, they looked at each other, nodded and began their act.
Tommaso squatted down, holding very still as Martim placed a huge hand on his head. In seconds, the audience gasped as the second man levered his body up until he was standing, one handed, all his weight on his partner's head.

Katerin watched in awe, as she'd done at rehearsal the day before, while the two men practiced what they referred to as 'hand to hand.' Movement from the corner of her eye drew her away from the act, and she spotted Sameer and Abdullah handing out flyers. She couldn't help but giggle at them, one tiny and the other massive, as they played off their size to do their task. Abdullah would squat down for the dwarf to clamber up the muscled body, bringing him eye to eye with an average sized woman that he flirted with, handing her one of the many flyers he carried. At another point, he circled a man who appeared to be the tallest one in the audience, his craggy face screwed into a scowl of consternation. Tugging on Abdullah's pant leg, he made some comment and, in response, the large performer picked Sameer up by the back of his shirt and dangled him before the tall man's face.

"What do you do?"

Surprised at being approached, Katerin looked down to a girl of about eight. "Me?" Her mind raced as she tried to come up with an answer, dark eyes casting about as she searched her thoughts.

"This is my assistant, Kat," Ros responded as she stepped near and knelt down.

The girl giggled, glancing back at two of her friends who were edging closer. Pointing up at the brunette, she said, "She's not a cat! And what does she assist with?"

Relieved at the interruption, Katerin was nonetheless wary of the circus owner's response. After the last day of innuendo, there was simply too much that could be said to answer that question.

Also picking up the potential, Ros looked up at the princess and winked, her grin impish. "Well," and she returned her attention to the girl. "Kat is her name. And she helps me with my magic."

"You're magic?" the girl asked, eyes wide, all thought of Katerin gone. Her friends, interest peaked, pushed closer.

"Aye," the blonde nodded solemnly. "Let me show you."

Biting back a sigh of relief, the princess watched Ros entertain the trio with sleight of hand for a few moments, rolling a coin along the backs of her fingers, making it disappear and reappear once more. Despite a desire to keep away from the blonde, Katerin found herself intrigued by the conversation, a small smile forming as she watched Ros teach the girls a simple trick. How can she be so sweet and so vulgar at the same time?

When each of the children had mastered the act of a disappearing coin, Ros appeared to pull a piece of hard candy from each one's ear and present it to them, smiling and commending their magical abilities. As they scampered off to their parents, she rose, winked once more at Katerin and returned to the center of the square. Tommaso and Martim finished their act, waving at the scattered applause as they backed away.

"Township of Hodsin! You've seen but an insignificant offering here. Tonight, you will witness such wonders that only the courts of kings and emperors have seen." Ros turned in place, eyes raking everyone present with a mixture of mystery and glee. "You will be able to see aerial feats of daring, magic, juggling and much, much more!"

"Do ye still breath fire, lass?" a woman called from the audience.

The blonde turned and bowed, a grin on her face. "Aye, I do. I've yet to lose an eyebrow from it."

Laughing, another spoke. "And do you still have dancers?" He wiggled his eyebrows, a friend guffawing and thumping him on the back.

"Aye!" Ros answered. "Lucinda and Habibah are preparing for your… entertainment, even as we speak." She smiled at the murmur of anticipation. Bringing things to a close, she bowed with an elegant flourish and stepped back, her troupe taking her cue and boarding their transportation. "Join us
tonight, good folk of Hodsin. We will be awaiting you."

Katerin found herself being hustled up the wagon, the blonde in close pursuit. Settling in their seat, Ros grabbed up the reins, quickly untangling them. As the horses began the trek back through town, she murmured through smiling lips, "Smile! Wave at them, Katerin."

Doing as ordered, the princess watched as the people drifted along with them, children running in excitement until they reached the edge of town. From there, they continued on unescorted. Once around a bend in the road and out of sight, the princess dropped her arm and faced forward again.

"That went well," Ros said. "I expect we'll get quite the turnout tonight."

Heartened by the attempt at conversation, Katerin asked, "Is it like that in every town?"

The blonde head shook in the negative. "No. Not always. During good years, we receive good bounty. In bad… Well, suffice it to say, when the crops suffer, so do we. People are less willing to be kind-hearted." After a thoughtful pause, she said, "It's been a good year so far, and we've only just begun the season. Any extra foodstuffs we'll receive will go into the stores for the winter."

Conversation halted for a few moments, the only sound the steady clop clop of hooves in the road. "What happens now?" Katerin asked.

"Now? We return to camp, prepare to greet our guests and put on the best show ever."

Tending the firepits was a filthy job. Katerin, a smudge of dark ash decorating her right cheek, added more kindling to the iron brazier. As the flame caught, she adjusted the mirror, directing the light towards the makeshift stage. She kept low, moving to the next pot to repeat her actions. Nearly a dozen braziers circled the center of the tent, providing illumination for the performers. It had fallen on Katerin and Ilia, the least skilled of the troupe, to keep them blazing. Currently, the dark young woman was alone in her task, as her handmaiden was needed to play the lute for an upcoming act.

Around her, the crowd burst into laughter. Glancing at the cleared center, she saw Usiku pulling what appeared to be a long string of colorful cloth from his breeches. That the material turned out to be several pairs of smallclothes tied together only made the audience laugh harder. An exaggerated look of embarrassment when he finally peeked into his breeches forced a chuckle from Katerin; she shook her head at his antics, stoking the small fire before her.

Scattered around the edges of the audience were torches to light the way for those wishing to come and go, though not many utilized the opportunity. It appeared that the entire population of the valley was present, flickering torchlight reflecting no less than fifty people enjoying the show. This was the troupe's third performance in as many days, the word of their presence spreading like wildfire through the small community. Ros had been correct in her assessment of their bounty; the cook wagon now held several additional pounds of wheat and corn, three salted hams, two dozen eggs and an assortment of drying herbs. There had been promises of two casks of beer and a handful of roasting hens should the troupe decide to stay for another day.

Katerin scooted to the next brazier, wiping sweat from her forehead, smearing even more ash on her delicate features. Around her, the audience roared and clapped as Gemma pulled Usiku's breeches down to his ankles, revealing a monstrous fig leaf guarding his privates. Grabbing up his drawers, the man gave chase, his buttocks flashing in the torchlight as he stumbled his way after his companion. Once they were both out of sight, Ros entered the center, a barely suppressed expression of somber excitement upon her face. Instinctively, the people hushed, some even leaning forward in eager anticipation. Katerin found she was mesmerized once again, an unsettling habit she'd developed over the last three days when watching the blonde woman.

"In the deepest, darkest jungles of Mohsir lurks a beast so vicious, so
horrible that the natives of the region liken it to a demon," she said, her rough voice pitched low. As Ros spoke, music began to build from somewhere behind her. "Many have seen it; few have survived to tell their woeful tale. One man - a great and noble hunter - braved the depths of that jungle, searching for the Mohsir Demon."

When the blonde looked pointedly at Katerin, an embarrassed flush crossed the princess' face as she realized she'd missed her cue. Thanking the gods for the darkness, she hastily adjusted the mirror before her until the light washed across Cristof waiting to one side.

Satisfied that things were back on schedule, the circus owner continued weaving her story, circling around and making eye contact with her audience. Behind her, Cristof acted out the tale. "Upon finding the beast's lair, he gathered his weapons. His goal was to capture this horrible animal and so he built a cage of bamboo and vines."

A bizarre wooden contraption trundled out, pushed by Minkhat and Willem. It was actually made of elm and rope, created from leftover branches once the tent poles had been stripped, but in the flickering lights it looked rustic enough for their purpose. They then rolled out two barrels, placing them in the center near the flimsy cage before disappearing into the dark.

"Armed only with a whip and a stave, the great hunter prepared to lure the beast into the open. What follows is a re-enactment of that fateful battle," Ros finished, moving out of the central area.

Cristof pulled the whip from his belt and let it fly, the sharp crack causing the audience to gasp. In the darkness behind the stage, a low growl could be heard, followed by a woman squeaking in fear from among the spectators. Katerin, her attention no longer diverted by the circus owner's presence, bent to her task. She had seen the 'Mohsir Demon' lying on her back, receiving a tummy rub by young Wilm, so the act was less than astounding. Ilia soon reappeared and the pair of them fell back into the mindless drudgery. So lost in her thoughts, Katerin didn't notice the new arrivals.

Ros, however, did.

From her vantage point, the owner saw three men slip through the main entrance and begin scanning the crowd. While they weren't causing a disturbance, Ros had no doubt who they were looking for. Catching Abdullah and Willem's eyes, she nodded towards the entry. The three troupe members converged on the obvious soldiers.

"I'm glad you could join us," Ros said, her voice nearly a whisper so as not to disturb the nearest villagers. "Perhaps you and your men would like to sit? The show is not quite half finished."

The apparent leader looked her up and down. "No," he responded. "We'll stand." With a glance and a nod at his comrades, he sent them to look through the audience.

With great skill, Ros refrained from scowling at the unwelcome visitor. "I'm the owner of this circus. Is there something I can help you with?"

Eyes narrowing as the soldier's interest piqued, he asked, "How long have you been in this area?"

His tone brooked no argument and Ros was hard put not to respond in kind. "I'm not at liberty to answer your questions right now. As I said, we're halfway through our performance." She gestured behind her to the stage where Cristof had his tiger balancing precariously upon one of the barrels. "This act is nearly over and I must introduce the next."

"You'll answer what questions I put to you when I ask them," the soldier growled taking a half-step forward.

Holding up her hand to forestall her companions looming forward, Ros' eyes raked over the man before her, her face stern. "Do not forget yourself, captain. I doubt the queen of Dellenri would appreciate hearing of the Invader's soldiers rousting citizens within her borders." Before he could respond, the blonde continued smoothly, "I will be most happy to answer any questions you have once this performance is over. Feel free to post your men as guards; once our guests have left, we will speak."

Studying her closely, searching for any subterfuge, the captain nodded stiffly. With a jerk of his head he recalled his men and the trio stepped outside.

Turning away, Ros sighed in frustration. The question is, did they track us? Or stumble upon us during a sweep? She gauged how far along Cristof was in his act, not surprised to find that the ending had long since passed and he was improvising. The crowd appeared to be getting restless, instinctively knowing something had changed.

"Now what, Ros?" Willem asked.

The blonde sighed again and adjusted her sleeve. "Let's get this finished. We've got a far more important performance tonight. Inform the others." She barely heard their responses as she strode toward the stage to introduce the next act.

All too soon the performances were over. Standing center stage, Ros looked out over the audience, catching the telltale glint of torchlight on chainmail, and gave her closing speech. A welcome cheer met her invitation for all to return the next afternoon for one final show. Bounding forward to accept their accolades, entertainers bowed and waved before dashing out of sight into the darkness. Katerin and Ilia lit torches around the stage before capping the braziers, giving better illumination for their guests to leave. About them, the hubbub of a satisfied crowd rose and fell.

Normally, after all had left, their next chore would be to put out the torches and make certain that the braziers were properly extinguished before going to bed. Samheer had come round earlier, however, to inform them of the unwanted guests and that there'd been a change of plan. Looking towards the main entrance, fear fluttered in Katerin's throat at the sight of three guardsmen.

"Katerin."

Flinching in surprise, the dark woman turned to find Sati, the remains of clown makeup smearing at the edges of the woman's face.

Reaching out, Sati laid a calming hand on Katerin's forearm. "I'm sorry I startled you," she said softly. "Ros sent me."

Katerin placed her hand over the older woman's. "It's all right. What did Ros need from Ilia and I?" she asked, smiling in reassurance at her handmaiden.

Sati nodded at the shy blonde before returning her gaze to Katerin. "We've been through similar situations as this. Ilia, you're to clean up and go to your wagon. The soldiers will want to know who sleeps where."

Swallowing heavily, Katerin's heart sank as she realized where this was heading. "I as well?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain steady.

Sati smiled in sympathy. Squeezing the smaller woman's arm, she said, "Aye. Though Ros says you're not to clean up prior." She reached up with her free hand to muss Katerin's recently shorn hair. "She says to act the simpleton and follow her lead."

Nodding, the princess raised her chin, giving the impression of a lamb being led to slaughter. A simpleton who warms the sapphist owner's bed.

A scowl crossed the Sati's face and she squeezed Katerin's arm again. "Stop that! Ros would never hurt or take advantage of you despite her tendencies."

Katerin ducked her head in shame. "Forgive me," she murmured. "You're absolutely correct."

Sati shook her head. "Let it go, Kat. We've no time to discuss it." Glancing around at the now empty tent, she released the dark woman's arm. "Come. Let's see how good an actor you are."

As she followed, Katerin mused that she was royalty - Acting is in my blood. Reaching out, she grasped Ilia's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as they stepped out into the evening. Certain the pair would follow orders, Sati left them at the entrance, joining her small family at their wagon.

"Milady...?" the nervous blonde whispered, eyes large as she spotted the guardsmen walking about the encampment with Ros.

"Do as Sati said, Ilia. All will be well. Remember, you and I joined the
troupe a month ago." With an encouraging nod, Katerin released the woman's hand. In sudden inspiration, she leaned over and whispered, "Pretend one of the guardsmen is young Malcolm."

Ilia blushed, dropping her gaze at the memory of a certain young smith apprentice who'd been sweet on her. "Aye, milady," she said. At Katerin's urging, Ilia grabbed up her skirt and left to join Gemma and Lucinda at their wagon.

The princess watched the handmaiden until she reached her destination. Scanning the encampment, she saw that Ros had almost completed a full circle and only had three more wagons to go before her own. "Best get on with it, then," Katerin said under her breath.

Aware of the soldiers' watchful eyes, she ducked her head and allowed her shoulders to slump. Her steps became a shuffle as she went to Ros' wagon. Once there, Katerin settled on the stool that the owner used to prop her feet. Her wait wasn't long.

"And here is my wagon," Ros said, leading the Invader's trio.

"Who's this?" the captain grunted, looking down at the woman seated on a low stool.

"Kat! Stand up and greet our guests!" the circus owner insisted, pushing past the guard and dragging the brunette to her feet.

Startled, Katerin jumped at the sudden strong grip on her arm. Biting her tongue at the immediate irritated response, she opted to keep her head down, masking an angry flush. "Good evening," she mumbled, giving an awkward curtsey.

Apparently satisfied, Ros released the younger woman's arm, rubbing it gently. "Aye, much better." Turning to the captain she grinned ruefully. "Please excuse her. She's not had much experience with proper etiquette."

The captain eyed the smaller woman in speculation. Ordering his men to search the wagon with a nod of his head, he returned his attention to Katerin. "How long have you been here?" he asked the filthy woman.

There was an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sounds of Ros' wagon being tossed. Finally, Katerin shrugged with one shoulder. "I don't know, sir. A long time."

"She's a bit simple," the blonde explained in an undertone, finger circling the air beside her ear. "I picked her up in Aimsbury at the same time as Elsa."

Ignoring the owner, the captain reached out and tilted Katerin's face up. "Here, girl. Let's have a look at you." His touch was not unkind as he turned her face this way and that, squinting at her ash covered features in the light of a nearby lantern.

Katerin's dark eyes were fearful as she met his. While her royal training insisted she keep his gaze, she knew better. Allowing her trepidation to show, she chewed her lip, attempting to stare at the ground during his inspection.

The two soldiers interrupted his inspection as they returned from their search. "Anything?" he asked.

"No, sir," one responded, scanning the blonde woman's length. "Only one bed. A few changes of clothing for this one, though nothing but a shift for the other."

Pursing his lips, the captain turned his attention to Ros, an eyebrow lifting in question.

With a wave at Katerin's dirty appearance, the owner said, "That's hardly surprising, is it? Her job is to take care of the braziers during performances. I'd be a fool to waste money on more for her. She'd soil it within minutes." She continued with an ingenious grin, "Besides, her other… attributes are what I keep her for and clothing isn't necessary."

It took a moment for the comment to sink in. While one soldier was able to keep a straight face, the other burst into a wicked guffaw before he could stifle himself.

The captain's eyes narrowed, his expression turning cold. His grasp on the small woman's chin tightened and he leaned forward to stare at her. "Is this true?" he grated. "Do you share this…woman's bed?"

His weathered face filled her vision and Katerin forced herself to look at him. Gods! Now what do I do? Realizing that the situation precluded Ros being able to help her, the brunette went with her gut instincts. A sweet smile crossed her lips, and she said, "Yes, sir. I keeps her warm at nights."

Releasing her and stepping backwards, the captain sneered at the blonde. "Sapphist bitch."

Ros' smile turned feral as she smoothly moved between the man and woman. "Aye, that I am. Not only a sapphist, but a bitch as well. You'd do well to remember that." Her tone was not quite a threat and she made no move to reach for the sword hanging from her hip.

After staring at her in disgust for another minute, the captain waved his soldiers off. "What we're looking for's not here," he pronounced. "Let's go." Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the camp.

There was a long pause as all watched them go. Just near the tent entrance, the three gathered large warhorses and mounted. With a final derisive glance backwards, the captain kicked his steed into a gallop. The thunder of hooves faded into the distance and silence reigned for a few moments.

Katerin, still standing behind Ros, stared at the blonde woman, relief washing over her. She watched the woman reach up to scratch at tousled blonde hair and rub the nape of her neck. A sudden desire washed over the dark woman, a yearning to ease the burden on those shoulders and her hands almost reached up before she caught herself. Staring down at the ground in mild confusion, she balled her hands into fists. Chuckling caught her attention and Katerin looked up as the circus owner turned.

"That," Ros insisted, "was priceless!" Without thought, she grabbed the smaller woman into a hug, spinning her around. "You've outdone yourself, Kat! You've missed your calling!" She set Katerin back onto her feet, chortling.

Flustered, half embarrassed and half pleased, the brunette allowed a small grin to cross her face. "Thank you." As the rest of the troupe approached, laughing and talking excitedly in relief, Katerin could still smell the circus owner's scent, feel the strong arms about her, and her skin tingled in response. What is this…? Before she could analyze the strangeness, Ilia approached and distracted her.

It was late, most of the troupe long ago having gone to their beds in exhaustion. Ros looked up from the small book she was updating, diverted from the last minute accounts by a noise. She was seated at the small table in her wagon, a hooded lantern illuminating her work. In the bed to her right, Katerin had fallen asleep and it was from there the sound came again. Puzzled, the blonde adjusted the lantern, allowing the light to sweep across the sleeping form.

The smaller woman moaned and tossed her head, her expression pained.

Another bad dream. Ros rose and settled on her side of the bed, reaching out to gently caress the dark bangs.

As Katerin struggled with the nightmare, barely coming to consciousness, she could feel fingers caress her forehead.

"Shhh. It's just a bad dream," a familiar voice murmured. "You're safe now."

Sighing, Katerin relaxed back into sleep.

Chapter 5

"Alms? Alms?"

"Out of my way, old man," the soldier growled, pushing the vagabond aside.

As the column continued to march past, the peasant shuffled backwards, arms cart wheeling in an attempt to remain on his feet. Other people, already crowded back to make room for the Invader's troops, tried to avoid the filthy man to no avail. Strident voices raised in complaint as the beggar fell, one hand to his chest and the other scrabbling at the people surrounding him. Butt firmly thumping on the ground, he began coughing, leaning forward in obvious pain. Not wanting to contract whatever ailment the old man had, people cleared the immediate area.

Soon the soldiers were past and normal activity resumed in the marketplace. Despite the usurping of the Dulce throne, the once great capitol thrived under their new ruler. Such was the case wherever the Invader took control - he was a threat only to royalty. Wartime monies kept his economics flourishing.

Finally finished with his coughing spasm, the beggar struggled to his feet. He held his chest and limped along, occasionally asking for coin from passersby in his travels. Ducking into an alley, he splashed through puddles left from the late fall rain. It'll snow soon. Make things more difficult. At a door, he paused and rapped softly.

A long silence followed before a peephole opened and someone peered out at him. "Who wields the axe?"

"Liam." The vagabond pulled his hood back, just enough for the autumn sun to illuminate his features.

With a muffled curse, the peephole slammed shut and the door flew open. A tall man, dark of hair and wearing a stylish mustache, stepped into the alley to usher his guest inside. After a quick glance to see if they were being watched, he stepped back in and bolted the heavy wooden door. He then turned to glare at the man before him.

"Thanks for the welcome, Dominic," the beggar said with a smile, pulling the grimy robe from his body. His clothing was homespun, but clean, his face reflecting his true age, barely a man. Black eyes sparkled at the aide's discomfiture.

Dominic's nose wrinkled. "Your Royal Majesty," he intoned. "You shouldn't be out in the streets like this. You're putting yourself in danger." With thumb and forefinger, he took the proffered robe and dropped it on the floor by the entrance.

"Aye, Dominic," the 'old' man agreed. Another coughing spasm came over him and he bent double, holding his chest with one hand. His hair, dark as midnight, shone blue-black in the nearby firelight.

Galvanized, the aide helped his guest to sit before the fire, rummaging for a cup of water to ease his prince's throat. When the teenager had regained his breath and had a drink, he said, "And that's another reason. You're lungs aren't strong enough. You should be abed until you're completely healed from your wound."

"Aye. I suppose it's true, Dom. But I've about had it with being bedridden while you gather my army for me. If I'm to be king, I need to begin acting as one." Liam inhaled shakily, relieved when the coughing didn't resume. He idly rubbed his chest, the now familiar feel of scar tissue beneath his fingers. It had been a month before Liam could sit up on his own, another before he was able to stand. Three more had passed and he had escaped the rustic prison to return to his city.

The aide refilled his liege's cup before sitting down beside him. Twirling his mustaches in agitation, he asked, "What of your guard? You shouldn't be alone! The people might not enjoy the Invader's rule, but your only protection is that you're believed dead. Some of your fine people would be happy to turn you in for a reward." I've got to make the royal bratling see reason! Last thing I need is for him to be discovered…and I.

"Aye, Dominic. I'm aware of that," Liam said, rolling his eyes. "Sim should have already found my note and be hot on my trail. He'll be here within the hour, I'm certain." He glanced sidelong at the aide. "When's the last time you were bedridden for months, eh? I'm sick to death of lazing about!"

Inhaling deeply, the older man reigned in his anger. "I understand, Your Royal Majesty. I was fourteen myself once." A grim smile crossed his face at the prince's expression. "Aye, believe it or no, I was. Sometimes it's easy to forget what a young man sees."

Liam gave a grudging nod and the pair was silent for a few moments. "What of the resistance?" he finally asked, his voice soft.

It would be better to have him here where I can watch him. What's the saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Warming to his subject, Dominic answered, "We've had a few losses, but all is going as planned."

Tapping his finger against an ornately carved armrest, the Invader listened to yet another of many boring reports requiring his attention. It was the only indication of restlessness, his demeanor appearing to be grossly attentive to the aide delivering a monologue about the number of geese in the new province of Dulce.

Things had gone well through the summer; despite the necessary destruction of war and siege, the Invader's coffers overflowed with the wealth of his newest acquisition. Now if those idiots could pull their heads from their arses and bring me the final heir... The tempo of the tapping finger sped up with the onset of his irritation. It had been five months since that night. Five months that he had waited to view the head of a young princess known as Sabine. In that time, seven of his personal guard had been put to death for their failure and two more awaited execution in the dungeons. At this point, he was sure he wasn't receiving further reports because his men valued their skins. Can't say as I blame them.

As the aide prattled on, graduating from fowl to flora with his accounting of wheat, the Invader's eyes drifted across the audience chamber. Several scribes sat at a table nearby, prepared to pounce on his every word so that history would not be bereft of his wisdom. Courtiers and courtesans from all over his kingdom watched the proceedings, whispering to one another and plotting their games of intrigue. The Royal Guard were positioned at all entrances, the best bowmen of his realm circling the balcony above, ever vigilant to the smallest threat to his person. A few dozen of those seeking audience huddled nearby. All in all, very pretentious and very boring.

"Enough!" he ordered. Deafening silence filled the room. Waving at the aide, the Invader said, "To boil it down, We are rich."

Sputtering at the interruption, the aide bowed low. "Aye, your Royal Majesty."

With a satisfied nod, the Invader waved at the table of scribes. "Good. Give the list to Our scribes so it might be entered in the records."

The murmuring of the spectators resumed as the aide obeyed. Behind the throne a door opened quietly, an old woman shuffling forward to whisper in the Invader's ear. Again, the lords and ladies paused as they watched the witch, only to begin anew as they saw their monarch's eyes narrow in anger.

"Leave Us!" the Invader barked, rising to his feet and waving at those gathered. A nod at his captain and the Royal Guard stepped forward to urge the people to greater haste. Soon the only occupants of the huge room were a handful of the most loyal of the Invader's guard, the old woman and the king himself. Another gesture from the ruler, and a chair was brought forth for the woman, her aged form settling with a sigh below the dais. "Bring them in," the Invader ordered, indicating the door that the witch had entered.

Two of his guard hustled over to throw it open, revealing the king's private audience chamber. Three men, travel worn and wearing the
Invader's colors, entered. Stopping before the dais, each knelt on one knee, heads bowed.

"Your Royal Highness," their leader said. "We have word of the Dulce heir."

The Invader sat on his throne, eyeing his men with skepticism. "Your information had better be valid or you'll join your fellow failures," he growled, stroking his beard.

Gulping, the leader nodded. "Aye, my liege. We think it is."

Finger tapping once more, the Invader leaned back. "Rise. Be seated."

As his men did so, the king called for refreshments. After they were served, a slave leaving behind a platter of meats and cheeses, the Invader watched the trio wolf down their food. Remembering his campaigning youth, he hid a grim smile while sipping his wine. Many a time he'd returned from the field, famished for food, drink, and human contact. He idly wondered if these would find the third item or end up in the dungeons instead.

When they were finished, the Invader set his wine goblet on the table beside him. "What news have you?"

The leader bowed his head deferentially. "Sire, in the new province of Dulce there is unrest. It is rumored that an heir to their throne has survived and is gathering the people to revolt."

Eyes narrowing, the Invader scoffed, "There is always unrest when I've taken a neighboring kingdom. And always it is said that an unknown heir is responsible. What makes this a viable threat?"

The soldier reached into his tunic, pulling out a wad of cloth. "This, Your Royal Highness." He stood and unfurled the material, revealing the standard of Prince Liam Dulce Caesar Alfric.

Stunned, the Invader stared at the stylized battleaxe, a coiling green dragon running along its handle. "Where did you find this?" he growled, rising to his feet. In moments he was down the steps, ripping the battle standard from his man's hand.

"We tracked down a small cell meeting in a village near their old capital. They knew no one else in their resistance, though this was in their possession."

The Invader crumpled the cloth in his fist. A movement, the soldier slightly flinching away, caught his eye. His voice a dangerous rumble, he said, "You didn't bring me the head I asked for."

Doing his best not to tremble, the guard said, "No, my liege. We...I thought this more important to bring to your attention." He straightened his stance, swallowing heavily in fear. "I beg you not to take punishment on my men. It was my order to return; they were obeying their senior officer."

After a long silence, the monarch asked, "What's your name?"

Startled, the soldier's facade cracked a little and he answered shakily, "Corporal Edel Grimnirson, Sire. "

Stepping up to the throne, standard crushed in his grip, the Invader said, "Edel, you made the right decision." As he sat down, he found the obvious relief of the men amusing. "I want a full written account from all three of you - see my scribes. Then you will be off duty for three days. I'll see that you each receive extra compensation in your pay."

Edel, looking from his men to his king, bowed deeply. "Thank you, Sire!"

"Dismissed." As the men rose to leave, the Invader leaned forward. "And, Edel?"

The soldier turned back, his face a reflection of worry and happiness.

"When you return to duty, report to the captain of my personal guard...Lieutenant."

It took a moment for the promotion to sink in, but when it did, a smile crossed Edel's face. "Aye, Your Royal Highness! Thank you!"

Quiet reigned in the audience chamber after the travelers had left. Face grim, the Invader stared at nothing, eyes restlessly searching as his thoughts spun about like a child's top. His gaze finally settled on the old woman. "Attend Us," he commanded, turning toward the door behind his throne.

This room was smaller, a private audience chamber with crackling fireplace and comfortable chairs. Leaving the door open for the witch, the Invader removed his chain of office, laying it on a nearby table before pulling on a thick rope. Immediately, a servant appeared, pouring the king his favorite wine and setting food within easy reach.

The witch finally hobbled into the room, a guardsman closing the door behind her. Without preamble, she shuffled to a stool near the fire. Another goblet of wine was set beside her and the slave left the room.

Getting right to the point, the Invader held up the banner still in his fist. "What does this mean, Beltrana? I ran Prince Liam through myself. How can he be a threat to me?"

The old woman reached for the standard, clutching it to her chest. Rheumy eyes closed and she rocked in her chair, muttering.

With vague disgust, the Invader looked away, sipping his wine. As everyone else, he found witches and their ilk disturbing. He couldn't deny their powers, however, not since the first one he'd visited so many years ago. After he'd ascended his throne, he'd never been without one as an advisor.

Beltrana fumbled for a pouch at her waist, tossing a handful of stones onto a low table that had arcane designs carved into its surface. Her voice, low pitched and whispery, rubbed not unpleasantly against the Invader's ears. "This is no threat to you and yours, only a means to an end."

"A means to an end?" he repeated, sitting across from her and leaning forward. "It's impossible. Liam is dead, his entire family slaughtered by my hand. The only one left is his sister."

At the mention of the princess, Beltrana began rocking again. "Your death is nigh, the girl is coming. She will be your downfall."

Angered, the Invader abruptly rose, putting distance between them. "I don't know why I listen to you, old woman," he growled, back turned.

"Because I've never lied to you."

With an exasperated sigh, the king finished his wine, thumping the goblet on the table. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, "Is there a chance I'll survive?"

The old woman nodded, showing rotten teeth as she grinned. "There is always that. Always that." Her eyes became sharp as she focused on the man before her. "Do not allow yourself to be fooled and you will succeed."

Wanting to be alone with his troubled thoughts, the monarch said, "Leave me."

Looking over her shoulder, Katerin allowed her gaze to sweep across the five remaining wagons. With a sigh, she returned her attention to the road, pulling her shawl close against the autumn chill. Ros was driving the wagon, a light cape draped across her shoulders, her curly blonde hair ruffled by a passing breeze.

From what Katerin could gather, not having access to a proper calendar, it had been nearly five months since she and her servant had stumbled upon the circus. Five very educational months, she mused, a slight smile curling her lips. In that time she had gone from a frightened renegade princess to one of the many entertainers of this wandering troupe. True to everyone's word, she had found that Ros' bark was worse than her bite and the pair had developed a comfortable camaraderie during their proximity.

With winter coming on, the circus was disbanding for the season. Half the performers were already gone, drifting off toward their homesteads and families with heartfelt farewells and plans to meet come spring. These last wagons were now rolling toward what all called the Compound.

"There it is," Ros said, a smile on her face.

Eagerly, Katerin studied the nearing buildings. She heard shouts behind her as the others caught sight of home.

The road paralleled a stream, a small but wide bridge spanning it and ending before a large one-story dwelling. Smoke belched from the chimney and the dark woman found herself shivering at the promise of warmth. To the left was a barn of nearly the same size with a fenced area beside it. Chickens scratched the dirt here and there and a few cows and horses were in the pasture beyond.

Ros clucked at her steeds, guiding them across the bridge and into the
dooryard. She circled about to allow the others room before coming to a halt. Grinning at the brunette beside her, she said, "Welcome home, Kat. Let me introduce you to the rest of the family."

By the time Katerin had climbed from the wagon, most of the others had, as well, and a loud commotion was heard as people greeted one another. Ilia, who had opted to remain with the princess when Gemma and Lucinda had parted company, stepped from the back of Ros' wagon, standing as awkward witness. Wrapping a companionable arm around her handmaiden's waist, Katerin joined her.

Boasting four new faces, the small crowd was exuberantly hugging each other in welcome. Cristof had an older version of himself in a headlock, the pair rough housing in excitement. An elder man listened intently to young Wills as he prattled on about the season's adventures, Willem and Sati making the occasional comment in translation. Katerin found herself flushing when she noticed the dwarf, Sameer, heatedly kissing a young redhead who had knelt down before him. Looking prudently away, she saw Ros walking toward her, an old woman on her arm.

"Here now, scamp," the woman exclaimed as they neared. "These old ears are far beyond hearing language like that!"

A surprised grin lit the brunette's face at Ros' blush. I never thought I'd see the day...

Despite her reddening complexion, Ros responded, "Only when that old tongue starts saying the same things. Where do you think I learned it?"

With a scoff, aged eyes twinkling, the woman harmlessly slapped Ros' forearm. Catching sight of Katerin and Ilia, she said, "You've been picking up strays again, young lady."

Ros burst into a laugh. "Aye, that I have! It's my favorite hobby!" Stopping at the end of her wagon, the blonde bowed slightly. "Katerin, Ilia, may I introduce you to Emerita."

The pair curtseyed, Ilia's voice barely above a murmur as she said hello.

Emerita eyed them. "Well, at least these have manners," she said.

Ignoring her, Ros continued smoothly, "Emerita has been with the circus for as long as I can remember. She and her husband, Phizo, are the greatest contortionists known to man."

This got a laugh from the old woman. Leaning forward, she whispered in a conspiratorial fashion, "Young Ros still has not realized we're getting old and decrepit. Why, I can't lift my arm over my head anymore!"

Snorting, the blonde shook her head. "You'll not convince me, Em." Looking over her shoulder, she saw that most of the travel worn people were drifting toward the main house. "Come, Katerin, Ilia. If I know Em well enough, there's hot stew and freshly baked bread inside."

"Aye, you do know me well, scamp," Emerita chuckled. Gathering her skirts, she smiled at the new arrivals. "Welcome home, both of you," she said as she made her way across the yard, leaving the three to follow.

With a slight bow, Ros waved the women forward. "I'll see to the horses before joining you," she said.

"Don't be too long about it," the old woman's voice trailed back. "I'll not hold Cristof away from the stew forever." Those few still outside, laughed at the reference to the animal trainer's legendary stomach.

"We'd best get started then," the blonde laughed, moving towards her wagon. She clambered up the side like a monkey, grabbing the reins and guiding the horses to the barn. Behind her, Willem, Cristof and the two other men did the same.

For a moment, Katerin stood with her handmaiden, watching the wagons disappear around the side of the house. Ilia shivered, rubbing her arms against the autumn chill even as her liege tugged her shawl close.

"Here now, lass," the brunette said, upon seeing they were the only ones remaining. "Let's get indoors and warm."

"Aye, Kat." As they crossed the yard, the blonde's voice dropped into a murmur. "Who do you think that was with Cristof? His father?"

Recognizing a bit more than casual interest, Katerin responded in the same low tone. "I think it's his brother, Henry." She hid a smile at the calculating glint in her handmaiden's eye.

It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darker interior and, as expected, they shivered as warm air wrapped about them, the scent of fresh bread prominent. Most of the returning family was settled before the huge fireplace on the left wall. Sati was helping the redhead dish up healthy portions of stew over Em's protests. Young Wills, too excited to sit still, was running circles around the large room. Seated on a small stool, Sameer's eyes were bright as he held a small, squirming bundle in his arms, a tuft of reddish hair peeking from the cloth. To the right of the crowd was a wooden table that could easily sit twenty or more, half its benches now located before the fire. Shelves lined the back wall, filled with the usual tools and utensils for running a household, extra linens, and even a handful of leather bound books. Small windows on the two remaining walls let in light.

Emerita bustled forward, pulling the new arrivals towards the group, fussing at them until they were comfortably seated, hot tea and stew within easy reach. Eventually, those that had been out with the horses returned, and another bench was added to the growing crowd. Ros settled down on a stool beside Katerin, wolfing down her food as those who had remained behind were brought up to date with the news of the world. The princess was introduced to Emerita's husband, Phizo, the other half of the aforementioned contortionist team. Additionally, Henry was Cristof's brother and the other elder man was Joseph, a widower who had spent his time in the circus as juggler and magician. Sameer's woman, Florin, did clowning and dancing, but she'd stayed home through the season rather than give birth on the road.

"So," Joseph said, filling the bowl of his pipe. "What news of the Invader? I've heard at the market that he's taken another kingdom."

As Katerin and Ilia froze, Ros nodded with a grim expression. She leaned forward, setting her empty bowl near the hearth with the rest of the dirty dishes. "Aye. He has. The kingdom of Dulce is no more. Took it near five months ago from what I gather." Blonde head turning this way and that, she eyed her family. "We were right near the border at the time."

Florin made a small noise, reaching out to rub Sameer's back as she nursed the baby. Frowning, Emerita asked, "Did you have any trouble?"

"Some," Ros shrugged. "He's looking for someone…or was. His guard rousted us one night near Hodsin, but nothing came of it."

"Except the captain becoming completely disgusted with you," Cristof said, chuckling. "And Sameer acting flea-ridden didn't help matters in that regard, either."

The dwarf screwed his craggy face into an ugly expression, scratching roughly at his neck. "I certainly don't understand to what you are referring."

As Sameer continued his itching antics, everyone laughed. Katerin was glad of the distraction, her face quite red at the mention of the Invader's captain storming away. While she had come to terms regarding the circus owner's sapphist ways, it was still embarrassing to her. Perhaps because it was naturally assumed they were involved in such a manner due to the sleeping arrangements.

Truth be told, however, Ros hadn't laid a hand on her. There were still the occasional rude comments, but these were made more for entertainment value than anything. Glancing sidelong at the blonde, Katerin caught a flash of dancing eyes and she felt her blush deepen.

"Well, with our new additions, there'll be some changes in who sleeps where, I gather," Emerita said.

"Aye," Ros nodded, sipping at her tea. "Cristof and Henry will have to share again. Kat and Ilia will take Cristof's old room."

Henry turned to his younger brother, punching him on the arm. "You still snore?"

"Never!"

"Aye, he does!" Sameer insisted. "Many's the night I had to sleep
under the wagon to get away from the racket!"

Willem, quiet up to this point, nodded. "And I've had to move my wagon to the other side of the encampment!"

"Henry, we'll give you extra pillows to cover your ears," Ros promised with a grin, standing. As the others followed her lead, she said, "Daylight's wasting. Let's get those wagons unpacked and enjoy our first night home."

Katerin found herself herded outside towards the barn with the rest of the troupe, a mix of emotion stirring her heart.

Chapter 6

Drumbeat.

Panting, heart thumping, crashing through the wilderness. Noises everywhere, the call of wild animals urging her on. Behind her, she knew the Invader and his soldiers were chasing her, tracking her down to kill her. She was royalty and her life was forfeit; she'd been instructed since a toddler that she lived for her people. Her people were gone.

Bursting from behind a bush, she screamed silently at the armored figure before her. Moonlight on blade flashed above her and she cowered, afraid of the deathblow that was coming. Cuddling her doll to her chest, she could only hear the scuffle, the rattle of armor, could feel the ground tremble as a heavy body hit it.

A gentle touch on her shoulder and she peered fearfully at her savior. The minstrel smiled down on her, a bloody dove in his hands. "Hush, child. You're safe now."

Struggling to consciousness, Katerin felt hands grasping at her shoulders and tried to push them away. When she finally awoke, it was to a dark room and Ilia's whispered assurances that all was well. Panting, fighting against tears of fear and relief, the princess stopped resisting her handmaiden's calming words. Several moments passed, however, before she relaxed into the other woman's embrace.

Katerin pulled away, glad of the dark that hid her blush of embarrassment. "Thank you, Ilia. I'll be fine now."

"Are you sure, Kat?" the willowy blonde asked, long past the days of referring to her as royalty.

"Aye," the dark woman nodded, wiping at an unseen tear from her cheek. "It was just a nightmare. I've had them often since…that night."

Ilia held her, squeezing gently. "As do I sometimes. It must be the strange surroundings that have triggered them."

"It must be." Katerin gently disengaged from her handmaiden. "Let's go back to sleep," she whispered, lying back down on the large bed. A vague sense of relief filled her as Ilia complied. Curled up on her side, the princess stared into the darkness, the noises of a strange building about her. Behind her, she could hear Ilia's breathing slow and deepen until a gentle snore was all that was heard. Only then did Katerin relax.

How odd it is, she mused, that I should miss Ros' presence. Especially since it's not the first night I've slept with Ilia beside me. When Gemma and Lucinda had moved on to their home, Ilia had moved her meager belongings in to the circus owner's wagon. The women had been sleeping together in the same bed for two weeks, Ros having shown a strange sense of chivalry and bedding down on the floor.

Despite the residual terror of her nightmare, Katerin's eyes closed and the beginnings of sleep stole over her. Reaching out, she brushed the wall beside the bed, knowing that Ros' room was on the other side.

"Thought you'd be asleep, scamp," Emerita said, looking up from her stitching.

Ros, her expression contrite, scratched at her unruly curls. "As did I." She fetched up a stool and settled down beside the old woman. "You shouldn't be doing that at night, Em. Your eyesight will be ruined."

Emerita chuckled. "Aye, Ros. I'm an old lady and my eyesight is ruined anyway. Stitching in firelight isn't going to make a difference any more." With a shrewd gaze, she studied the circus owner's profile. "You've been having nightmares again?"

"Some," the blonde admitted with a grimace. Her eyes shifted to the left of the fireplace, to the wall that divided Katerin and Ilia's room from the main area. "I'm not sure what woke me. It might have been Kat."

"Aye," Emerita said with a nod. "I believe I heard something from her room, as well."

"Did you? She must have had another nightmare." Ros stared into the fire. "Do you think I should check on her?"

The old woman grinned slightly. "No, I think not. Ilia is with her."

Blinking hazel eyes, the blonde's shoulders slumped - a small action that spoke volumes. "You're right. I'm sure she'll be fine."

"I'm sure she will," Emerita repeated.

Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of the crackling fire. Ros finally broke it by saying, "Sati has already spoken to you about them?"

Again, Emerita nodded. "Aye, she has. You cannot expect an old woman to not be curious about her child's new friends."

Ros grinned at the woman beside her before becoming serious again. "I believe that the Invader has lost her. Aside from that once, none of his guards have appeared. I doubt he'd let it go this long if he knew where she was. You know he doesn't allow any heir to live."

"You're convinced she's of the Dulce kingdom?"

"I am," the blonde nodded. "The captain was nearly of a mind to take her that night. Only his belief and loathing that she shared my bed drove him away. I have heard rumor that the Dulce line is dark of hair and eye. Kat fits it well." Returning her gaze to the fire, Ros continued, "The clothes she had when we found her, despite being travel worn, were much too fine. Even Ilia's clothing was nicer than should be worn by an average woman. And the dagger used to kill one of the men outside the cook wagon was far too ornamental for either of the men to carry."

Another pause. "What do you plan to do now?" Emerita asked, stitching forgotten on her lap.

Ros sighed and rubbed at her neck. "I'm not certain. I told Kat that she and Ilia could stay as long as they wanted, that I'd not turn them out. It's not like we've gotten incompetence in return - Ilia is doing a fine job with her juggling and clowning. And Kat is a wonder with the accounts, has a fine hand at writing, and knows more of healing than the lot of us put together."

"Then they'll remain with us until they wish to leave," the old woman said with a tone of finality.

The blonde glanced sidelong at her. "And that's that, eh?"

"Aye. That's that." Emerita smiled, reaching forward to cup one of the younger woman's cheeks. "This circus belongs to you - you're da left it when he died. Through the years, you've shown all of us nothing but the best of your abilities and judgment. We trust you, Ros, to take care of your family."

Blushing, the blonde whispered, "Thank you, Em. It's good to know."

The tableau held just a moment before Emerita leaned back. Her mending went into a basket and she creaked to her feet. "Now then, it's time for all decrepit old women and young scamps to be abed."

"Aye, Em," Ros said with a chuckle, rising as well. She bent and planted a kiss on her friend's cheek. "I'll get to bed as soon as I bank the fire."

"Don't be out here 'til the night becomes morning," Emerita scolded as she moved towards the hall leading to the sleeping chambers.

"I won't. I promise." She bid the old woman good night, waiting until she'd gone before settling back on her stool to stare into the flames.

"Gods, this is taking forever!" Liam exclaimed.

Dominic shared a weary glance with the third man at the table, "Aye, my liege," he said, turning to the prince. "But caution is the watchword here. We aren't strong enough in numbers or weapons to achieve our goals."

With a gusty sigh, the teenager rolled his eyes. "There must be something we can do," he insisted. "These clandestine meetings are getting us nowhere!"

Tugging respectfully at his graying forelock, the third man spoke. "Begging Your Majesty's pardon, but these meetings do have a purpose." At the sour look he received, he chuckled. "Aye, hard for a young man - one bent on the doing rather than the talking - to easily understand, but it's true. These meetings serve to remind your people that you're alive and calling for them to fight for their king and country."

"Torlief has the right of it, Sire," Dominic cut in. Clasping his hands and leaning forward on the table, he peered closely at the young man across from him. "Things may be slow now, but the revolution will begin to snowball through spring and summer. We cannot make a move until all is in place or everything will be lost." The aide's voice softened. "I was advisor to your father, Liam. He trusted me. I ask that you place your trust in me, as well."

Long moments passed before Liam bowed his head. "Aye, Dominic. You have my trust, just as you had my father's. I know you'll only do what's best for the kingdom."

Smiling, Dominic reached out and squeezed the teenager's shoulder. "Thank you, Sire. You'll never know how much that means to me."

"There ye are, lads! Put some muscle into it!"

With a clash of metal the two lines met. Each soldier had his shield locked with his mates' as he attempted to break through his opponent's defenses. The arms master shouted encouragement and instruction while the group shifted back and forth in the slush and mud. A score of other soldiers were practicing various weapons around the battle with varying levels of skill.

Most were unaware of their audience watching from the low wall surrounding the training grounds. Those that noticed fought twice as hard, showing their liege their skills.

The Invader watched the mock battle, winter sun glinting off the royal seal about his neck. He was wrapped in his cloak, warding off the season's chill. Raising his head, he closed his eyes. The sun feels good. Below him the skirmish continued as he basked.

"Sire?" asked a tentative voice. "A message for you."

Inhaling deeply, the Invader turned to see a servant with a roll of parchment. He took it, his cloak falling open to reveal rich trousers and boiled leather vest, accepting the man's bow with a nod. As he cracked the seal, he asked, "The messenger?" The king scanned the document, sent from the Dulce province by the adjunct he'd left in charge.

"In the kitchens, Sire, having a bite and awaiting your response."

With a derisive snort, the Invader noted that word of rebellion was strong and growing daily. The group was organized into tiny cells of resisters - any attempt at routing out the leaders was spoiled by the small numbers and lack of pertinent information flowing between them. The Invader was positive who was behind this rebellion. Disgruntled lords, still loyal to the Dulce crown had discovered the princess. No one would follow a woman into battle so they'd passed her off as Liam to gain support. He speculated on who the true leader could be.

On the training ground, the battle ground to a halt as one line finally broke through the other. The arms master called a halt before any further damage was done, pulling three wounded soldiers out of training and sending them to the surgeons.

Rolling the parchment up, he said, "Have the messenger bed down in the barracks tonight and see to his mount. I'll have a response by the morning."

"Aye, Sire."

As the servant left on his errand, the Invader looked once more at the training ground, eyes unseeing. It was time for a return trip to Dulce. Perhaps a grand celebration on the first anniversary of its fall.

A soldier glanced up at his audience and paled at the smile he saw on his liege's face.

Chapter 7

Ros stepped out of the main house and into the yard where horses were hitched to the supply wagon. Phizo sat atop it with the reins, chatting with Sati and Katerin. The two women had made a small nest of blankets against the early winter chill, comfortably awaiting the blonde's arrival.

Climbing up the side, the circus owner settled beside Phizo. "Let's be on our way before Emerita wants something else."

Phizo chuckled, snapping the reins. "One of the long lists, eh?" he asked as the steeds started forward.

"Aye," Ros complained, rolling her eyes when the women laughed. "I swear it gets longer each trip! Does she think we'll suffer some freak of nature and get snowed in for a year?"

"Not at all," Katerin replied. "Given your appetite for her cooking, we've been hard put to keep up with you and Cristof at the dinner table."

The blonde shot a mock scowl at the jibe, earning a gentle touch on the back and a laugh from the dark woman.

Phizo guided the horses across the small bridge and towards nearby Kemple. Once every two weeks, the troupe took turns going into town for supplies and news of the area. This was Katerin's first trip and the circus owner watched as the small woman tried to contain her excitement.

Since stopping their travels for the winter, Ros found herself drawn more and more to Katerin. She would look for the brunette's morning smile, tease her incessantly to hear the rich laughter, go out of her way to be where Kat would be. Interesting enough, the smaller woman seemed to be equally enamored, searching Ros out, touching a shoulder or back or knee. When Katerin was out of sight, whether it be for a walk or some domestic chore, Ros sorely missed her presence.

Despite her rambling thoughts, Ros smiled at something Phizo said, responding in kind. From the corner of her eye, she saw Katerin intently watching her. Ros glanced back, snaring the dark eyes with a grin and a wink, her smile widening at the blush that crawled across the woman's fair skin.

Breaking their gaze, Katerin fiddled with the edge of a blanket in her lap, pretending interest in Sati's chatter. The compound wasn't far from the edge of town and soon they reached the outskirts. Katerin found it odd that the wagon received barely a glance from people. She was so used to the joy of an approaching circus, the lack of response was rather disappointing. Looking about, the dark woman found that Kemple looked like all the other small towns she'd been in the last few months - yet another unexpected turn in her mind. For some reason she thought it would be...more. Beside her, Sati pointed out the buildings of interest.

"The cobbler lives just down this street; we'll see him after we've been to the weaver's for cloth. There's the inn," the dusky skinned woman said, pointing to a two-story dwelling with its own well. "The goodwife there makes the best pumpkin pudding in the area. Maybe we'll have time to stop by…?" Her voice trailed off as she looked to Ros.

"Aye. We'll have time," the circus owner answered with a sly grin. She pulled out a scrap of paper. "Em's list isn't quite as enormous as I suggested. Besides, she also wants a cask of brandy." Ros tore the paper in half. "Sati, you and Kat see the weaver and cobbler while Phizo and I attend to the smithy. We'll meet at the inn after; maybe stop by the baker's for a special treat for tonight's supper."

"That sounds wonderful, Ros," Sati said, smiling. She waved Katerin towards the rungs leading to the ground, folding up the blankets before following.

The blonde shifted to give the women room to climb down, but it was impossible for Katerin to not brush against Ros in the process. Blushing at the strong hand guiding her, the princess clambered down the steps, not looking at the cause of her distress until she had both feet on the ground. Another wink caused her to redden further and she glanced up the small lane to cover it, rubbing her arm where the circus owner had touched her.

Ros' smile broadened. There it is again. What's on her mind when she colors so? Her thoughts were interrupted by Sati squeezing past to climb down. By the time, the blonde could again focus on Katerin, the redness had dissipated and cool, dark eyes peered up at her.

"We'll see you at the inn," Sati said with a wave. She turned, taking Katerin's arm in her own and walking away from the wagon.

Phizo urged the horses forward, the woman beside him watching the pair until they were around a corner. A slight grin sat on his face at Ros' interest. It had been the talk of the compound for weeks, the developing closeness between the blonde and Katerin.

The women out of sight, Ros turned back. She glanced at the driver and frowned. "What are you smiling at?" she asked, already knowing the cause.

"Nothing," the old man responded with a chuckle, the reins suddenly quite interesting.

Suspicions confirmed, Ros grimaced at the horses.

"How long do you think they'll be?" Katerin asked as they settled down at the table. Nearby, a fire crackled on the hearth, dispelling much of the winter chill from her bones.

Sati set their purchases against one wall. "Soon I should think." She sighed and sank into the chair, pulling a steaming mug towards her. "I believe Em wanted another kitchen knife. And Ros was saying something about having more tent spikes and nails for next season."

Nodding absently, the brunette's fingertips ran along the shoulder bag in her lap. Inside it were embroidery threads - crimson, emerald and a little bit of gold - to finish her sewing project. She'd decided to give Ros an over tunic for Mid Winter's Fest and had been diligently working on it for three weeks. It would have been a disaster if she hadn't been under Emerita's tutelage.

The flickering of firelight caught her eye and Katerin stared into the flames.

Last year at this time, she had spent her days with her maidens, talking about the various young bachelors at court. Katerin remembered the festival her father had held - all shining and aglitter with torches, jewels and gold. There had been a wonderful ball and she had danced with nearly every available man from the ages of sixteen to sixty. It had been breathless and intoxicating. All was well in the kingdom and the Invader had yet to make his intentions known.

A vision filled her eyes, the same audience hall filled with the dead and dying. She could still smell the stink of blood and smoke and excrement, the sickly sweet odor of gangrene, all mixed in with the warm green scent of spring. There was a constant low murmur from the wounded and those caring for them, punctuated by the occasional scream as a surgeon removed a limb or cauterized an injury.

Shaking her head and shivering, Katerin looked away from the flames, blindly grabbing for her own mug and drinking deeply of the apple cinnamon tea.

"Are you alright?"

Katerin found warm, brown eyes watching her. Flushing, she shrugged. "Aye. I'm fine, Sati. Just a bad memory." Unable to keep the gaze, she glanced away, scanning the inn.

The interior was dark, yet inviting. It wasn't a very large establishment - not much larger than the main room of the compound but there the resemblance ended. Several smaller tables were scattered about, three occupied by a handful of patrons. A counter ran along one wall near the door and behind it sat a middle-aged man tapping a keg.

Sati leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin. "Is the thread for Ros?"

As expected, Katerin immediately cheered at the mention of her favorite person. "Aye," she answered with her own smile, patting the bag in her lap. "Em says I'm doing well with a needle. I'm going to embroider roses along the hem and sleeves."

"She'll love it," the dark skinned woman insisted. "More for the fact you made it than anything else." She chuckled as Katerin blushed and squirmed. A shadow fell across the table, interrupting them. Looking up, Sati appeared surprised. "Lina! You're working here again?"

"Aye, I am. And glad to be back!"

Curiously, Katerin studied the new arrival. Lina was tall, almost as tall as Ros, her frame nearly too thin for her height. Her hair was a thick mahogany wave that fell down her back and she had a face that would have been called 'adorable' at court. She wore a simple peasant dress with a soiled apron upon which she was currently wiping her hands.

"Who's this?" Lina asked, smiling at the brunette.

Sati hastened to the introductions. "Kat, this is Lina. She works here as a barmaid when she's not off in the countryside tending to sick relatives."

"Pleasure to meet you," the princess greeted politely.

"We picked up Kat several months ago." Sati's eyes flickered between the two before she said, "She's Ros' personal assistant."

Katerin braced herself for the usual response. When the topic of her placement in the troupe came up, it usually fell into three realms - most found it gloriously nasty, would snicker and make further innuendo; others would pronounce their judgment over the entire repugnant matter and storm away. Last were those few who were blissfully ignorant of sapphists and their ilk, not reacting in any way.

Green eyes narrowed a bit, pinning Katerin, though the smile widened. "Really? Ros' personal assistant? How…interesting." Dismissing the subject, Lina turned back to Sati. "Is Ros here today? I do miss her so."

"Aye, she and Phizo are at the smithy and should meet us here soon," Sati said, appearing a bit reluctant.

"Phizo! How is he? It's been so long since I've heard of any of the troupe," Lina said.

Their chatter turned to gossip as the pair filled each other in on their doings for the past year. Katerin listened avidly, trying to fathom this woman. After several minutes of conversation, she heard voices at the door, turning to see Ros and Phizo entering. Unaccountably, her heart flipped in her chest and she could feel the heat crawl across her face. What is it with me today? she demanded of herself.

She wasn't alone in noticing the new arrivals. Lina, upon seeing Ros approach the bar, excused herself and fairly flew across the room to the blonde's side. "Ros! It's so good to see you!"

Katerin watched the circus owner seeming startled but pleased at Lina's appearance. The two chatted a few moments at the bar before Phizo left them and came to the table. She wasn't sure, but she thought he was a bit disgruntled as he sat, leaning elbows against the rough wood.

To make conversation, Sati asked, "Were you able to get everything that Em wanted?"

"Aye," the old man grunted, sipping from a mug of ale he'd brought from the bar. "Though we'll have to return for the tent spikes; Amos hadn't any made up. What about you two?"

"Definitely," the woman smiled. "The cobbler has very nice leathers in a variety of colors. I think we should look into having red boots made for Wills' costume next season. He's worn out his blue ones."

"That would be good."

The discussion continued across from Katerin though she only paid it half a mind, her attention riveted on the two women at the bar. Her puzzlement grew as Ros settled down on a stool rather than join them. Watching Lina constantly touching the circus owner in some way or another caused a spark of irritation in the princess. Why, she's hanging all over her! How can Ros stand all that simpering? It appeared, however, that the constant attention from the barmaid was quite acceptable to the blonde, causing Katerin's annoyance to grow.

Turning away from the display with a snort, Katerin found two pairs of eyes carefully watching. She fought to quell the familiar blush with no success, busying herself with brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her sleeve. Phizo and Sati continued their conversation and she did her best to focus on it, teeth grinding as she tried to place where the anger was coming from.

"So you've gotten a 'personal assistant,' eh?" Lina asked, idly running her fingers along the blonde's forearm.

Ros chuckled. "Aye. Kat's good with numbers and letters. She helps a great deal with the accounts." Glancing at the woman in question, she wondered at the tense set of Katerin's shoulders but dismissed it. "She knows some of the healing arts, as well. We need someone like that in the troupe."

The tall brunette leaned forward, brushing her breast against Ros' arm. "Is that all she helps you with?" she asked, her husky voice hardly carrying beyond them.

Hazel eyes glanced again at the table, a flash of regret in them. Ros smiled and returned her full attention to Lina. "Aye. That's all she helps with." With a laugh, she placed her hand over the one on her arm.

Lina's answering smile became sultry. "Why don't you stay tonight? It's the slow season and I'm sure I can leave early…"

"I'd like that."

As Sati had indicated, the pumpkin pudding was wonderful but Katerin found she had no stomach for it, poking at it with a spoon. The taste was divine but her undefined anger made her stomach roil. When Ros finally disengaged herself from the barmaid's arm and approached the table, Katerin's spirits rose. Good! We can go home now.

Ros sat on the bench beside the brunette with a grin. "How was your shopping trip?"

"Very good, thank you," the princess responded.

"But she can't tell you what she purchased," Sati added with a conspiratorial smile.

"Really?" A blonde eyebrow rose in interest. "Something for me?"

Blushing, Katerin almost kicked Sati under the table. "Perhaps," she responded tartly, pleased with the warm chuckle that resulted.

"I look forward to seeing whatever it is." Ros handed a couple of coins to Phizo. "Here's to pay for something from the baker. The barkeep will have our keg of brandy ready when you leave. I'll be staying the night here and walk back in the morning."

"What!?" Katerin sputtered. She looked at the two across from her, surprised to find resigned acceptance. "Why would you do that?"

The blonde's grin became lecherous. "Well…. since you ask…"

"Ros," Sati warned.

Laughing, Ros raised her hands in surrender. "All right! I'll play nice!" Turning back to Katerin, she said, "Lina and I have… much to catch up on. I'll be staying with her tonight." She rose from the table, winking at the lot of them and ignoring the confusion on the brunette's face. "Until tomorrow."

Katerin stared blankly at her retreating form, unable or unwilling to understand why Ros would remain in the village rather than return to the compound. Little doubt was left, however, when the circus owner wrapped a casual arm about Lina's waist in a full-bodied hug - one that was enthusiastically returned before they both left the inn.

As crimson as the thread she purchased, the princess wheeled about in her seat, turning her back on their exit. By the gods! They're lovers! Visions of Ros holding, touching the barmaid's naked skin came unbidden and Katerin closed her eyes at the onslaught, slightly swaying in her seat.

A hand rested lightly on her clenched fist. "Kat? Are you all right?"

The brunette opened her eyes to see Sati's compassionate face. She tried to respond, unable to do more than stammer through the shock and burgeoning anger.

Phizo, looking decidedly uncomfortable, rose from his seat. "I'll go load up the keg," he said as he left them.

"Kat…?"

Anger soon won the battle for dominance. Black eyes flashing, the princess pulled away from Sati's touch, putting her fists in her lap. "You knew they were lovers," she hissed.

Taken aback at the woman's vehemence, Sati sat up straighter. "Aye. I knew," she answered calmly. "Though it doesn't happen often. Lina serves only to satisfy certain…needs Ros has."

"Needs?" Katerin sputtered. "We all have needs! That doesn't mean we should whore ourselves about!" Even as the vicious words spilled from her mouth, she wanted to call them back. Her irrational fury warred with shame as she watched her friend's eyes grow cold. "I'm sorry, Sati. I -"

"No." The dark skinned woman held up her hand. "I'll not discuss it here." Rising, she picked up her purchases. "Come along or stay, Kat. It's your choice. We won't wait long for you."

Katerin stared down; watching the splash of a tear hit the tabletop. She felt hollow and lost, worse than she had in those dark days of running before she found the circus. The compound had become home, the troupe family.

Slowly, the brunette rose and shouldered her bag. She wiped away the tears on her face before leaving the inn.

Silence permeated the ride home. Sati had taken Ros' place by Phizo, leaving the princess to sit alone in the puddle of blankets.

Katerin's heart was a knot of confusion. Anger, envy, and a deep sorrow filled her, forcing her to concentrate foremost on not crying. Instinctively, she refused to think of Lina, knowing that to do so would be her undoing. Only her royal training kept the tears at bay.

Soon it was over. In no time, Katerin sped down the side of the wagon and into the main building. Emerita barely had time to acknowledge her arrival before she stormed into her room. Throwing herself onto the bed she shared with Ilia, the princess burst into tears. A part of her childishly awaited someone, anyone, to interrupt her pitiful wallowing with words of sympathy.

No one came.

In lieu of a distraction, her sobbing intensified. How could she do this to me? Running off to sleep with a barmaid...Who does she think she is? Fury overcame Katerin and she beat on her pillow as she cried.

Exhaustion eventually overcame her, tears fading to leave swollen eyes and a runny nose in their wake. The numbness was a relief though she couldn't drift off to sleep. Every time her eyes closed, a vision of Ros pressed against Lina's naked form would appear.

Hours passed. Noises from the wall adjoining the main room attested to life continuing - supper was prepared and eaten, the troupe gathering about the fireplace afterwards to entertain one another with stories and songs. Stewing in her melancholy, the brunette listened to the familiar sounds, feeling hollow and alone. The knock, when it occurred, caused Katerin to jump. Hastily sitting up, she rubbed at her face. "Come in," she said in a rough voice.

Emerita poked her head into the sleeping chamber. "Would you mind a visitor?"

A combination of relief and irritation moved through the dark woman. "Yes, I mind," Katerin said, her royal blood shining through as she lifted her nose into the air. "I wish to be alone."

Raising an eyebrow, the old woman said, "Fine. I'll leave you to your self-pity." She stepped back.

"Wait!" Katerin leapt to her feet, heart pounding at the threat. Wilting under the stern but kindly gaze, she dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry, Em. I don't know what's come over me this afternoon. Please stay."

Nodding, Emerita entered, closing the door behind her. "Sati told me that you were...out of sorts about Ros," she said as she sat on the bed, the young woman joining her.

A watery snort erupted from Katerin and she looked away, previously missing tears making a rapid return. "'Out of sorts.' That's an interesting phrase."

Eyeing the young woman's profile, Emerita said, "She says you're
acting the jilted lover."

"I most certainly am not!"

"Aye, I agree. Which begs the question - why are you acting as one?"

There was a moment of silence before Katerin began huffing, anger making a glorious comeback. Emerita let her sputter, watching with mild interest. Unable to come up with a coherent reply, the brunette's fury dissipated, leaving her feeling emotionally battered.

Silence stood between them for long moments.

With a gentle sigh, Emerita reached for the young woman's hand. Cradling it, she said, "You're angry at Ros for staying with Lena this night. You're jealous."

Katerin attempted to pull away but the old woman's grip was surprisingly strong.

"You can lie about it to yourself as much as you'd like. But I'll not allow my family to be disrupted as a result." Emerita released the now balled up fist. "You must come to terms with your emotions, girl."

Again there was silence. Dark hair obscured Katerin's face as she hung her head.

"Anyone with eyes can see that you love her." Emerita allowed a slow grin to cross her lips as the woman peered up at her. "Aye, and she loves you too."

Tears spilled down Katerin's face. "Then why is she there and not here, Em?" she asked, hating the plaintive waver in her voice.

"You've never given her cause." The old woman's eyes searched the room even as her mind sought to convey the words. "Your opinion of sapphists is no secret, Kat. Whether you harbor these thoughts because of experience or upbringing, I don't know. Ros is a sapphist, like it or no."

Katerin blushed at the old woman's candor. It took quite a bit of strength to not squirm, as well. "Where I come from...it's...frowned upon," she finally allowed. Especially for the heir to the throne.

"Aye. It is in many places," Emerita said, nodding. Her voice became nyielding as she said, "But not here."

Chastised, the dark woman nodded in mute agreement, fresh tears falling to her lap.

Emerita eased her stern features, unwilling to let the young woman suffer alone. Gathering her into her arms, she rocked gently, pleased that Katerin relaxed into the embrace.

The tears came back with a vengeance. Heart wrenching sobs shook Katerin's small form as she mourned her situation. Emerita never wavered, holding her close. Even after the tears had finally let up, the princess remained in place, her head in a soft lap, aged fingers running through her hair. She still felt hollow, but the gentle caress eased the ache in Katerin's chest.

"It's high time you made a decision, Kat. You can accept Ros' love and return it freely," the old woman murmured. "Or you can release her in your heart, no harm done."

Katerin sniffled, forcing herself to sit up, pulling away from the comforting touch. "I've been too long denying it, Em," she said, wiping her face. "Ros wouldn't have me now anyway. She's Lina to bed, in any case. "

"You're wrong, Kat. If you crooked your finger, Ros would come running." At the incredulous glance, Emerita chuckled. "Aye! We all know it, even if neither of you do. The question's not whether you two love each other. It's whether the pair of you will fight for the love you feel."

Taken off guard by the statement, Katerin's troubled expression faded into thought. Not until Emerita reached the door did the young woman return to the present.

"Sati and Florin have put aside dinner for you. Ilia said she'd be happy to bring it if you wish...?"

Raising her chin, Katerin rose. I must get on with things. "That won't be necessary, Em. I'll come to the hall to eat. Thank you."

The old woman smiled, reaching out to take Katerin's hand. "Good. We miss your presence this night." Emerita led the young woman out of the room.

Chapter 8

"...And on the twenty-third day of the fourth month I, His Royal Majesty Germaine Carlos William ??, have ordered a grand celebration in the Dulce province to commemorate the first anniversary of its...inclusion in My kingdom!"

There was a low murmur from the crowd; the court herald swallowed nervously but kept on. "The finest of entertainment has been invited - dancers, musicians, racers, circuses and acting troupes. Firemount Field will be converted to tournament grounds and all warriors near and far are invited to test their mettle against one another. We will be in attendance as judge.

"The celebration will last a fortnight and I ask all of the My subjects to attend. Signed by my hand, the eighth day of the eleventh month."

As the herald continued on to other announcements, Dominic stopped listening, mind awhirl. Fourth month, eh? That might be the perfect time.

It had been a logistical nightmare, planning the rebellion. Recruiting the disaffected public and loyal followers to Liam's banner hadn't been as difficult as pinning down a time and date to act. The Invader had already taken the castle once, taking it again wouldn't be all that hard, especially with his soldiers in residence.

But killing the Invader...now that would be far better. The royal brat would triple his diplomatic power base by slaying him.

Thoughts heavy on his mind, the aide stroked his mustache as he left the square.

Undoubtedly, the dawning hour is the most beautiful, Ros thought. The morning quiet was broken only by the crunch of her footsteps on the frozen road. All was still - most townsfolk still abed, local farmers tending their early chores.

Deeply inhaling the chill air, the blonde wrinkled her nose, perversely enjoying the numbness on her face. Ros looked up into the sky, noting the low clouds. It will snow soon. I'd best check the tiger's enclosure with Cristof - make sure she'll be warm enough.

Her thoughts wandered to the previous evening's activities and Ros smiled, unconsciously licking her lips. As usual, her liaison with Lina left her feeling playful and lazy, relaxed on levels she usually couldn't attain on her own. It had been embarrassing, calling out Kat's name at one point. Fortunately, Lina understood far more of the situation than the circus owner gave her credit for. They spoke at great length before the barmaid pounced on Ros, insisting that her name would be the next called in passion. And call it, I did, the blonde thought with a smirk.

Coming over a small rise, the compound came into sight. Surprisingly, smoke already trickled from the chimney. Em must be baking today, she thought, though it seemed that the matriarch of the troupe had finished that little chore a day or so earlier. Ros continued walking with a shrug.

Thoughts turned to Katerin, as they inevitably did. Shaking her head, Ros pulled her cape tighter around her throat. You've got to get past this infatuation, woman, she scolded herself. Reviewing Kat's most recent flirting, the blonde snorted. She obviously isn't aware of what she's doing. Else she'd run screaming back to her kingdom in horror.

Which brought up another line of thought. The Invader was known the world over for his dogged stubbornness. Unless his men had lied and another young woman had been killed in Katerin's place, he was still looking for her. Unfortunately, the circus' route took them precariously through the old Dulce kingdom. To change our normal path for no apparent reason would
call suspicion. What then, eh?

Ros worried the topic, a familiar habit these last few months, as her steps brought her closer to home.

As the door opened, Katerin looked up from her sewing to see the lanky
circus owner enter. Heart shivering, she tried to maintain an air of calm as she set her project in the basket at her feet.

Ros, deep in thought, initially didn't notice the dark woman's presence. She took off her cape and hung it on a hook behind the door. Turning, she spied the object of her musings, a pleased smile crossing her face. "Good morning, Kat. I didn't expect to see you up so early."

"Good morning," the princess said, returning the smile. "I had some
difficulty sleeping so I thought I'd do some work on my stitching."

The ghost of a frown flickered in Ros' eyes. "Nightmares?" she asked, settling down on a stool.

Katerin blushed, looking away. "Sometimes," she murmured. Raising her chin in subtle defiance, she captured the blonde's eyes. "But not last night."

Ros blinked. "Oh," she said, at a loss. How does she pull the rug out from beneath me so easily?

With a small laugh, Katerin leaned forward and patted Ros' hand. Swallowing her envy, she sat back in her chair, a small grin on her face. "How was your visit with Lina?"

"It was...relaxing. We haven't seen each other in well over a year. She's
been--"

"Taking care of her sick grandfather in the country," Katerin finished, not wanting to continue this line of discussion, despite the fact she'd begun it. "She told me. At the inn, yesterday." You are acting like such a ninny, the young woman scolded herself.

Watching Katerin appear intensely interested in a speck of lint on her lap, the blonde wondered, Is that jealousy I see? After a slight hesitation, Ros mentally shook her head. Of course not. What am I thinking?

Katerin sighed. "I apologize," she said, looking ruefully at the circus owner. "I…I didn't get much sleep last night, as I said. I do not wish to be rude."

"I understand," Ros answered, not comprehending in the least.

"No, you don't," the brunette said, smiling despite herself. Get on with it, woman! You're a royal princess for gods' sakes! Show some backbone. Inhaling deeply, she reached for Ros' hands once more, taking them in hers. "As I was told last evening, I've been a bit out of sorts since yesterday. When you stayed in the village, I--" Katerin squeezed the blonde's hands, forging on. "I was jealous. There! I said it!"

Frowning, Ros attempted to make some sense of the words. She was half-amused with the proud smile that was beamed her way, belying Katerin's statement. Jealous? Of what? Who? "Lina?" she finally asked. Why would she be jealous? Unless…

"Yes."

Ros chuckled at the suddenly cheerful woman across from her. "I'm not sure why you'd feel this way, Kat, but no worries," she said. "Spending time with Lina doesn't detract from our time together."

Crestfallen, Katerin released the blonde's hands, shoulders slumping. "You do not understand what I mean at all."

She can't be saying what I think she's saying. Pulling back, her own expression serious, Ros asked softly, "Were you aware that Lina and I did more than talk through the night?"

"Aye," the brunette said with a grimace. "I am."

Rubbing at her face, Ros considered her next words carefully. "And this caused you anxiety because…?" When silence met her question, she looked at the other woman. "You've known from the beginning what I was. My apologies if the truth of the matter should suddenly hurt your feelings in some way, but I'll not behave as a nun to assuage your sensitivities, Katerin."

With a groan, the brunette shook her head. "I'm sorry," Katerin said, hastily rising to her feet. "I shouldn't have said anything." Before she could be intercepted, she rushed from the room.

Hearing a door's gentle closing, Ros sighed and dropped her head. Made a mess of that, I'm sure. What good feelings she'd floated on after an evening with Lina had long disappeared, a vague headache beginning to assail her.

"Ye'd be best served, Highness, by tossing that traitorous bastard out."

Liam sighed as he formulated a response to the farmer before him. "I'll not rid the rebellion of a loyal ally. Dom has done more for us than any other man since the Invader stole our kingdom."

"Maybe so, maybe no," the farmer said, spitting in disgust to one side. "Yet I've heard tales. Heard your loyal aide had a visit with the Invader the day after you were run through. My cousin, Radis, saw him in the royal wing."

"Your cousin must be mistaken, Felin," the teenager insisted. "Dom left the castle the night before. He told me so." Didn't he?

"Aye. He told you so. And, gods above, what that snake speaks is golden truth," came the sarcastic response.

Liam bristled but was waved down.

"No, young pup. You believe what you wish. And maybe when this is over you'll remember my words and either heed them or send me to the gallows." Again Felin waved the younger man to silence. "Be that as it may, I'll still fiqht. But not for you, lad. I fight for the memory of your father and hope that someday you'll pull the wool from your eyes." With a tug at his forelock, more an automatic gesture than anything else, Felin stomped from the room.

Slumping into a chair in frustration, Liam sighed again. Bleeding Sif! As if we've not enough problems!

Unfortunately, this was not the first hint of unrest reqarding Dominic's proximity to the crown. There had been too many hints and innuendoes to ignore. But if he's in league with the Invader, why is he here? It would have been far easier to kill me as I lay on my deathbed. Why the plotting to get my crown?

Unless Dominic plans on taking the crown from me once I've received it.

While that thought was sobering it still didn't feel right. Shaking his head, Liam vowed to keep a closer eye on his chief aide.

Chapter 9

Ros sat at the table. Around her, the members of her extended family ate a boisterous breakfast, an excited atmosphere filling the air. Mingling with the smell of Sati's famous cherry hotcakes was the aroma of pine boughs that had been brought in to decorate the Compound for Mid Winter's Fest. The circus owner watched the people she loved with a smug grin, happy that another winter was spent with her friends and family holding such joy.

Willem was coaxing his young son into finishing his mug of milk before having a third helping; the old man, Josef, was tickling Florin beside him while her husband, Sameer, looked on with a grin; their baby was perched on Ilia's hip, eyes wide as the wispy blonde set a generous plate before Henry; the animal trainer, Cristof, was amiabily chatting with Phizo about the coming season; Sati worked at the fire while Emerita and Kat kept her company, eating their breakfast there and delivering food to the great table.

As Ros' eyes fell on Katerin, the brunette looked up, catching her. The small woman's face lit up with a soft smile before turning back to the conversation in which she was engaged. Unaccountably blushing, the blonde became intent on her food.

To say the last few weeks had been perplexing would be an understatement. Since that cryptic conversation after Ros' return from Lina's, Kat had refused to discuss it. Instead, she'd spent the rest of that day sequestered in her room, only allowing the other women entrance.

Ros squirmed at the memory of the looks she'd received from Katerin's visitors. They had ran the gamut from angry dissatisfaction to mysterious smiles and it was beyond her which was worse. The men would only chuckle at her disgruntled complaints, pat her on the shoulder and offer bits of vague platitudes that passed for wisdom. After a week of trying to convince the small brunette to talk, Ros had finally surrendered.

She's as stubborn as I am, she thought, taking a bite of breakfast.

Across the table, Ilia leaned in close to Henry, hand on his shoulder for balance as she poured him another mug of cider. Henry flushed at the contact but smiled up at the blonde woman in thanks.

Hiding her own smile, Ros took a long draught of her own cider. He's falling hard! I wonder - will Ilia remain behind this season? Or will Henry join us? A hand on her shoulder distracted her and she looked to see Kat smiling down at her with a kettle.

"Would you like more cider?"

Frozen for just an instant under the warm regard, Ros mentally shook herself. Her training came to the fore and she grinned back, holding out her mug. "Aye, I would. Thank you."

Katerin's smile widened and she leaned in to pour, breast brushing against the blonde's shoulder. "How's breakfast?"

The circus owner flushed at the contact but maintained her composure. "My best to the chef and her assistants - you've all outdone yourselves this morning."

"I'll convey the message," the brunette said with a grin and a wink before moving to offer cider to the others.

Ros watched Katerin as she made a circuit of the table, unaware that Henry was watching Ilia in the same manner.

Katerin laughed, clapping her hands as Cristof and Sameer bested Henry. The animal trainer had pelted his brother with snowballs, driving him backwards to trip over the dwarf's huddled form. Before Henry could do more than flail on the ground, his opponents were on him, tickling him and filling his clothes with snow until he yielded.

Beside the brunette, Ilia held a hand to her lips, whether to stifle a grin or a gasp of concern was uncertain.

Florin wrapped a companionable arm across the blonde's shoulder. "You know he deserved it," she said, laughing. "Throwing his brother into the snow bank was uncalled for."

Leaning into the hug, Ilia's eyes danced as she chuckled. "I know. Henry can be such a scamp!" she said with obvious affection.

Behind the pair, Katerin exchanged a knowing look with Sati, the older woman winking. A yell brought their attention back to the yard.

Ros and Willem, with the eager assistance of the Compound's only child, voiced battle cries as they attacked the three others in the yard. Setting differences aside, Sameer and the brothers left off their fight to defend themselves.

Snowballs flew fast and furious between opponents while the women watched from the front step, rooting for their favorites. The noise was so great, the older members of the family joined the audience, Phizo with the babe in his arms.

Young Wills apparently decided to have pity on the enemy and began lobbing snowballs at his teammates from behind. With an incredulous growl, Ros turned to grab the boy who, giggling, took off running for all he was worth.

Katerin laughed so hard at the troupe's antics that tears came to her eyes. This Mid Winter's Fest was so different from those of her upbringing - staid, formal occasions that were primarily for politicking among the nobles. With all the excitement and activity, she'd hardly an opportunity to be homesick.

A wayward snowball smacked her shoulder, icy flakes exploding to spray the audience as well as settle into her bodice. The women cried out at the attack, Phizo and Josef successfully shielding the baby.

Emerita was the furthest back. She wiped at her face with a mock scowl. "I'd best start supper." The two old men agreed with her, shuffling inside and closing the door firmly.

Silence filled the yard as the snow warriors watched Katerin with various expressions that ranged from chagrin to amusement.

Looking up, mouth agape in shock at the attack, the brunette's eyes found Ros'. The circus owner made every attempt to appear contrite despite the fact that she was shaking from contained laughter. Unable to hold under Kat's startled gaze, Ros burst into guffaws, followed by her cohorts in crime.

The brunette's eyes narrowed as she looked to the other 'victims'. "I say we get them back," she suggested. Seeing unanimous agreement, Katerin pointed at Ros. "You're next!"

With that, Katerin and the women rushed their targets, abandoning shawls and cloaks while scooping copious amounts of snow from the ground. Wills was the only one to immediately respond, taking advantage of the situation to score another hit on Ros.

The astonished expression on the circus owner's face was beyond price as Katerin bore down on her intended victim. Not content to throw her missile, she marched forward with every intention of rubbing the blonde's face in snow. Behind her, whoops and hollers could be heard as the women joined the fray.

Ros' uncertainty was nearly her undoing as she gaped as the approaching woman. She can't be serious... At the last possible moment she realized her danger and dashed away, Kat chasing after. "I apologize!" she called over her shoulder. "I was aiming for Sameer! He was running for the door!"

Katerin didn't respond. Caught up in the chase, she followed her opponent, a fiery grin on her face.

Cristof, his brother and the dwarf remained together, ducking down the side of the main building for protection against Florin and Ilia. Sati had her husband on the ground, stuffing snow in his tunic as Wills danced around them, laughing.

Leading Kat on a merry chase, the blonde continued to expound on her innocence, pleas falling on deaf ears. Ros slowly realized that nothing would change her fate. If I'm to be packed in snow, best have fun in the process.

It was Katerin's turn for startlement when the circus owner turned mid chase and began advancing, an evil glint in her eye. Tables turned, the brunette hared away with a giggle and the chase resumed.

Their path took them around the main building where they danced back and forth at the woodpile, Ros voicing a series of threats and Katerin impishly egging her on. The brunette broke away, making a dash for the barn and relative safety. Scrambling, Ros was only a step behind, reaching out with long arms and grabbing her prey around the waist.

Katerin stumbled, yelping as she fell forward. In an effort to protect the smaller woman from injury, Ros pulled her close and rolled, falling onto the snow with Katerin on top.

Laughing, the brunette twisted, attempting to get the upper hand but the grip on her waist tightened.

"Oh, no you don't," Ros growled, pinning the woman. "We'll see who's next now!" One arm keeping Kat in place, she dug her fingers into the woman's ribs, delighted to find how ticklish she was.

It wasn't long before Katerin begged for mercy against the onslaught, yielding to the superior force. This time. She lay in happy exhaustion on her living mattress, chest aching as she caught her breath.

Despite the snow melting against her back, Ros held the small woman close, inhaling deeply of the black hair against her cheek. It would be so easy, she mused, eying a delicate ear just within reach. Stiffening at the thought, Ros gasped. Stop that! Stop this! She loosened her grip, urging the brunette to rise.

Katerin's eyes, blissfully closed at the loving sensation of being held, shot open. The voices of her friends whispered in her ears.

Emerita. "She's made her decision about you already. Unless you force the issue Ros will remain honorable to her intentions."

Sati. "If you wish to romance her, you must hit her over the head with it. She's intelligent and compassionate, but not too bright with what's sitting in front of her."

Florin. "Show her you love her - in all the ways women can love."

Rather than allow Ros to squirm out from beneath, Katerin turned until she was straddling slim hips.

This is not an improvement, Ros thought, hands automatically resting on the smaller woman's waist. "Still going to get me?" the blonde asked.

Swallowing her sudden anxiety, Katerin leaned close. "Yes," she breathed as their lips met for the first time.

Liam stared into the flames, unseeing.

The difference between this Midwinter and last was immense beyond proportion, a year of darkness weighing upon his shoulders. He could hear the ghostly echoes of music and conversation, see his family happy and whole as they celebrated the coming spring with joy in their hearts.

A dark scene flashed across the flames; blood gushing from his mother's throat, her mouth open in silent scream; the Invader looking down from above, sword in hand, a grim expression on his face. Liam felt a vague twinge in his chest and idly rubbed it.

"Would you like more wine, Sire?"

Blinking the young man returned to the present. "Aye, Dom. Thank you."

Dominic poured from a flagon of mulled wine warming at the fire, filling a mug for himself before sitting in an armchair. No doubt the brat's homesick for the holidays. "Next Mid Winter will be remarkably different," he mused, pretending to stare at the fire.

"Aye, it will," Liam murmured. "I'll be king and my family will be avenged."

"Aye." Silence was broken only by the smothered crunching of a log as it settled in the fireplace.

Dominic cast around in his mind for a suitable course of action - push the lad to tears or cheer him. The former could definately serve his purpose, weakening the young man further. On the other hand, Liam's bloodline was proud and strong. Perhaps the latter will be more appropriate.

"Your father would be very proud of you," the aide said. At the prince's surprised and wistful gaze, he smiled and nodded. "Aye, he would. You've come quite a way down the path of adulthood, surmounting obstacles that would make a brave man quaver." Dominic leaned forward, his voice lowering, drawing the teenager closer. "Your blood is telling."

Liam's eyes stung. "Thank you, Dom," he said, voice husky. "That's good to know."

Content he'd chosen his words well, the aide sipped at his wine.

Ros stared at the ceiling, watching the flickering shadows of candle flame. She lay on her bed, tired but unable to sleep. Her mind racing, Ros' thoughts took her where they willed.

As it was that morning, the evening brought more laughter and joy to the Compound's inhabitants. An early supper of immense proportions was set and the family proceeded to feast well into the night. Using the last wizened apples in the larder, Florin presented them with a sticky sweet dessert to top it off.

Inhaling, Ros felt the not quite comfortable sensation of fullness. Despite this, the temptation to sneak out to the common room for a nibble was nearly overpowering. I could check the Summer Finding log, she thought.

Not motivated enough to move just yet, she rolled over instead, eyes lighting on the small table she used as a desk. On it was a small mound of items, gifts from her family. Between the lot of them, Ros had a new set of clothes for the center ring. In addition, there was a handful of parchment, a new quill and the last jug of Joseph's homemade ale.

The best gift by far, however, was an overtunic that Katerin had gifted. Ros smiled, remembering the light blush powdering the small woman's face as she held out the package. Fading, the vision was replaced by another, Katerin happy and flushed with exertion, leaning close.

Unconsciously, Ros fingered her lips in an attempt to recapture the moment. Katerin mouth was warm and still tasted of Sati's hotcakes. Her touch was both tentative and purposeful, tongue flickering in to tease before withdrawing. It so startled Ros, she'd been flummoxed after, barely able to pull her lanky frame from the snowdrift as Katerin giggled and ran away.

For the remainder of the day, Ros attempted to get Katerine alone, coming up with all manner of schemes to attain her goal. However the other women interupted, interfered and insisted that their concerns were more important. Ros was positive she was being played with and it was frustrating in the extreme even as it was humorous.

Who knew how well Kat could fit into our family. Ros sighed and returned to her daydreams.

A gentle tap at her door brought her back. Ros glanced at the candle, surprised to see how low it had gotten. Another tap galvanized her and she rose, donning a robe before crossing the room. She wasn't surprised to find Katerin standing uncertainly in the hall and they stared at each other a few moments.

A faint grin flickered on Katerin's lips. "May I come in?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Certainly!" Ros stood back, allowing the small woman entry. She paused in thought before pulling her robe tighter and shutting the door.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Katerin said, turning face the blonde.

Ros shook her head, waving at the only chair. "You didn't. I was still up." She sat on her bed.

The brunette nodded, sitting where indicated. A silence built between them as they glanced about, unsure of what to say. Finally, Katerin said, "I fear I've been put out of my room for the night."

Frowning, Ros leaned forward. "Did you and Ilia have a disagreement?"

Katerin colored, dropping her gaze to her fidgeting hands. "No, that's not what happened." She chewed her upper lip. "Henry came by for a...a visit."

"A visit...?" As the implication washed over her, Ros' eyes immediately glanced at the wall the two rooms shared, eyebrows reaching her hairline.

"Yes," Katerin answered the unspoken question.

"I see," Ros murmured, mind searching for a possible solution. Gingerly, she stood, gesturing to her bed. "By all means, Kat, sleep here. I'll...uh...check on the fire and bed down in the common room."

Katerin stood, as well, stepping forward to intercept the blonde. "That's not necessary, Ros," she said. "This bed is certainly larger than the one in your wagon. There's room for both of us."

Ros gazed at the smaller woman, an almost wistful expression on her face. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Katerin."

Bolstering her courage, Katerin moved closer, stopping a hairsbreabth away. She licked her lips and said in a low voice, "I believe it's a very good idea."

A tingle passed along Ros' nerves and she swallowed. "Kat," she said, taking a step backwards, "Perhaps you had too much brandy this evening. Go to bed and we'll talk come morning."

Sighing, a petulant flash in her eyes, Katerin closed the distance between them. "Allow me to speak plainly, Ros," she said.

Before the blonde could answer, she was being soundly kissed. No tentative teasing this, the lips on hers were firm, hands in her hair held her close. Against her better judgement, Ros responded, tasting what she'd dreamt of for months.

The kiss broke off and they leaned into each other, breathless.

"Take me to bed, Ros," Katerin whispered.

"Gladly."

Chapter 10

Katerin stood, hands on hips, frowning at the clothing on the bed. How it would all fit in the wagon was beyond her. Ros insisted that she'd been able to store more in their traveling abode than this, however, so the brunette dutifully returned to folding and sorting, muttering imprecations in the process. Difficult to imagine that less than a year ago, I hardly owned enough to fill a satchel. Now I have too much!

"How goes the battle?"

Turning, Katerin stepped into a welcome embrace. "Not well, I deem. I'm prepared to surrender." She snuggled closer, smiling at the raspy chuckle.

"You're doing fine," Ros assured her. "The wagon is clean and aired. Henry and Phizo are touching up the paint and Em has all the bedding out in the sun." She gave the smaller woman a squeeze before releasing her, sitting in the room's only chair.

Not willing to let her lover get too far, Katerin followed, standing between long legs and running her hand through curly blonde hair. "How long before we leave then?"

Ros smiled lazily, caressing the brunette's side. "Not long. We're only awaiting two wagons - Daiki and Habibah should show up any day now. I expect Gemma and Lucinda by the end of the week." She leaned forward, pillowing her head on Katerin's belly.

Closing her eyes, Katerin held Ros close. "It should prove to be an…interesting season."

Muffled answer, "Aye, it should."

The brunette smiled and looked at the tousled head. "But it will never get started if I don't finish the sorting."

A grunt of agreement and Ros pulled away with a rueful grin. "There is that." She released her lover, watching her move back to their bed. "I'm debating the need to bring a third stock wagon. What with Sameer's family and Henry coming along, it would behoove us to have the extra stores."

"It would," Katerin agreed, pushing through a pile of shifts.

Her eyes drifting along the items to be packed, Ros blinked and pursed her lips. She rose and went to an open chest along the wall, rummaging within until she retrieved what she was looking for. There was a moment's hesitation as the blonde surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder at Katerin. Sighing, shoulders straightening, she said, "Don't forget this."

At first, Katerin thought it was Isabella, the doll she'd carted halfway across the countryside in her wild flight from the Invader. It occurred to her, however, that this doll's flaxen hair was of a darker shade, the clothing yellowed and unfamiliar. Blinking, she looked into gray eyes. "You own a doll?"

Ros sighed again, looking away. "Aye and she goes wherever I go. Her name's Grace and she's my luck."

Trying very hard to suppress her amusement, Katerin couldn't help but allow a small smile as she stepped forward. Rather than take the doll, she wrapped her arms about Ros' waist and hugged her. "You're adorable when you blush," she murmured.

Regardless of her tint, Ros chuckled. "Why thank you, madam. I shall endeavor to do it for you more often."

"See that you do." Katerin yelped and pulled away, rubbing her rear as she waggled a finger at Ros. "Best watch yourself, love," she warned with a grin. "I know where you sleep."

Ros attempted to look contrite, failing miserably. "Aye, you do. I'll be on my best behavior, madam."

Katerin's grin widened and she moved back into an embrace. "Good. I'll reward your best behavior," she murmured, tilting her face for a kiss. Her offer accepted, the brunette closed her eyes and sank into her lover's arms.

A door slammed and pounding feet neared. They barely had time to break off their kiss when young Wills slid to a halt in the open doorway. "Daiki and Habibah are here!" he yelled before dashing off to share the news with anyone else indoors, leaving an excited wake behind him.

"I believe that's our cue to go welcome them," Ros said, smiling.

"I believe you're right," came the response.

Stopping only long enough to set the doll with the rest of the items to be packed, the pair left their room.

Ros read the parchment, lips pressed together and brow furrowed. Daiki sat nearby on a stump, waiting as he pet a puppy. They were alone at the woodpile, the rest of the family about their chores in and around the Compound.

"When did this come out," the circus owner asked, clenching the public notice.

"About mid winter." Daiki set the squirming pup down. "Last fall there was a proclamation regarding the celebration. I suppose this is their 'invitation'."

Nodding, Ros said, "I'd heard about the celebration. I was hoping to avoid the thing." Crumpling the parchment, she added, "I hadn't expected a personal request."

Daiki shrugged. "Apparently, every traveling troupe of actors, circuses or minstrels that go through the area has received one. The Invader means this to be a grand party; a reminder of who holds the reins in the Dulce Province." He watched the blonde carefully. "What are we going to do?"

Ros inhaled deeply, straightening her stance. "We gather everyone and discuss it."

"In the hall or out here?" the man asked, scooping up the puppy and rising.

"Out here, I should think. More room and light."

With a nod, Daiki headed for the main building. "I'll see to it."

Ros turned away, staring into space after a vague wave of acknowledgement. She opened the parchment once more, scanning the contents and shaking her head.

The presence of the Adamsson Circus is required at the Grand Celebration of His Royal Majesty Germaine Carlos William Cassaidie to be held on the twenty-third day of the fourth month. A section of Firemount Field has been reserved for your troupe's tent and abodes. You are scheduled to perform before the King on the afternoon of the twenty-sixth day.

Bleeding Sif, not even given a choice. We're already scheduled to perform for the bastard. Again Ros crumpled the parchment in one hand and stared at the horizon. How much does he know?

Within the hour, the troupe was gathered by the woodpile. Two benches were brought out as well as a number of stools, the remainder standing or utilizing pieces of firewood as seating. Ros gave Katerin a significant look, receiving a puzzled frown before she began. Holding the parchment out to Abdullah who was closest, she said, "I've received an order to attend the Invader's celebration in the Dulce Province."

Katerin blanched and wobbled before sitting down. Ilia also paled, leaving Henry's side to hold her mistress.

"Who's he to order?" Martim asked. He sniffed and flexed well-defined muscles. "He doesn't command us. We're not even in the same kingdom."

There was a rumble of agreement, though Ros noted the older and wiser heads kept their tongues. "Aye, 'tis true. But a fair half of our route is now within the Invader's borders. If we refuse, he can decide to not allow us entry." She sought eye contact with her family. "We all know how hard it is to open a new route. The question is, will it be worth it to ignore this?"

"No," said a soft voice.

Everyone turned to a still pale Katerin.

"The Invader's taken four kingdoms in his reign. If he takes more, your routes will become increasingly smaller. You can't afford to reroute every time he conquers another kingdom."

Martim shrugged. He passed the parchment on without reading it, saying, "So? We go. We'll probably make a good penny in the process. What's the difficulty?" Ducking, he barely avoided a cuff from Usiku standing behind him.

"In case you've forgotten, what with all that empty space between your ears," the black man said, nose wrinkled, "it was the Invader's man killed in our camp last season."

Before Martim could respond, Ros cut in, drawing their attention back to the issue, "Aye. Are we receiving this 'invitation' because of that or not?" Silence met her question. "Daiki says he's heard of other troupes and minstrels receiving this order. Is it a ruse to draw us in? Or is it what it seems to be - the Invader celebrating his new province?"

"There's rumor that a Dulce heir is stirring up rebellion in the province," Habibah said in a quiet voice. Despite her lack of projection, all heads turned her way.

"That's impossible!" Katerin, who had risen, froze under the collective stare of the troupe. She wilted somewhat; mouth open to explain her outburst but nothing came. Ilia provided a measure of support by standing close, hand on her lady's shoulder. The brunette's gaze flickered over the gathering, finally finding Ros'. Love and understanding seemed to pour between them and Katerin stood taller, gaining strength from the look. "I have it on…very good authority that none of the heirs to the Dulce throne survived. Save one."

Willem said, "Well, of course, Kat. We know. The guards rousted us a few nights after you joined us. Remember?" He smiled warmly. "It's no secret they were looking for a woman."

Flabbergasted, Katerin was speechless once more.

Habibah tilted her head. "But the rumors from Dulce are that a crown prince survived."

Katerin's eyes narrowed as she frowned in thought. That cannot be. My brothers are dead. She recalled Hector's statement when they'd met up that night. "Nay, Your Highness. I saw the Invader run them through." Her musings were interrupted by Ros' voice.

"So, rumors of unrest and he plans a celebration. For what? To thumb his nose at any rebellion? Let them see how unconcerned he is?" She shook her head. "Damn if that man isn't an arrogant bastard."

"Are we going, then?" Sameer asked. Beside him, Florin suckled their baby.

Ros sighed and nodded. "Aye. We're going. We've really been given no choice." Looking at her family, she said, "Anyone who doesn't wish to follow can split off before we enter the city." She looked at Katerin. "Lay low and camp until the celebration is complete."

There was a general murmur as the people discussed their options.

For the first time, Emerita spoke up. "Phizo, love. Get our wagon from the barn. We're going along."

"Em," Ros said, stepping forward. "It'll be all right. You don't need to come."

The old woman smiled, patting Ros' cheek gently. "My family needs me. We're old and decrepit but Phizo's good with the horses and I can cook." She winked at the blonde before going to Katerin and taking the woman's arm in hers. "The fewer worries, the better."

"Em…" the brunette murmured.

"Hush, Kat. The decision's made."

Ros sighed again, a mixture of irritation and pleasure on her face. "Don't bother, Katerin. Once she's made up her mind, that's the end of it." She ignored the chuckle from the old woman, turning to the rest of the troupe. "We go. Those who wish to stay away can camp outside of the city. In the meantime, we've much work to do in preparation. We've a hard road ahead if we're to be there in time. I want us ready to leave a day or so after Gemma and Lucinda arrive."

Obviously dismissed, the group separated, returning to their chores. Ilia stayed behind until Katerin urged her away. Em, after another wink and a squeeze, let go of the brunette's arm and went to her husband, the pair drifting towards the barn.

Katerin stepped into her lover's welcome arms. "We must talk," she said, a lump in her throat.

"Aye."

Katerin stood in the center of their room, arms wrapped about her. She heard Ros closing the door behind her and shivered, a weight building in her chest. You knew it would happen sooner or later! she scolded herself. Get on with it!

Warm hands on her shoulders pulled her from her self-castigation. The brunette turned, releasing the death grip on her arms to cling to her lover. Tears stung the back of her eyes and she closed them, wishing the emotions away.

"It's all right, Kat," Ros murmured. "You're safe."

Sniffing, Katerin nodded. "I know," came the muffled response. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and pulled back slightly. Looking into concerned eyes, the brunette said, "But I fear you'll not have me when I say what I must."

Ros hugged her. "Nothing you can say will change my opinion of you, Kat," she assured.

"Be that as it may," Katerin said unconvinced, dropping eye contact. With reluctance, she pulled out of the comforting embrace, returning to her original stance. Refusing to look at her lover, the brunette said, "I'm sure you have some suspicions of where I came from; why the Invader's man was killed in your camp." She shuddered, remembering the sounds of skirmish, the voice proclaiming Hector dead.

"My real name is Sabine. I am the daughter of King Frederick of Dulce, the sole surviving heir to the throne and the Invader is looking for me." Inhaling, fighting back tears, Katerin whirled about, straightening her shoulders and standing tall. "Ilia is one of my handmaidens. The second man you found dead was Hector, former royal guard and my man at arms."

A part of the brunette wanted to gibber in relief but she wouldn't allow it, resorting to her royal training. Katerin studied her lover, expecting anger, dismay, confusion. To her surprise, Ros' face had a bemused grin. "You knew?" she blurted.

Ros nodded slightly, waggling her hand in a see saw motion. "I suspected," she said. "I figured you to be a royal; I just didn't know which one." Her demeanor became solemn. "Which makes this invitation much more ominous."

Deflated, drained, Katerin sat on the bed with a flounce, not heeding the clothing there. "Yes, I know." She chewed her lower lip. "I know that my brothers didn't survive. Hector told me he'd seen them run through, Mother included."

The blonde sat beside Katerin, gathering her into a hug. I'm sorry," she said. "To lose your family in such violent and sudden ways isn't easy."

Ros' words opened a floodgate. Katerin, unable to hold back any longer, burst into tears, burrowing into her lover's arms. The blonde held her close, rocking gently as a year's worth of pain and worry released.

When the crying died down, the brunette found herself curled up and cradled in Ros' arms. She snuffled a bit, wiping her face on her sleeve. "Thank you," she whispered.

Hugging her, Ros whispered back, "Of course. I love you, Kat. That hasn't changed."

This comment almost set off more tears, but Katerin fought them, pulling out of the embrace. "I love you, too, Ros."

The blonde leaned in with a smile and kissed her lover on the forehead. "I know." After a careful study, deciding that the brunette was emotionally steady, Ros said, "So. With that off your chest, we need to plan a course of action."

"Yes, we do," Katerin agreed, nodding. Her eyes, still red and watery, peered at Ros. "I do not wish to cause you or the troupe danger, but I do not think I can stay here the entire season without you." She ducked her head at the confession, staring at her hands.

Ros rubbed the brunette's back. "I don't wish you to remain here, either." At the tentative peek from Katerin, she smiled. "I'd miss you far too much for my own good. The season would be…empty."

A ghost of a smile crossed Katerin's lips.

"So, the question is how do we go about our profession without putting you in danger."

"Do you think this is a ruse to draw us in, me in?" the brunette asked, turning to her lover.

Ros shook her head slowly. "I don't believe so. It's too elaborate a plot. The Invader is an arrogant man, yes, but he's a conqueror…not the type to play court games." The blonde gave a sardonic smile. "Subtlety is not his suit."

"Aye, there is that," Katerin said.

"I think that the rumor of a Dulce rebellion is what's at the heart of this. He's either had another young woman killed, thinking it was you, or he's decided a show of force is necessary to forestay any revolution." Ros took her lover's hand, rubbing it idly as she thought. "He might be confused as to your gender, thinking a prince did escape his blade. He'll be looking for a young man."

The thought of another woman taking her place in death caused Katerin to shudder. "Who is stirring rebellion in Dulce?" she wondered aloud. "None of my family survived. Do you think a lord of father's court is attempting a ruse of his own?"

Ros shrugged. "I cannot say. It could be any number of people." She paused a moment. "You're heir to a throne, Kat. Do you wish to retake it?"

"No!" the brunette exclaimed, body stiffening. Realizing she had perhaps spoken too adamantly, Katerin blushed and relaxed. "No. I have no training for it. I have no army. My only worth to the throne would be to my future husband and the children I would have." Her gaze was imploring. "I cannot lose you!" she insisted.

Nodding, Ros squeezed her lover's hand. "You won't, Kat. I had to ask. I had to know."

Reddening, the brunette nodded and ducked her head.

"I'm very ill at ease with the idea of leaving any of the troupe outside the city during the festivities," Ros said. "If it's this 'prince' he's searching for, he may have patrols sweeping the area, more vigilant than ever due to the special nature of this celebration. I believe everyone will be safer staying at Firemount Field in our encampment." She inhaled deeply, looking at Katerin. "You, however, will remain there during our forced audience, along with anyone else who wishes to be absent. Ilia comes to mind."

Katerin nodded. "Yes, that would be for the best."

Rising, Ros helped her lover to her feet, pulling her into an embrace. "So. We're decided then? You come along, stay in camp and then we'll leave, returning to our normal route?"

Hearing the heartbeat in Ros' chest, the brunette murmured. "We're decided." Somehow, by revealing her true nature to the blonde, a sensation of safety came over her. It's been so long since I've felt safe, Katerin thought.

The procession stopped despite being within an hour's travel of their final destination. Camp was set as usual - the Invader's tents and environs at the center of a large circle. As befitted their rank and station, the lords of his court spiraled outward, the area liberally sprinkled with fire pits, pickets, servant quarters and Royal Guard. Rimming camp was the regular guard, setting a perimeter and keeping their liege safe.

Looking over his encampment, the Invader smiled, imagining the curses of his subjects as they were forced to endure yet another night in the 'wilds.' It'll be good for them, he thought, a sardonic twist on his lips. Make them appreciate their homes and money, the leadership that keeps them fat and spoiled.

He, on the other hand, was in his element. Many a night he'd spend in similar camps, surrounded by his generals, working on a plan of attack against his enemy. Inhaling deeply, the Invader remembered campaigns past. It'd had been on this very spot the previous year that he'd made his final attack on the Dulce capitol. He relived the memory, seeing pompous lords replaced by confident generals, hearing the scrape of weapons being sharpened, the gentle murmur of men preparing for war.

"Your Royal Highness?"

Turning, the Invader found the captain of his Royal Guard waiting respectfully. "Yes, Semelo?"

Having spent many years in the Invader's employ, two as captain, Semelo appeared to lack the usual nervousness in his ruler's presence. "The lords are requesting an audience with you, Sire," he said, stepping forward. "I believe they're interested in knowing when we'll be leaving for the city."

"Led by Duke Agnar, no doubt." At the captain's nod, the Invader smiled. "Have the herald make an announcement. We'll be here until sunrise. I want the guard looking their best - weapons sharp, armor polished." Looking to the distant city, he said, "Tomorrow's procession will be spectacular."

"Aye, Sire," Semelo nodded, bowing and backing away.

Alone once more, the Invader murmured, "We'll see if I can flush you out, Princess. You and your…benefactor."

With a sneer of distaste, Dominic watched the Invader's arrival from behind a curtain. Having ensconced himself at an inn two nights prior, he wanted to be on the Invader's route into the city. The owner of the establishment was a member of the rebellion and more than willing to give up the price of a room for a good cause.

Eyes lighting on the hated figure, Dominic's face twisted further. Bastard!

In a display of confidence, the Invader rode at the head of his procession without visible armor. He was clad in breeches and tunic of a light beige, his deep red cloak thrown back from his shoulders. The only jewelry on his person were those of his office - signet ring, a thick chain about his neck and a gold circlet on his head. He waved at the cheering crowd, his smile belying the well-worn sword belt at his waist.

It wasn't lost on Dominic that the city guard were glaring at the masses, they're threat evident. Aye, applaud the bastard who killed your friends and family or join them in death. Regardless of the hypocrisy, the former aide felt a grudging respect for the Invader's tactics. If it weren't for Liam...these fools wouldn't need the prodding. They'd blithely go about their lives in subservience to an usurper.

The Invader past, Dominic let the curtain return to its place, not interested in the courtiers and servants. He had the crowd peppered with contacts - their reports of strength and numbers would be reported before the Invader even arrived at the castle.

"I should go."

Dominic turned to his guest, almost surprised to find him there. "Yes. Get there before him. Don't cause suspicion and report to me this time tomorrow." The aide smiled. "The Invader will be on his guard so be careful in the palace."

Rising, the man straightened the royal livery he wore. "Aye, I will." He paused in thought. "I may not be able to get away tomorrow."

"I understand. If I don't see you in three days, we go underground."

Nothing further was said between them as the spy left the room.

Dominic went to a table, ignoring the tray of food. He poured another glass of wine and sipped thoughtfully. I'm very glad the royal bratling agreed to remain in our rooms. Just what we need is for him to be found wandering the streets during this festival. Considering Prince Liam had already done such a thing by being in the city to begin with, the aide frowned. Best I go check on him.

Grabbing up his cloak, Dominic left the room, locking the door behind him.

Chapter 11

The weather was unseasonably warm. Katerin wiped sweat from her neck with a kerchief, the wagon rocking gently around her. In the interest of safety, the troupe had both her and Ilia remain inside their respective abodes while they traveled through the city. She perched on the bed, knowing that Ros was directly above her, driving the team.

Entry into the city had been easier than expected with a rebellion in full bloom. In anticipation, Katerin dressed in rags that stank of soot from the fire pits. Her short hair was disheveled and dark streaks smudged her skin. As expected, the gate guards insisted on seeing the wagons' contents and the princess went into her simpleton routine. Whether it worked due to her improved acting or the fact the guards were mortally busy with the large influx into the city was debatable. In either case, they were waved through without incident.

Beyond the walls, Katerin could hear the familiar noises of a large city. That it was her city only made the lump in her throat more solid and she was uncertain whether she should mourn or scream. Over the months, the brunette had entertained herself with dreams - her family intact, the Invader never there and life continuing as it had before. Since becoming involved with Ros, however, those fancies had faded. If things hadn't gone as they had, she'd never have met the circus owner, never have understood the love of two women, the love of Ros.

But, gods, the price! she thought with a shake. Using the kerchief, she dabbed at her eyes. A headache niggled at the back of her neck and Katerin sat up, rolling her shoulders to loosen the muscles. "Enough of that," she murmured. "Pity will get you nowhere." Moving to the edge of the bed, she leaned closer to the shutters, cracking one open to see outside.

The street here wasn't as crowded now that they'd passed through the gate. There were far more people that Katerin had seen in one place in some time, however. Ros had smartly avoided the market, knowing they'd be slowed considerably. Not having spent much time in the city proper, the princess wasn't sure where they were in relation to the castle and Firemount Field. The two were side by side, the field used frequently for outdoor parties and tournaments during her father's reign.

Katerin closed the shutter as the wagon drew alongside the field, guards prominently stationed on the perimeter. After a few moments, they lumbered to a stop and she could hear Ros climbing down the side. Her lover had an amiable chat with the guards, showing her invitation and receiving directions to their area. The brunette heaved a sigh when no further search was made. Her lover returned to the driver's seat and she felt the lurch of movement.

Noises outside indicated a different population. Katerin could hear music - pipes, drums, lutes - and the grunts and shouts unique to those practicing an entertainer's profession. Soon, the wagon stopped and Ros dismounted once more. Her voice rose as she ordered the rest of the troupe to their places.

Several moments later, the wagon door opened. "I think it's safe for you to come out," Ros said. "We're centrally located in the field and the guard is remaining on the outskirts."

With a flutter of nerves, Katerin nodded. Hearing the troupe's familiar sounds as they set up camp eased her. She came forward, taking her lover's hand and stepping out of the wagon.

The racket became much louder. Immediately surrounding them, their troupe set camp. As Katerin slowly turned, she could see another circus troupe in a practice session, three minstrels singing to the accompaniment of four musicians and a menagerie of exotic looking animals.

"So many!" she blurted, eyes wide.

Ros chuckled, draping her arm across the smaller woman's shoulders. "Aye, and more where these came from. I daresay the Invader hired acts from as far away as the Contrin Seas."

Katerin shook her head in amazement. Even Father never went to such expense.

"I'm required to check in the registrar's," the blonde said. She squeezed her lover. "Will you be all right?"

Tinting at the evident concern, Katerin ducked her head with a smile. "I'll be fine, Ros. Do what needs doing." She looked about at her friends. "I've plenty of people to keep an eye on me."

Seeming reluctant, Ros lingered a moment longer. "Well then," she finally said. "Best get on with it. I'll be back as soon as may be."

The brunette smiled, gently slipping away. "I'll see how Em and Phizo are doing," she said. "They could probably use the assistance."

"Aye." Ros watched her lover walk away. Have I made the right decision, bringing her here? Worried didn't even begin to explain the circus owner's state of mind. She truly felt, however, that there was no other option. To not follow the Invader's directive would cripple the troupe's route. And to leave her behind would cripple me...

Sighing, the blonde shook herself from her reverie. "Let's get cracking. Two days and we'll be gone." She left the troupe, heading for the registrar's.

From the window, the Invader regarded Firemount Field with satisfaction. It was a jumble of activity with more entertainers arriving every hour. The tourney grounds proper had been prepared with new fencing and paint, the stands repaired in preparation for an audience. To one side were the tents of those who wished to win a hefty purse at the upcoming tournament.

He saw a tall blonde woman in men's clothing approach the registrar and shook his head. A woman running an entertainment troupe? Noting the sword and her obvious comfort with it, he thought, Probably a sapphist to boot. Pity. She's beautiful.

A scratching at the door interrupted his thoughts and he turned away, picking up his forgotten glass of wine. "Come in."

Semelo opened the door and bowed before entering. "Your Majesty," he said. "I believe we've found a spy for the rebellion."

Instantly alert, the Invader set his glass on a nearby table, waving the man into the room. "Who and how?"

Closing the door behind him, the captain stepped closer. "His name is Travis. He was hired last summer in the kitchens. We caught him purely by accident." Semelo grimaced. "One of the ovens overheated and started a fire. The smoke wasn't acting properly - hovered near one wall rather than go for the windows and doors. When the fire was out, I investigated and found a passageway. He was inside, unconscious."

The Invader scowled. "Where does this passage lead?"

"Well, Sire, we had reports that your drawing room was on fire, but no flames were found. I can assume that is where it ends." Semelo nodded. "I've already sent a squad into the kitchen passageway. I've another in your drawing room. If there's anyone between, we'll flush him out."

"Where is the spy?"

"The dungeons, Your Majesty, awaiting an…audience with you."

The Invader grinned. "You know me well, Semelo." He gestured toward the door, stopping to pick up a pair of gloves before following. "Let's go see our little friend, shall we?"

As expected, the guards surrounding the field were to keep the entertainers in rather than the populace out. Though everyone enjoyed them, most troupes were considered potentially dangerous - traveling warrens of immoral people who would think nothing of stealing the food from a working man's table. Only scoundrels and rogues could thrive on the instable lifestyle.

With little effort, Dominic was able to gain entrance. Where else can I loiter about near the castle without question? He wore peasant clothes, dusty and brown, appearing as one of many visitors who found the lure of entertainers stronger than common sense. Drifting along, he watched the castle, ignoring jugglers, contortionists and musicians.

The soldiers on the wall had been doubled since the Invader's arrival which was to be expected. Dominic was certain the usurper was here because of the rebellion. It was impossible to hide a revolution of such magnitude; a handful of cells had been rousted over the last year and there was no doubt rumor fairly flew to the Invader's ears. Fortunately none that were vital.

Two boys raced past the aide, breathless as they explored, and he absently checked his belt pouch. Finding it unmolested, Dominic continued wandering.

Reports coming in indicated that the Invader brought more courtiers than army. All counts totaled roughly twelve hundred soldiers in and around the city not including the Royal Guard. With proper planning, the Invader will be dead and Liam king before the end of this 'celebration.' All he needed now was Travis' report from inside.

Time was the essence. Liam was becoming an increasing problem, insisting the rebellion push through before everything was in place. So far, the older and wiser leaders had headed the young hotblood off but it was anyone's guess how long it would last. If the royal bratling has a mind to start early, we don't have the means to stop him.

Shaking his head, Dominic realized he was woolgathering, staring at a circus troupe as they rehearsed. There was no more information to be had here and he turned to leave. The sound of footsteps behind him didn't register until he intercepted a running person, the pair crashing into each other.

Almost falling, Dominic grabbed the person's thin shoulders to keep his balance. "Watch where you're going, fool," he growled.

"My apologies, sir," a woman's voice answered. "Are you all right?"

"No thanks to you," the aide said, finally looking at the person. Dominic's eyes widened and he clutched the woman in his grasp, giving her a shake. "Your Highness?" he hissed.

Heart in her throat, Katerin shook her head. "You mistake me for someone else, sir." He looks familiar. A courtier of father's? She desperately cast about with her eyes but none of her friends were near.

Remembering where he was, Dominic quickly looked around before bodily dragging the princess to the side of a wagon. "Are you mad?" he demanded in a whisper. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"You're hurting me," Katerin said. His hands dropped as if they burned. I think his name's Dominic, isn't it? "I don't know who you think I am, but you're wrong." Of all the people to find me, it has to be a minor courtier turned peasant.

Leaning forward with menace, Dominic said, "You may be able to fool these...people, princess, but I know who you are."

Katerin realized he wasn't going to accept her innocence. Deal with things now; Ros will know what to do after. "My title isn't necessary, sir. I'm known as Katerin these days."

Triumphant, it was all Dominic could do to not crow aloud. He stepped back, looking her over. Katerin wore rags that were filthier than his, dirt smudging her skin and hair mussed. She's still the image of her mother, he thought, refusing to sneer. "I'm so glad to see you survived!" he said. "We'd heard you escaped the Invader's wrath that night."

We? Dear gods, could he be involved in this rebellion? "Yes. It wasn't easy. I hid during the day and traveled at night until I was out of the kingdom."

"Alone?" Not bloody likely.

The brunette nodded. "Yes. A few weeks later I found the troupe and I've been with them ever since." If he is with the rebellion... "I've heard rumor that one of my brothers survived as well?"

Dominic's smile faded. "No, Your Highness. As far as I know, no one but you lived through that night."

"Don't call me that," Katerin said absently, feeling a bit of her heart wither with death of hope. "Princess Sabine didn't live through that night...Dominic, isn't it?"

"Aye," he answered, resorting to a nod of his head rather than a bow. "Are you sure, lady? The throne…" Her dark eyes became intent and Dominic found himself snared by them. Just like her mother.

"Are you still loyal to my father?" Katerin demanded.

Appearing properly horrified at the question, Dominic said, "Of course, Your...I mean, Katerin."

"Then everyone in the Dulce royal bloodline is dead. Is that understood, Dominic?"

The aide studied Katerin for long moments. "Aye. Everyone." So. Not interested in regaining the throne, eh? While that could be a blessing, why?

"Kat!"

Dominic turned to see a tall blonde approach, eying him suspiciously.

"Are you all right?" the newcomer asked Katerin, her gaze never leaving the man.

Blushing, the brunette nodded, stepping into a hug. "Yes, I'm fine," she said, ignoring Dominic's raised brow.

"Can I help you?" Ros asked the stranger, her tone anything but helpful.

"No, thank you. The lady and I ran into one another. I just stopped to be certain she was well." That's it then? Found yourself a woman lover?

Ros glanced quickly at the smaller woman. "She appears to be unharmed, thank you. However, we have rehearsal," she hinted.

Taking his cue, Dominic nodded. "Of course. My apologies for the interruption." To Katerin, he said, "Be careful, young lady. You never know whom you'll run into."

"I understand," the brunette said.

With a bow, Dominic scurried away, mind spinning.

Watching, Ros asked, "Who is he?"

"I'm not sure," Katerin said. "Either a minor court official or lord."

"He recognized you," the circus owner stated with surety. She turned to her lover. "Didn't he?"

Swallowing, Katerin dropped her gaze and nodded. "Yes, he did." The blonde's body stiffened and she continued. "I think things will be fine. Our presentation is tomorrow afternoon - I doubt Dominic will have time to do anything before then even if he's a mind to."

Ros said, "Aye, there's the rub. Will he have a mind to?" Her eyes searched the immediate area, alert for guards appearing out of nowhere to collect Katerin for the Invader's axe. "We have to get you out of here. I'll have Martim and Tomas go with you --"

"No."

Narrowing her eyes, Ros glared at the brunette. "We must get you away," she said, apparently hoping repetition would lead to agreement. "If you were recognized by him, you could be by any number of others."

Katerin shook her head. "I don't think so. The only reason he did was because we ran into one another." Raising her hands and stepping away, the princess continued, "Where will I go…outside the gates? You recall the patrols along the roads as much as I. Getting into the city was easy. Getting out, ahead of schedule I might add, will not. We've got guards here at the field, guards at the city gates and guards on patrol that are all looking for an elusive prince that doesn't exist. It would be less safe than where I am now."

"Kat…"

The brunette, her royal dander up, shook her head. "No, Ros. Growling at me won't change a thing. Dominic isn't in the employ of the Invader - if he were, do you think he'd dress like a peasant? He's got something to do with the rebellion, I'm sure of it. If he were to turn me in, it would decimate any faction trying to usurp the Invader." Sighing, Katerin said, "If he were to turn me in, do you think we'd get through the field? If anything, Dominic will be scheming how to get me into the rebellion. He has only a trumped up figurehead. It would be idiocy to give me over when he could use me to his advantage. I'm safe for the moment. Though we leave as soon as the show is over."

Uncertain but knowing the truth of Katerin's words, the blonde chewed her lower lip. "We'll post a guard for the rest of our stay," she finally said. "I want everyone packed and ready to leave the minute we're through this mess."

Relieved that her friends would be safe, Katerin smiled. "I'm sure it will be fine, Ros." She slipped into a comforting hug.

"I hope you're right," Ros whispered.

Bleeding Sif! Why couldn't I have found her last year? Dominic grumbled as he returned his pass to the guard. Sliding easily into pedestrian traffic, he worried this new development.

The segregation of the entertainers was a boon. At least she won't be ambling along the streets to be discovered. Fortunate as well was her disguise. Despite his knowledge that Princess Sabine had survived, Dominic wouldn't have known her to look at her.

If the girl is fool enough to come here, though... Shaking his head, the aide turned off the main thoroughfare. What other absurdity will she be party to? How can I use this?

Telling Liam his sister lived was out of the question. The young man was distracted enough; this news would only draw his attention away from the goal. They were too close to the throne to risk it.

Dominic had already lied to Sabine about the prince. God, help us if she finds out! Her lack of common sense could uncover us all. Putting the final straw on things, Travis was late checking in by a full day. Others in Dominic's network of spies had heard nothing about him. Either he's been compromised or he's unable to leave.

Too many variables made for little control and Dominic detested the situation. If Travis didn't report by the end of the day, the aide would be forced to act.

The rebellion awaited only his word; all was in place. Should the Invader have gotten the information, Dominic could see little recourse other than an early attack. Later would guarantee a loss. And I very much doubt I could talk the royal bratling into delaying.

Worst scenario, Travis had been discovered and the Invader received information on the rebels' attack. The best option was to speed up their timetable and possibly distract the ruler.

As Dominic neared the hovel he shared with Liam, he stopped in his tracks. Oblivious to the jostle and curses of those pushing past, a smile crossed his face.

What better distraction than a hunted princess?

The Invader wiped his hands on a towel, leaving streaks of crimson gore. "Clean that up," he instructed with a nod at the body crumpled behind him. As guards hastened to obey, he said, "Remove the head and hang it from the main gates."

"Aye, Sire," the jailor said, bowing.

Turning, the Invader raised his hand. "No." He stood in thought as everyone paused. "Destroy it instead. When this is over, I'll have other heads to decorate the castle walls."

"Aye, Sire."

Looking down, the Invader noted his tunic was a mess. I'll have a bath drawn when I return to my quarters. As he left the dungeons, he said, "Semelo," not bothering to see if his captain followed. Climbing narrow steps, he was amused at the visible recoil from the guard at the door.

Once in the courtyard, the Invader inhaled deeply, chasing away the scent of blood and death that clung to him. While it was reminiscent of a battlefield, it wasn't the same, derived instead from a helpless opponent. Grimacing, he removed his tunic, tossing the offending material to the ground.

Behind him, Semelo spoke softly to the guards. Clothing rustled and he approached his liege. "Sire, wear this."

"Thank you, Captain," the Invader said, taking the offered tunic. "See that the guardsman is properly rewarded."

"Aye, Your Majesty. I'll see to his compensation."

The tunic was tight in the shoulders but fit well enough. Coppery blood still tickled the Invader's nostrils and he started walking across the courtyard, his captain trailing behind.

Dominic's name coming from ravaged lips was hardly a surprise. If anyone would be behind this abortive attempt, it would be he, the Invader thought. With no prince, however…does he think he can be king? Unless, of course, he's discovered Sabine.

To throw things off, Dominic planned to instigate a riot in three days, coinciding with the day after the fall of the kingdom. The day I ousted him. It was hoped that the guard would be more lax, having seen the official anniversary come and go without incident. Should he discover I've found him out, he'll move the time up and change some of the particulars.

The spy wasn't privy to any more information than time and date, nor were many names called out - Dominic, the long dead Liam and three others were mentioned. Finding them in the crowded streets of revelers would be impossible. Though there was an inn mentioned that Dominic frequented.

Pausing at a door leading into the castle, he said, "Send a squad to the Dancing Bird and roust the owner. I want him publicly flogged for treason before his arrest. Bring in his family, as well."

Semelo bowed. "Aye, Sire. Any other orders, sir?"

The Invader paused. "No. Make it loud and very noticeable. I want their leaders to know that I'm aware of them." His captain bowed and backed away a respectable distance before turning to trot away.

Staring after, the Invader thought, I know you're out there, Dominic. I'll find you soon and we'll have a nice long talk.

Chapter 12

Ros leaned against the wagon, arms crossed, giving the appearance of nonchalance as she stared at the castle before her. Behind, the troupe was gathered about the fire, their demeanor subdued. Word had passed among them about their current predicament and all were worried about the coming day.

They were scheduled to present themselves to the Invader at noon, the third act of the day. Plans were in place and they were packed to leave immediately after. Ros had learned from contacts among the other troupes that, upon completion of their act, they'd be given a healthy stipend and the necessary papers to leave the city. A few troupes had elected to remain, entertaining the natives daring to venture onto the field and receiving extra monies in return.

While it seemed obvious that Dominic hadn't turned in Katerin, the blonde was still nervous. You'd be on edge anyway, she reminded herself, going into the lion's den.

She, Em, Phizo and Katerin had spent a long hour in the wagon, discussing their options while Daiki and Martim idled outside on guard. To Ros' annoyance, the older couple agreed with Katerin that they should stay until after their presentation. Her suggestion to have Kat hide with another troupe for the time being was met with resistance.

"If the worse should happen and I'm discovered, it will be easier for you to deny knowledge of my true nature," Katerin insisted. "To move me would imply knowledge and, therefore, your guilt and collusion."

There was no arguing and Em supported the brunette.

Ros grimaced at the sour taste in her mouth and spat on the ground before her.

"You're brooding again."

Not bothering to turn, the circus owner said, "Aye, and with good reason."

Em moved forward, placing a companionable arm about the younger woman's waist. "Aye. Good reason you have, even without Kat." She looked up at Ros. "Forced into an audience with the Invader can be dangerous."

Ros only nodded and they stood in silence for long moments.

"I remember you as a young girl," Em said, voice low. "Scared of your own shadow, so uncertain. You've grown up well. Your da would be proud."

The blonde swallowed. "Would he?" she whispered.

Smiling, the old woman said, "Aye. He would. You've surpassed all his dreams for you." She hugged her charge. "Your entire family would be."

Snorting, Ros nevertheless put her arm around Em's shoulders. "I find that difficult to believe but I won't argue."

"Just as well," the old woman stated firmly. "You haven't won an argument with me, yet."

"First time for everything," the blonde hinted, her jibe not carrying much force.

Em hugged her again. "Remember your fears," she said. "Go to Katerin. She needs you."

Finally looking away from the castle, Ros looked into her friend's eyes. "Aye," she said. "You're right. Thank you."

"You'd have thought of it soon. I didn't raise you to be half-witted." Em received a chuckle and a squeeze before the blonde released her. She watched Ros enter her wagon, hearing Kat's low greeting before returning to her family at the fire.

As Liam awaited the arrival of his 'generals,' four men who had spent more time on the farm than the battlefield, he stared into the fireplace. Dominic had returned from his outing in a strange mood. The aide tried to give the impression of somber worry but, after several months of living together, Liam could see something else beneath the mask. A measure of satisfaction or smugness, he couldn't tell which. No amount of prying could get Dominic to discuss it, however, until the others arrived. Cloaked in silent contemplation, Liam waited until all were assembled.

"Travis has been compromised, I'm sure of it."

Liam sighed heavily, thoughts a blur. Why would Dom be happy with that? The prince recalled a conversation or two with some of his more vocal supporters, all pronouncing Dominic a traitor. Could they be right? Could he be setting a trap for me even as he works toward setting me on the throne?

"We can't stop now," Torlief insisted, leaning forward with a thump. "If your spy has been discovered, how much can he tell?"

Dominic, his face a mask of disgust, said, "He knows me. He knows the time and date. Travis was to tell us where the Invader would be at our attack."

There was cursing followed by apologetic looks at the prince. Liam waved them to silence. "We have several alternatives here," he said. "Speed, sloth or suspension." His generals erupted into another bout of curses. I wonder which Dominic will support…

"No!"

"We can't stop now!"

"Perhaps if we waited…"

Dominic thumped the table with open palms. "The Invader knows the only option open to us is speed. If we wait, he'll have more time to prepare. And we certainly can't stop. Our people have worked hard for this moment; to halt now would demoralize them. We'd have a devil of a time gathering our resources again."

"You have an idea?" Liam asked.

Nodding, the aide said, "Yes." He looked at the others, ensuring he had their attention. "With some hard work we can have the courtyard set for tomorrow at noon."

"Tomorrow?" one general said. "Are ye daft?"

I should think not, Liam considered. Forestalling further argument, he raised his hand. "Nay, it can work. If the Invader knows only our planned time to strike, the earlier we attack the better. It will be difficult getting the word out, but I think we've proven ourselves willing and able." The men watched him and he was suddenly struck by the oddity of a fourteen year old boy ordering these grizzled farmers to their potential deaths. You'll do it many times in the next few days, the prince chided himself. Don't become jaded. Always remember they have families even if you don't. He turned his attention to Dominic, the generals following his lead.

Oh, yes. Liam's the one. As Dominic outlined the plan, his thoughts continued a different path. Sabine could never command the same respect as he. No one will follow her. They will a prince. He answered a question from one of the generals, glad to see Liam jump into the conversation with his own ideas. But can she be used as easily? I doubt it; I seem to recall rumor of her willful ways…Too much like her mother.

"I'll lead the men through the gate."

"My Liege, no!" Dominic insisted, returning full attention to the conversation. "We can't risk you getting killed in the skirmish!"

Liam made a face. "Dom, I can't sit outside while my people shed their blood for my title. If I'm to be king, I must lead!" And if this is a trap laid for me, I'll be damned if I'll be where you expect me.

Amazingly, the generals agreed with Dominic. A long debate ensued as the men refused to change their minds on the issue. No amount of arguing would alter things, not even threat of royal punishment.

Slumping, Liam refused to pout. "Fine. Enjoy your victory, gentlemen. I promise you, it won't happen again."

A deep sigh of relief echoed around the table.

"More importantly, Sire," Torlief said, "you'll be alive to enjoy your victory."

Dominic regained their attention. "Then it's agreed? Noon tomorrow all will be in place. I'll arrange a distraction in the courtyard."

There was consensus. The sound of chairs scraping the floor filled the room as the men prepared to leave. They went out the door at intervals, going in different directions.

As Dominic closed the door on the last man, he thought, I know just the distraction. I'm sure the Invader would be more than happy to have Princess Sabine in his hands.

Liam stared into the fire once more. No doubt about it. I'll be in the courtyard at noon, regardless of Dominic's wishes. I will lead my army to victory.

The armored man pulled off his helmet. His air of command reminded her of her father, though he wasn't as handsome. An ugly scar ran across his face from the base of his nose to curve down and around his cheek. He was saying something, his voice so low that she couldn't make it out.

When the blade pierced her mother's chest, pinning the babe to it, her scream matched theirs.

Fighting out of her nightmare, Katerin struggled with the blanket. Hands on her upper arms startled her and she gave a small shriek, batting them away.

"Shhhh," Ros whispered. "It's a bad dream, Kat! You're safe!"

Realizing the truth of her lover's words, Katerin slumped into the embrace with a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I hope I didn't wake anyone else."

Ros leaned back, taking the brunette with her. "I doubt any of us are getting much sleep this night," she said.

Katerin snuggled the blonde, draping her arm across the lean belly. She pillowed her head on Ros' breast, tentative feelings of safety washing over her as her lover encircled her long arms. "You, too?" she asked.

Reluctant, Ros nodded. "Aye, me, too."

Curiousity drove away the dwindling fear. Katerin's nightmares were her own, the reason for their existence self-evident. Despite many nights spent discussing them with Ros, all attempts to relieve their severity met with limited success.

Her lover's nightmares, while less frequent, were just as uncompromising. Ros would wake, sometimes with a yell and always terrified. The few times Katerin tried to gain insight, her lover insisted she couldn't remember the dream.

"Do you remember this one?" Katerin asked on a lark.

"No," was the immediate answer.

So fast. No pause. You do remember. Squeezing the blonde, Katerin let the suspicions go. "Tomorrow night we'll be away and all will be well."

"Aye," Ros said, returning the hug. "The last of the packing will be done in the morning. We'll leave when the performance is finished."

Katerin smiled. "A reverse parade," she said. "Everyone in costume and make up as we flee with festive abandon."

Snorting at the image, Ros nodded. "Let's just hope Usiku has time to don his breeches first," she said, referring to the dark skinned man's fig leaf clown act.

The women chortled in the darkness, holding each other for strength and support.

Looking over Firemount Field, he could see the fires of various camps. It appeared that a few troupes had gathered together, singing and dancing the night away. Tomorrow will be my celebration. Drinking from a cup of wine, the Invader contemplated the view, unseeing.

Given the circumstances and information from the discovered spy, he was certain Dominic would attempt a coup fairly soon. The exact time, of course, was unknown but the Invader doubted it would be much longer.

To that end, he had prepared his finest archers to be present along the ramparts of the courtyard. In addition, a good number of the Royal Guard were instructed to wear civilian clothes and mingle with the lords and ladies of court during the days performances.

You're no match for me, traitor, he thought. Strength of arms will prevail.

"That one?"

"Aye. That's the wagon," Dominic agreed, his voice as low as his comrade's. ""She's small boned, dark of hair and eye."

"And the prince wants her taken to the Invader?" the greasy man asked, tugging at his ear with a frown.

"Isn't that what I said?" Dominic shook his head. "The less you know, the better if you get caught. Just get the girl and bring her to the guard at the castle. She's to be a diversion." Fool! Do as you're told!

Now he was sucking his teeth. "I'll not be responsible for an innocent woman's death," he said.

"Bleeding Sif," Dominic cursed. "She's not an innocent and she's not going to die! If we're to pull this off, however, you must do this by noon. Will you?" Gods save me from well-meaning villians.

"You swear she'll be safe?"

Dominic barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead, he mustered all the sincerity he could. "Aye, I swear." I swear she'll be put out of my misery.

With reluctance, the greasy man nodded acceptance of his task. "I'll have her at the gate by the appointed time."

Taking his leave, Dominic fairly cackled. Soon, King Liam will be on the throne and I will standing beside him.

Chapter 13

Sitting outside Phizo and Em's wagon, Katerin fiddled with her project. She was learning to knit but it wasn't going well. Holding up a malformed sock, she tsked under her breath. "This is so much harder than it looks."

"Aye, it can be," Em agreed from her stool. She too was knitting, her endeavor much more aesthetically pleasing.

The brunette eyed the sock balefully before raising her eyes to scan the field.

Chuckling, the older woman said, "It's been less than an hour, Kat."

Katerin dropped her gaze, blushing, and sighed. "I know. But the waiting is hard. I'd much rather have it over and be gone." She made a halfhearted attempt at knitting.

Phizo, perched in the door of the wagon smoking a pipe, said, "Aye. As would we all; but no fears, Kat. They'll be finished in no time and we'll be long gone by nightfall."

"Yes, I know," the brunette murmured. She concentrated on her task once again, frowning in disgust. With a snort, she dropped her needles into her lap. "Oh, honestly! This is giving me fits!" Transferring the project to her basket, she rose and dusted off her skirts. "I'll return momentarily. I've a mind to work on my sewing instead."

"You want company?" Phizo asked, preparing to rise.

"No, thank you," Katerin said, mindful of the old man's aching joints. She gave a reassuring smile. "It will be just a moment while I fetch the other."

Masculine honor appeased, Phizo relaxed and nodded, missing Em's mischevious wink. Suppressing a giggle, Katerin picked up her basket and left them.

The immediate encampment was quiet, wagons packed in preparation of a speedy departure, the few horses not needed for Willem's performance already hitched to them. Beyond their troupe, other camps were rehearsing for their audience with the Invader or entertaining those brave locals who wandered the field. Only a handful had left and Katerin was glad to soon be joining them.

Opening the wagon door, Katerin stepped inside. There was little space to move because of the outdoor accoutrements; stools, small tables, an oiled canvas awning and poles cluttered the entry. She eased past them, reaching the cupboard she used for her ongoing handicrafts. Katerin quickly found what she was looking for, setting her knitting basket inside before closing the door.

Squinting in the late morning light, the brunette shut the wagon firmly. She found herself staring at the castle, a mix of emotion in her heart - wistful nostalgia tainted with a healthy dose of fear. Just a bit longer and we'll be free of this danger.

"Milady!"

Startled, Katerin turned from her thoughts, grabbing her skirts in one hand, preparing to flee. A man, flushed and panting from running, slid to a stop before her.

Knuckling his forehead in respect, he said, "Forgive me, milady, I didn't mean to frighten you."

Heart still thumping, Katerin reacted to his deference with proper royal snobbery. "It's well you didn't then, isn't it?"

"Aye, milady," the man agreed, ignoring the lie. "I was sent when it happened. There's been an accident! You're to come to the castle immediately!"

"Accident?" Katerin blanched, her sewing project falling from numb fingers. "What happened? Is Ros involved?" she demanded, grabbing the messenger's arm.

"I don't know, milady," he answered, pulling back, drawing the woman with him. "I didn't see. I was only told that someone is calling for you."

Katerin felt a wave of nausea rush over her. Oh, gods! Not again! I don't think I can handle more death. Steeling herself, she said, "Take me to her!"

"Aye, Milady. This way."

"But, Sire," the lieutenant hissed.

"I'm not changing my mind, Ian," the dark young man said. "Save your breath and follow orders."

Silently cursing upstart princes, the sole remaining Dulce guardsman nodded. "Aye, Sire."

Liam grasped the man's upper arm. "When this is over, I'm making you captain of my guard. You've served me well and deserve a fitting reward."

"Thank you, my liege. But if you don't survive, I'll never see it," came the pointed reminder.

Chuckling, the prince released his man. "Then we'd best get on with it, eh?" At Ian's nod, he said, "I'll see you on the other side."

The guard nodded. "Aye, Sire, you will."

Liam watched him drift away in the crowd, preparing his peasant army to storm the gates. An army I'm supposed to be leading from afar.

Loitering at the courtyard entrance, Liam searched for a way past the Invader's guards. No commoners were allowed inside, only those with royal invitations. The prince had been here most the morning, watching. At last he saw an opportunity.

As the next group of performers passed, Liam pulled his hood up and put his shoulder against the second of two wagons, keeping himself out of sight of the circus people. They were stopped at the gate, a blonde woman producing their invitation before being waved through.

"Here! Are you with this troupe?" a guard asked as Liam went through.

With a snort, the young man pointed at the tiger pacing inside. "You think I'd be pushing this cage if I wasn't?"

Accepting his claim, the guard waved him on with a sour expression.

Once inside, Liam eased away from the agitated cat with a sigh of relief. Gods, I hope that thing's not loose when the call to arms sounds. He kept his hood up, letting it partially obscure his face. While Liam didn't know most of the lords and ladies present, chances were good that some knew him. For all he knew they were a part of this rebellion, too.

"The Adamson Circus," a court herald announced.

Attention diverted to the center of the courtyard, Liam noted the Invader's location near the main doors. Ignoring the burst of adrenaline, he eyed the man responsible for his nearly mortal wound. Have to keep him from escaping that way. Liam forced himself to locate his people and the guards, a welcome distraction from his urge to run forward and kill the enemy.

Dominic, dressed in the Invader's livery, waved a lord through the door he was manning. "Be welcome, sir," he greeted with a slight bow. As expected, the courtier ignored him and sidled into the courtyard just as the next act began.

Withholding a sneer, the aide entertained himself with thoughts of how these people would treat him by day's end. If they survive.

Dominic scanned the courtyard for the rebels, noting their proper placement. Above them were fifteen of the Invader's finest archers, casually watching the crowd. When the call came, the archers would be first to die. Secreted about the yard were several weapons, including crossbows. Liam's spies in the castle had smuggled them in weeks earlier and hid them over the recent days.

All we need now is our diversion, he thought. It's a shame she'll die in the melee.

They had gotten some way before Katerin's suspicions surfaced. She'd been raised in this city, this castle. The courtyard was in another direction, she was sure of it. Would the Invader have the circus enter elsewhere? Try as she might, the brunette couldn't see why.

Her guide ducked around a corner. "This way, Milady."

"I think not." Katerin looked about nervously. The man had led her to a little used lane. This is the way to the servants' entrance. If the princess didn't miss her guess, the guarded gate was only a few steps further.

Is this a trap?

Realizing she was no longer with him, the man returned. "Milady? We must hurry!"

"Who are you?" Katerin demanded, backing away.

"A valet, Milady," he said, "sent to fetch you. The accident..."

"You'd do well to explain this 'accident.' I don't recall you saying exactly what transpired." My gods! Am I such a gullible fool? She continued moving away, the man following.

His face lost its earnestness and he shook his head with a scowl. "I'm sorry, Milady, but my superiors insisted that I fetch you. You won't be hurt, I swear it."

That was all Katerin needed to hear. Grabbing her skirts she turned to flee, running directly into another man who held her firm. Her struggles were useless, the behemoth being three times her size and weight. She couldn't even make noise past the meaty hand held over her mouth.

Her pretended guide glanced about in search of trouble. Finding none, he turned his attention to the scuffling woman. "Be still," he insisted. "You'll not be hurt. By the end of the day, there'll be a new king on the throne."

New king! These men are from the rebellion! Katerin froze. Dominic!

"Aye. Just be careful and you'll be fine." To the bigger man, he said, "Let's go."

Katerin fought once more, her captor carrying her like a sack of squiggling puppies before him.

"Here!" the smaller man shouted at the guards as they rounded the corner. "I've a present for the Invader!"

An ornate chair had been brought out for the occasion and the Invader lounged upon it, a canopy raised above him to keep he and his guests shaded. A handful of the highest lords and their ladies were honored to sit on the makeshift dais, watching as yet another circus set up before them.

Biting back a yawn, the Invader scanned this newest offering. I certainly hope Dominic gets on with it, he thought. The sooner this is quashed, the better. His eyes fell on the circus leader and his boredom washed away.

It was the woman he'd seen registering in the field a day or so earlier. Tall, thin, a mop of blonde hair that apparently couldn't be tamed, she looked as much a rogue without her weapon as she had with it. I wonder if she knows how to use that sword I saw her with? he idly mused. Noting her swagger, he concluded she probably did.

The woman made a formal bow to the crown before beginning her speech. Her voice was rough, deeper than the Invader expected, and filled with a vigor he found surprising. Heedless of her words, he leaned on one arm and waved his hand servant closer. "Who is she?"

"I'm not sure, Sire. They were announced as the Adamson Circus."

Adamson. The name didn't ring a bell. However, the longer he watched the woman, the more familiar she became. Who are you? "Find out a name," he ordered.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Bowing, the servant backed away.

The Invader leaned back in his chair, ignoring the nervous glances from those seated closest to him. When the woman finished her introduction, bowing to one side as a family of three began riding trick horses, his eyes followed her. From where do I know you? His mind puzzled over it for some time, all avenues of search failing him. He was beginning to believe the woman simply had one of those faces that reminded him of another.

Trick riding over, she returned to the center of the courtyard and began another speech. Something about 'flights.' He paid her words no mind, hearing only the voice, an eerie memory echoing the tones. The Invader almost jerked when an aide thrust a silver tray with a parchment in his face from behind.

Scowling, the Invader snatched the paper and glanced inside. All concerns regarding the blonde woman were gone in an instant. Oblivious to the performance before him, he looked over his shoulder at the aide. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, Sire," the man bowed. "It's her."

So. The Princess Sabine is involved in this. Slowly scanning the courtyard, the Invader noted the many unfamiliar faces, wondering which were involved in Dominic's little scheme. When will you attack? Do you know she's been taken? Or is this a ruse?

"Sire? What do you wish us to do with the prisoner?"

Yes, Dominic. What do you wish me to do? The Invader finally said, "Bring her here. Now." As the aide left to do his bidding, he stroked his beard in thought.

Ros introduced the next act, one that she would be participating in. Her troupe crowded forward and began creating a human pyramid, using their strongman as the base. Their time was limited, a full three-hour show uncalled for, and she'd chosen those things that would take the least in the way of props. Once this was finished, Cristof would bring the tiger out for a quick bit and they would leave.

The Invader's initial overt interest in her was distracted by a message and she breathed a sigh of relief. That his interest was in her specifically was unsettling and Ros wondered how she would get through this. It was bad enough being in the den without drawing the undue attention of the lion.

Ros watched an aide scamper away and the Invader's eyes return to the performance, though without the intensity of a few moments ago. Martim and Tommaso were linked arm in arm, standing on either of Abdullah's shoulders, free arms out to balance one another. Amar, a thinner man, was clambering up the human chain with the help of the others.

Working out the angles, Ros waved Minkhat closer and the pair made a show of fixing the fulcrum and board they would use for their trick. Once it was in place, she checked on her peoples' progress. Habibah and Sati were now balanced upon Amar's shoulders and the dwarf, Sameer, was clambering up the chain. Once he was set, he gave a yell and Abdullah at the base turned slowly, gaining applause for the mass of humanity on his shoulders.

In the meanwhile, Minkhat and Usiku took their place and joined arms, helping Willem climb above them. As they held him tight at the ankles, Ros made her foray up the smaller pyramid. It took some work to find proper placing and balance to get there, but soon, she was atop his shoulders, arms out in balance. Abdullah finally settled into place and, after a nod from him, Ros called out.

Young Wills scampered forward from among the horses. With mischievous grin, he tumbled about until he landed on one end of the board that had been placed between the two groups. He faced Ros' pyramid though he was on the opposite side, standing in front of Abdullah. When everyone gave the go ahead, Ros let out another yell and jumped.

Landing on the opposite end of the board, Ros sent the young lad flying. Abdullah shuffled about, keeping an eye on the airborne boy until he landed safely on Sameer's shoulders high above the audience. All of them posed for their applause, smiling before beginning the process of climbing down. When all were on the ground, they lined up and bowed to the crown as the clapping continued.

A door to the side opened and two guards appeared, towing a dark haired prisoner. Her wrists were bound before her and she struggled between them as she was dragged toward the Invader.

The applause faded at this new entertainment and Ros looked for the interruption. Bleeding Sif! What's she doing here? She took a step forward, Willem and Usiku having the presence of mind to hold her back.

Across the courtyard, Liam tensed as the prisoner was brought before the Invader and forced to kneel. That can't be…

Dominic, a fleeting smile crossing his lips, firmly closed the door he was positioned by. With smooth precision, he slid a wooden bar into iron slots, locking it. Turning, he noted that his compatriots were doing the same. No one was aware as of yet, all eyes on the throne.

The Invader, a pleased smile on his face, rose and stepped forward. "Princess Sabine. It's so good to finally meet you." He drew his sword. "Unfortunately, your stay will be short."

Chapter 14

A long silence stretched into the distance. As the Invader prepared the princess' deathblow, Dominic watched, waiting for the proper moment. Katerin, refusing to bow her head to this usurper, glared at the man who massacred her family.

Liam frantically looked about, finding his aide and realizing with sick horror that Dominic planned to do nothing. Lips thinning in anger, the prince threw off his cloak and shouted, "For Liam! To me!" Pulling a short sword from his waist, he pushed forward to save his sister.

The call to arms sounded prematurely and Dominic swore, looking for the cause. "Damned royal bratling will be my undoing!" Regardless, he grabbed a hidden sword and waded into the fight.

The rebels echoed Liam's cry, firing crossbows at the overhead archers who returned arrows with deadly intent. Several people fell in the courtyard, both fighters and bystanders alike. As expected, there was an immediate stampede by the lords and ladies toward the now blocked doors. The only unguarded exit was the main gate and they wasted no time in finding it, leaving sword-wielding rebels to their posts with little complaint.

Ros stopped struggling against her friends as the courtyard erupted into violence. Arrows rained down from above and the scattered guard on the ground began fighting the rebels around them. The blonde pushed her people toward safety. "Get out! Don't stop! Protect the boy!" The troupe needed no further urging though Amar had to drag Cristof away from his tiger.

Daiki tried to bring the blonde along but she pulled away. "I have to save Kat!" Ignoring his glare, she shook her head. "I'll not leave her to him!"

The old man growled in frustration, ducking as an arrow barely missed its mark. "Be careful!" he warned, turning away to follow the others.

Seeing her people safely in retreat, Ros turned to the dais.

Three of the Royal Guard surrounded the Invader, determined to protect their liege. No thought was given to the prisoner who was outside their defensive circle. Katerin had fallen to one side, fighting with her bonds while the rebellion raged around her. Ros, recognizing her opportunity, leapt forward. If I can just get her out of here...

The fighting on the dais was fierce as the rebels endeavored to win their cause. Katerin edged away from the proceedings, squirming under foot as she struggled to move along. She grunted when someone stepped on her thigh but didn't stop her attempted escape. Her only hope was that her friends and lover were able to make it out of the castle.

Ros ducked a sword, dropping to a protective heap over Katerin and startling the smaller woman into a muffled shriek. "It's me, Kat!" Her lover nodded recognition as Ros planned a course of action. Removing the brunette from her bindings was out of the question - there was no time. Instead, Ros began pulling them both out of the immediate melee, avoiding being trampled as best she could. Katerin toiled to help their progression, scrabbling along as directed.

At the same time, the Invader knew his prey was escaping. He couldn't leave her demise to chance; her tenacity already a burr in his side. The prophecy of his youth loomed over him and he knew the princess must die by his hand. With a rough curse, he pushed past his guard, looking for the woman he must slay to stay alive. Ah, there she is! You'll not crawl away from me, Sabine! I have a destiny to fulfill! Once more he raised his sword, intent on killing both women to insure his success.

Liam was almost there, heart in his throat, when Dominic stepped into his path. "Get out of the way, Dom! We must save Sabine!"

"No, Your Majesty," the aide said, raising a sword to block another's attack. "It's out of our hands!" He gutted the soldier and turned to the prince. "You shouldn't be here! We need you safe!" Dominic tried to grab the young man's arm, barely pulling away from the vicious slash directed at him.

Backing away slightly, Liam pointed his blade at the older man. "Is this why you didn't want me in the courtyard?" he demanded. "You knew Sabine was alive and that she'd be here today. You were going to sacrifice her to put me on the throne!"

Ros, concentrating on pulling them away from the storm of violence, looked up in time to see the Invader's gleeful face as he prepared to split them both. She froze in horror and their eyes locked. He faltered, an expression of recognition on his face. A rebel came from one side and distracted him, forcing him to defend himself.

Gods be damned, that was too close! Ros scrambled further away, helping Katerin to her feet. Looking at the chaos between them and the gate, she cursed and scooped up a sword dropped by a fallen rebel.

Katerin realized their battle for survival had just begun and that she was utterly useless with her hands bound. She brought her wrists to her mouth and began prying at the ropes with her teeth.

Glancing past the aide, Liam could see that someone had intercepted the Invader. I have some time. Not much. "I was told you were here the day after my family was killed. That you had an audience with the Invader," Liam said, returning his attention to the older man. "Is this true?"

"Of course not, my liege," Dominic scoffed. "Now hurry! You must leave here!" Bleeding Sif! How can I make this royal bratling see reason?

Narrowing his eyes, Liam knew Dominic for the liar he was. With no further word, he attacked the traitor.

"Are you all right?" Ros yelled over the clash of weapons.

Still chagrined at being tricked, at nearly dying, Katerin only nodded.

Ros pulled on her lover's arm, holding the short sword up. "Let's get you loose and to the gate! I told the others to get out! We need to find them!" Ros looked into her lover's frightened expression and fought the urge to kiss her. Now is not the time!

Before she could follow Ros' direction, however, Katerin's eyes became round, looking over her shoulder. Ros turned, raising her sword, clumsily blocking the Invader's swing.

"The celebration is just beginning," he said with a smile. "It's not time to leave just yet."

Dominic blocked Liam's sword. "Your Majesty, this is pointless! I'm not your enemy!'' He struck another attack aside. "Please! Listen to reason!"

The pair circled one another warily. "Tell me true, Dom," the prince asked.

"I am speaking true, my liege," the aide insisted, his voice earnest. He snarled as he fended off another attack. "Bleeding Sif! Why won't you listen? You're as pig headed as your mother."

Liam, dark eyes cold, paused to salute Dominic with his blade. "I'll take that as a compliment."

It had been a while since Ros had fought with a sword and she was repeatedly driven back, Katerin behind her.

"And who are you?" the Invader asked. "I realize now isn't the proper time for introductions, but I'm sure I've seen you someplace before." He continued advancing, almost negligent in his attacks. Let us see how good you are with that sword.

Slowly, Ros regained her equilibrium, her defense strengthening against the onslaught. "I am no one, sir. Just allow us to leave and we'll not darken your door again." She parried a vicious thrust, barely avoiding the blade that whisked by her ear.

Katerin was hard put to not yank Ros back by her shirt. While she knew that her lover had experience with a sword, her level of skill certainly couldn't exceed that of a man who lived by one. Still, she resolved to stay out of the way, keeping a watchful eye on the other skirmishes around them to warn Ros if necessary as she continued to try freeing her hands.

The Invader laughed. "You'll excuse my doubts. Princess Sabine and I have unfinished business to attend. You'd do well to stand aside." To prove his point, he pushed his attack, attempting to rattle her with a blinding frontal assault of speed.

Behind Ros, she could feel the presence of Katerin and it encouraged her. She stood firm, still on the defense but no longer retreating. "You're mistaken, sir. She is not a princess and is no threat to you."

Liam forced his opponent back another step. Despite their differences in age, Dominic and the prince were evenly matched. The aide's lack of formal education leveled the field with the prince's lack of practical experience. Regardless, the aide found himself pushed back again.

"Please, my liege," he said, one final attempt at attaining his goals. "We must stand together. Your kingdom awaits you; there can be no doubt of your succession."

Lips tight, fire sparked in the prince's eyes. "You would have me slay my family to ensure my crown?" he demanded. Not awaiting an answer, Liam's attacks became fierce, his sister all but forgotten in a wave of emotion.

Surprised the blonde held her ground, the Invader said, "You fight well. I didn't expect the owner of a circus to have much skill."

"I was taught by my da and my father." Finally becoming accustomed to the shorter blade, Ros began pressing forward. There was no way the Invader would just let them go; she knew this. All she could do was kill him or die trying.

Forced to defend himself, the Invader's eyes narrowed. Again he attacked only to take a step backward. "Perhaps I know your father?" he asked from between clenched teeth.

"You did,'' Ros agreed. Her initial fear for Katerin was fading, replaced with a grim joy as she traded blows with this thief called a king. Advancing again, she easily blocked his defense, the tip of her blade catching his arm.

The Invader refused to respond to the sharp pain. Regardless of his apparent retreat, he had knowledge of his fate, a prophecy to bolster his resolve. His attacks turned vicious but the woman held her ground. "That must be why I find you familiar," he continued conversationally. "You must take after your father."

"Aye, I do." For Ros the world dissipated. The courtyard and its battles were long past affecting her. Feeling like an observer rather than thick in a fight for their lives, she noted the Invader favoring his left. An old injury? He's got to be wearing down. He's as old as my da.

As the rebels gained the upper hand in the courtyard, those with instructions to secure the castle did so. This left a handful in the courtyard to keep a main defense at the gate and guard their companions' backs. Discovering two of their own trading blows was startling.

Liam noticed the attention of his people, vaguely aware of their bafflement. Let's see to whom you're loyal. Stepping out of the melee, the prince called out, "Arrest this man for treason."

Dominic's eyes widened in sudden apprehension, his sword frantically waved about the ever growing circle of rebels.

"Get 'im!"

Watching only long enough to see his order obeyed, the prince remembered his sister's danger. He cursed, pointing at two men. "With me!" he said, leading them in the direction he'd last seen Sabine. Gods! I hope I'm not too late!

The pair was circling, slashing at one another with brutal resolve, unmindful of their growing audience. Katerin remained behind Ros, not allowing the Invader anywhere near to finish the job. She was sure he'd gut her in an instant even if it meant his potential demise at the hands of her lover.

Sweat began beading on his forehead and the Invader wondered why this was taking so long. He had to give the woman her due - she was a fine sword fighter. I don't have time for this. Beginning a complicated string of maneuvers to distract his opponent, he said, "Perhaps you could tell me your father's name?"

Ros felt a thrill as she defended, seeing the opening so clearly that she was momentarily amazed the Invader didn't notice. A quick parry and then she slid the blade home, neatly slicing through his ribs.

The Invader stood in shock as his sword clattered to the floor. For a moment, he felt numbness washing over him before a hot / cold agony lanced through his body. He heard the old witch's prophecy just as she'd spoken it to a young princeling so many years ago. "You will die by a sword, young kingling. It will be wielded by the child of your enemy, one of royal blood who will avenge all before him."

Watching him fall to his knees, Ros still held the hilt of her blade. She followed him down, staring into puzzled eyes, kneeling at his side, watching blood bubble from his lips.

"Wh...Who are you?"

Ros leaned closer, whispering into his ear almost as a lover. ''My name is Rosmerta Lisbet Helena Klasyne, royal heir to the throne of Barentcia. You slaughtered my father and my family over twenty years ago." With a snarl on her face, she twisted the blade, yanking it to the right and impaling the Invader's heart.

Hands grabbed at her and Katerin cried out, violently spinning around to face her attacker. The sight that met her was an impossibility. "L...Liam...?" she said, voice rasping.

"Sabine." His dark eyes, so like her own, were shining with tears as he reached out.

They fell together, each happily reasuring the other as being hale and healthy.

Ros stood, leaving the sword in its human sheath. The smell of death was strong and she realized her hands were sticky with blood. Behind her, the incongruous sounds of laughter caught her attention, lapping like waves against the shores of utter emptiness. She was surprised to find she wasn't as alone as she felt.

"Aye, you spit him good," a grizzled farmer said. Around him, others gathered, nodding and murmuring agreement.

"That I did," Ros said.

The old man nodded in admiration. "He deserved it. Stolen property, stolen crowns, stolen lives...He'll have much to account for in the afterlife.''

A smile grew on the blonde's face, the simple words easing an ache she didn't know was there. "Aye. That he will. And better him than me."

This brought a chuckle from the men. Another spoke up. "You're a hero, you know. What's your name so we can get the tale down proper?"

What's my name? Ros said, "I'm called Ros. I own the Adamson Circus in my Da's name." She heard someone calling and turned, seeing an almost mirror image of her lover in the teenage boy beside her. Smiling, she stepped forward to be introduced.

Epilogue

The air was moist with fog. Muffled sound reached her ears, a minstrel singing nearby. Blindly, she focused on the song and its sedate beat, moving with care over the uneven terrain.

As she neared the music, other sounds could be discerned - the tumbling of water, dove calls gentle in the slight breeze. Her slippered foot stumbled over a rock and she could hear it clatter against others, splashing. The wind picked up, brushing a lock of hair across her forehead, dissipating the mist before her. Flickering light beckoned her closer as she picked her way across a stream.

Motion caught her eye and she saw the minstrel for the first time. His voice was soft, chanting a tale of war and betrayal. A white dove in his hand contrasted with his bloody story, cooing in counterpoint to his words. She could barely see his musicians through the darkness behind him, the torchlight only catching their movements as they played the drum and lute. Walls rising steeply into the fog told her where she was, her heart filling with dread. She was outside the castle. Again. As if on cue, the minstrel sang what she knew would be the last of his song. When he finished, he dropped his head and the musicians paused in their playing.

Sharp strains from the lute began, eerie in the dark mistiness. Unease filled her heart for she knew what was coming. Wanting to turn and leave, her feet wouldn't move. The deep rolling of the drum caused her to flinch in apprehension.

Startled by a sudden, intense beat of the drum, the dove flew from the minstrel's hand. Her fearful eyes could not look away as its path took it up into a clear blue sky. Shrill cry of a hawk, sickening impact, bloodied feathers floating through the air.

Another drum beat. Another vision.

She waited with impatience, squatting beneath the table in her father's chambers. Her little sister should have found her by now. Just as she was about to climb from her hiding place, the sound of booted feet chased her underneath again. Wishing she'd never begun this game, she shrank back, watching several pairs of legs stomp into the room. Their voices were quiet and serious, rough with concern, and her ears perked up in curiosity.

"What have you learned, Angus?" her father asked.

"My liege, the Invader is closing on our southern borders. He's moving fast, burnin' the farms behind him."

A younger voice, similar in timbre to the king, cursed. "Why destroy perfectly good farmland?" he demanded in righteous anger. "He'd need it to support his troops should get too far past our borders."

"Calm yourself, son," the king insisted, moving towards the man.

Waiting quietly under the table, she recognized her brother's boots. He fancied those silly flaps on the sides to help pull them on. She wanted to know who this Invader was and why he was being so dim but if her father found her now, she'd be in real trouble. The voices had continued above her and she focused on them again.

"Let me go, father! With the Third Army, I could lay waste to him!"

With reluctance, the king asked, "Angus?"

"Aye, your Majesty. If we can get to him before he gets to the Wynsul River…"

"See?" the young man said. "Please, father! I beg you."

In the following silence, she entertained herself with the notion of her strong older brother on his knees, begging. She bit her tongue to keep from giggling.

"Go."

After a startled pause, the son dashed forward. "Thank you, father! I'll make sure that bastard never invades another kingdom!" He turned and clattered out of the room.

"Angus," the king said. "Go with the crown prince. He'll have need of your wisdom."

"Aye, sire."

Another beat of the drum. Another vision.

Her mother's hoarse cry interrupted her. She looked up from her studies, a boring book on history, catching movement near the doorway. Ignoring her tutor, she dashed into the main hall of the castle, hearing many voices.

Several people were in the hall. Puzzled, she stepped closer, wondering why her mother was on the floor. The woman was hovering over something, hugging it to her breast and sobbing loudly. Others around her either stood back in embarrassed silence or appeared to be comforting her.

The king appeared, face stricken as he clearly saw what his daughter could not, one of his aides gasping in shock.

"It's your fault!" the hysterical woman spit at him. "Your fault!" Her voice faded into loud sobs.

Unable to stay away, fear and inquisitiveness filling her, she stepped closer. Others were in her way, blocking her view. She edged around them, peeking between. Even when she was able to see, it took a moment for the vision to sink in. Tears welled up in her eyes when it did.

Her brother's boots were bloody.

Another beat of the drum, the tempo increasing.

Even at this distance, the stench made her nose twitch. Acrid smoke rose less than a mile away, evidence of the Invader's progression towards her home. Below her window, she could see increasing activity in the courtyard. Injured were straggling in from the front lines, women and older children providing supplies to the overworked surgeons. The guard on the walls had tripled in response to the threat, but half of them were walking wounded. She'd heard the orders given by her father's aides - all foodstuffs and potables were to be brought into the castle in the event of a siege.

A lone rider approached from the battlefield, his horse galloping at full tilt. Reaching the castle, he nearly toppled his steed as he pulled it up short. Even at this distance, she could hear a captain's voice challenging him, distinctly hear his response.

"The king is dead! The king is dead!"

Drumbeat.

Darkness, whispers, rustling noises. A hand across her mouth, smothering her, scaring her. Startled shriek, heart pumping.

"Hush, lass!" The voice of a servant. "It's time to rise and dress. The Invader's at the castle walls. We must get you and your family away!"

Hurried dressing, barely enough time to grab a favorite doll as she was hustled from her room. In the hall, her mother clutched an infant brother, her sister staring wide-eyed at the small gathering of loyal guards and servants. She grabbed onto her younger sibling, feeling the smaller girl tremble as she did.

As they were herded from the castle, the ringing of metal on metal filled the courtyard.

"They've breached the walls!"

Drumbeat, relentless nightmare.

Flash of moonlight on water, gentle music of the horses' tack, muted whispers, arms wrapped about a servant as their mount swayed gently.

"There's a small boat ahead, majesty," a voice drifted back.

The world turned to thunder; pounding of hooves, rattle of armor, and cries of alarm. She clutched the servant before her as their steed leapt into a full gallop. Branches tugging at her clothes, hair whipping in the dark, heart in her throat. Suddenly flying, landing with a grunt on a patch of peat, she tried to catch her breath.

Standing, alone, the horse's hooves raced away. In the near distance she could hear fighting, angry curses and her sister's cry. She clutched her doll to her chest, terrified and frozen with indecision. The baby was shrieking in the dark, a man's scream mingling with the sound for just a moment before choking off. Unable to stay away despite her fright, she pushed through the foliage.

On a small strip of sand next to the river was her family. Bodies lay all around, evidence of the guards' attempts to save the royal family. Her mother was on her knees, clutching the screaming baby to her chest. Before her was a man in armor holding a sword. Several other soldiers and horses were gathered around them, some of the servants on their knees in a small knot nearby. Her sister was nowhere to be seen.

The armored man pulled off his helmet. His air of command reminded her of her father, though he wasn't as handsome. An ugly scar ran across his face from the base of his nose to curve down and around his cheek. He was saying something, his voice so low that she couldn't make it out.

When the blade pierced her mother's chest, pinning the babe to it, her scream matched theirs.

Drumbeat.

Panting, heart thumping, crashing through the wilderness. Noises everywhere, the call of wild animals urging her on. Behind her, she knew the Invader and his soldiers were chasing her, tracking her down to kill her. She was royalty and her life was forfeit; she'd been instructed since a toddler that she lived for her people. Her people were gone.

Bursting from behind a bush, she screamed silently at the armored figure before her. Moonlight on blade flashed above her and she cowered, afraid of the deathblow that was coming. Cuddling her doll to her chest, she could only hear the scuffle, the rattle of armor, could feel the ground tremble as a heavy body hit it.

A gentle touch on her shoulder and she peered fearfully at her savior. The minstrel smiled down on her, a bloody dove in his hands. "Hush, child. You're safe now."

As she struggled with the familiar nightmare, barely coming to consciousness, she could feel fingers caress her forehead.

"Shhh. It's just a bad dream," Katerin's voice murmured. "You're safe now."

Sighing, Ros relaxed back into sleep.

The End