B-Chapter One

Pasha stepped into the air-conditioned store, followed by her 17
year old brother. From her mom's side. At her side was a dog. Well,
sort of. He was enormous, easily as big as a Great Dane, and looked
like a massive wolf. He was a silvery gray color, with a long coat,
that only enhanced his massive size. One eye was an ice blue, the other
a golden brown. He looked crazy vicious, and from how close Pasha kept
him at her side, it was probably an easy assumption. Chris, her
brother, had a dejected look on his face. Their mother had recently
thrown him out, and their grandmother had been forced by CPS to take
him in. Chris asked,

"Please, Pasha? Can you help me?" Pasha sighed, and said,

"Hey, I can barely afford myself, I cannot afford you too. Especially,
if you are going to drop school to hang around with your pothead
friends acting stupid." Chris didn't take this too offensively. He knew
that in that in the end, his sister would give in.

They were standing inside Petco, here to get Jackson, the giant wolf
dog, some new treats. Jackson sniffed the air eagerly. It was cat
adoption day. Pasha led them both down an aisle, her eyes flickering
toward the cash register, at a young man, tallish, dark, with gorgeous
golden brown eyes. He looked like a bear to her, and not too elvish.
But he prickled with magic like an elf. He was legitimate. His name was
Cian Naurice. Her charge. Pasha said to Chris,

"Look, can't you get a job?" She looked back over at her brother. 6'1",
strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, short, spiked hair, and growing a
goatee long enough to twist like that guys from heavy metal band she
couldn't stand. They all dressed up like psycho killer freaks in masks.
Something about a goat. Oh yeah, Slipknot. No class, but it was her
brothers taste. His pants were obscenely baggy, and his shirt had a
black-light sensitive mushroom cloud. And a rail-thin body to hang it
all on. Chris made a face,

"People don't want to hire me!" Pasha glowered at him,

"Comb back your hair, where nice clothes that don't bag, and you'll do
fine. Your smart." Chris made a disbelieving noise. Pasha stopped, and
grabbed a large tug of war rope for Jackson, then motioned toward the
register,

"Let's go. Now, if I lend you the money, you promise to pick up some
applications?" Chris nodded eagerly. He would agree to shoot down the
sun, if it would get him the money. With some misgivings, she opened
her purse, and counted out forty-five dollars, as Chris's eyes grew
bigger, and his smile broader. She handed the money over, and he took
it eagerly, nodding at her,

"Thanks a lot! You're the best!" Then he darted away, and out of the
store. Pasha looked down at Jackson and asked,

"You think he'll do it?" Jackson gave her an impatient look, and Pasha
sighed,

"Neither do I." She carried the rope over to the cash register ands
smiled brilliantly at Cian. Cian nodded back at her, recognition
flickering into his eyes. For the past year, since he got this job,
Pasha had been coming in on a weekly basis, and they now knew each
other by first names. Cian said,

"Hello, how has your day been going?" Pasha rolled her eyes,

"The usual brotherly stuff, sister, give me money and all that." Cian
chuckled as he scanned the rope.

"I saw him walk in with you." He punched in some numbers, and Pasha
pulled out some money, handing it to him. After giving Pasha her
change, he took out a dog biscuit and held it out for Jackson,
saying,

"Come on, boy, you want a treat?" Jackson gave him that Watch It Or
I'll Eat Your Hand look. Cian wisely tossed the biscuit out, and
Jackson snapped it up, swallowing it whole, then looking back at Cian
almost challengingly. Cian chuckled,

"That is the prettiest dog." Pasha smiled,

"Thanks." Jackson lay down on the floor, and looked up at them, being
remarkably well behaved. Cian asked,

"So, I know your name, and I know about your family and your dog. How
old are you?" Pasha winced,

"Twenty." She said. Cian got this odd look of disbelief on his face.
Pasha knew it was coming. The bane of her existence. Short of whipping
out her birth certificate, it was impossible to convince people she was
over 17. She shrugged, and said, almost apologetic,

"I know, I look like just a baby." Cian shrugged as if didn't matter."
He said,

"Well, maybe we can hang out sometime." Pasha smiled, a bright,
non-human smile, that didn't seem to faze Cian at all,

"I would love that." Cian said,

"I get off at 8:30 tonight, maybe we can meet up after work?" Pasha
nodded,

"No problem." She wrote down her cell phone number, and handed it to
him,

"Call me." Cian nodded, and looked at the number as if memorizing
it,

"I will." He promised.

***
Home for Pasha was a small one bedroom apartment with an entire yard.
It suited her fine enough. She didn't need big spaces, and the yard was
good for Jackson who could really use the room to run. The apartment
was located above a book shop, one of three on the floor. The back yard
was behind the bookshop, green with grass and completely fenced in. You
got in and out through Pasha's apartment.

She let Jackson out into the backyard, taking a steak out of the
freezer to keep him distracted a little while. Jackson went out the
door, steak and mouth, and Pasha flopped down on the couch and turning
on her cd player, switching it to a station she liked. She stopped when
she heard the bouncy tune of Say A Yi Yi, a song by the Yin Yang Twins,
then flopped onto the couch, pulling out her cell phone. She dialed a
number that was short, to the point, and not form around there.

"I take it that this is Pasha." Came a rough, slightly reedy voice,
when it picked up. Pasha said,

"That's right." It was Ualth, her contact, and informant. Ualth
said,

"Things are getting rough here. The King is getting weaker, and Hardira
is pressing harder to get you replaced." Pasha was quiet a moment. Then
she said,

"Should I be worried?" Ualth answered,

"No, Hardira was sent out of the Council Meeting last time, because he
wouldn't let go on it. The King thinks it is good that you befriend
him. Make his transition into the fae realm easier." Pasha sighed, so
soft that Ualth couldn't hear it over the phone. She asked,

"Any news on what the King wants to do with Cian?" Ualth
answered,

"Not yet. Most of the council is pressing to move him here. Only
Hardira and Forlorian are against it."

"Each for different reasons. Hardira because he isn't ready to have me
back, and Forlorian because he wants the throne. How simple. I'll have
to watch those two. If they gang up together, we'll have a problem."
Ualth was silent a moment on the other end,

"Pasha? How things going there?" Pasha said,

"Fine, I guess, nothing special. I am meeting Cian tonight, after he
gets off work. Don't let Hardira get a hold of that though." Ualth
chuckled,

"I won't. I wish I could pull you back here. I am worried about the
king. What you said about Hardira and Forlorian getting together hits
too close to home. If the King dies and you're over there, something
bad is going to happen. To you and Cian." Pasha fell quiet, and closed
her eyes, thinking. She said,

"If something else happens, anything that might look like an alliance
between Forlorian and Hardira, call me. I'll break orders and come back
with Cian in tow." Ualth sounded relieved,

"I will. I promise." '

"Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Pasha." Pasha hung up the phone, and went to the door,
looking out into the yard. Jackson was happily demolishing the steak
with relish. Pasha went through everything in her house, preparing for
a possible emergency break. She packed some travel clothes, something
to looks a little bit of both realms, into a bag, three pairs. She
added, travel size shampoo and conditioner, a few other hygiene
products, some human money, and some coin of her realm, dog shampoo,
and some canned dog food, as well as a bristle brush for Jackson. She
muttered to herself,

"Call me paranoid." Then she went into the kitchen to fix herself some
food. Something about Forlorian and Hardira getting together against
her, spooked her. She knew that Hardira didn't like her, and Forlorian
saw her as a threat, as she was guarding the heir to the throne. She
poured herself a glass of iced tea, as the water for mac and cheese
boiled. She felt trapped here.

***
The palace was warmed up, even though a cold rain fell outside. Hardira
tapped his way down the hall, a frown on his face. That insolent girl
was still out there, causing mischief and mayhem no doubt. Rumor had it
that she was going directly against orders and making friends with that
boy. Not what he wanted. The King had told Hardira to stay out of it
that them being friends would be better for everyone. Hardira
disagreed. Let the girl that close to him, she'd likely just kill him,
strike him down. He wondered for a brief moment if maybe he was being
paranoid, then shook his head, the girl was just like her uncle, to the
very last drop of blood. For all purposes, Hardira intended on seeing
that last drop of blood. He stopped, and gazed at a tapestry, three
centuries old, held together with some good, if old, magic. It depicted
the King and his Lords paying fealty. Hardira ran a hand over the
threads, until he came to one form, standing back from the others, head
bowed, but still defiant. The Lord Ansamar de Enies. Hardira gritted
his teeth. Even that far back they had been a family of traitors. They
had yet to take the throne though. That was Hardira's great goal. Keep
the throne from the hands of any de Enies.

Steps behind him, Hardira turned around to see Lord Forlorian coming
toward him. Forlorian was rather short, and thin, with dark looks, and
pale enough to come off as sickly. He looked the part of the bad guy,
every inch. Forlorian smiled, and bowed faintly to Hardira,

"Here you are." He said, his voice as oily as he looked. Hardira
nodded, not giving him the acknowledgment he perhaps deserved, as a
Lord. Forlorian chuckled, as if this didn't matter at all. His dark
eyes bored into Hardira,

"I am here to make you an offer." Hardira frowned,

"I think not. It doesn't work like that. You want to take the throne
from the rightful heir, against the King's personal wishes. I am bound
by duty to carry out these wishes." Forlorian laughed again, sending
shivers down Hardira's spine. He said,

"But this is so simple. I want Otaris's brat, and you want the girl.
Your bound only to make sure that Cian Naurice gets here. If he falls
into my hands after that, that is no fault of yours. Likewise, if you
look the other way, I will make sure that you get Pasha any way you
want her. I will have her delivered, bound and gagged, right to your
keep's door." Hardira felt a rush in his veins. To have that brat, and
to destroy her. Just the thought of that pleasure sent shivers down his
spine. Hate could feel so good sometimes he thought. There wasn't much
on his part. Give the order to bring Cian in. He smiled, and even as
his conscience screamed out about splitting hairs, he agreed. He shook
Forlorian's hand, even though the coldness made his own skin feel
clammy, and felt triumphant. He would get his chance to bring down the
house of de Enies. Let Cian get taken, accuse the girl, and he could
give her a proper traitors death.

***
Ualth was eating a good, hearty meal, when out of nowhere skittered a
small creature, like a little gnome, about three inches tall. It was a
fairy, not one of the attractive kinds, but a member of the same family
tree as brownies and imps. It was one of his informers, Skib. Ualth put
a hand down and Skip hopped up, shaking. He looked white, and not with
fear. He closed his eyes and shivered violently. Ualth frowned
concerned.

"Skib? What's wrong?" Skib started to say in a small, squeaky
voice,

"It's Forlorian, sir, their making?a move, sir." He shivered again, and
Ualth could see the sweat beads on his forehead. Skib said,

"Forlorian cast a spell on me, made me sick. I had to come tell you.
Hardira is bringing in Pasha and the heir." Ualth wanted to question
the little creature further, but sadly, he feared that Skib wouldn't
last that long. He was curled up in a fetal position in Ualth's massive
hand, shuddering. When he died, Ualth felt the pricks of sadness
tearing his eyes. He would alert Pasha and then give the little guy a
proper burial.