A damp grey, fog hung in the valley Frenor hid in, reflecting the travellers' moods perfectly as they made their descent along one of the many paths into the central village. The ground they walked on was soft with moisture, suggesting it had been rained upon since they left on their quest. Although a few streams of sunlight filtered through the bleakness of the dim morning, it did not seem to do much to improve their disposition.

Despite having awakened, Brey's travelling condition was still not very good. With the dangerously low amount of blood in his body, the old tutor's strength was weak at best. When he could, he stubbornly attempted to walk on his own, using a hastily crafted crutch for support. However, his companions had to carry him most of the way as such stress taxed his body severely and he had to rest most of the time.

Still, the rest of their journey back to Frenor had been more or less uneventful. Timothy eventually was able to steer them back to the Old Merchant Road and, thankfully, no more orcs interfered with their quest. Cristo continued to insist the evil presence of the vipers was still all about them but the threat was more or less dismissed as insubstantial to their immediate task at hand. Since the monsters had not attacked the travellers since they left the cave, why would they bother now when so many better opportunities were presented in the past?

Finally nearing the end, one would expect the travellers to be in light spirits. The truth could not be further. A gloomy atmosphere permeated their mannerisms as they trudged along the path. Whenever he was awake, Brey would say little and eat little, usually falling back asleep after his companions had to force food down his mouth. Cristo, his clerical magic still failing him every time he tried to use it, remained despondent despite having eased some of his soul on Alena's shoulders.

And Timothy had become somewhat aloof, keeping to himself.

Even though Brey's recovery rejuvenated Alena's spirit and hope, the thief's detached behaviour was becoming a major concern for the princess. She could understand his initial anger when the orcs very nearly killed them due to her pre-emptive strike but that happened three nights ago. Surely any anger he felt towards her should have dissipated by now.

And then there was something else. Something strangely foreign to Timothy ever since they retrieved the golden bracelet.

During the rest of their journey back to Frenor, Alena thought deeply into it, trying to ascertain what it was. She noticed the thief was not only avoiding her company but her companions' as well. Granted, Cristo was not the easiest to talk to right now as his mood could even drown out a jester's. And Brey was never really friendly with Timothy to begin with.

However, the thief would normally remain about the campfire, talking with his companions and sharing a few local tales to keep them amused. Now he would just keep to himself, remaining a fair distance from the fire within the shadows, always gazing over the golden bracelet as though the artifact was his and his alone.

The fact he seemed to have hoarded the bracelet to himself was strange as well. Not once did he allow the princess or anyone else to hold or look at it. He would always hide it at night, as though he did not trust his companions.

Was that what she was feeling from the thief: distrust? Timothy should know full well that he could leave a dragon's hoard beside her and not worry about her taking off with a few baubles as he slept. Why should Timothy distrust her?

He shouldn't, her heart argued but Alena's mind constantly tried to tell her the thief probably did not share her feelings with her, that, being so close to rescuing her impostor, nothing else mattered. However, as the princess was finding to be the case, her heart tended to easily win any argument with her mind, pushing all doubts into the furthest reaches of her head.

As the travellers made their way back into Frenor, they noticed the town had settled back into its regular routine. The farmers tended their orchids and fields, women were going about their daily, household chores, and children were playing in any nook or cranny they could squeeze themselves into. Apparently, with the "Princess" having not shown herself in a week and a half, plus the fact Frenor's habitants were still unaware she had been abducted, the people assumed she had left in secrecy.

Alena found it curious the kidnappers had not tried to cause pandemonium throughout the town by revealing to the populous the "Princess" was in their grasp until the ransom was met. Then again, most of Frenor did not even know the golden bracelet was their town treasure and the kidnappers probably did not want to come out of their hiding for fear of the entire town chasing after them. They had done all they could by telling Alena the demands. After that, all they could do was wait and see if their plan went accordingly.

Well, Alena thought, their little plan succeeded. We got the bracelet, so now my impostor can be set free. However, just giving the golden bracelet away in a straight exchange did not sit well with the princess. She could not let the kidnappers win like this. There had to be a way to rescue the "Princess" and still retain the golden bracelet afterwards. And, judging from the way Timothy hoarded the bracelet, Alena felt the thief would share in her sentiments as well.

There had to be another way of doing this--

* * *

The graveyard was eerie at night. The fog had hung in the valley all day and into the night, oozing its way among the many eroded tombstones. Two torches pierced into the ground flickered hypnotically before Alena and Timothy, their shadows dancing on the mossy ground behind them. The light did little to calm the princess' nerves.

She had heard plenty of tales of the dead raising from the grave. This night felt identical to the atmosphere of such stories. She would be told them before she went to bed or on a journey across the seas as something to pass the time and, while she rarely would be frightened, the tales were having a funny way of creeping up on her senses tonight. Every so often her peripheral vision would catch a glimpse of movement but when she would dart her eyes in that direction, only more fog would reveal itself.

Easy, Alena, she thought, taking in a steadying breath. There's no one else out there, just the other two impostors in hiding.

Still, the princess would have felt calmer having her own companions with her for this delicate plan. Unfortunately, almost upon entering the main settlement of Frenor, Cristo took Brey with him to the Zenithian Temple. And despite even a little bit of pleading, the bodyguard, so bent on seeking the Master's forgiveness for whatever sin he had committed to be stripped of most of his clerical powers, refused to come out.

Alena had suggested they get the help of the townsfolk, or even perhaps the giant bodyguards the innkeeper had. However, Timothy rejected the suggestion, claiming he did not want more people than necessary involved. Although he did not make it obvious, Alena could not shake the feeling the thief really wanted the glory of "rescuing the Princess of Santeem" all to himself.

In fact, he had even suggested to Alena she wait "safely" at the inn while the whole exchange was carried out. She was able to convince the thief she was going along, though, after a twisted arm changed his mind.

Now she had to rely on her companions' impostors for this to work. The plan was simple enough but she could clearly tell they were inexperienced fighters. After all, they had been easily dealt with on the night this all began.

Alena looked behind her again, her gaze falling on the rundown shack that was the undertaker's home. When they had gone there to tell the crazy man they would be using his graveyard for the night, they found it empty. Timothy dismissed it, claiming he was probably hiding in some corner of the woods blabbing off gibberish like the lunatic he was. Still, Alena could not shake the feeling the undertaker was nearby, and would leap out of the woods screaming like an idiot about disturbing "his dead" right when her plan was about to take place. So long as that did not occur, everything should be fine.

"How long have we been waiting for?" Alena asked, her words interrupting the stillness of the foggy night. They had been quiet for too long and she felt the need to at least ease some of the tension that Timothy was unconsciously displaying.

The thief sat on a crooked tombstone, his eyes mainly trained on the golden bracelet he held in his hands. "A few hours, I think," he replied mechanically.

"They should have shown up by now," the princess muttered, more to herself than to her companion.

"They'll get here when they get here," Timothy said. "Probably taking precautions just the same as we have."

Alena had not thought of this. And, if that were the case, what sort of precautions would they take? Would they search out the surrounding forest to find Alena's trap waiting? What would happen then? The princess had not counted on such an occurrence and suddenly found more doubts creeping up on her.

"Don't worry about it, though," Timothy added as if he just read her thoughts. He looked up, an erudite smile on his face. "The kidnappers did not seem too well organized. They probably just lucked out that night. The Princess' escorts should be well hidden, especially in this fog."

Alena could not help but look at the thief with a perplexed gaze. Not only was he acting distrustfully lately but his speech was no longer its usual tone. The calmness in his voice was something completely foreign, or at least a side of him Alena was not aware of. The closest thing remotely similar would have to be the way Cristo had begun to talk. Still, her bodyguard had an excuse for his changed colloquium; albeit a farfetched one, but an excuse nonetheless. Alena could not think of an excuse for Timothy's altered conduct. She would have thought the thief would be even more pleasant to be around with their quest having succeeded, yet the exact opposite occurred. Was there something she was missing?

"Tim," she said, her voice somewhat subdued as she feared another harsh outburst should she cross a delicate, invisible line with her love. "Is everything all right? I mean, do you feel all right?"

The thief looked at her. His eyes seemed devoid of any compassion but were neither flared with anger; completely emotionless. They also appeared truthful, though. "I'm fine," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," Alena replied abruptly, ending the conversation quickly. She did not want to pursue it further out of fear of some sort of harsh rebuttal from the thief, one she did not think she could handle.

The princess looked away, deep in thought. No reason at all, except I'm deeply concerned about you, Tim. Master, please let his behaviour just be his obsession with my impostor. So long as her other plan, the plan she let no one know of, went accordingly as well, all her worries would cease.

As they waited in utter silence for another hour, Alena began to wonder whether the kidnappers would even show up. After all, the conditions of their plans did seem rather unusual. Granted, the graveyard was a good, neutral site for such an exchange but how would the kidnappers even know they had the ransom or when to meet them here. Without any success in finding a cohort who could inform them the meeting was about to take place, all she and the thief could do was wait and see what would occur.

A sudden revelation came to the princess' mind as she thought about the peculiar circumstances that had to be met. Why give the townsfolk an impossible task to save the Princess of their country? Alena's first thoughts about the demand, as shared by her companions, was the kidnappers were incompetent to retrieve the artifact themselves and so used her impostor as a means to an end. However, could it be they just wanted to keep Frenor busy while they made their escape to more populated areas where they could undoubtedly win an even heftier ransom?

However, the more she thought about it, the more Alena realized she was, again, worrying over nothing. Such a feat would be foolhardy. The princess knew if she were kidnapped, and her father found out, he would put all his resources to use in order to find the kidnappers and have them exterminated, regardless of any threats such criminals would make. Even the most ignorant crook would realize this.

No, the kidnappers were still here in Frenor, her impostor still in their clutches. They would come, maybe not tonight, maybe not for a few days, but they would come. Alena would just have to learn to be patient.

Thankfully, her patients were not put through a hard test as she soon saw someone emerging from the fog. Her hand instinctively went to her hip, something of a becoming habit when the first surge of adrenaline hit her in any situation.

Her whip was not there waiting, though, and nor did she really need it. Timothy had recommended no weapons for the meeting as a showing of trust between the two parties. It was sound advice and Alena had plenty of other weapons at her disposal other than her whip.

The figure's silhouette became more discernible as he drew close. Once in the torches' light, the recognition was instant. It was indeed the same man: the same build; the same clothes; the same, cocky stance; the same, arrogant, unshaven face--

It took a considerable amount of will for Alena to resist the urge to charge forth and deliver some deep, seeded vengeance. However, for their plan to come into play, she could not afford to act foolishly, no matter how good it made her feel. You'll get your chance, Alena, she reminded herself, slightly clenching and unclenching her fists to keep her rage in check. You're just going to have to be--patient.

Timothy noticed Alena's hidden rage and decided it would be prompt for him to do the talking. The thief hopped off the tombstone and walked forth, his right hand slightly cupping the bracelet so the large man could not be certain whether they had it or not. He walked in front of the princess, lightly pushing her behind him. She accepted the lack of trust, knowing full well Timothy was only doing what he felt was for the best given the circumstances.

"You have it?" the large man asked gruffly, his arms folded across the chest. His voice seemed to waver a little, suggesting his confidence was not the strongest. Or, Alena thought, perhaps he has some fears over her. Although nearly two weeks had passed since the incident, the sight of such a small, young woman bursting through a wood wall tended to leave a memorable impression.

"I may," Timothy replied, holding out the cupped hand to keep the large man guessing. "First prove the Princess is safe."

The large man let out a deep but hollow laugh. "You first have to prove you have the bracelet," he said, "or else there is no deal."

"We obviously wouldn't be here if we didn't have it, right?" Timothy contested.

"Not unless you had a trap waiting for us," was the counter.

The thief's eyes widened slightly. The kidnapper was not as much as an amateur as he had guessed. However, he still made the mistake of saying "us." Whatever accomplices he had were obviously nearby, as well as the Princess.

Timothy smiled. "You're a cautious man, my friend," he said, "but your caution is hardly required." The thief held out his hand and revealed the bracelet. Even in the fog, the torches' light danced brilliantly off its golden form.

The large man's hand involuntarily reached forward, the artifact's hypnotic dance entrancing him almost instantly. He had planned to ask for reassurances it was not a fake but the beauty of the bracelet erased all doubts. "By the Master--" he lightly breathed.

"Impressive, isn't it," Timothy smiled. He curled back his arm to hide the bracelet within his grasp again. "I can understand why you went to such great lengths as kidnapping the Princess to get this." The thief looked into his hand. "You know, I even considered keeping it for myself--"

"No! No!" he quickly replied, believing Timothy's bluff. He turned around and called out, "Piri, bring her out!" Moments later, the rat-faced man emerged from the forest, a dagger to the throat of the fake Princess in his clutches. However, other than the clothes she wore, Alena could not make out any of the features of her impostor in the fog.

"They got it, Thomas?" the rat-faced man asked anxiously. The large man nodded vigorously. Piri turned to Timothy and said, "Hand it over. Slowly." He pressed the knife against the impostor's throat threateningly. A pitiful whimper escaped from under his clamped hand. Timothy turned to Alena, who nodded in return. The thief nodded as well and started to walk towards the kidnappers.

Halfway, he feigned a stumble, giving him the opportunity to toss the golden bracelet away. The artifact went flying away, bringing the kidnappers gaze with it. It was the distraction Alena needed and she charged forward.

The chance to attack was fleeting, however, as anyone could blatantly see through it. The kidnappers quickly turned their attention back, putting a halt to Alena's charge. "That wasn't a smart thing to do!" Thomas glared.

Alena smiled. No, it wasn't she thought, referring to her opponents' actions.

The distraction merely led to another as the kidnappers' attention was now focused on Alena and whatever she did. A surprise attack from behind would be completely unexpected.

The impostor's companions burst from the bush, intent on taking out the rat-faced man before he had a chance to respond. A silent, quick attack would have done the job, too. However, inexperienced as they were in such matters, the two men gave away their position by screaming out a pitiful battle cry as they charged.

Piri threw his hostage down and brought up his knife defensively. "I knew there'd be a trap, you fool," he said angrily to his companion. Thomas could only offer a stunned expression as compensation as he turned to face the two, charging men as well.

"Idiots!" Timothy cursed under his breath.

Alena did not share her companion's feelings. Deep down, she knew her companions' impostors would mess up this simple plan. However, the kidnappers' attention was now drawn to them and away from her.

A distraction which led to another distraction which led to a third distraction. The moment she had waited for so long was finally here.

Cristo's impostor, the faster of the two and clumsily holding a copper sword, reached Piri first. The rat-faced man swung his knife in an attempt to ward him off. Not only did he succeed but Cristo's impostor completely halted his charge, unsure how to proceed.

The kidnappers were a little stunned by the complete lack of experience the man showed, probably expecting a Princess' escort to be more battle hardened. In fact, the rogues who brought the bracelet seemed to be much better warriors than these royal protectors were.

Half a second after Piri had warded Cristo's impostor off, Thomas remembered who the real threat was.

Almost reflexively, the large man swung his arms around. He did not expect to hit anything but when the vibration of his arm making contact with Alena's face made his whole body shudder, he was completely unprepared and stumbled back.

Having built up so much speed in her second charge, the blow knocked Alena off her feet and sent her flying back where she crashed into a moss-covered tombstone.

Her mind swam with disorientation. Waves of nausea engulfed her senses as she collapsed. Her clouded vision could barely make out Timothy's futile attempt to bring down Thomas.

The thief knew skill and cunning in fights but when it came down to close combat, brute strength tended to always win.

It didn't matter to her, though. All Alena wanted right now was to let unconsciousness take her over, to let the blissful rest wipe away the agony her body was in right now. They had lost, so she might as well just give up.

No! Her mind argued bitterly, I've never given up. Never! Adrenaline washed away her nausea and the hot blood that spilled from her nose became invigorating. Her body shaking violently, Alena mustered all remaining strength to move.

At first barely a crawl, she eventually found a way to get her trembling arms underneath. The effort to push herself up was agonizingly long, and several times her body urged her to give up. She was determined, though, and nothing was going to stand in her way.

Another surge of adrenaline revitalized Alena and a scream of rage escaped her blood-soaked mouth as she found her way onto her knees.

The combatants all stopped upon hearing the princess' roar. Their faces became horrified as they saw her rise. Her form shadowed in the torchlight, her face a bloody mess, and her shaking body erect itself, Alena looked as though she had just woken from the tombstone she had been lying against.

It was her eyes unnerved them all, though. A deep, seeded hatred lay behind her delicate orbs, promising a torturous death to anyone who crossed her path.

"Wh--what kind of demon are you?" Thomas gasped, forgetting about the helpless Timothy at his feet. The large man was more stunned than anyone that this tiny woman was still moving after the blow he gave her.

Piri did not seem to want to wait around to find out. The rat-faced man pushed Cristo's impostor down and slapped Thomas on the shoulder. "Grab the bracelet and let's get out of here," he said.

The large man shook his head for a second, as though coming out of a trance, and hastily nodded. He gave Timothy a swift kick in the side then darted for the area where the bracelet was thrown.

Alena saw him move in that direction and started to make her way after him. He was the cause of her pain and suffering. He would be the first to feel her wrath.

Unfortunately, most of her strength was exhausted and all she could manage was an awkward stumble forward. The sight of her slow advance was more than enough to frighten Thomas, however, and the large man had a difficult time trying to find the bracelet, even with its luminous mantle.

"Thomas!" Piri's voice came from the fog. "Where are you? What's taking so long?"

"She--she's--" the large man stammered, his gaze locked on Alena's menacing form as she drew close. He was not even looking for the bracelet anymore, so horrified all he could manage was random brushes across the grass.

Luck was with him, however, as he soon came across the bracelet. He could sense Alena's shallow breath upon his back and hear her agonizing moan. Thomas did not even pause to thank the Master for his luck as he already felt her deathly gaze penetrating his skin. The large man took off, quickly disappearing into the fog with the bracelet in hand.

"No--" Alena mouthed, too weak to even speak. Every desire within urged her to chase after him, to refuse to give up, but no amount of adrenaline could wash away her growing fatigue. All she could manage right now was a stumble, clearly no match for someone with fresh and terrified legs. The princess fell forward, whimpering in frustration.

Timothy made his way over. "Alena--?" he lightly called out. His voice seemed shallow as well, perhaps due to being kicked in the ribs a few times. "Are you--?"

"Go after them!" she harshly commanded, fury in her eyes. "All three of you! I'll take care of her." She threw a hand in her impostor's direction.

"Alena--" Timothy tried to argue but was immediately cut off.

"What are you waiting for?" she angrily screamed, blood spitting from her mouth. "The longer you're here, the farther they'll get. Go, damn it!"

The thief knew it would be futile to pursue and Alena was probably delirious from the blow she suffered. However, he had no desire to invite her wrath at this moment and motioned for the impostor's companions to follow.

Once they were gone, Alena once again mustered her strength to move. She had some business to take care of before they got back.

Wiping the blood from her face, she stumbled over to her impostor, who was lying face down in the mossy ground. Whether she was unconscious or just pretending, Alena could not determine. One way or they other, though, her impostor was about to get a very rude awakening.

Alena knelt down and grabbed her chin in a less-than-gentle manner. "All right, you bitch!" she nearly screamed. "Wake up! You have some serious explain--" Her voice trailed off as a different emotion seemed to take over.

Alena finally had a good look at her impostor and she studied her face intently. Although there were some nasty bruises and scars, basic features were still noticeable. Her skin was fair, with tiny freckles around the nose. Rosy dimples were on her face and her eyes were a light blue. She seemed to have the visage of a fairy-tale princess.

In short, she looked nothing like Alena. And for that, Alena could not help but feel strangely disappointed.

The fake princess was whimpering, cringing in fear like a cornered rabbit. Now guilt began to find its way into Alena's senses. This young woman, whoever she was, must have been through a torturous two weeks. First being kidnapped and then Master-knew-what at the hands of her abductors. And now, finally being rescued, a bloody, raging woman screams in her face, practically threatening her life. It was more than anyone could bear, and tears spilled from the fake princess' eyes.

Alena fell back, stunned by her actions. How could she have been so cruel? What would have happened if Brey had done the same thing to her back in Weser, when her mind had been such a fragile state. Perhaps it was already too late for the young woman crying in front of her. Was Alena's anger really worth the sanity of her impostor?

She wiped fresh blood from her face, her shirt now soaked in the warm fluid. "I--I--" she muttered, the words she wanted to say difficult to come out for some reason. Heaving a shuddering sigh, Alena said, "I'm sorry. I--I wasn't thinking. You've been through a lot and I shouldn't have shot at you like that." Her impostor did not seem to adhere to Alena's apology, however, and continued her weeping.

Alena rolled her tongue into her cheek, the taste of her blood even evident there. Was she too late? Had she already slipped into insanity? How did Brey deal with this before?

The princess smoothly advanced, gently easing her hand on her impostor's shoulder. She did not jerk away in fear. Good Alena thought At least she isn't as bad as I was.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Wh--wh--what?"

"Your name," Alena repeated patiently. "What is your name?"

The girl blinked for a moment, probably stunned by Alena's sudden kindness. "I--I'm the Princess of--"

Rage suddenly found its way back into Alena's body. That was why she was so angry with her impostor. The very arrogance of pretending to be her, when anyone who knew anything of their country should know she was a fake.

No, it was more than that! The very fact the real Princess of Santeem sat in front of her, and still she pretended.

"No, you're not!" Alena shouted, slapping her impostor across the face. She crumbled into a pitiful, whimpering heap. Guilt started to find its way into Alena's mind again but her rage easily won out the battle. No, she would make her pay for her arrogance.

"Get up, you bitch!" she angrily said. The princess grabbed the whimpering woman's arm and violently yanked her up, very nearly tearing her arm from its socket. A panicked scream escaped the impostor but her companions and Timothy were probably too far away to hear it.

Alena plunked her on her feet and screamed, "I'm the Princess of Santeem! Princess Alena Santeem! Now who are you?"

"Y--you--I--?" the impostor mumbled, a perplexed look on her face. She looked at the Alena's deathly gaze and knew what would happen if she lied. Her eyes burst into more tears.

"Your right!" she wailed pitifully. "I'm not a real Princess. I'm May, an actress from Endor. My father made me do this. He said we'd have a good life if I pretended to be a Princess. I don't want to be a Princess anymore. I want to go home!"

Alena looked at the blubbering actress, a smile unconsciously finding its way onto her bloody lips. It was blatantly apparent this May had suffered in the last while but this was pathetic. The princess let go of her, allowing her to pitifully fall onto the ground.

May lay there for a moment, whimpering. Eventually, she looked up at Alena, a worried look on her face. "Are--are you--really the Princess?" she asked between sniffles.

Alena wiped her face again, noticing the blood was starting to slow down its hasty exit from her nose. "I am," she replied, snorting back some blood. Maybe it was about time to do something about the injury.

The actress stared incredulously. "But--but--" she stammered. She swung an arm at the princess. "You don't look or act like the Princess!"

"And you do," Alena shot back, tilting her head back in an attempt to stop her nose from bleeding. "But that doesn't make you a princess. You of all people should know looks are deceiving."

She knelt down, having to bend sideways a bit to keep in eye contact with her head still tilted. "And don't go around presuming how people are," Alena continued, her voice harsh and icy. "You obviously have no idea what I'm like. Seeing how the peasants here were so easily fooled, they probably don't either. The way you act, it's completely humiliating to think that's how others perceive me."

"But--"

May was interrupted by the approach of footsteps. She involuntarily cringed back from their direction and Alena took up a defensive stance between them. For all the loathing she felt towards this pathetic, girl behind her, Alena's good conscious just could not allow any more harm to come to her.

"It's only us!" Timothy's voice called out, making sure they would not be mistaken for the kidnappers. The thief and May's companions soon emerged from the fog, their steps heavy and downtrodden.

"Did you--?" Alena started as she rose, her voice trailing upon seeing they were empty handed.

"No, Alena, we didn't," Timothy bitterly replied the unasked question. "I told you it would be pointless, but, no! Alena just can't lose. She has too much--"

The thief suddenly stopped his complaining upon seeing May, beaten, bruised, and cringing fearfully. "Your Highness!" he cried, rushing forward. "By the Master, are you all right?"

"What?" the actress stammered, confused by Timothy's gestures.

"By the Master!" he breathed, panic crossing his face. The thief turned to her companions and shouted, "Cristo! Brey! She's delusional! Go get help from the Temple, and tell them--"

"What? No, I--"

"You're fine?" Timothy asked, hope in his voice. May meekly nodded, the thief's overbearing concern at least disorientating her. "Oh, thank the Master," he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

He suddenly slapped his forehead. "Where are my manners?" he scolded himself. Timothy knelt down on one knee, bowing his head. "Your Highness," he said humbly. "It is a great honour to be within your presence. I, Timothy Renes of Bonmalmo, pledge my undying devotion to you and the country you rule."

Alena found an elbow jut in her leg, causing her to momentarily loose her balance as her body's strength was still low. She glared down at Timothy, her penetrating gaze demanding an explanation.

"I don't know what twisted ideas James gives you," he whispered, his head still bowed, "but you always kneel before a monarch. Don't embarrass me, Alena."

She stared incredulously at the thief for a moment but quickly drew her gaze at May. The actress slightly cringed underneath the princess' threatening glare, wondering if she would strike her down where she stood. "Tell him," Alena commanded emotionlessly. "Tell him the truth."

May stared at her for a moment, then to the old man who was Brey's impostor. Her father was obviously going to be upset with her, and might even strike her a few times for spoiling his plans. However, after what she had been through, the actress wanted nothing more than the whole charade to end.

Besides, how could she refuse a royal order?

"T--Timothy," she said, finding the courage to speak the truth hard to come by. "I--I'm not really the Princess of Santeem. I'm not the Princess of any country. I'm just an actress. My name's really May."

She looked at Alena again, and the princess nodded, urging her to continue. Sighing, May added, "The--real Princess of Santeem is the one beside you."

The thief stared dumbfounded, his gaze alternating between both young women; one bruised and battered, the other covered in dry blood.

Eventually, his eyes lit up. "I get it!" he announced. "Alena will pose as your decoy so a similar thing won't happen again. Brilliant!"

Timothy stood up, looking at the princess. "It's a very noble thing of you to do to become something as dangerous as a royal decoy," he said in a somewhat sarcastic tone to her, "even if you do look differently."

"What?" both women said at the same time.

"No, you got it all wrong!" Alena nearly cried out in alarm. "I'm really the Princess. I'm Princess Alena Santeem. She's just an actress pretending to be me!"

"You don't need get so involved in your role, Alena," he said bitterly. She could tell he was feeling animosity towards her, believing she stole some of the glory he had sought all this time.

"I'm not acting!" she persisted. "I'm not going to be some damned decoy! I really am the Princess!"

Timothy looked at her, perplexed. "I think that blow may have made you delusional, Alena," he said. He laid a hand on her shoulder and tried to ease her down on the ground.

"I'm not delusional!" she nearly screamed, her frustration at a breaking point. "How many times do I have to say it? I--am--Princess--Santeem--! I ran away from--"

"Damn it, Alena, shut up!" Timothy yelled at her, stunning the young woman. "You are not the Princess of Santeem! A Princess does not curse every other word! A Princess does not fight with a blood lust. A Princess does not go out adventuring in blood-soaked clothes and weapons. A Princess does not act like such a--a--"

Alena swallowed, her love's words biting into her skin with each breath he took. "Like what--?" she meekly asked.

Timothy frowned, his anger subsiding for the moment. "Does not act like such a tomboy," he replied, his voice calmer. "A Princess is full of dignity and refined attributes. Not once have I ever seen you display such character, so stop your ranting! I can't help it if you are jealous but pretending to be something you clearly aren't isn't the solution!"

Alena suddenly found her legs weaker than she could have ever imagined. "What did you say?" she asked, her voice catching in her throat as spoke. She looked away, knowing the words he spoke would only hurt more if she saw them leave his mouth.

The thief frowned, disappointed the young woman had not been able to see it herself. "You're jealous, Alena," he stated flatly. "To come up with such a blatant and obvious lie is not only ridiculous but also shows just how despicable you are."

An impossible weight landed on the princess and her knees gave out. Tears began to leak from her eyes as she fell to the mossy ground. "But--it's not a lie," she quietly murmured, staring at the moss. Her amounting anguish weighed heavy on her voice. "I really am a Princess. I just--"

Alena's voice trailed off, her thoughts swarming her senses. Timothy was right. Everything anyone of any standing in the world knew what a Princess looked like and how a Princess acted. And every one of those traits she casually discarded without consideration of the consequences.

Was this what everyone thought of her? Was she considered a Princess by chance of birth alone? Sure, she did not find much pleasure in performing the traits expected by a Princess but Alena still felt as much a aristocrat as the next nobleman.

She looked at May. Here was a woman who merely acted the part, yet had an easier time convincing Timothy than all the trust Alena could muster. Was that all it took? Just a pretty dress, make-up, and monarch persona?

If that was the case, and somehow she did convince Timothy who she really was, would he love her as before, or only as a Princess? Her heart argued vehemently that the latter would not be the case, that true love could transcend external pretences.

Her mind, however, won this argument. The evidence was plainly in front of her.

Timothy would go with whoever the real Princess was but only for that reason. True love could not exist, merely physical fascination.

And for that, Alena painfully realized this was going to be her last night with this man whom she found wondrous and remarkable. The pain in her chest unbearable, the princess fell over, heaving deep shuddering sobs as she did not even have the strength to cry.

Timothy looked down at her, guilt unconsciously finding its way into his mind. His growing disgust for the display Alena exhibited at his feet only pushed such feelings aside, though.

He turned to May, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Your Highness," he said. "Please forgive my companion. We have some--business--to take care of before we leave."

"We?" the actress repeated, still confused by Timothy's behaviour.

The thief smiled knowingly. "It would honour me, your Highness," he explained, "if you would be generous enough to allow me into your party. I have in my possession a wagon fit for travel. Within is an abundance of wealth, meagre by your noble standards, no doubt, but worthy nonetheless to make myself acceptable as a part of your party. I only need to find another brahmird, an easy enough task. We can then be on our way this very night to avoid a public scene such as when you first arrived. That is, if it is within your gracious heart to accept me, your Highness."

"But, I--"

"You don't have to answer now," Timothy was quick to politely interrupt. He gently moved May in front of him and towards her companions. "Wait for me at the stables. There you can confer with your escorts and see for yourself what I have to offer. I will join with you shortly."

Dumbfounded, May stared at the thief as she was being pushed but did not prod the subject. She desperately wanted to explain it all to the thief but he seemed to refuse to hear. Now her father would undoubtedly demand an explanation for the events that had transpired here. He would undoubtedly continue to keep up the charade, using the poor man for his wealth until they reached more populated areas. May despised his way of thinking but she feared his lashings more.

As she made her way to her father and his accomplice, May looked back at the heartbroken Alena. The actress' face spoke, "I'm so sorry," but she knew no amount of apology could help heartache. She had done all she could for the princess; she told the truth. It was up to Timothy to believe it and, sadly, he had failed.

Timothy's gaze followed May's departure with her companions, holding it even after they disappeared into the mist. "I'll leave one third of my wealth with Old Goat at the inn, as promised," the thief said mechanically. "You'd be best to collect it before he decides to keep it for himself."

If Alena heard him, she made no recognition of it, her painful sobbing causing her whole body to curl up in sorrow-filled spasms.

Letting out a guilty sigh, Timothy knelt down, trying to get into the princess' eyes. "It's not too late for you," he said, trying to sound optimistic. He placed a tender hand on her shoulder. "You could probably still come with us if you apologize for your earlier remarks."

Alena looked up, a tiny glimmer of hope shining through the tears in her eyes. Yes, it could work! She could keep the charade up, perhaps even pretend to be May's decoy. That way, she could still be with Tim and--

--And watch him shower attention on that damned actress! No, she could not bear to see that. One night was hard enough as it was. Alena knew she would not be able to take such rejection repeatedly.

She looked away. "No, Tim," she quietly replied, her voice shuddering. The princess removed his hand. "I--couldn't live with myself if I did."

The thief frowned. "Very well," he said, standing up. "I bid you farewell, Alena Sanouch. May the Master watch over your travels with good fortune." At that, Timothy started to walk away.

No! Alena's mind raged furiously. It can't end! Not like this! There has to be a way!

"Tim!" Alena called out, causing the thief to pause in mid-step.

"Yes?" he said quietly.

The princess was quiet for a moment, trying to choose her words carefully. She had to make this count. It would either cure her ailing heart, or doom her to despair. "Did you--ever love me?" asked timidly.

Timothy was quiet for several long seconds. "No," he replied without looking.

"But--but what we shared--!" Alena cried, her heart unable to believe his response. "By the pool! What of that--?"

"I shared your lust," he explained, his head slightly turned to see her anguished face, "but not your love. You'd be wise to learn the difference between the two." The thief then disappeared into the mist.

"No--" Alena said, her voice cracking. "No! Why? Why can't you believe me, Tim? Why?" However, no response would be forthcoming. Her body unable to take the strain of heartache any longer, the princess collapsed, her agonizing tears watering the moss beneath.

Crying, she lay there. Time was fleeting as all she knew was deep misery.

So absorbed in her own anguish, Alena never knew another figure had entered the graveyard as she cried. "It okay to cry," he said despite the fact he was completely ignored. Still, his voice was touched with sympathy. "People always cry here. Cry for me dead, they do. So you can cry here, too."

And the short, dirty man vigilantly watched over Alena, allowing her to shed her sorrow into the misty night.