**hello! It's been quite a bit since the last chapter, LMAO, I am still in England and I'm very very busy, but I figured y'all deserve a chapter, and I promise I'll be getting back to a regular posting schedule soon.Thanks for sticking with me, guys!!**

Chapter 38

"I hope you are not disappointed with the Capital," Camille said at tea the next morning.

Lyla had been awoken by a guard rapping on her door with an invitation from the princess, which Lyla had accepted immediately. She'd hurried over, a bit embarrassed to have slept in til half past eleven, and now sat across from Camille, who simply stared with some expectance as Lyla dabbed a bit of clotted cream on her raisin scone.

In truth, Lyla was having some difficulty keeping her eyes open. She confessed herself still exhausted after the previous day's events; as enjoyable as the evening had been.
Well, most of it.

"There isn't much to disappoint." Lyla wiped a crumb off of her lips. "It's magnificent; truly."

Camille's face softened, and Lyla suppressed a relieved sigh; here, it was so easy to say the right thing. Somehow she was unused to that.

"You were the talk of the party," Camille continued, but she didn't sound envious; Lyla thought she could detect a hint of approval in the princess's light, soprano voice. "How many people asked you to dance?"

Lyla looked down, flushing. "Not as many as you."

"I do not need everyone's admiration," she said with a half-smile.

"But you have it all the same-"

"A perk." Camille's shoulders lifted delicately, as if it did not matter to her either way, and that was what Lyla admired so much about the crown princess. To be adored by everyone in the world... and yet, while Camille doubtlessly enjoyed the attention, she obviously had enough confidence not to need it.

"Your friends did not seem to be enjoying themselves as much as you." Camille broke through Lyla's train of thought, popping a raspberry into her curved lips. "I suppose not everyone can handle the bustle of the city."

Lyla's smile faltered.

"They have much to worry about," she could only manage in reply, feeling a sudden stab of guilt that she was in here, chatting and sipping tea, while her friends were...
Well, where were they? They all seemed to be in such foul moods as of late. Lyla recalled how Aveline had snapped at her the other day when she had inquired after the children and swallowed tightly.

Camille made a thoughtful humming sound as she stood up, as if she'd read her thoughts.
"Have some more tea, Lyla." She curtsied, her head bowing slightly. "I will see you later today? There are a few people who are particularly eager to meet you."

Yes. The king. How nerve-racking.
"Y-yes, of course." Lyla scrambled to her feet. "Your Highness."

Camille quitted the room, then, leaving Lyla alone and slightly rattled with her thoughts. Sometimes Camille could be so impassive.
Then again; she was a princess. Who, apparently, actually preferred her company. How many else could boast of such a thing?

Lyla took another bite of her scone, gleefully swinging her legs off of her chair.

Surely, she'd been right; they'd been at the Capital for two days now, and nothing was amiss. She'd seen more in two days than in eighteen years of her life. She lived in a room atop a winding tower, by which she could throw open the windows every morning greet the golden, glittering city stretching to greet her over a flowerbox of scarlet poppies. The people were beautiful and cultured, and when she was with the princess, everyone wanted to meet her.

She had even seen the boy from her first day the night before, at the ball. Barely for a second, across the room; he'd ducked his head at her almost shyly and scurried away. Not for the first time Lyla wondered who he was.

After she pulled herself from her reverie, Lyla went to Jamie's room first, since it was just down the hall, to see if she was ready for their day at court.

After knocking a few times on the door, she opened it to find Jamie tangled up in her sheets on the floor with a book in her hands. Her hair lay in coffee-brown layers around her thin, pale neck, and her beauty was such of the sort of ethereal, not-of-this-world quality that Lyla could perhaps see a glimpse of how Ari had fallen so hard.

"Jamie," said Lyla in surprise. "Did you fall off your bed?"

"Oh, hello Lyla." Jamie gave her one of her tiny smiles, which seemed to come as easily now as a spring breeze. "I know I'm supposed to be dressed. I started reading and I suppose I lost track of time." She stood up with a small shrug, and smoothed over the wrinkles in her lace nightgown. "I like to sleep on the floor. You likely think that's very strange. But it's just not comfortable."

"Why not?" Lyla watched in fascination as her friend began to set aside clothes for the day. Her bed at home was her most prized possession. She couldn't imagine not wanting it.

"Because I grew up poor, and I never really had a bed to sleep in."

"But.." Lyla felt a rush of sympathy for Jamie and bit her lip. "You've lived in the palace now for months."

"I know." Jamie wrinkled her nose." "It's funny, isn't it? The things that stay with you. So much about your position in life can change, but you'll always have those little quirks; reminding you where you come from. I don't think I can scrub it away, no matter how hard I try."

Lyla had no idea to respond.
"I suppose so," she said eventually, waiting while Jamie laced up her dress. "Shall we?"

Lyla walked back down the tower with Jamie in silence, feeling as if she understood her friend a bit better.

Sometimes she forgot that Jamie hadn't always lived in a palace, taking tea and bantering with Tristran and Ben as easily as any courtier. And it hadn't seemed that Jamie had forgotten it, either. And yet, who could?

It made Lyla think of her own life, then, and how much she had changed since she'd left Apreuna that fateful day last year, and then part of her wished Jamie had said nothing about it, because she couldn't help but feel that there was still so much about her own self that Lyla sometimes just wanted to scrub away.

-

"Remember," whispered Ari fiercely as they dashed down the corridor, "they're trying to figure out what we know. As far as the king is concerned, that is nothing. Is that understood?"
Lyla huffed out another harried breath as she struggled to catch up with him, hoisting the remains of her skirts into her arms. They were late to the Capital hall where all the members of court congregated to socialize, and Lyla's legs were the shortest of her friends.

Finally they all stopped in front of the door, while Lyla fought to catch her breath.

"We don't know who could be part of this," Jamie added. "The king, the princess..."

"Princess Camille has nothing to do with it," Lyla couldn't help but interrupt, in between her panting.

"We don't know that, Lyla-"

"Yes we do," Aveline cut in, surprising her. "She told me so herself."

"What? When?" Ari regarded his friend with some confusion. "Why did you not tell me?"

Aveline looked away, her eyes two spots of fire.
"I don't have to tell you everything, Ari."

"What are you-" Ari sputtered.

Jamie pushed open the door to the hall, further ending all argument. She and Aveline hurried inside to find Eli among the prettily dressed courtiers, and Lyla glanced at Ari beside her.

She slowly tilted her head, something nervous jumping in her throat.
"I'm confused as to why you two aren't on the same page."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ari snapped. "We're always on the same page."

The roughness in his voice made Lyla bite her lip, and she looked ahead of him to the room.

Bathed in a pleasant pink glow, the glass doors opened up to a lovely garden with pale carnations and long, white columns with ivy growing up the sides.
Her trepidation momentarily forgotten, Lyla brought a hand to her lips as she slowly wandered the grounds.

The king was nowhere to be seen, but Lyla recognized a few of the courtiers from the ball the night before and was pleasantly surprised to find that many of them recognized her as well; some even going so far as to greet her by name.

She spotted Camille lounging on some sort of pink velvet chaise, with her slippered feet dangling off the side. She let her feet swing as she conversed easily with a boy in a brown overcoat and lace sleeves who stood facing her direction.

"Who is that, Eli?" Lyla inquired to her friend who had come up beside her.

"Ah, I believe that is-"

"There you are!" Camille stood up to greet them as the rest of Lyla's friends rejoined her.
Outfitted in a lovely gown of yellow, she appeared bored as always, but attempted to greet them amiably and Lyla reminded herself to appreciate the efforts.

"Eli, my dear. You did not dance with me last night."

Eli began to look just a bit uncomfortable as the princess took his hands in hers.
"Another time, Highness."

Camille's pout vanished almost immediately as she moved on to greet the rest of her guests with equal warmth. But Lyla could barely hear her; she'd only just noticed the boy who had been beside Camille's chaise had turned around with her now, their close proximity suggesting a familiarity which made Lyla start.

She recognized him immediately as the boy who had helped her to her feet upon her arrival to the Capital, though why he was here with the princess she could hardly imagine.

Camille made no attempt to acknowledge him; though his presence wasn't exactly easily ignored, and Lyla tried not to gape openly. His warm, caramel coloring contrasted sharply with the princess's pale skin and bright red hair, and yet somehow they looked well standing together in matching lace.

"Oh, see how everyone stares at us now," laughed Camille with a girlish glint in her eye. "I am the talk of the city, to have such exotic guests."

Exotic? Lyla momentarily broke her trance to glance at her companions. Eli fit in quite well, and Jamie passed as perhaps a foreign courtier. Lyla's pale hair color practically branded Northern on her, but she supposed Ari and Aveline didn't look as if they belonged either; even outfitted in fine Verignes fashions, it was as if they couldn't help but stand out.

What a group they were; she and Eli were the only ones attempting at conversation beyond polite pleasantries. Jamie couldn't have appeared more ill at ease, and Aveline seemed to be staring off into space as she often did these days. Ari just looked annoyed.

Camille fluttered about them as if she didn't even notice.

"You see, I am grateful that you are here. Lady Marilla has been prattling on and on about her hair at last night's ball, and it was atrocious," she continued, then- "and my father would very much like to meet you, of course." It was almost an afterthought, but Lyla noted how the sides of her mouth seem to sag just a bit at the mention of the king.

The tall boy with the brown lace sleeves was examining his fingernails now as he leaned beside a pillar, making no effort to mask his listening to their conversation. After a moment, Camille seemed to remember him, glancing backwards with a sort of exasperated acknowledgement that he latched onto immediately.

"You won't introduce me, Cami?" He teased her, with a rich, accented voice and a blinding grin.

Cami? Now Lyla's interest was peaked. Her companions seemed confused as well as they shifted among themselves.

Camille rolled her eyes. "And this is Lucian." She gestured to the boy with a dismissive flicker of fingers.

"Camille and I have known each other for years," he explained.

Lucian. So he did know the princess. He must have been a Lord, then, or an heir of some such.

Lyla wondered why he had not introduced himself before and found herself frowning. Then, Lucian caught Lyla studying him and gave her a small wink- so subtle she thought she'd imagined it. She blinked and lowered her eyes immediately.

"Enthralling," Ari muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat, and then, louder; "where is the king?"

Camille's smile flattened. "He's-"

"Camille, I hope you haven't been boring your guests," a deep voice boomed behind them, as if on cue.

Camille's hand twitched. "No, father."

Lyla whirled around, curtsying deeply to a pair of black boots in front of her.

"Your Majesty," she murmured, glancing sideways to make certain her companions were bowing as well. "We are most obliged." Lyla lifted her head to see the Verignes king himself outfitted in a red-buttoned coat, two guards standing dutifully by his side.

"We are exceedingly fortunate to welcome you to our province," the king said politely. One of the pinch-faced men standing next to him whispered something in his ear, and he nodded.
"Eli, you have already seen your father, I presume?"

Eli swallowed, his jaw tightening as he glanced downward. "Yes, Majesty. He is well."

Lyla surveyed the king as he exchanged pleasantries with her friends, trying not to stare too apparently.

She had seen the monarch in paintings before, but she confessed he didn't look quite the way she'd imagined. He was slim and long-limbed, with thin lips and graying hair, and his brass-buttoned coat of red, while impressive, seemed very stiff and uncomfortable to wear. Though he was extremely polite, he held such an expression of ease that oftentimes Lyla found herself wondering if he'd heard anything anyone had said. Often he would nod and grin broadly, as if he'd been addressed to in a language he couldn't quite understand.

"I do hope you enjoy your stay at the Capital," he said to Lyla now, bestowing upon her a gracious bow. "There is much to be admired here. Of course, we send our compliments to Her Majesty Queen Rowena."

Lyla politely lowered her head.

"I hear you have been doing excellent work in my kingdom," the king said to Ari and Aveline now, who exchanged quick, harried glances.

"We're your humble servants, Majesty," Aveline said carefully, after a brief pause, and the king nodded once as if satisfied.

"You all must join me tomorrow. There will be a tennis tournament in the square. Do you enjoy the sport?"

Lyla nodded numbly, unsure of who he was addressing. She glanced at Lucian, who she was surprised to see was already studying her with an intent gaze. He gave her the barest of shrugs.

There was a brief, awkward pause, by which no one seemed to have anything to say, and Lyla found her spirits start to sag.

Back in Apreuna, when they would speak with the Queen about an assignment, Ari would often interrupt to grumble something that Lyla couldn't help but laugh at. Aveline would giggle, and her Majesty would stare at them as if they had all lost their heads.

Lyla was suddenly conscious of how lately she hadn't heard barely two words from any of her friends that wasn't upset or off, somehow, and the distance in their expressions reminded her of why she was here.

Lyla shook her head, an odd feeling shaking her all of a sudden, and excused herself, muttering something about needing fresh air. She could feel everyone looking at her as she slipped through the glass door to the gardens, but Lyla didn't bother glancing behind her.

The hot air hit her like a puff of breath in the face, but it felt good; cleansing, somehow. If it wasn't so humid, she'd think she was home, silently contemplating the desert flowers in the ground.

Lyla leaned against one of the white columns and tore a small piece of ivy leaf from its vine.
The king was as blank-faced as the white tiles on his floors. How naive was she to expect that he would simply all of their problems?

How were they to solve all of their problems?

A sudden rustling of leaves of behind her made her jump.

"Excuse me," someone said in a soft, unfamiliar tone, and Lyla spun around. It was Camille's friend Lucian, standing warily before her. He held his hand up, palm facing out, as if she were a frightened animal.

"I apologize for startling you." Upon closer look she could see that he had a sprinkle of freckles on his swarthy face, and a full, nearly pouting set of lips; she was almost envious.

Lyla quickly found her voice.
"Which time?" She said without thinking, belatedly realizing that she perhaps might have sounded rude.

"Forgive me." Lucian let his hand fall back to his side, stuffing it awkwardly into a trouser pocket. "We have met before."

"Yes, sir."

"Please, call me Lucian, miss. It is an honor to finally make your acquaintance." It was funny, she'd heard the phrase many times, but Lucian said it as if he was truly in earnest, his eyes crinkling up at the ends. Lyla let her guard down just a bit, feeling herself soften.

"And I am-"

"Lady Lyla," he finished for her. "Quincy. I know who you are."

Lyla colored, though she wasn't certain why.

Lucian took a cautious step towards the rose bush that she stood beside, hands clasped behind his back, and took a moment to gaze thoughtfully at the thorned flowers before he spoke.
"You are quite famous around here, Lady Quincy, having saved all of the royals last year. It was quite heroic."

"It wasn't me," Lyla was quick to say. "Ari and Aveline-"

"And you," he countered.
The sheepish, almost awed way he'd said it confused her.

Lyla was never first to be noticed. No one ever just knew who she was. It wasn't anything she felt resentment over or pitied herself for, but Lyla considered herself nothing particularly out of the ordinary, and his frankness put her on her guard.

"Does this offend you?" Lucian inquired when she had not spoken. She glanced up to see that he'd stopped his perusal of the roses and was looking straight at her with deep, searching eyes the color of autumn chestnuts.

"No, of course not."

"But you do not like to receive credit, then," he guessed.

"When it is deserved, perhaps."

"And if it is, Lady Quincy?" He said- with a bit of an edge, as if it was a challenge.

Lyla lifted her chin and staunchly met his gaze.
"It's just Lyla, if you don't mind."

For a moment, Lucian looked as if he would smile.

He made a soft chuckle, and Lyla couldn't help but give a little breath of laughter in reply; something loosening in her chest.

"Lyla!" Ari's voice bounced off the distant walls, then, sounding irritated. "Where are you?"

Lucian dipped his head almost shyly. "It looks as if you're being summoned."

"Yes." Lyla had forgotten about her friends, and with it she was reminded of their current situation. She felt guilty all of a sudden, for some reason, and clutched her skirts as she bobbed a quick curtsy before turning to leave.
"Good day, sir."

"It has been a pleasure," then Lucian paused, considering; "Lyla."

Lyla uncurled her fingers, flexing them out at her sides. She paused once, nearly contemplating the idea of turning back around, but she could hear Ari yelling for her once more, and everyone was, no doubt, wondering where she had gone.

So Lyla went to go find her friends while her heart beat steady in her chest.

**sorry for mistakes!!**