A/N: Bit of a language warning in place for this one.

Chapter 45

At the head of the council in the hard, wooden chair that belonged to her husband, Bella sat tall, her eyes fixed on the bowl of polished stones at the center of the table. Around her, like children in a classroom, sat the Councillors, all as silent as mimes and each with their gaze fixed uncomfortably on the gems. They had come when she had called, each trailing in on the coattails of another, and when they had taken their usual seats in the warm, bright chamber, they had known at once why they had been summoned.

When she had put the question to them, without so much as a how-do-you-do, the men had gone quiet and perfectly still. Their goblets, filled with rich honey wine, were not raised. The food she had ordered— roasted fowl and berry tarts— went uneaten. They did not raise a hand in thanks, did not bring that sweet nectar to their lips in quiet solidarity, and so Bella waited, uncomfortable and quiet, until the silence grew too long.

The stones on the table— all eighty five of them— were not acknowledged, but the question remained and Bella did not repeat herself. Eighty five stones— one for each child who had arrived in the night— and all of them unclaimed. All of them untouched. All of them unwanted.

Her question lingered long after it had been voiced.

What were they to do with the children?

In the seat that was normally her own sat Jasper, who had grown so tall and serious in months of late that Bella, watching him from the corner of her eye, was rather taken aback. It had been almost a year since she'd arrived here and first laid eyes on him and as he sat beside her, Bella was reminded of just how far he had come. He was taller now by several inches, and where he had once been lanky he was now growing strong. He would match Edward in height soon, which was a feat in itself, and though he could not yet boast a beard, Bella could see the telltale shadow just starting to sprout on his cheeks and jaw. He would be turning fifteen at the winter solstice— a ripe old age, by his own account— and Bella saw with almost maternal pride how he carried himself with dignity. He had invited himself to sit in on the Council meeting in his brother's absence and Bella had been grateful for the company, if nothing else.

It was a strange thing, taking Edward's seat at the head of the table. She had sat around it many times before, both as an observer and as a participant, and there was not one man who sat with her now that Bella did not know. She had dined with these men, laughed with them, learned from them, and debated with them, but never had she been asked to lead them, to take charge.

But, in the King's absence, such was her duty as his wife and Queen.

It had been two days since Edward had gone, riding west with Hema and a party of soldiers to make right what had been disturbed in the Grasslands. The refugees had come with nothing— only the clothes on their backs and what little food they could carry with them— and as such, there had been scavenging in fields and thieving from homesteads all across the Northern Grasslands. The travellers had slept in remote barns, leaving behind spoiled hay and distressed cattle. They had stolen grain from storehouses. They had pillaged a mango orchard and broken several boughs from healthy trees. In the rice paddies, which had only just begun to resettle after the fire, they had disturbed the still, fresh water and uprooted several new plants, ruining the next viable harvest. They had stolen cheese from larders. They had taken a goat to feed the babies. When they had arrived at the Capital under the cover of darkness, the city had not been prepared to receive them. There had been no provisions made, no arrangements settled for housing or food. The city had been in an uproar, the tolling bells making even the stoutest resident turn tail and run, and the mayhem had made for a long and tedious night.

They had settled the refugees in a warehouse in City East after they had been granted access to the Capital. They had been allowed to wash in the river and were given clothes from the royal storehouse. They were fed from the castle kitchens, given pallets of hay from the stable lofts, and though their lodgings were cramped and unbearably hot when the sun blazed at high noon, they were fed, and clothed, and dry.

But these lodgings were only temporary, and well the Council knew it.

"It cannot be permanent," Bella said and those eyes— those staring, curious, wondering eyes of Edward's Council— all turned to look her in the face. "It is hardly suitable even now. It cannot be permanent. The children…"

The table was as silent as a crypt.

"Edward and I have discussed it. We believe that it is best for…"

"With all possible respect, Your Grace…" It was Mirka, uncharacteristically prickly, who spoke first. "With all possible respect… it simply isn't feasible."

Bella sat back with a frown.

"We do not have the resources," he went on. "We do not have enough families who would be willing, let alone able, to take one in…"

At the far end of the table, Toro tapped his foot.

"I've already said that I can take the boys," said Toro. "If any there be who are old enough to take on. It's not unheard of, and it's been done before…"

Beside her Jasper shifted, his lip between his teeth.

"It is archaic, Toro," said Lorenzo with anger. "It is barbaric."

"They won't be fighting, Lorenzo."

"You cannot enlist children."

"They are nearly grown…"

"Fifteen does not make a man!" he returned and Jasper bristled, sitting up a little straighter. "That is the age of the eldest child— only fifteen— and it isn't legal, let alone moral."

"And keeping them in a filthy warehouse is?"

"It is the best we have."

"More's the pity," said Toro. "My offer stands, Your Grace. If you would like me to take them back with me…"

But Bella, frowning, shook her head.

"Edward and I talked of families," Bella said. "Of mothers and fathers…"

"There aren't enough families on the Wharf for the orphans we have already," said Nelsor curtly. "You know that, Your Grace, for you've seen it yourself. My people would revolt if I brought back more motherless babes."

"There is room for compassion in all places," said Bella. "There is always room for that, at least…"

"The world in which we live is not an ideal," interrupted Nelsor. "Compassion is a luxury, My Queen. It is not a default state of being."

"I'm not asking for a miracle, Nelsor," Bella returned. "Only a little kindness, and perhaps some patience."

"But you are," he said and Bella, feeling rather put out, ducked her head. "You ask too much, Your Grace, and if the King were here…"

"But the King is not here." This came from Jasper, who watched Nelsor with peculiar, anxious confidence. "Your Queen is, and she asks—"

"You've never been to the Wharf, My Prince, and so I can't expect you to understand," said Nelsor. "Your intentions are honourable, I'll give you that, but there is little we can do to take in any wayward orphans who've come in from the West."

"Edward said—"

"Your brother can speak for himself," said Bralto and Jasper, suddenly red, turned instead to face him. "I'm sure we'll hear more directives when he returns…"

"He's left his wife, Bralto."

Bella held up a hand for peace.

"Edward and I discussed it at great length before he left," said Bella. "We must find homes for the children, at least. The women can be put to work— all of them, including the one with child, have agreed to it— but the children must be given houseroom in a place where they'll be safe."

"I will not house a refugee in the Village while there are still babes of our own living in the Homes!" Mirka snapped. "I've got twelve little ones from my own farms under my care. I cannot, in good conscience, take on any more!"

"Does it matter where a child is from, Mirka?" demanded Arman who, coming from one of the wealthiest districts on the island, had already agreed to take as many as ten back with him. "A child is a child…"

"We must put our own first, Arman."

"A child belongs to all of us."

"Not when I've got mouths to feed already."

"They don't have to live in your house."

"We don't have enough homes in my district as it is!" Mirka's voice rose to a noisy, angry shout. "We've not got enough food, Arman!"

"You grow the food!"

"For the people! Not for me! Not for us!"

"These children are the people!"

"My Lords…"

The men ignored her.

"These are innocents, Mirka."

"Innocent or not," he replied and Bella, feeling a fluttering anxiety in the pit of her belly, saw a stubborn determination in him that she was not quite sure she could match. "Innocent or not, it will not be done. It cannot be done… not now, at least."

"And so what do you suggest?" It was Rohailo, always so silent, who spoke up now. "What would you have us do, Mirka?"

"They have shelter and food, which is more than they had before they got here."

"We do not keep children in filth!" Lorenzo's face was red with anger. "We do not keep them in squalor!"

"Careful now… you slander your own district, Lorenzo."

When Lorenzo spat— an angry glob of spittle landing on the polished wood of the table in front of Mirka— Bella felt her back stiffen.

"My Lords…"

"If you'd not send me your own filth, Mirka, perhaps we'd be better off!"

"My filth?"

"Your vagrants!"

When Mirka laughed at him, Bella saw the latter's face turn puce. When he rose, his fist clenched threateningly on the hilt of his blade, the guard by the door shifted and it was this sound— the ominous clink of a steel sword against its scabbard— that made the men pause. Lorenzo's fingers froze, hovering just over the ruby hilt of his dagger, and Mirka's head twitched to look, but when the guard didn't move any further, neither man backed down.

"Gentlemen, please."

"Come at me then, Lorenzo," said Mirka and though his adversary was fairly shaking with rage, Mirka sat back with a smirk. "I dare you. You'll be knocked down on your ass so fast…"

"That is enough."

It surprised her, even then, how loudly a voice could carry in the cavernous vault of the high ceilings. It bounced off the stone like rubber, the high notes lingering in the wooden beams up above, and by the time it had rained down with a fury and a fight, twelve heads had turned to look at her in surprise. Jasper was grinning at her, torn between delight at her rebuke and morbid fascination at the budding fight, but when Lorenzo stepped back, his head bowed, it was he who broke the silence.

"My Queen…"

"Sit down."

He obeyed her at once.

"I did not bring this to you to debate it," said said and though they bristled again, she held up her hand for peace. "I didn't bring you here to ask permission."

From his seat beside Jasper, Mirka glared hotly at her.

"The King and I have discussed it," she said again, "and he's made his wishes known. We've twelve districts across the island, some better equipped than others. We have eighty five children in need of a home. It is the King's wish, and mine, that these children be placed in families."

"They will not heed it, Your Grace!" said Mirka hotly. "The people! They will not take these children in… not after all that's been done!"

Bella sat back in her seat with a huff. Her temper, flaring up with sudden irritation, seemed to mollify him only slightly and when she spoke, he balked at her.

"Do you deny the West, Mirka?"

"Wholly!" Mirka stared up and down the table with incredulity and Bella saw more than one head nod in agreement. "Wholly and fully, Your Grace… I deny them, and their creed!"

"Do you deny your King?"

Mirka stared at her.

"Because you cannot have it both ways. Either you deny the enemy, or you deny your King."

"Your Grace…"

"Edward rules this Kingdom, as did his father and his grandfather before him. Our child will rule next, should we be blessed enough to have one, but this Kingdom is fractured. There is a piece of it that most have never seen— a piece where people, Edward's people, live under the injustice of a false leader. They have never known life in the East, Mirka, and they have never known the wealth and riches of this city, but would you deny that they are his? Would you deny that the land is his? Because if you do, let me be quite clear: Edward is the ruler of this island— not only the eastern half, but the west as well— and if you deny these children their King's protection you legitimize the western tyrant."

"My Lady…"

"I'm not your lady," Bella snapped and at this, she saw his face tighten. "Not anymore."

"My Queen, then…"

"Would you deny your King?"

"Not in a thousand years."

"Good," said Bella and as she glanced down the table, she thought, perhaps, that she had earned their attention, at least, if not their cooperation. "Good… because those children may be from the west, Mirka, but that does not make them someone else's problem."

"We've problems enough already, Your Grace, without piling on. I do not begrudge them houseroom…"

"Just so long as it's not in your house," said Bella sourly. "Just so long as they do not inconvenience you."

"We must think of our own first…"

"These are your own. They belong to all of us. A child is simply that, Mirka— a child— and I will not allow political strife to interfere with the wellbeing of a minor."

"These children are not from us!"

"Does that matter?"

"When we've got other mouths to feed— mouths that come from our own kith and kin— then yes, I think it does."

"You would let any child starve?"

"They're fed well enough."

"For now."

"They're not our responsibility…"

"And why not?" Bella looked down the table where several Councillors— half at least— refused to meet her eye. "How is it that we can disclaim them so easily?"

"They are not from here."

"But what does that matter?"

Mirka stared at her, his face as hard as a stone.

"You do not understand, Your Grace, and I don't blame you, given your history. You were not raised in our ways— were not brought up to know the details of our conflict with the West— and so you cannot possibly know all the ways in which we've suffered. There can be no resolution to this fight— not until the tyrant Jamos and his supporters are defeated— and even then, there would be discord. This is not a fight that will end in my lifetime, Your Grace. I do not expect to live to see its conclusion."

"I do."

"You are young…"

"Not so young."

"You are not from here, Your Grace…"

"And yet here I sit," she said coolly. "Here I sit, Mirka, in your King's stead. Would you deny him?"

"No."

"Then don't deny me."

The table shifted uncomfortably and did not say another word. Jasper, grinning from ear to ear, simply shrugged at her when she met his eye, and when there was no more protesting, no more argument, she spoke again.

"The King has made his wishes known," said Bella, and this time, she saw Arman reach for the bowl of stones. "He did not send me here to argue the matter. The children will be settled, as any child of the realm has a right to be."

Mirka said not a word.

"The West might be hostile, My Lords," said Bella and as Arman scooped a handful of stones from the basket, she watched as Joro reached his own hand in. "But they are still ours."

Mirka shook his head.

"Whether we like it or not," she said, and Mirka, plucking one, lone stone from the basket, would not meet her eye. "Whether we like it or not, My Lords, these children belong to us."

"I can't believe they sent so many."

The words, spoken in an undertone, were barely audible over the noise of the street.

"I can't believe it, Bella… really, I can't."

"It was a shock to us too, Rose. I've never heard the bells before…"

"They rang them at your wedding."

"Never at night, then."

"I didn't know what to think."

"Neither did I."

In the streets of City East, among the bustle and hubbub of noise that made up life in the east end of Edward's capital, Bella and Rosalie walked together with their heads bent and their words low. They walked with the guards, who had become Bella's silent shadow, and so, too, had they brought the girls, who trailed after them like ducklings on a pond. They were fanned out behind their mistress, those little ladies that Bella had taken in, and though it was Alice who had taken her place at the head of the party, so happy were they to be brought out to town that their carefully crafted formation had fallen into disrepair.

Bella had not a care in the world for how those children walked— she didn't mind who walked up front, or whose job it was to carry her purse. She didn't object when Santi, the youngest maid at only eleven, and sweet, soft-spoken Luci had decided to share the duty between them. She had settled a squabble over her train with only a look, had allowed three girls to fix her hair at the glass, instead of the usual two. Even now, as she walked ahead with Rosalie, she could see how groups were forming, how friendships and dislikes had ripened among them.

"Are they still here, Bella?" asked Rose and as they passed first the butcher, and then a baker, Bella had to stop to acknowledge their bows. "The children? Have they gone on, yet?"

"Some have," she replied. "Arman took his dozen back with him just last night."

"I thought he was taking ten?"

"He picked up some slack."

"From who?"

But Bella, not wanting to slander any of Edward's Councillors, did not answer.

"They'll all be out before the week's end," she said. "Edward should be back by then…"

"Has he sent word?"

"Only twice," said Bella. "Once to me, and once to the Council. He's making reparations. They're coming along."

"Are they very angry?"

"He doesn't say," Bella replied and she knew, through his silence, that there had been more than one angry farmer he'd been forced to appease. "But he's got Hema with him, and they know him well enough."

"They know their King, too…"

"Not as well as he might like," Bella sighed. "He's not been out of the city as much as he should have been. He says we'll have to go out together, once this has all died down. We never made it on the wedding tour and it's been a sore spot."

"You could hardly help it."

"And they know that," said Bella. "They're not fools, but I understand the disappointment. They've so little on the farms to take away from the monotony of it… there's not even a central village in the Grasslands. They're in desperate need of excitement."

"Be careful what you wish for, then," said Rose sourly and Bella, despite herself, grinned. "They got their excitement, though not perhaps in the way they might have imagined."

"We can't blame them for being surly," said Bella. "To us, it's only crops and hay, but for many of them it's their livelihoods. That poor rice farmer had only just gotten everything under control before the crop was destroyed again."

"It will be fine by winter."

"Yes," Bella agreed, "and Edward has offered to replace whatever income he's lost."

"That'll get expensive."

"It must be done."

Rosalie ducked her head.

"I never expected them to be so many," she said again and this time, Bella watched her with a curious frown. "Really and truly, Bella… I never thought there would be so many."

"By all accounts it was a tremendous hardship."

"I know what a hardship it is," replied Rose, "and I know how much harder it is with a child. I can't imagine doing it with that number, Bella… not in a million years. I can honestly say I don't know how they did it. They sent hunters after me, and I'm only one woman. I can only imagine what they sent after that group…"

"Edward's received no word of any pursuers."

"Not yet."

"They're watching the passes," said Bella. "The pass by the river, the pass through the range, and the one by Terosankta. There will be no threats, Rose… and if there are, they'll be mitigated."

"I'm not worried about those kinds of threats."

"What are you worried about?"

Rosalie only shook her head.

"What did the healer say, when he gave his report this morning?"

Bella frowned.

"Lice," she said. "First and foremost. He and Esme have been delousing since dawn, by all accounts. He also says there are five of them with rickets. Lord only knows what food they were eating…"

"Whatever they could get, I imagine…"

"He's sent those five off with Arman," said Bella. "They'll be treated gently on the Point, at least."

"And the rest?" Rosalie asked but Bella, curious and observant, caught a note of hesitation in her voice. "The others, Bella? What of them?"

"Leaving, a few at a time. We expect the warehouse to be cleared out by the end of the week…"

"Good." Rose nodded her head and Bella did not miss how her cheeks went pink, her throat bobbing. "That's good, Bella…"

"I'm headed down there, once I've taken my leave," she said. "I want to check and see that all is well."

"As is your duty."

Bella frowned at her.

"I want to, Rose… it's not an obligation."

"They are your people now," she said, "as am I. Of course it's an obligation. No one would blame you for it."

"Blame me?"

"They are not exactly… welcome."

"It's been a terrific upheaval, I know, but…"

"It's more than that, Bella. It's far bigger than that…"

"I don't see how."

"No." Rosalie's voice was low, now, and altogether too quiet. "No, I don't expect that you would."

"Are you alright, Rose?"

"I'll be fine."

"Do you want to come and see them?" Bella asked and at this, Rosalie's astonishment was almost palpable. She stared at Bella, bewildered. "Do you want to come with me, when I go?"

"Absolutely not, Bella… no. Absolutely not. Not now, and not ever."

Bella blinked, surprised by the vehemence of this response.

"The very last person in the world they'll want to see is me,"said Rosalie. "I know what you're thinking, Bella, and I don't blame you for it, but I'd be more of a hindrance than a help. They might know me, or at least know of me, but that will hardly endear me to them."

"You don't know that…"

"Yes I do."

Bella simply watched her— watched that stony stubbornness set in with a purpose and a vengeance— and she knew, then, that she would not succeed. She had been counting on Rosalie— had been biding her time until she could ask this favour— but she saw, now, that there would be none granted. There was a resolution in Rose that Bella had rarely seen before— not, in fact, since they'd been together in the jungle, what felt like a lifetime ago. She had hoped that Rosalie would help her— would help to establish a connection between her and some of those wayward, frightened little children— but Rose's jaw was set and her mind made up and Bella, knowing better than to push, simply fell into quiet, disappointed silence.

"You're doing well enough on your own," said Rose— what feeble consolation she could give. "You don't need my help. The King will be back soon. He won't be long away from you, Bella, and all you need to do until then is keep the peace. Don't rock the boat and when your husband returns, you'll figure out how to make it right."

"The peace is broken already, Rose," Bella sighed. "It was broken the minute I forced my hand. The Council has obeyed me, but they're not happy about it."

"They don't need to be happy about it."

"It feels wrong of me, to push. They didn't sign on to answer to me."

"It is your right, Bella, and your responsibility. Edward left you in charge and that should have been enough for them."

"Edward rarely forces them."

"And perhaps that is why they've grown so bold," said Rose. "A council is there to advise, not to direct. They can't make you do anything… and nor should they try, unless you've gone astray."

"I'm sure half of them think I have."

"You are entirely too concerned about what those old men think of you," said Rose staunchly. "You've got to be made of sterner stuff than that, Bella, or else this whole city will eat you alive."

"They're not very old…"

"Some of them are."

"Most of them aren't."

"You know what I mean," Rose griped.

"I can't help it…"

"I know you can't."

"I stood my ground," Bella admitted. "I didn't back down."

"You're learning," Rose grinned. "And I suppose that's all anyone can ask."

"I'm better at it when he's here."

"You're just fine on your own." Rose's fingers squeezed, twining tightly with hers. Behind her, Bella heard her little ladies start to whisper. "With or without your man, you are just fine as you are."

"Thanks Rose."

"You're welcome, honey."

"I wish you'd come with me…"

"And I wish you wouldn't ask."

Bella bit her lip.

"They're only children, Rose," said Bella but Rosalie was unmoved. "Some are only babies. They're no threat to you, I promise you that."

"It's not them I'm worried about."

"What, then?"

Rosalie said nothing.

"It's nothing to concern yourself with," said Rose after a silence so full that Bella had begun to grow nervous. "You've got enough on your plate without my troubles. Worry about those, Bella, and leave mine to me."

"I'm never too busy for you."

Rosalie only chuckled.

"You are a Queen, Bella," she said. "Your time is hardly your own to give."

"And yet give it, I shall."

"Don't worry about it."

"I am worried."

"Don't be."

"Rose…"

But Rosalie, obstinate and stubborn, did not say another word about it. As they turned yet another corner, this time coming out onto Market Street, the crowd parted before them. Her soldiers made sure of that— up ahead about twenty feet, pikes at the ready, Bella watched as the villagers scrambled off to one side or another, leaving a dusty, worn path for her to walk in between them. As they moved the people whispered, some bowing, others dipping into low curtseys. They nodded to Rosalie, too, though somewhat confusedly. Like it had been when Bella had walked with Edward before their marriage, when the people saw Rosalie in a place of honour beside their Queen, no one was quite sure of her rank and place. There were all manner of people here— men and women, boys and girls— and as they moved through the crowd with more attention than Bella would have liked, more than one boy made eyes at her ladies, which sent them into fits of giggles.

"What matters is this, Bella," said Rosalie and under the guise of examining a pin, she stopped to peer over the green and gold gems at a jeweler's stall. "Those children will be safe, and they will be cared for. That's all anyone can ask."

"You might be of some comfort to them."

"A rabid dog would be more soothing," she returned sharply. "At best, I'm nothing to them— just another face come to gawk, another busybody come to gossip. Best case, they have no idea who I am or where I've come from."

"They might know you."

"And I pray to all the Gods that they don't," Rosalie hissed. The jeweler, watching the pair of them with mute curiosity, turned her head away when Bella glanced up in alarm. Rosalie stood tall, looping her arm around Bella's to pull her away, and only once they had melted into the crowd once more, leaving the jeweler behind to wonder, did she speak again.

"There would only be one reason for them to know me, Bella," said Rose and Bella, straining to listen, stopped short on the road. "If they know me, then they know my husband. And if they know him…"

Up ahead, Bella saw the crowd go still.

"If they know him, then that's why they've been brought here," she said. "Rojce doesn't have friends, Bella. Only subordinates. If those children know me, it's because their parents are dead."

When the noise fell away just as Rosalie uttered that final word of judgment, the change was so quick and sudden that Bella felt rather disoriented. Behind her, she heard her girls shuffle— heard Santi's exclamation of surprise and Alice's stern, rebuking hush. Sellers, shouting discounts and offers over the heads of their customers, went eerily silent. Children running underfoot were caught and stilled. The noise died in an instant, conversations petering out like a dampened flame as more heads turned to look, and by the time Bella fixed her eye on the source of the disruption, she felt Rosalie's sharp fingernails digging into her hand.

"That's them, Bella," whispered Rose and at once, Bella narrowed her eyes down the street. Behind her the girls shifted and as the two figures— the only things moving on the road, now— drew ever closer, Bella felt the revival of those anxious butterflies in the pit of her belly.

They came from the West end of the street, ambling slowly and silently down the path like a pair of ghosts, and though they stopped for nothing and spoke to no one, Bella saw how the world stopped for them. They were only women— two nondescript, grey-clad figures whose faces she could not see— but from the set of their shoulders to the fabric of their clothes, Bella knew at once who they were and from whence they had come. She did not recognize the faces in profile— could not see whether it was the outspoken leader who had stepped forward at the gates, or perhaps one of the quieter, meeker travellers from the rear of the party— but she knew at once that they were Westerners, and so, too, did the people all around her. The women walked along in peaceable silence, saying nothing to each other or any of those they passed, but despite this silence and their hunched, small shapes, there were dozens, if not hundreds of eyes that followed their every move.

They passed her without a word, pausing only to dip a curtsey in the dust, and when they rounded the corner from whence Bella had just come, Bella saw the blacksmith spit into the dirt. The noise made Rosalie flinch, though she did not look his way, and when he spoke, Bella saw the sudden, nervous set of Rose's jaw.

"Barbarians, the lot of them!"

Rose stared down at the road.

"Bloody thieves and savages, that's what they are. Come inside, Mimi! Get yourself away, now…"

And when a child— a little girl no older than eight— went scrambling into the shop behind her father's legs, Bella saw how her eyes peered out, curious and wary, to watch the women disappear.

In the street that had gone quiet— so impossibly, anxiously quiet— Bella said not a word in the penetrating hush. The blacksmith's face was alight with outrage, his narrowed eyes peering into the dusty shadows where the women had slipped away, but when he turned instead to Bella, almost as if he had forgotten she was there, he ducked his chin and shook his head. Bella did not make a sound— not to console his anger or provoke it further— and so when the man dipped away, sliding back inside his house where his little daughter waited, perplexed, Bella turned instead to Rosalie.

"Alright?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Bella," she returned at Bella heard, whether Rose meant her to or not, a biting irritation in her stiff voice. "I'm perfectly fine."

Behind them, still parked next to her wares that Rosalie had stopped to study, the jeweler was staring at them in consternation.

"We should go," said Bella and at once, she heard the flutter of skirts as her girls retook their places at her back. They were in formation again— each one in her proper place at the Queen's train— and they were wary now, and nervous. Alice was the only one who smiled at her when she looked back to count them, making sure that none were left behind, and when she called them on ahead, they scrambled after her in a nervous flutter of skirts and flounces.

"Where to, My Queen?" asked her guard, and Bella glanced up in surprise. "To the warehouse, or…?"

"Home now, I think," she replied and the guard, saying not another word, only nodded and turned back. "Home, I think… will you come with me, Rose?"

"Yes."

"Good. Good…"

But before they could move, before they could set so much as a foot down the road, where the sellers were still watching, there was another noise, much louder and irate.

"Little thief!" The voice echoed off of the stone, bouncing up the street like a ball. "Little bastard! Grab him! Someone get him!"

"What in the world…?"

Up ahead, where the crowd had parted to let the women through, there was a sudden burst of excitement from the far end of the road. Rose's words had barely melted away before Bella narrowed in on the source, and in the same moment that she did, so did the rest of the street. Bella had no idea where the man had come from or where he was going but he moved with a speed like lightning, erupting from the alley like gunfire. He ran like the devil, sprinting madly through the crowded city street, and he did not so much as slow for any man or woman who stood in his way. In his rush he knocked a woman clean off of her feet and in her sudden tumble, she overturned a fruit cart at her back. Mangoes scattered to the ground, bruised and spoiled, and though the flurry of anxious feet crushed them to a pulp underfoot, hardly anyone but the fruitseller seemed to care. The man did not stop— indeed, he hardly seemed to notice— but when the seller began to shout and the crowd began to holler he faltered, glancing back for only the barest moment.

Bella got a look at him then— clear and unsheltered— and she narrowed her eyes in sudden suspicion.

"Is that…?"

"To the side, Your Grace," said her lead guard, Kalla. "To the side of the road, please… and quickly."

Bella, her face flushed and her feet unsteady, let the soldier usher her and her ladies off to the shoulder, where the jeweler had pushed her stall away to make room.

"He's clean mad…" Bella heard a man mutter and her soldiers— all twelve of them— held their pikes in tight fists. "He's clean gone…"

"He's going to kill someone!"

"Into the house, if you would, Your Grace…"

"Wait a minute."

The jeweler, who had graciously opened her door to let Bella step inside, looked on with worry as Bella held up a hand to silence her guard. The man stared out into the street with consternation, his shrewd eye fixed on the raging, sprinting man, but Bella, her tongue suddenly thick, felt her disbelief like cold water on the back of her neck.

"That looks like…"

"Your Grace, please. This way…"

"That looks like Mihaelo," Bella said and at once the guard turned to look.

His cheeks were plumper and his hair a little greyer, but as Bella squinted through the sun to peer at that angry, seething face, she knew at once that she was not wrong. He had not seen her yet— or if he had, he did not let on— but there could be no mistaking that cold, blue stare. She had felt it on her often enough when she had first risen in the castle almost a year prior, and that waspish, accusing voice was the very same that she had heard begrudge her the food and houseroom Edward had given her when she had first put forth her request to leave the Capital with Carlisle and Esme.

"Who?" Rosalie's whisper was sharp and anxious. "Bella, do you know that man?"

"I know who he is."

"What is he doing?" she hissed.

"I don't know…"

"Your Grace, please. Inside…"

"What is he doing?" Bella demanded. "What in the world is he doing, Kalla?"

"Your Grace, you must go inside…"

"He's going to hurt someone, Kalla…"

"I know. Don't let that someone be you, please…"

"Is that a boy?"

For up ahead, scampering like a beast on all fours between the legs of frantic villagers, Bella saw a shape— a small, scrawny shape that ran like wildfire. Where he went Mihaelo followed, and when the man bellowed again, the child ran all the faster. Bella did not know how he did it— he was like a snake, slipping through the cracks— but while she was sure they both could see her now, standing so conspicuously behind the King's royal standard, neither one of them stopped as they hurtled, headlong, towards the royal walking party.

"Grab him!" hollered Mihaelo and the boy, panting and wild with exertion, simply wiggled a little further away. "Get him, you fools! Grab that boy!"

All around her, Bella felt her guards bristle.

"Come no further!"

The man began to falter.

"Stop right there, boy!"

The child raced on.

Mihaelo, puffing and scarlet, stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the royal guard with his spear pointed directly at his face, but the child, still frantic with terror, did not heed the warning. The crowd muttered as he continued to push his way through and a few hands reached out to stop him, but before anyone could close in the boy was upon them and at once, one of Bella's guard jumped out. He caught the boy by his shirtsleeve and the fabric tore when the child tried to run, but the soldier was strong where the boy was not, and with only a short, stern warning, the child fell still. He was panting with exertion, his dark eyes brimming with wild fear, and by the time Bella had peeled her eyes away, looking instead upon the face of his pursuer, Mihaelo was glaring at her, breath heaving.

"Your Grace."

The bow he gave was short and curt.

"Mihaelo…"

The man's eyes flashed.

"That child is a thief and a liar," he ground out, "and I demand that he be held to account."

Bella stared at him, her throat tight.

"I…"

"Five mangoes," said Mihaelo and the child, his face still sticky with juice, began to wiggle again. "Three pears. A bottle of honey wine, and a lace handkerchief from my wife."

"Mihaelo, I…"

But when the man turned to her again, his eyes brimming with fury, Bella felt her words die on her tongue and the crowd, all watching and rapt, stared nervously at the budding spectacle.

"He is a thief!" spat Mihaelo and the crowd began to mutter. Behind her, Bella could hear the nervous whispers of her ladies who had huddled together behind one of her armed guards. "I will not abide it! I will not, do you hear me?"

"If you would come to the castle, for a petition, then perhaps…"

At her side, the boy began to cry.

"Perhaps nothing," Mihaelo ground out. "I will take no half promises. I want him handled. It is your duty and your obligation in your husband's absence. I want him punished."

"Punished?"

The man's eyes flashed with a dangerous fury.

"Too soft, are you?" His voice was low, now, and unmistakably furious. "Let me have him. I'll do it for you."

"You will do nothing," Bella said cooly. "He is a child. Where are his parents?"

Mihaelo, stepping back, barked a short, cruel laugh.

"Your guess is as good as mine, for you're the one who let him in," he retorted. "Little beast…"

The boy began to pull again and Bella, feeling a pang of pity, bit her tongue. He was, like all the others had been, dressed in borrowed clothes, and though he was wily enough, and spry, Bella could see the shadows of hunger in the hollows of his cheeks. He did not seem to mind Bella whatsoever— in fact, he barely spared her a glance in his terror to flee his assailant— but Mihaelo stared right back, his broad face as hard as stone.

"You brought him here, and so you can be his mother now," spat Mihaelo. "Do what needs doing. Teach him a lesson, if you're going to lay claim to him."

"I'm not his mother."

"You let them in."

"They are only children…"

"They are thieves!"

"Mihaelo…"

"Thieving, lying bastards, the lot of them! I will not abide it, do you hear? I will not!"

"What would you have me do?"

"What you do to all the thieves!"

"I will not whip a child through the streets, Mihaelo. No matter how angrily you demand it of me."

"I insist upon it, woman," Mihaelo growled. "I do not demand it. If you will not do it, then I most certainly will."

"Watch yourself," said the guard at her back and even Bella, angry as she was, heard the threat in his voice. "Watch yourself, Goldman… remember who it is you're speaking to."

"Goldman!?" Mihaelo's eyes bugged and Bella, lips pursed, simply watched the scene unfold. "Goldman!? I was Councilor of City West for almost twenty years, you pumped up, pretentious fool…"

"And yet, you are no longer," said the guard. "Shall I remove him again, Your Grace?"

"I'd like to see you try!"

"No," said Bella and the guard, stiff with anger, held his tongue. "No… take the child, Hilo, and bring him back to the castle…"

The boy, now positively wild with fright, began to claw at the soldier's arm.

"You will come to no harm," said Bella but the boy did not calm. "You've got my word…"

"The word of a traitor isn't worth the dung on my boots." Mihaelo's anger had bubbled over again, and Bella saw two more of her guards turn to glare.

"This is not the place, Mihaelo," said Bella and though she fought hard to hide it, she knew her anger had begun to show. "This is absolutely not the place. I'm not about to argue with you in the streets. Have a little tact."

"Hear, hear!" cried a woman in the street and much to Bella's embarrassment, the woman began to clap. "Tact indeed, Your Grace! Send him to the stocks, more like, talking like he is!"

Around them, the whispering crowd began to chortle. More than one man snorted, and a few of the ladies tittered and Mihaelo, his face growing dangerously dark at this new insult, took another step towards her.

"I warned him, you know…" His words were hot now, and furious. "I warned him over and over again. I told him that you'd ruin us, that you'd bring destruction down upon our heads, but did he listen? No! Of course he didn't…"

"Go home, Mihaelo," said Bella. "Before you say something you'll regret."

"Wouldn't you just love that?" he spat and Bella, jaw set with righteous anger, balled her hands into fists to keep them still. "Wouldn't you just love that, you scheming little wench?"

Beside her, the jeweler raised her head in astonishment.

"What did you call me?"

"You heard me plain enough."

"You will leave here, Mihaelo, and go back to your home…"

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Maybe you should be."

"I've arrested others for less, My Queen," said Kalla, whose hand was clenched tightly around the boy's arm. "I could arrest him right now."

"You touch me, boy, and I'll have your head!"

The child began to squirm again.

"You dare to…" Bella's anger was righteous, and her face hot. "You would dare…?"

"Bella just go," said Rosalie and she spoke with such disgust, such disdain, that even Mihaelo paused to look at her. "If he wants to demean you and insult you, give him no one but the wind to listen. Leave him here to stew in his own outrage and be on your way."

"No one is addressing you, woman," spat Mihaelo and Rosalie turned to stare at him, eyes narrowed. "You are not in power here…"

Rosalie ignored him.

"Let's go." Rosalie's words were sharp and urgent. "Leave him. He's not worth your time."

"Taking orders from her, are we?"

Bella, half turned to leave, froze in place.

"You always were a simpering rat," Mihaelo griped and Bella, feeling her temper rise again, heard the sharp intake of breath from the sellers who were near enough to hear this new insult. "Always with your tongue in the King's ear…"

"If you know what's good for you, you will leave right now," said Bella. "I'll not listen to this slander, Mihaelo."

"It's not slander if it's true."

"If I'm not mistaken, it was you who were thrown out of the castle. Not me."

"I can't help it if our King was seduced by a harlot."

At this, Bella's guard raised his pike.

"You degrade yourself with such a speech," said Rosalie and Bella, speechless with outrage, did not rebuke her. "You would dare say such things to your Queen?"

"I'll not hear from you…"

"You are hearing from me," said Rosalie, disgusted. "I don't know who you think you are…"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Your Queen has ordered you to…"

"I don't bow down to western whores!"

Rosalie, her mouth agape, went pale and silent in an instant.

"Nothing to say now, eh?" Mihaelo jeered. "Nothing whatsoever to say to that?"

"I don't know what you mean…"

"You know very well what I mean," he snapped and as Rosalie gaped at him, he turned instead to Bella. "I said it once, and I'll say it again— you may have seduced our King, you western witch, but I'll be damned if I let you ruin the rest of us!"

All around them, as if suddenly brought to life, the crowd began to talk.

"I am no witch…" Bella breathed.

"But you are a westerner."

"I am not!"

"Get this fool away!" hollered the blacksmith and at once, the men in the street began to rise. "Get this goddamned fool out of our street!"

"Kalla, take him away," Bella ordered and at once, the guard stepped forward. The child was passed on to another, still wiggling madly to escape his bonds, and when Kalla reached out a hand to seize the offender, Mihaelo threw out his arm.

When the blow landed strong, knocking Kalla's helmet into the dirt, Bella saw the street erupt.

All around her, as if a bomb had gone off, there was pandemonium and noise. Men, either in defense of their queen or spoiling for a fight, came sprinting out from homes and businesses to join the fray. Mihaelo disappeared in a cloud of pluming dust and her soldiers— all twelve men, reached out their hands to grab him as he fell. The child, who had by now escaped his captors, fled like a deer down the nearest back alley and Bella, in the middle of it all, felt a sharp, stinging blow on the apple of her cheek.

When she fell she felt the warmth of blood on her face, and in an instant she felt hands on her arms pulling her up.

"Get her out of here!" Kalla bellowed and at once, she was passed on to another of her men. Behind her, her ladies had begun to cry. "Take her out of here, Brama! Get them back to the castle!"

"Come, Your Grace!"

Bella did not need telling twice.

They ran, as fast as the little girls could go, through the alleys and streets that would lead them back to the castle. There was a guard at her front and her rear, so close that she could feel the heat of the metal armour on the exposed skin of her arms, and though they moved her with a purpose Bella stumbled, lost. They did not take the main roads that she was used to— did not bring her back through Market Street, which was teeming with angry sellers— and instead moved through the alleys and the back roads that Bella did not know. Edward had warned her off of these places— had told her, with no room for doubt, that he would not like to see her here alone— but she did not complain as they rushed past the open doors of old, crumbling houses and past curious, bewildered tenants.

When they arrived at the castle, ducking quickly through the barely-raised portcullis, Bella was out of breath and panting, clutching at a stitch in her side. At once Brama was on her, his fingers on her chin as he tilted her face up to the light.

"A scratch, Your Grace… sore, I expect, but not dangerous."

"Thank you…"

"I'm only sorry it landed at all," said Brama. "It never should have. I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Kalla will bring the man…"

Bella turned away.

"Yes…"

"Bella!"

The voice rang clear, and though she did not know quite how it had come to be here, she felt her back stiffen with sudden apprehension. She could hear his laughter— his jolly, happy delight at her own return— and she froze, her words drying up the minute she stood up straight.

He was there, her husband, fresh from the road, and with his saddlebag only half unpacked on the cobbles near the stables. Marco, the stablemaster, stood at Magnus' flank, and though he saw Bella as she wheeled around he only stared at her in shock. Emmett was there too, not yet dismounted from his own chestnut horse, and though he said not a word, his eyes honed in on her cheek in an instant. She saw Emmett's anger first— how he stared at that cut, and then at the soldiers he'd set to guard her— before she saw Edward's, and though he had been grinning at her with almost boyish glee, that merriment had been wiped clean clean as he took three long strides towards her. He moved quickly and with a purpose and it took her by surprise, and so when she flinched away, startled by the swiftness of his approach he stopped dead, his eyes glittering with icy, furious outrage.

"Let me see you, Bella… please."

She did not jump again when he brought his fingers to her cheek. His hands were warm and dusty from the road, rough against the hot, swollen bruise that had begun to settle in, and though he did not touch the cut itself, she felt the bite of it when he moved a little too close. He heard her intake of breath— just a little gasp that belied the sting— and she saw his jaw tighten before he kissed her. He pressed his lips just above the wound, so close to it that it smarted again, and when he passed her off to Carlisle without a word, who was hidden away in the shadows, she was whisked away inside.

"Let me look at that, Bella," he said as they ducked through the doorway together. Her ladies followed with Rosalie shooing them all inside, and at the rear of the party was Esme, her riding clothes donned and her bags ready for her trip back home. The mules had been packed, she knew, for she had seen them in the yard, but that did not seem to faze Carlisle as he steered her towards the sunroom, which was brilliant with the glow of afternoon sunshine.

When Rosalie shut the door behind them, keeping all her little girls out in the hallway, Bella collapsed into an armchair by the window, feeling suddenly shaky and ill.

"What happened, darling?" asked Esme as Carlisle, saying nothing, went to ring for a footman and some gauze. "You look shaken right up, love. Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine."

"There was a riot," said Rosalie and at once, Carlisle's eyes flashed. "In Market Street. We were… accosted."

"By whom?"

Bella said nothing.

"They might need men down on the road," said Rose as the door opened and the footman came in. Like all the others he gawked at Bella's face, but Bella turned away before he could get a good look and then he was gone, rushing down to the kitchens for the requisite items.

"Let me see that again in the light, please, Bella," Carlisle said, and when he knelt before her with his hands outstretched, Bella made herself sit up straight to let him look. Like Edward, he poked and prodded at the edges of the cut, and when he asked her to open and close her mouth, she did so without complaint.

"How did it happen?"

"I'm not entirely sure."

"A blow, no doubt," said Rosalie quickly. "Though from whom, I couldn't say…"

"Indeed," said Carlisle and when the footman returned, he came in with an armful of linen and a ewer of water, as well as a maid bearing a tray of tea. Carlisle began his work at once, dabbing away the blood that had dried on her cheek, and when he pressed another cloth to it, instructing her to hold it firm, she did not complain.

"It'll be sore, no doubt," said Carlisle softly, "and you'll have a nasty bruise. But I don't think I need to stitch it. The bleeding has already slowed."

"Thank you…"

When the door opened for a third time, this time without so much as a knock of courtesy, Bella felt her irritation rise and her head snapped around, her eyes flashing with sudden annoyance. It flew open on its hinges, swinging so hard that it slammed unceremoniously into a wooden bureau against the wall, and though she saw Esme rise, ready to scold the careless footman who'd done it, she said nothing at all as the perpetrator made his entrance.

Jasper, with Alice just behind looking sheepish, stood motionless on the threshold, his boyish face furious and his hands balled into fists.

"That rat bastard!"

"Jasper!"

"Alice told me he struck you!" said Jasper, ignoring Esme's rebuke as he came into the room, pulling the little maid in behind him. Alice balked, pulling back against his urgent hand, but when he strong-armed her inside, shutting the door behind them, she ceased her struggle and sighed, ducking her head. "She told me you were hurt…"

"I am fine," said Bella. "More shaken than anything else…"

"That'll leave a mean bruise."

"Probably."

"Will it scar, Uncle?"

"I think not," said Carlisle and though his voice was soft, his face was anything but. "It'll heal fine, I think, and it's not too deep."

"That absolute rat bastard!"

"Jasper!"

He gave Esme only the briefest word of apology.

"Edward is absolutely furious."

Bella closed her eyes.

"You should hear him in the yard," Jasper went on. "I've never seen him so riled…"

When she heard the shouting in the hall, Bella sprang at once to her feet.

"Leave him to it, Bella," said Jasper urgently but Bella, paying no mind, pushed her way past him. "He's brought Mihaelo in. The soldiers caught him. He'll do what he needs to, Bella, and then…"

"Let me by, please."

"Mihaelo?" Bella heard Esme's astonished query as she slipped her way through the door and past the footman, who was standing nervously by the entrance to the sunroom. "Mihaelo did this?"

There was another shout from up ahead and Bella began to run. She followed the noise through the halls, watching as maids went scattering down the stairs and footmen stepped aside for milling soldiers, and when she had weaved her way to the throne room, she found the doors thrown open and the scene inside laid bare.

There were men around the room, all dressed in the King's standard of red and gold and armed with the familiar pikes and shields of the Kingsguard. They did not see her enter— not until Edward's head snapped up to look— and though the soldiers bowed as she hovered in the doorway, they did not move from their posts around the room. There were four by the door— two on either side— and one on each side of Edward's throne. The rest were stationed by the windows in groups of two or three, with a larger collection of five in the center of the room. On the floor between them, prostrate on his knees with his hands and feet chained tight, was the culprit— the cause of all the strife, and the instigator of the trouble.

"My King…"

"Silence!"

His chains clinked noisily when the rebuke made him jump.

"Is this the man who struck you, Bella?" demanded Edward and Bella, feeling all the eyes of the men on her, stood motionless in the doorway. "If you tell me that he is the one who did you this violence, my love, I will throw him in the dungeons myself."

"I never touched her!"

"I said silence!"

Bella flinched at the noise.

"Do not be afraid, love…"

"I don't know."

Edward stared at her, his brow furrowed.

"Don't know what?"

"I don't know if he did it…"

Edward hung his head.

"It was so quick…"

"I never laid a finger on your wife, Sire," said Mihaelo. "Believe me. I'm many things, but I'm not one to strike a woman—"

"I'd believe nothing from you, Mihaelo, even if it was writ in your own heart's blood," Edward spat. "You have betrayed her from the first, and now—"

"I never betrayed you."

"You accosted my wife in the street!"

"I made a petition…"

"You are a brute and a bully, Mihaelo, and it got you removed from my court once before. I will not tolerate it now— not when you are nothing, and no one, to my Council or this court."

"Sire…"

"You incited violence against my wife."

"The boy was a thief!"

"Spare us the excuses."

"Your Grace…"

"You started a riot in the market!"

"Your own soldiers started it—"

"My soldiers acted on the word of their Queen," spat Edward. "Your Queen, as it were."

"She had no right to arrest me."

"Her word is law."

"Not my law."

"You have no law!" Edward's voice carried and Bella, who had never seen him so angry, felt her heart throb with nerves. "You have no law, Mihaelo, because you are not a King!"

"And she is not a Queen!" His bellow was loud and Edward, white with fury now, sat back in his chair with his teeth bared. "She is not my Queen! I will not bow to some feeble slut who fucked her way onto your mother's throne!"

"You would dare to speak such filth in my presence!?"

"She is the one who let those demons in!" Mihaelo raged. "She is the one who let the very enemy into your city! First that blonde bitch, who took control of the Commander, and now these new spies!"

"You are mad," Edward hissed and Mihaelo, his face red and nostrils flared, glared so hotly that Bella was surprised there was no smoke. "You are stark and raving mad, Mihaelo, and I'm done listening to you."

"It is not a crime to speak your mind!"

Edward said not a word.

"It is not a crime to tell the truth," spat the prisoner and at this, Edward smiled. It was a cold smile, dangerous and piquant, and Mihaelo knew it too, for he went suddenly quiet.

"Correct on both accounts, Mihaelo," said Edward softly. "Absolutely correct. It is not a crime to speak your mind, and it is not a crime to speak the truth."

Mihaelo bristled, but Edward held up a hand.

"However," he went on, "it is a crime to incite a riot. It is a crime to assault the wife of your King. It is a crime," the words were hard now, and fierce, "to assault a child!"

"That boy…"

"Is a child!" Edward shouted. When his fists came down, both at once on the arms of his chair, the bang echoed like a gunshot. "A boy, Mihaelo, and no more than that!"

"A thief!"

"A child!"

Mihaelo fumed, shaking his head.

"And all for what? Some fruit?"

"It's not about the fruit…"

"No," Edward said. "No, it's not, is it?"

Mihaelo said nothing.

"Tell me. Were he from your own district… say perhaps your own house, would you have done the same?"

"My children are not thieves…"

"Not officially."

Mihaelo paled.

"What would you have had her do, Mihaelo, in the middle of Market Street?" Edward asked. "You drag this child to her— this Queen you deny— and yet what would you have her do?"

"I would have her do her duty!"

"A duty you deny is hers?"

"A duty she's neglected!"

"Where is it written, Mihaelo, that a Queen must whip a child?"

"We wrote the laws ourselves, King," spat Mihaelo. "I sat with your own father at that council table and drafted them myself… I know very well the punishment for thievery. I know exactly what they say."

"A boy is not a man."

"He's damn close enough…"

"I'm done talking to you," said Edward again and this time, the guards moved forward. Mihaelo was hauled up from his knees and set upright on his feet, which were scraped and bare from the fight. His face was bloodied— indeed, if she had to guess, she might say that his nose was actually broken— but as he glared at the King, and then at her, there was nothing in him that betrayed weakness.

"You have no grounds to hold me," he growled and to her surprise, she saw Edward grin again. "You've no grounds to throw me in your dungeon."

"No, I don't," said Edward easily. "My wife has not named you, specifically, as her assailant. If she had, Mihaelo, we'd be having a very different conversation."

"You will unchain me, then…"

"Yes, indeed, I will."

Bella held her breath.

"But listen to me, Mihaelo, and listen well."

The soldier who had begun to unlock the chains paused, waiting for Edward to speak again.

"I cannot arrest you— not on any charge that's been brought before me here today. You did not catch the child, and so you will not be charged with common battery. I cannot prove that you assaulted my wife, and so you cannot be charged with treason."

Mihaelo, beginning to tremble, let his head fall forward.

"But what I can charge you with is inciting the riot," said Edward and at this, the man's head snapped back up again. "Inciting violence in the King's City, Mihaelo, carries its own punishment, as you well know…"

"I incited nothing."

"I have at least fifty witnesses that would beg to differ."

"Hawkers, you mean. Tradesmen. The blacksmith."

"Men and women of my own city," Edward corrected. "All of whom would be glad to speak against you, if I brought them here. You threw the first punch, did you not?"

"I was assaulted…"

"You were detained."

Mihaelo glared at him.

"You are not a Councilor anymore, Mihaelo. You are not untouchable. You were outranked by that soldier and you were outranked by my wife, and so when you were taken, you should've gone peacefully…"

"I did not…"

"Be silent." Edward's voice betrayed him again, growing hard and cold with anger. "Be silent, you talking fool."

"You are charged with the riot, and this court has found you guilty."

"Your Grace…"

"Your storehouses are forfeit, Mihaelo," Edward went on. "Along with your boats."

"My King…"

"You have until sundown tomorrow to clear them out," said Edward. "If you do not, my soldiers will do it for you."

"My King, I cannot…"

"You can, or else you will lose your stock too," said Edward cooly. "Be thankful it's not more. Incite another riot in my streets, Mihaelo, or think to aggress my wife again, and I'll take more than just your warehouses."

"Your Grace…"

"Kalla?"

Deep in the shadows, slinking forward in utter silence, Bella watched as the head of her guard came away from the alcove near the door, coming to stand beside Mihaelo.

"You saw the boy who stole the fruit?"

"I did."

"Would you know him again?"

"I would, Your Grace…"

"Find him," said Edward and Kalla, bowing, ducked away. "Bring him to me. The child is obviously hungry and in need of shelter. Rohailo was wondering where he should keep the orphans he agreed to house. We will send them, with this child among them, to our newly acquired accommodations."

In the center of the room, nearly scarlet with incandescent rage, Bella saw Mihaelo wrench his hands free, tossing his chains to the ground.

"Will that be all, King?" he spat and Edward, unmoved by this new anger, nodded his head.

"Tomorrow sundown, Mihaelo," he said and Mihaelo, furious, turned on his heel. "Do not forget. If you see Rohailo, tell him the good news. I'm sure he will be delighted."

"Get out of my way!" Mihaelo shouted as he came towards the door, where Bella was. She stepped aside for him, not daring to get in his way when he was so obviously incensed, and though he did not so much as look at her as he marched himself out towards the entrance, Bella felt the heat of his rage nonetheless. Edward did not say a word as the man departed, did not flinch when doors banged against walls and footsteps thundered down the front stairs, and when the man was gone beyond the gates, the throne room quiet and still once more, Bella felt her knees begin to shake and her hands grow clammy.

"Leave us, please," said Edward in the hush and the soldiers, who stood silent and wary, began to move. Bella stepped inside to let the men file out, her face scarlet as each bowed again on his way out the door, and when they had finally gone away, leaving both the throne room and the hallway empty, Edward seemed to deflate, his eyes falling shut.

Bella's sniff, loud and echoing, made him look up again.

"Come here, love," he said and Bella, still trembling, closed the door behind her. He watched her as she came, stepping gingerly and carefully across the polished stone floor, and though he said not a word as he eyed that angry cut, he reached out his hand to her when she came near enough. He felt the coldness of her hands— felt the tremor that still lingered even after the noise had died— and when he kissed her fingers, she heard him sigh.

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't, Bella."

She bit her lip.

"Come here."

And when he kissed her this time, he did it properly.

"I'm alright, Edward…"

"Kalla says you did well."

"I certainly tried…"

"I'm sorry he was rude."

"It's not your fault, Edward."

Edward ducked his head.

"It might be best, for now, if you were to stay behind the castle walls," said Edward and at this, Bella frowned. "Mihaelo is angry and he's liable to remain so for a while yet. He'll be furious at the loss of his warehouses— they are new, and I know he was hoping they'd supplement the income he lost after he was kicked off of Council."

"I'm not afraid of him…"

"I don't want you to be afraid of him," Edward replied and when he pulled her nearer, she sat on the arm of his chair. "I want you to be wary."

"He can't touch me…"

"If there is another riot like there was today, he very well might be able to," Edward replied. "I don't know if he's foolish enough to try, but he's certainly angry enough."

"My guards?"

"Can't protect you from everything, evidently," he said and he frowned again at the angry, red gash. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, Bella."

"You can't be there for everything."

"No, but I wish I could be," he sighed. "I never imagined there would be such trouble… not here in the city."

"It'll settle, now that the children are dispersed."

Edward hung his head.

"What?"

"Hema says there are signs, Bella…"

"Signs of what?"

"There's been more movement in the West," he replied. "Bralto and Hema have been watching the river. Corman and Ramos, from the Southern Watchtower, also sent word that there's been activity along the cliffs in the Bay of Tears. Far more than we've been used to."

"And so?"

"So there may very well be more, Bella," said Edward. "If the reports are true…"

"What reports?"

"There is discord in the West, love," said Edward. "There is a… resistance of sorts. Those men who were killed? We think they were the leaders."

"Leaders of what?"

"A rebellion, Bella," said Edward and Bella, frozen, shook her head. "A Western rebellion against their tyrant ruler. They want out, Bella… they want out from under Jamos' thumb, and from what the Watchtowers have told us, it's only a matter of time before we see a second and third wave of refugees."

"That is a good thing, is it not?"

Edward only shrugged.

"It puts us in rather a difficult positon."

"How so?"

"You see how the people react," he said. "You've heard the discord, and the mistrust of our own."

"With time…"

"With time, anything can be done," Edward agreed, "but we may not have that time, love. If another wave hits before these ones have settled…"

"The newcomers are your people too."

"I know that,"said Edward. "Of course I know that… but it's not me that needs convincing."

"Once people get to know them…"

"If they get to know them," Edward sighed and Bella, resting her cheek atop his head, tangled her fingers in the long hair at the base of his neck. "That's a big if, love."

"Rosalie is afraid."

"I know she is."

Bella frowned down at him.

"Emmett," Edward explained and Bella, sighing put her cheek back down. "She speaks quite freely with him, by his account…"

"You should have seen how they treated those women today. They were terrified, Edward. Of unarmed women walking through the market."

"I can imagine it."

"I don't know how to fix it."

"Neither do I, love. I don't know if there is a right way… do nothing, and you're enabling intolerance. Do too much, and you're called a traitor to your own."

"If they find out who Rosalie is…"

Edward ducked his head.

"I know."

"Her children, Edward…"

"I know, love."

"They came close today."

Edward stared at her, sitting up a little straighter.

"Mihaelo called us both out— called us westerners, I mean— and I denied it, but…"

"He has always thought that," said Edward. "That's not a new slander…"

"No, but when he roped Rosalie into it, that slander became a half truth."

"He won't run his mouth again, Bella," said Edward. "If he does, he'll lose more than just his warehouse…"

"I've never seen you so angry."

"I don't know that I've ever felt so angry."

Bella kissed his cheek, breathing out a sigh.

"Are you angry still?"

"Not so much as I was, now that he's gone."

"Are you tired?"

"Only a bit…"

"Good," she said. "That's good, Edward…"

When she slipped down onto his lap, he wrapped his arms around her.

"I missed you, Bella…"

"I missed you too."

"I'm sorry I had to go."

"So am I…"

"Will you come upstairs with me, love?" he asked and Bella, not needing to be asked twice, nodded her head.

"Always."

A/N: Thanks again for all your love and support! I hope that this chapter helps to showcase some of the discord that comes with the changes that are happening in the kingdom. I never intended this piece to be a statement on current events, but I guess fiction mirrors life even when we don't intend it to. Also welcome back, Mihaelo! And an even warmer welcome power-flexing King Edward! I realized early on that we never really get to see Edward showing off his kingly power, so I tried to give him a good reason to do it this time around.