On the mezzanine, Abreigelle was finally alone. She greeted the solitude with a gracious sigh, and swaggered over to the railing to catch a glimpse of the other party guests.

Sure enough, she could see everything from up here. Abreigelle walked, letting her left hand slide gracefully along the wooden rail which wrapped around border of the entire party hall. Her eyes were transfixed upon the dancers, watching the ladies' poofy dresses spin, and the men gliding in tempo with the etude.

She spotted Beshna and Vaniete in the corner, chatting and making occasional glances towards a group of teenage boys who were standing in the corner. There was no sign of the High Councillator's son, unfortunately. Sitting on the perimeter benches were the people's Swordfellows, among them were two of Beshna's own--Evadrian and Asfounder. The latter was brooding, as always, and looking painfully handsome in his brown coat.

Every inch of Abreigelle's heart wished that she could go down there and ask him to dance. If things had been different--if they both were here to actually enjoy the party--she would have swept him onto his feet in a heartbeat. It was an impossible dream, really, and no use in dreaming. But she couldn't help but feel like a puzzle with a missing piece. There had to be more to life than just this--day after day of waiting on others' needs and not her own. If a world of true freedom was possible, Abreigelle wanted to fight for it. The only question was, who was willing to fight with her?

"What are you doing up here?" came a vaguely familiar voice.

Monfried was leaning over the railing nearby, leaning so far it made her stomach turn. He was the only other person up here. "I could ask you the same thing." Abreigelle muttered, "Beshna sent me to look for her true love. She won't fire up her disc until she knows exactly where he is, there's too much risk."

That got a smile out of him. The Swordfellow tucked his loose, greasy brown hair behind his head nonchalantly. His skin glowed bronze in the bright light. "I suspect he is out there somewhere minding his own business."

"But he wasn't at the table with his father when then ball was commenced. Maybe he didn't even show up tonight. Maybe she's after no one?" That would be a punch to the gut.

"Unlikely."

What did he know about it?

Monfreid continued, "The High Councillator would not allow Rashtar to be absent from all of this. He would want him here, to find a wife, just like all the other young Neureans and the others."

"Others?"

"See her?" He pointed out towards the dancing crowd,.

"Who?

"Her. The one with the bright red hair."

Abreigelle spotted her immediately. The woman's unnaturally red hair stuck out like an inflamed blister. "Yeah. What about her?"

"She is Rvyni. But look at what she is wearing." A colorful gown with frills of lace. A bit simple compared to the Neureans', but every bit as elegant and beautiful. "She's not from their home country of Rvyn--nor is she from the great nations= of Ith."

What? "How do you know that? She looks like any other Rvyni."

Monfreid shook his head. "Sometimes i wonder if you even pay attention at all."

"Excuse me?"

"Think, Abreigelle. She is not wearing black."

"So?"

"If she was from Rvyn then she would be wearing pure black robes. If she was from Ith, she would be wearing all white robes. She is not wearing either because she is from one of the the southern countries, they are not as religious, so they don't just wear one color. She's a refugee princess."

Abreigelle's mouth practically hung open. "What? How in the holy hells do you know all of that?!"

Monfreid shrugged. "I just know things, and politics is...a hobby of mine."

"Hobby? I thought you Swordfellows didn't have time for hobbies." Abreigelle paused, then continued after Monfreid shot her a flat stare. Of course he was asleep when I had that conversation with Evadrian. "So what does that mean?"

"Nothing," he said, rubbing the cuff of his fancy, emerald-colored coat. "Only that the royal family was deposed in the recent rebellion. If you'd spare a passing glance at Lord Varner's paperwork you would know all of that."

Abreigelle guessed that he wasn't into politics as much as he was into snooping in other people's business. How much did he know about her...about..."Monfreid?"

"Hm?"

"My father...did Lord Varner's papers say anything about him? Anything at all?"

The Swordfellow's face became grave, and beneath his oval-shaped spectacles his brown eyes glistened. Abreigelle already knew the answer. "I'm so sorry, Abreigelle. I saw --"

"Don't say it." She let out a shaky breath, keeping a tight leash around her emotions. He's dead. A voice inside her seemed to say. He's never coming back. Why do you keep asking? Why bother?

Silence for a minute or two. Both of them just stared out into the crowd, neither making a sound. She shouldn't have brought that topic up...

But at last, Monfreid said, "Sid talked about you last night." and Abreigelle held her breath. "I hadn't really met you until today...but now I know why he goes on and on about you."

"Really?" Abreigelle felt heat in her cheeks, and was sure she was blushing.

"Yeah. Actually at first glance, you look like the kind of person that would spit out any gossip you'd happen to overhear, but you're not like that at all. You can keep secrets, and you actually understand. "

Abreigelle tensed. Secrets. He acted like he knew about what secrets she kept. "Well, that is very nice of you to say." She couldn't stop thinking about secrets. "You want to know why he acts like that, don't you?"

Monfreid nodded, saying. "You're the only one close to him. At the barracks--back at the mansion--he hardly says anything to us, unless its about his headaches and he wants us to fix him a tonic. But he talks to you...I've seen it...we've all seen it. And last night when we finally got him to speak, he only talked about you." A pause. "I just thought you would like to know that."

A smile crossed her face. "We're just friends...but it's a special kind of friendship because it's really all that he goes on these days." It got quiet between them. "If you knew him better you would understand. His parents died when he was a baby, and he lived his whole life on his aunt and uncle's farm before joining the army a year ago. It's a right of passage for all the men in his family to join the army, and his uncle just wanted him gone. He really didn't meet anyone out there in the countryside, and he always kept to himself. That's why he acts the way he does. Just--just don't take it out on him. Give him some space."

Abreigelle met Monfreid's solemn gaze. The light from the crystal chandeliers glinted off of the frame of his silver glasses. He could have looked like a ghost.

"We all are worried about him." He said at last, his voice cracking. "At least he has you."

She gave him an awkward nod. Sid relied on her in a way she couldn't explain to anyone, at least, not verbally. And he was as delicate as a shard of glass--his past had left a multitude of invisible scars that most people took as plain shyness--any sudden movement, and he might shatter. She had been the glue holding him together as his life had tossed him about in these past months.

But, gosh, she wouldn't say that to Monfreid. She wouldn't say that to anyone, not even her own sister. Lenore, in fact, would be the last person she would tell any of her secrets too--it was universally regarded that she was as much as gossip as any of the nobility as this ball.

Abreigelle replied, "Yeah. I know. You guys have to be patient with him. You, Evadrian, Asfounder, and that other kid. And everyone else back at the...barracks."

"We are. At least, as much as we can." He lightly tugged on one of his coat's brass buttons. "We are, after all, in the army. They don't take sulking lightly."

Sid didn't sulk-- "You know what I mean, Monfreid. And if they really do punish you guys for looking out-of-spirits then I would imagine Asfounder gets most of it. I swear I've never seen him smile." Abreigelle glanced towards where the tall, dark-haired man was sitting way over in the corner. It was true, but he was absolutely gorgeous. She had promised herself that she would ask Asfounder to dance tonight, but now, it just felt out of place. I was so wrong to think that he might open up to me like that. There was no way he would get up off his ass to dance in front of a bunch of uppity, loud-mouthed Neureans.

Abreigelle glanced to Monfreid, who was just now laughing at her previous comment. But would he want to dance? The orchestral waltz was definitely loud enough and Monfreid looked bored out of his wits, but...something stopped her. And she still had her job to do.

"Az is a special case." Monfreid said, "We all tease him for it, and he laughs with us. You don't see him smile because he just takes his job very, very seriously," Abreigelle sniffed. I definitely wouldn't have gotten him to dance. "and if the Commanders ever did beat him--which they don't--he would just suck it up. He wouldn't even flinch."

It probably wouldn't even hurt him either...he has such muscles... Abreigelle shook her head in agreement. "I bet."

"They do beat us though, and they make us fight each other as part of our training. I have a fair number of scars under these sleeves, and on my hands because of it." Monfreid held up his right hand, revealing numerous white lines which criss-crossed around his knuckles. You wouldn't noticed them if you weren't looking properly, but they were definitely there. Abreigelle couldn't help but feel nauseous at the thought of having to do that to your friends--people who you should be fighting with and not against. What it might have done to Sid too...

Abreigelle was at a loss for words. "That's--that's awful."

"We don't have a choice, while they..." he seethed, pointed towards a crowd of finely-dressed nobles down below. "...they get to sit on their nice plush couches, and go to these balls just for fun. Why not dedicate their time to some more fruitful, like science, or philosophy? The Rvyni do it, and frankly they're much more tolerable than these people."

"You think the Rvyni are any better? From what I've heard they're a bunch of fanatics--"

"You heard wrong, Abreigelle. In the southern countries, I hear they leave humans alone...of course, the countries that aren't engaged in civil war. "

Someday...maybe Abreigelle would go there. But with her mother and Lenore, and maybe even Sid. They all deserved a life without Neureans breathing down their backs. "I'd go if I could." She said, not caring that she was leaning over the railing a little bit too far. "Not right now, though. Definitely not now. Too many people rely on me and I'm afraid that if I just left, then those people might have to leave to. It wouldn't be fair to them."

"I understand." Monfreid eyed the dancers with a look of disgust in his face. Abreigelle didn't blame him. "You have a job to do. And right now you have to find Rashtar Wynefor, one of the High Councillator's sons. Ridiculous if you ask me."

"Sons? How many children does he have?"

"More than most men...you'd be surprised."

Abreigelle didn't want to ask how he knew that. "Hmm, well it's going to be like trying to find a strand of hair in a pile of string. They all look the bloody same!"

He drummed his fingers on the wooden railing and said smugly, "If you know who you're looking for then it's really not so hard. For instance, Rashtar would have white-ish hair from his father's side...and darker grey skin from his mother's. He would probably wear the ivy crest of his family pinned onto his vest, and of course, a decently tall feathered cap." Monfreid narrowed his eyes at the crowd below. "Ah! Like him."

"Who?!" Abreigelle rushed up next to him, her line of sight following Monfreid's pointed finger towards a tall, nicely-dressed man near the center of the room. He didn't look like he had been dancing recently, to Abreigelle's relief. "That's him? Are you sure?"

"Positive. I know these kinds of things."

"Right..." She turned her head slowly to the side, towards Monfreid, shooting him a glare that could have petrified a demon. "You knew where he was this whole time, didn't you!"

He backed off, raising his hands in defense. "I—if I told you right away then we wouldn't have had this nice conversation would we?"

Abreigelle rolled her eyes. He just wasted her time...time that she could have been using to help Beshna. "You just wanted information out of me, right? You are a geek for any kind of deep, heartfelt, personal information."

"Is that a bad thing? We're friends now, and last time I checked, friends share information with each other."

Ugh. She did not want to be having this conversation now. "Leave me alone next time, or...or just tell me what I need. My job is on the line tonight, and if Beshna gets angry she'll take it out on me and all of you too."

Monfreid's nose twitched. "Fine! Go then. Your welcome for finding him."

"Fine." Abreigelle spun around and stormed off down the balcony, glancing over the railing to memorize Rashtar's appearance. She couldn't stop her hands from trembling, so she tightened them into fists.

Monfreid. Though he had been helpful, that didn't excuse the fact that he had kept her waiting that entire time. Probably so he could find out more information about Beshna or Sid. Abreigelle hated—hated!—when people used her as a means to get to her friends. Monfreid may have considered that she was a friend, but unfortunately he just revealed that he was very capable of being a complete douchebag.