“I think we’re going to have to rethink this plan, mo bhean.” The miniature green sprite sat on the edge of the table, looking up at her while swinging his small legs. His furrowed brows caused his wide green eyes to squint in displeasure.
    “I think you may be right, Pan.” Rosaline’s own fair features creased in worry for a moment. The current situation was not what she had expected. She busied her hands with cutting and measuring some willow bark for the decoction used in her healing salves while her mind worked.
   At the Marquis’s order, Rosaline had spent her life within the confines of Verdant Shade Castle. Her knowledge of noble society and behaviors was based on what she had witnessed from those who came and went within the Castle. 
   They had few guests through the years, only the various vassals and members of the Marquis’ family. Seeing the Hallowfelds arrive with long trains of carriages full of servants and luggage in tow, she had assumed that a Duke would be the same, if not more grandiose. They had made their plans based on that expectation. Who knew that he would ride in with only one carriage for luggage, a bodyguard, and a couple of knights?
   Nary a servant in sight.
   How was she supposed to disguise herself as a servant, hide amongst his departing entourage, and slip out if there was no entourage? She couldn’t credibly disguise herself as a knight, and there were so few in his party that a stranger mixing in would definitely be noticed.
   The plan was to hide amongst the Dukes’ servants to get past the guards at the gates. They would continue north with the group for a few miles, confusing any pursuit when they noticed she was gone. Then they would finally slip away and make their way south to the cottage hidden deep in the Eidolon Forest. 
   Sprawling to the south, a mile outside the walls of Verdant Shade Castle, stood the birthplace of the Spirit Masters. Generations ago, a small child had been lost deep in the primordial wood, abandoned by their family to wander. 
   Brimming with the vital energy of nature and freely roamed by countless Spirits who jealously guarded their territory, the forest had long been feared by the mortals who eked out a living near its borders. To wander into its depths invited madness or death. When that small child had emerged, with eyes that seemed to have witnessed the ages and wielding the power of the elements, they had gone on to shape the fate of the kingdom. 
   When they had returned, they had built their Castle on the edges of the forest, close to the origin of their power. Only a Spirit Master could enter and leave unscathed. Generations of Thornes had roamed its twisting trails, learning how to navigate its secrets. Their detailed notes made her believe that she would find refuge within the shadowed pathways. It was her birthright. 
   Deep in the ancient forest, there was a small thatch-roofed cottage in its quiet clearing surrounded by herb beds. It was so perfect it could have been built just for her. The images that Pan had magically shown her for the past few years had sustained Rosaline. She would have fled there as soon as Pan had shown it to her if it weren’t for the blockade guarding the southern walls. 
   Citing the dark history of the forest, he had set a cordon of knights patrolling for miles around its edge. However, she was fully aware that it was all just an effort to keep her out. The few times she had attempted to sneak in to gather herbs in the forest, she had immediately been spotted and turned back. Petiole had then come forward and informed her that he would gather any wild herbs she needed from then on. 
   She would never be allowed to set foot inside the forest. 
   That’s when she had decided to escape. With all the fuss that the Marquis’s wife was making over the visit, the staff in the Castle was in a tizzy. Even the knights were drawn into the hooplah. It was the distraction they were looking for.
   She needed a way to slip away unnoticed and buy herself enough time to circle back around, past the knights, and slip into the forest. The Duke’s visit had presented itself as the perfect chance to escape, so they had started to prepare.
   Rosaline couldn’t help but feel like she was running out of time.
   At nineteen, she was a little over a year older than Blanche, who had just reached marriageable age. Seeing how quickly the Marquis was attempting to arrange a match for his favorite daughter made Rosaline nervous. Her intuition was telling her that changes were coming.
   He really was bothersome. She dropped the strips of bark into the stainless steel pot with the other ingredients and set the lid of the pot down a little harder than necessary in irritation. 
   First, the vexing man had ruined our plan by riding in like a vassal dropping by on an errand. Then he doesn’t take the antidote that I was thoughtful enough to place in his room and gets himself drugged on the very night he arrives. Next, he barges into my room and proceeds to… to… be exceedingly inconveniencing!
   Feeling her frustration rising out of control, she decided it was time to calm down. She took a few deep breaths, then focused and infused a small amount of wind into the burner beneath the pot to control the flame. That should keep the heat steady. Then she took another deep, cleansing breath and turned to one of her favorite tasks to regain her composure.
   Moving to the drying racks, she began to pull bundles down, inhaling their scent, then setting some aside to make sachets. Contemplating how to balance the efficacy of the herbs while finding the most pleasing fragrance always helped to focus her mind.
   “I visited the old man in the Spirit Realm last night, and he was concerned as well. He agrees that since the opportunity isn’t what we hoped it would be, we should wait.” Her mother’s Spirit had locked himself away in the Spirit Realm since her death. Pan would often act as a messenger between them through the years. “If worst comes to worst, we can just slip out in the dark. I always thought that relying on ourselves was the best course anyway. If we move fast enough, we can make it on our own. No need to rely on anyone else.” Sensing her mood, Pan attempted to draw her back into the conversation. The Spirit materialized on the table directly in front of her, demanding her attention. 
   Inwardly, she sighed. “You know that won’t work.” Putting down the bundle of catmint that she had been sniffing, she eyed the small form of her bondmate. Dressed impeccably, as always, his long, light green hair was pulled back into a neat queue, blowing in the spirit wind that always surrounded him. He was attempting to look stern, but the permanent mischievous tilt to his lips and eyes added to his soft, round cheeks ruined it. At first glance, he would appear to be a carefree child of about ten winters dressed like a small adult. 
   There’s another worry, she thought wearily to herself. She had been concerned about Pan’s appearance for quite some time now. She had read all of the books left behind by her mother, many times at this point, and they all agreed. While unbonded Spirits could shift their form at will, every account she had found in her mother’s books had detailed spirits growing and aging in tandem with their bondmate once the pact was struck. That’s why she always remembered Prospero looking like an adult man, old in the eyes of a child. 
   Yet Pan changed his size on a whim, and his appearance had stopped maturing after her tenth birthday. She couldn’t help but feel guilty.  As his bondmate, it must be her fault that he seemed to be stuck in time. With her mother gone, Prospero was the only person she could think of to ask, and sending a message about it through Pan seemed rude. Perhaps once they got to the cottage, Prospero would feel comfortable enough to visit. Then she could ask him.
   “I know you want to leave, but it is just too risky to try and escape on our own.” She could tell by the obstinate look on his face that she had not convinced the Spirit.
   “Rosaline, mo bhean, we may not have a choice.” His voice was filled with patience as he disappeared, then rematerialized next to her, his head now reaching her waist. Placing his hand over hers, he continued to attempt to persuade her. “The longer we put it off, the harder it will get. The Marquis is still set on truly claiming the South for himself. He is distracted right now, but what do you think will happen once he marries off his spawn?”
   “It will be alright. If the Duke stays at the Castle, eventually he will be caught in their web.” Rosaline patted the small green hand.
   “If he falls for the oldest tricks in the book.” Pan scoffed. He was so disdainful of the Marquis’ wife’s schemes that Rosaline wondered how he would feel if he knew that, truthfully, they had already succeeded. Though it had not gone completely according to that woman’s wishes. Not that the little Spirit needed to know anything about that. Last night was best forgotten all around. 
   “Besides, what good does that man marrying her do you?” He clasped her hand, pulling it to his chest.
   “The plan would work just as well for a wedding as for a visit.” Rosaline sighed again at his antics. Just like the child he appeared to be, trying to win over an adult. “In fact, it would work better if they were to wed. One way or another, she will have to go to the North, and Blanche would not travel without a veritable army of servants and escorts. We could easily hide in such a large crowd. If she goes there for the ceremony, then the Marquis and his wife would obviously accompany her. Then even if the staff here were to notice our absence, who would they report it to?” She laid out her reasoning and watched his face turn from petulant to calculating.
   “I told you it would be fine!” A smile spread across her face as she patted his head affectionately. “Now, can I get back to making my sachets?”
   A sudden knock on the door interrupted her. She turned to glance at the oak panels, waiting for the person on the other side to announce themselves. Since anyone she opened the door for could enter, she had learned early on never to open it until she knew who was on the other side. When the moment stretched on in silence, she knew that her visitor must be a guest.
   “It’s that Duke! Why is that useless fellow here? Just ignore him.” Pan rematerialized next to her, now the size of an average ten year old, after obviously popping into the hallway to satisfy his ever present curiosity.
   Rosaline rubbed between her eyebrows, trying to alleviate the headache building. Of course, the vexing man would show up here. “Why don’t you go and see what you can gather from the other guests?” It would be better if he weren’t here for this. 
   Thank goodness that woman had gone to a decent apothecary when I refused to help her with her schemes. The drug she had used, solestra, would blur the victim’s memory, so he shouldn’t even remember her. But it would still be best to send Pan away, in case he noticed anything odd about her. The last thing she needed was her bondmate to take it into his head that she had been assaulted and go after the Duke. Not when she needed him to marry Blanche in a grand ceremony that could cover her escape.
   “The maids were all twittering that three different branches of the Hallowfelds arrived yesterday. That, coupled with that group of vassals that started showing up the other day, makes me think that the Marquis is up to something again. Fiona was complaining about having to spend extra time cleaning the west hall all day yesterday. That means there was most likely some kind of meeting today.” 
   “I still think I should stay here in case…” She held up a hand to interrupt his worrying.
    "We need to know what they are scheming, Pan. The sooner we know what they are up to, the better prepared we will be.” She smiled gently down at the stubborn little face. “Off you go. I’ll be fine. The sooner you go, the sooner you come back.” She tapped his nose and gestured with her head towards the main bulk of the Castle. “Off you go.”
   With one last willful look, the little Spirit dematerialized just as another knock sounded on the door. Taking a final moment to smooth the wrinkles from the skirt of the simple cotton dress she wore, Rosaline squared her shoulders and crossed the room. Grasping the knob firmly, she opened the door just wide enough for her body to block entry into the room.
   “I was beginning to think you were going to ignore my knock.” 
    Not a flicker of irritation at a servant making him wait showed on his impassive face. Seeing it in the light of day, she had to admit he was handsome. A strong, sharp chin. High cheekbones and a pair of well shaped lips below a sculpted nose. Straight black brows hung over his striking eyes. 
   The whole situation could be blamed on those captivating eyes. When he had woken her from a sound sleep by banging on the door last night, she had only opened it with the intention to take pity on the fool and send him on his way. One glance at his flushed face had shown that he had fallen into their wife’s trap. But then her gaze had risen to his eyes, and she had frozen, mesmerized.
   She had never seen a pair more beautiful. One was the warm gold of a summer sun, while the other was the silver of a winter moon. He had taken advantage of her moment’s distraction and pushed his way into the room. 
   Realizing she was in danger of falling for the same trick, she tore her gaze away from the beautiful trap of his eyes and raked a quick gaze across the rest of him, checking his condition. Good. It seemed there were no side effects to the concoction they had slipped him. 
   It seemed that he had a preference for understated clothing. While he was currently dressed in simple training clothes, their quality was obviously far above the reach of the regular knights she most often saw. Even the suit he had worn to the banquet the evening before was elegant but unadorned. 
   At least it was for the few minutes I saw him wearing it.
   Her gaze settled on his forearm, noting the neatly rolled-up sleeve, revealing the shallow cut. At a glance, she could tell that it was not a serious wound. Seeing the lean, defined muscles of his arm had her absent-mindedly running her eyes over his torso. A very detailed image of the other, lean, defined muscles that had been on display last night shot into her mind’s eye. 
   Flushing at the memory, she shook her head to clear it and locked her eyes on the floor.
   Some memories are best buried. Deep.
   Realizing she had been unconsciously holding her breath. She let it out in a whoosh, preparing to send him on his way, but he beat her to it.
    There was a slight chuckle in his deep voice as he moved closer, taking a step over the threshold, forcing her to retreat if she wanted to keep distance between them. “You must be Rosa, the apothecary. Nice to formally meet you.”