The Chateau is a magical place, so it is a lonely place, too. There is something in the air here that presses on the skin and makes the back of my neck tingle. I sense them at the edge of my vision, the shadows that skip between the Veils. They dance like fairies between day and night, and live in this abandoned place. The neglect gives the Chateau a haunting beauty. But, maybe, I am the only one that thinks this way.

They covered all the furniture to protect it from the dust. Webbing like tiny thoroughfares connected them all together. It makes me laugh to imagine a tiny town of spiders commuting from the settee to the side board. I think of them with little hard hats on their furry little heads and lunch pails prepared by their little spider-wives. I waited, but I didn?t see any of them at work. Their absence was disappointing.

The Chateau is full of ghosts; watercolor-tinted memories of laughter and sorrow that continue to walk the halls even though their time has past. I try to hold them, but they retreat each time that I try. Elusive; they tease me. I wonder if Miles felt the same when he visited the Chateau over the summer when he believed I was dead. Did he fancy that he felt my shadow at the edge of his vision? Did he feel it breathing down his neck?

Impishly, I pulled one of the dingy cloths off of an overstuffed chair. The dust tickled my nose when it settled over my hair and covered my dress. The only sounds in the room were my footsteps over the marble floor and of me breathing. See? I can be a ghost, too. ?Boo!? I hooted, the fabric before my mouth billowing as I popped up before one of the hall mirrors. I kept my arms raised and my fingers hooked, but I wasn?t very scary.

My promise to Cayt pestered me. I said I wouldn?t come back to the Chateau. I can?t remember why. She had been very upset at the time. I don?t like it when she is upset. She is my sister and I love her very much. She didn?t have to know I had broken my word. Turning, I faced the wide spiral staircase. If I hurried, I could be back at Ardane before dark, and then she wouldn?t have to worry about just where it was I had been.

I stood, motionless and stared at the trees that no longer called to me. The paper-like rustle of their leaves beneath the breeze was like music. The wind is a gossip. My wind sibs are always whispering in my ears. It makes it hard to focus on one thing for very long.

Suu! Suu! Come away to warmer lands--!
Whoosh! The Miller?s boy drowned yesterday--!
Whish! There is talk of war--!
Suu! A mouse family moved into the garden--!

I don?t remember the moment I became aware. I wonder sometimes if there was a time that I didn?t exist. I live in the clumsy human realm; I have seen my friends have children, been witness to the moment when life is pushed into the world. Was there someone that watched over that moment for me, too? But this body isn?t mine. I existed long before this shell did. It was created by magic hands. The one that molded me, did she fuss over each detail until I was a perfect example of her power? Did Hildegarde craft me with love?

Whish! And they speak of weddings--!
Su! You don?t belong here--!
Whoosh! There was a fire--!
Suuu! Let?s play on the waves and feel the warm sun--!

Carefully, I pressed my bare palm against the glass. I welcomed the chill. That is the gift Hildegarde has given me: the ability to feel. Everything is a new sensation in touch, taste, smell, sight, and sound. I never tire of it. I revel in it with a hedonist?s delight. My joy keeps even the mundane new; exciting.

Whish! A tree fell over the stream--!
Su! Taste the fragrant flowers on your tongue--!
Whoosh! The Baker?s daughter is in love--!
Su! Su! The Queen of Air and Darkness is calling Court--!
Whiish! Come away with us--!

My mind is full of impulses. I find it hard to deny them. My body demands the experience, and I give in. Jump, it says to me, and I do. The wind is always there to catch me, ready to cradle the one it loves so dearly. But the wind is a fickle thing. One day, I will jump and I will fall; there won't be anything to catch me. Pulling my hand away from the window, I turned away. I was supposed to go upstairs. I forced my ears to close and tried to smother the stirring of curiosity in my breast. The wood wasn?t going anywhere. It had stood for hundreds of years before this moment; it could stand to wait a little more.

The second floor of the Chateau is dominated by the master suite. The staircase empties into a landing that flows into a hall that is dotted with doors. To the side of the landing are the doors that open to the suite. The rest of the rooms are hardly touched except for redecorating purposes and the odd guest. Not many people visit the Chateau. It is my special place; my private kingdom.

Miles jokes that the Chateau is my closet. It?s true. Closets, wardrobes, bureaus and chests are stuffed with my things. The history of Rhy?Din?s popular fashion can be found with little effort inside these walls. I have a hard time parting with anything I like, dresses included. Once, I donated all my dresses from the Manor and the Dandy to charity. With an eager intensity, I gleefully restocked my closets until they were full again. It?s a little thing, but it brings me joy.

I shouldn?t have been surprised that my room held the same lonely quality as the rest of the Chateau. It?s amazing how large a room can look when there?s next to nothing in it. Shedding my specter?s garb, I dropped it onto the bed. As it left my fingers, I was drawn to one of the great windows that flanked the intricately carved four-poster. From this vantage, I could see farther into the wood that circled the Chateau.

Jump.

I looked at the ground. It didn?t feel that far away. A pittance in compared to the distance between the clouds and the forest floor. Could I craft a parachute from the sheets on the bed? I could be clever with my hands. I know how to make things. I wanted to play. The ground could be forgiving. It looked almost fluffy covered in last year?s grass. Besides, wasn?t I loved by it as well? Smothering as it might be.

There was a moment of anxiety as my body anticipated leaving the window; a tightness in my chest and shortness in my breath. For a wild moment, I imagined unhitching the latch to open the glass and stepping onto the ledge. I could almost feel the breeze kiss against my skin and pull at my dress. Would this be the moment when I discovered if the wind no longer loved me?

I shook my head and pushed away from the window pane. My eyes focused on the closet door at the far side of the room. It was hard not to be lured away by distractions. There were so many that popped into my head. I already had a task to do, and it was unrelated to jumping out of second-story windows, much to my dismay.

?Huh.? The sound left me with a heavy breath. I stretched out my legs, and let my bare toes wriggle into the skirt of a grey taffeta at my feet. How was I going to bring everything back to Ardane? I rolled the question around in my head. Or at least I tried to.

As one might expect from an air element, trapped in an earth-bound body though I might be, it was hard to keep any idea firm in my mind for long. My thoughts drifted, following several different paths, but none of them had to do directly with my problem. For several minutes, I forgot that I even had one. My ears caught with the whispers of my wind sibs. My eyes devoured the beautiful colors all around me.

Twisting, I went from a seated position to all fours. ?Mine!? I chirped as I crawled over the chaotic collection of clothes that cluttered the floor. A wild strawberry pink dress had caught my attention. I had almost missed seeing it. The garment was half buried and thrown into a corner.

The mermaid-styled skirt was covered with sequins. The exposed, and slightly imperfect, discs shimmered beneath the mage-light. They flashed pink, purple, and silver and reminded me of fish scales. In that dress, I could be one of the great sirens of the sea.

Laughing, I pulled the dress completely from the rest and sat awkwardly on my heels. The dress felt heavy in my lap. My nails caught on the bottom curve of a patch of sequins. I teased them up and felt how sharp the thin, rigid discs felt against my fingertips. Impulsively, I wadded the fabric in between my hands, and tried to catch the edge of the discs beneath my teeth. I was careful. I didn?t want to ruin the dress. Something inside me just needed to know, not how they tasted, but how they felt.

While I tried to catch one of the little circles in my mouth my gaze focused on the wall before me. It was delicate business and it demanded most of my attention. Well, as much of it as I could spare. I was aware of the half-filled rod and the columns of dainty drawers to the right of them. I followed the line of them downward toward the floor. I couldn?t remember what was supposed to be inside of them.

My lids slid down in satisfaction when I finally pinned one of the sequins beneath my teeth. The rigid material bowed and proved to be more flexible than I had first thought. Releasing it, I peered at the still damp disc. There were little dimples where I had bitten it.

I dropped the dress indifferently back into my lap. My interest had moved to the drawers. But the mysteries did not stop there. Nested in the shadows there was a heavy trunk partially disguised by the clothing that hung above it. I didn?t remember having a trunk, or rather, I didn?t remember owning that particular trunk. It was purple and the rest of my trunks were brown, to the best of my recollection.

I pulled it out from where it had been hiding. It was worth investigating, and I wanted to get a better look at it. There was something else concealed behind it, but I ignored it for the moment. My hands splayed wide over the trunk lid. My heart flipped in excitement. It was like opening a present; A gift to myself.

Chills ran across my arms at the sound of the latch giving. It was a distinctive thud-click. I rearranged my hands, and tried to lift the lid. It stuck. I was afraid it was locked, but the hinges were stiff and gave a protesting creak against my gentle touch. I wasn?t sure what was supposed to be inside. I was just tickled that it opened. Any manner of treasure could have been sleeping inside, waiting for me to rediscover it.

I wasn?t about to disappoint it.

What I had found were my diaries.

I read the first page of the first book twice before I continued. The thin pages stuck together and held the faint scent of perfume. The handwriting on the first page was unfamiliar to me. I skimmed over a few more pages and shortly found passages in Cayt?s hand. I laughed and slapped a hand over my mouth. How had my old journals gotten into the trunk? I had no clear answer.

As time past, I slinked down lower and lower until I was lying on the floor. With no window in the closet, it was easy to lose track of time. The mage-light was steady with no shifting shadows to alert me to the passage of the sun. I finished the first two books quickly. They were incomplete, and many of the pages were blank. But what had been written, I do not have the words to describe. My heart soared in joy. It plummeted in sorrow. The main subject of both books had been Geladine. How many years had past since the last time I had been there? More than I could figure. More than I wanted to figure.

My position was awkward and my legs had begun to cramp. Restless, I shifted until I found a better spot. I bunched up my dresses beneath my head to act as a pillow. The third journal was newer than the other two. The corners weren?t nearly as worn and crumbly. The paper inside was lined and scented like the previous two had been. Those weren?t the only things they had in common. The diary entries came in spurts with great time gaps between the clusters.

Curious, I flipped to the back. A small triumphant sound left me. I had been right, the pages were blank. I felt clever. I had recognized the pattern. Which, of course, I should have?it was my pattern. I returned to the front page. My interest had begun to wane. Absently, I skipped from page to page until a group of entries caught my attention and held it firm.

He wore a dress for me. As odd as that does sound, it was an enjoyable experience for me. I confess to having been wanting to see it since he first mentioned that he actually owned one. Though, it did bring out more of the wolf in me. Sometimes, I wish I was not so aggressive. I wasn't always so, but the days when I had a flock of suitors has long since past. If I had to blame it on anything, I blame it on staying alone. Well, that's not exactly true, but it is a reason I will let you commit to paper. I've lost mine grace and allure. You know, before every time I do see him, I tell mineself that today I will be the lamb. It never does work, but still I try.

I looked away from the page. My brows knitted as I tried to recall the evening in question. As before, it flirted on the edge of my memory begging to be remembered. No matter how I tried it refused to come to me.

It seems I have much to say lately, but not the inclination to have it placed on paper. Isn't that odd? If I was to flip back through these pages, I would see entry after entry of me exposing what was inside mine heart without hesitation. A tale of love won on one page, and lost on the next, but this time I would rather not see it so. I don't want to have to read about something that will surely end. I don't want to lay out mine hopes and have them once again result in nothing. Not that I need to tell you, you know them as well as I. It is mere formality that has them penned. The idea that one day I will want to look back and remember how I felt today. For that reason alone, I will say I was content.

Frustrated, I tapped a finger against the page. Now that I was actually looking back and reading the journal, I wished that I had been more straightforward. I brushed a section of my hair from my eyes and skipped forward several pages.

I've been spending more time with the Feathery'un. For all the dates and conversation shared -- yes, we had dates. Did you miss the noting of them? Mebbe because I didn't tell you what to write down. Side note to history then: We went to the Promenade and then I took him to the Glacial Gardens. Does that make you happy now? Details? Well he was handcuffed for one, and blindfolded for the other. I'll let you make of that what you will.

There was a sudden spark within my ribs. A small fire of recognition had begun to burn inside me. Unbidden, a giggle spilled from me. My eyes closed tight and I blushed. That spark, my private fire, I could name it. The word was suddenly at my lips: elation. I remembered. The slippery swimming fishes, my memories, no longer slumbered at the bottom of a lake or stream. One had come to the surface. My happiness sparkled on its scales like the sun. This time, it would not escape between my fingers and disappear.

I couldn?t read another word. My whole being rejected the task, but that did not prevent parts of me from wanting to know. Who was that girl? She was supposed to be me, but I didn?t recognize her. How could I ever become that way? And what I had lost along the way, the realization of it crushed me. The breath I, and the rest of the world, had been holding was released in a long wheeze. It sounded like a great weight had been set upon my chest.

And still the tears fell.

There are women in this world that have turned sorrow into startling beauty. Their skin pales and lips redden. Their stricken eyes only birth a scattering of small, sparkling tears that shimmer like diamonds. I am not one of those women. My sadness is not a pleasant thing to look upon. My face turns ruddy and my nose turns berry-red. My eyes swell and my nose runs. And though it may not be beautiful, it is genuine. I have never been able to disguise my emotions. They play openly on my face. So does my pain. It is only appropriate that I should then look as raw as I feel.

And still, it wasn?t enough.

Gripping the journal tightly, I struggled to tear the binding apart. ?This is not--was not--me!? I screamed and choked on a sob. The edges of the book bit into my hands, but I would not be thwarted. Page after page was ripped from the binding, and shredded until the paper fluttered around me like snow flakes.

I would not do that. I would not turn my back on love. This was not me.

Renaurd stood above me, his hair a white halo and the color of his eyes lost in shadows. His magic filled the air. I could taste it, smell it, and feel it. He let me see his power, and I shook with fear. The wind had shifted and it brought upon it ill-tidings.

Slowly, I could feel his presence recede as he coiled his power back into himself, cloaking it behind a mask of indifference. The lines of his body softened as he reclined back to lazily rest his hip against the edge of the jewelry display. Though he was in repose, I was not put off guard. I saw the narrowing of his eyes and the just-there tension that spoke of swift action if I was found displeasing.

We looked at one another for several moments and said nothing. It seemed as if neither of us wanted to be the first to break the silence. I had unwittingly entered into a contest of wills. Renaurd?s gaze pierced into me; spearing my body back against the wall like a pin through the body of a butterfly. Heat filtered into my face. The verdant hues of my shame were a vivid signal to my discomfort.

??m I?? I asked with a steadiness that I did not feel.

His expression shifted and with it the shadows that disguised his eyes. ?Unless I am mistaken,? he answered, ?a year and a day has come and gone?nearly twice over by my reckoning.?

?Has?t been? I did no? realize,? I replied. My voice was tight but honest. I blushed again despite that being so. ?I?I was away. I do no? remembering th?things tha? I should.? My reason sounded feeble to me, even if it was true. Dropping my gaze, I looked forlornly at the scraps of paper that had once been my diary. Of all the things to forget, this was bad but not the worst. The throb in my heart told me reminded me of that.

Renaurd pushed from his lean and extended a hand toward me. The movement of shadow across the floor brought my gaze back up to him. I looked first to the relaxed curve of his calloused fingers and then to his face.

?It is time to go.?

?You did deceive me.? The words sprang from my lips before I could stop them.

Renaurd shrugged, unconcerned. ?I did.? His hand dropped smoothly. ?Is it your intention to do the same? Will it make you feel better, Little Fae? Does a plan boil inside your breast just waiting to be unleashed?? A sharp laugh parted his lips. ?Do you see how I shake??

?Stop it!? I answered harshly. My memories, few as they might be, knew I called him friend; that we had grown fond of one another, in a fashion. ?Iffin you can see int? me, then you do know it isn? so,? I cried to him, ?but I wonder why you have left m?like this?a shell!?

?I did nothing you did not ask for. Nothing you did not beg for.?

?I had no choice! You did rob me o? them all! I did only wha? I felt I must! If I had known....? I could hear my sorrow and anger taint my words. ?You have shown me that? you can be terrible, but can you no? show me your compassion?? The lilting tones of my voice turned pleading. ?Give back wha? you have taken from me. Show me your mercy, Renaurd!?

?I have shown it to you time and again, Amethyst, yet it is never enough. Still you hunger for more. Do you fancy I hold you so dear that you can dare so much??

?I hunger only t?know m?self again!? I cried in protest. ?I do dare no? more than tha?!?

?And how would you see me prove it??

My breath caught. There were many ways I could answer. A dozen different paths hinged on my answer. ?Return to me m?memories. You did have no call t?keep them. Make right in this at least, iffin you can do naught else.?

?There was a fair exchange,? Renaurd replied.

?Then do taking back wha? it was you gave! I lived a lifetime without tha? knowledge. It hurts me naught to do so again.? I twisted around onto my knees and clutched my hands together. ?Please, Renaurd, do this for me. Le?me know mineself again.? Let me know my Love again, I whispered inside my mind, afraid to voice the purely selfish reasons that spurred my request.

Renaurd said nothing more. He merely flicked his fingers in my direction and gave me his back. At first, I thought he had dismissed me, and through me, my request. But it was more than that. I did not grasp the significance until I heard the screams and realized, belatedly, that they were my own.

I couldn?t see through my tears. I tucked my knees hard against my chest. Renaurd stayed silent; watching. Another time, I might have despised him for it, but at that moment, I ceased to care. I was consumed by my heartache.

What had it all been to this point? I thought back over the last several months. I thought of the flirtations I had. Were they a subconscious substitute? A tireless search to fill the void, to find the music that had once lived inside me? I felt broken. Would I ever see him again? Did I have the right to seek him out?

?Get up, Amethyst.?

Renaurd?s voice brought me back to the present. I twisted around to look at him, my lips pulled into a feral expression. With a swiftness I didn?t know I could muster, I scrambled back away from him until my back hit my purple trunk. ?Stay away from me!?

I felt around me; searching. My fingers dipped between folds of cloth and upset the numerous little boxes set around my truck. I felt something slender and cool?the stiletto. I grasped it firmly in my clammy hand and clumsily stabbed the point at Renaurd.

?What will you do?stab me?? Humor wound through his voice, but I noticed that his amusement did not find his eyes.

?Stay back!? I warned again, stabbing at the air. ?I canno? go back with you. You must understand. I canno?. I d?no? belong there. I never belonged there.?

?You have no choice.?

His voice was smooth. I stabbed the air again. I did not want him to get any closer. ?I am no? whole! Iffin you could truly see into mine heart, you would realize tha?! I canno? go!?

?Oathbreaker.? I flinched. He laughed.

?Do not think I am unaware of your mechanisms.? Renaurd paused. The vacant quality of my expression spurred him on. ?Your champion in the Courts,? he continued, ?I did not think the Queen of Air and Darkness would move against me. Influential though your Champion may be, she still has not begun to stir.?

I felt my lips round. Sid. That was the only answer that filled my mind. ?You name me oathbreaker, fine, let it be so. I canno??will no??go back. Why do you fight it??

?Why do you? Come. Time grows short.?

I had no choice. So he said, but I refused to believe it. All around me paths branched off spiraling into the unknown; the unexplored. Any one of them could become my reality. The only thing I knew for certain was that I couldn?t go. Not with him to the Garden. Not yet. There were too many things left unfinished.

He said I had no choices.

My gaze focused on his in a battle. And when mine dropped, I could feel the smugness radiate from him like heat from a sun-baked stone. I had lost and he had won. Anticipation spurred my heart to skip as I raised my eyes back to his. Tightening my fingers about the dagger I held, I did the only thing I could.

I saw the confusion play across his face. I was supposed to be conquered. Clearly, I was beyond reason. It took him a moment to realize what had transpired. We both stared at my hands, shocked by my audacity.

Swallowing hard, I cried out in pain as I pushed the garnet encrusted hilt further into my chest; felt the way fabric and skin gave underneath the determined point of my weapon. The metal sank deeper into my chest.

?Why? Look what you have done,? Renaurd chastised as he moved toward me.

My vision blurred. I have never been good with blood, not even with the stuff that passed as my own. My hands were coated with it. It seeped into cracks around the garnets and dripped onto the dresses I knelt upon. Each drop blossomed like flowers, bleeding into the weave of fabric. And so it did through the dress I wore, as well.

With my fingers slipping over the cylinder, I tried to pull it free. It released with a sickening suck of flesh that drew the tool deeper into my chest. It was a struggle to free myself of it. Renaurd reached for me, but I hit his hands away; splashing him with a spray of crimson.

My head swam and I fell onto my side. Numbness spread like ripples in a pond through my body and a pounding ache centered in my chest. The ramifications of my actions hit me like ice water. I didn?t want to die.

I saw, just barely, my silver and stained glass butterfly nested in the fabric and boxes. I thought about the butterfly I had seen with the purple wings. My lips moved but no sound came right away. ?I?I dunn wanna die,? I whispered, the sounds barely formed by my raw throat.