It wasn't fair. Princesses didn't think of things the way she did. They met a man, fell in love, and that was the way the story went. But Ovelia didn't feel love. She'd found a man, pulled his strength into her dreams and marred her pure monastery heart, but this was no man she loved. She could not even assure herself of what words he said were lies and what were true. He was a dark, enigmatic man with secrets and intentions that she had no clear idea of. She didn't want to love him. Loving him would be a mistake, because he'd use her the way he used everyone.

"I don't know what to tell you," Rad said, apologizing through the tone of his voice. "You've spent more time with him than me. What can I say? What answer do you want to hear?"

"I don't know..." Ovelia looked away from her companion and shook her head. "Sometimes I really want to know why he's like this. Can a man be truly this way since birth? What made him turn to this...?" She bit her lip. "I think about it all the time--I can't help it."

"Do you wish you'd never met him?"

This question posed more of a problem than the princess would have liked to admit. "I don't know that, either." She took a deep breath. "All I know is that I have to find some answers soon or I'll lose my mind."

That night she went out in search of Delita. She couldn't help herself anymore--she had to speak to him, and understand what was happening to them both. She was able to get out of the guards' sight long enough to sneak to his room, and without knocking--as he had often refrained from that courtesy with her--she went inside.

The room was small, like most of the knight rooms even as he was well respected in the Nanten. There was no unnecessary furniture: only the bed, two dressers, and a table on which many scrolls and papers had been spread. At first she didn't see him, and finally located the man kneeling on the floor so that his elbows rested on the window sill. Cool night air drifted in and blew uncaring against his face. It also ruffled the silk of his white shirt--this he was wearing instead of his armor. She could tell by its slackness that most of it was unbuttoned.

Ovelia stepped closer slowly, surprised that her presence had not yet been discovered. Her strides were cautious, as if expecting him to turn at any time. Could she truly face him if he did? She took a deep breath and swung to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face before he noticed her.

"What are you trying to see?"

Ovelia stiffened. She was only able to see part of his profile, but by now it was obvious he'd been aware of her from the start. If his face had shown any clues to his reprieve, by now they would be far gone. "I'm just wondering why you're sitting like that," she answered truthfully, forcing her voice to be strong. "Is something wrong?"

"I thought you said you made a mistake."

"Does that mean I can't be concerned about the most famous of the Nanten?"

Delita didn't speak again right away. A minute lapsed. "I'm not afraid of anything," he said finally.

She knelt down beside him, looking to see his expression. It was cold ice as always, but this time she could almost detect faint cracks in its surface. "I didn't say you were."

"I don't need anyone."

"I never said you did."

Again he paused; the cracks deepened. "You don't have to be here. If you made a mistake, you should leave."

Her heart had begun to pound; she was being ridiculous. Delita was right in saying she should she should leave. And yet, something inside her forced her to stay. Taking a chance she said, "Do you want me to go?"

"I don't need anyone," he repeated.

"Delita..." The princess put her hand on his shoulder, which he quickly rejected. She bit her lip. "Why are you like this?" she asked, aching to find her answers. "You've got me in your grasp--what will you do with me? I don't know what you want. Or are you simply going to continue and play games with me until we both go insane? You know that's what will happen. I think we're both mad already."

Delita turned his head slowly to stare at her, and his lips parted. "What are you doing here?" he asked in a voice so faint it was almost a whisper. "You don't have to be here. I didn't ask you to. So why?"

"Because I wanted to know what you think of me," she admitted at last. "Can't you see? Just tell me what it is you're after--I don't understand. Why must you do this?"

His dark eyes swirled in the night, reflecting light off the brilliant heaven stars. His lips moved. "Because I don't know any other way."

"Just tell me." Ovelia edged closer still. She was beginning to understand; he was wearing a mask. He was always wearing a mask, one that did well to hide his loneliness and fear. When she looked at him she saw a man that was a child, frozen over and turned inside out by cruel fate and harsh words. If he could just make her understand completely.... She wanted so badly to know him, to love him for the strength in his convictions. What had happened to the Delita that had made so many promises to her that day long ago? Was he gone, or was he still here, confined in chains? She wanted to know.

He watched her. His gaze was intense, his instrument for viewing her soul. She knew he had a way of knowing what people thought, and she knew that he could read her emotions like an open book--if not in her face, then in her tone and body. She decided it would be better to hide nothing, because he would make the truth his own anyway. For once she wanted him to see her raw emotion.

Delita must have, for he reached out to her. At first he seemed hesitant and unsure, and his fingers slid lightly across her cheek. She took his hand and curled hers around it. "Once you told me that you would make a kingdom worthy of me," the princess said. "That you would make my life shine. Please don't let it be a lie."

"You don't need a kingdom," he replied, drawing her closer, "to shine."

He kissed her, a softer, gentler action than she remembered from before. It was still an odd feeling, though, as part of her still continued to fear this dark and mysterious man. He pulled her tightly against him, trapped her in his embrace, each of them on their knees and locked in lips and arms. Ovelia realized with a start that she was kissing him back; her hands wound tightly about the soft fabric of his collar. His hands were rough on her back. It was almost painful. Just before that sharp sensation reached her something came over her, and the unpleasantness no longer mattered. If she let herself drift through her emotions--all of them, good and bad--then she didn't care how it felt. The fear his presence brought her forced her heart to beat faster, but did it not also beat faster with excitement? She found that the terror and agony were on her side, and if she let them overtake her than she could revel in it, some perverse pleasure she could not deny. It might not have been love. It might not have even been satisfying. But it was all she knew.

From there everything progressed too fast for her to comprehend. His lips were on hers, and then her shawl was gone and they'd found her neck, and then her dress was gone as well. She didn't try to stop him: if she could know him here and in this way, she could find a way to his heart. She wanted her answers and she knew no other way. For that purpose, and another deeper, unclear reason, she allowed herself to fall into the passion. She could hear her name being murmured in her ear.

Later, she would remember little of what happened. All that remained in her mind were brief images and feelings: Delita hovering over her, flashes of intense pain and white heat, all which left only fatigue and sore muscles in their wake. By morning they were both in his bed, naked and covered only by thin, damp satin sheets. Delita was asleep, and when she looked at him she was surprised: for once in all the time she'd known him, his face looked perfectly at peace.

After that night something had changed. It was not a large change, as Delita treated the Princess much the same way he had before. Only the details wavered: he now always knocked before entering her room, waiting for her signal; he stayed very close to her when they were together, though if she took his hand he would not hold it; he spoke to her politely and with truth in his tone. All these things proved to her that her questions had been answered. She had feared their night to be some fluke of destiny that would amend itself by hardening both their wills and hearts. But in looking in his eyes she felt confident that they shared something, even if they didn't understand it.

Several days later she awoke to find herself again in bed with him. She prayed for her sins even as she felt no guilt in them. Hell held no fear for her, for she had conquered the endless depths in his eyes, and no other place could threaten her more. They made love several times, not every night but often enough that she did not think it out of the ordinary to find him waiting for her in her room. He didn't speak often but his presence was enough. She knew what he was thinking. Each night together was another added piece for them, and she longed for the time when their trust would be complete.

"There are a lot of rumors going around about the two of you," Rad told his princess during one of their now few meeting times. "Nobody can understand it, and frankly, neither can I. How can you sleep with that man? He's so cold."

Ovelia, who was brushing out her long blond hair, only smiled. "Because I love him."

When something began to bother Delita, Ovelia caught on right away. On a night in which they would have spent together she found him in his room, bent over his desk and staring at a piece of paper. When she entered another sheet was set over it. She noticed but would say nothing of it. "Delita, I didn't expect to find you here," she remarked, striding up behind him. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and one of his reached to take it. "Are you all right?"

"The Hokuten are on the move," he explained, his voice unusually hollow. "They'll be at Bethla Garrison by tomorrow, and a battle will break out. I'll have to be there."

"Of course." Ovelia smiled grimly. "Are you worried about the battle?"

He didn't answer immediately. "I must be brave," he said at long last. "I will have to act without fear--any misgivings will mean the end. It all depends on this."

She didn't quite understand the significance in the Bethla Garrison battle, as politics and war had never been clear to her, but his tone was serious and she dropped to her knees at his side. "You are strong," she said truthfully, leaning against his knee, "and you are brave. I won't fear for you. I know you'll win."

Delita did not feign to her confidence, and his hand tightened around hers as proof. "It will have to be very precise. If I make mistakes there will be no going back. But... but if it means coming back to you, then I'll fight with all my heart."

Ovelia inhaled sharply, as this was the first he had even spoken of his heart to her. She closed her eyes and smiled. "Yes, Delita," she murmured. "I know you will."

That next morning Delita set off to join the front. Ovelia was left behind, and Rad stayed with her in her room during the battle. They received no reports all that day. "No news is good news," Rad assured his friend. "If the battle was going well they might not bother to send word. I'm sure Delita and the others are just fine."

The Princess nodded. "I know. You're right."

But late that afternoon they did receive word. The battle had been disastrous for both sides--the Nanten had been all but wiped out by the breaking of the river dam, and the Hokuten's forces had been reduced due to the spreading of Musfungus poison. Shortly afterwards Delita came to her room. His brilliant gold armor was now coated with blood, and the horrors of that day seemed to reflect in his eyes. "Larg was assassinated, and Goltana is dead," he said in a deadened voice. "Count Orlandu killed him."

"Orlandu?" Ovelia was stunned, as Count Orlandu, leader of the Nanten, had been Goltana's most loyal advisor. "But why..?"

"That I don't know," he admitted. "There were rumors that he was working secretly with the heretic Ramza, which might have been the case."

"You're wrong!" Rad shouted at him in immediate defense of his friend. "Ramza wouldn't have Orlandu do something like that. He's trying to stop the war, not make it worse. You know that!"

Delita glared at him a moment, then turned away. "It doesn't matter anyway," he said, "because Orlandu is dead now. I killed him." Without waiting for a response he left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Something isn't right," Rad muttered, fists clenching at his sides. "It doesn't make sense. Ramza wouldn't plan that sort of thing, and Orlandu has been loyal to Goltana for decades. Why the sudden change? What the hell is going on here?"

Ovelia shook her head, sinking into a chair. She confined her trembling hands to her lap. "I don't know," she admitted meekly. "But his eyes..." She shuddered. "I haven't seen Delita's eyes like that for a long time. He looked so cold..."

"He's up to something."

"I...wish I could say I don't believe you."

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