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When Beatrix and Zephyr returned to the suite, Freya was eager to hear how the rest of their morning had went. Apparently, they had started bickering while at the perfumer. Beatrix was asking the perfumer a ridiculous amount of questions, according to Zephyr. And Zephyr was 'sounding like a know-it-all', as she educated the perfumer on some new scents he should produce.

"But aside from that, it was amazing!" Zephyr proclaimed. "We met four Blues from court! And they walked us back. Oh! And one is named Edmund, and he's so handsome that he puts Tybalt Ginnick to shame!" Zephyr swooned.

Beatrix confirmed that this 'Edmund' was indeed blessed with good looks, although she felt no need for comparison against Tybalt.

Zephyr suddenly noticed Freya's awkward position. "Wait, why are you lying back with your foot propped up and wrapped?"

"I had my own little adventure this morning." Freya gestured to her ankle. "But, as you can tell, it was much less fun than yours." She went on to explain her walk in the gardens and her subsequent fall, omitting anything about her brother. Freya also told them about Gulley and his kind assistance.

"I just can't believe you fell! It's so unlike you!" Zephyr observed.

"I know," Freya agreed. "It must be all the handsome 'Edmunds' walking around, leading me to distraction," she joked.

"Oh no! You won't be able to join us in the dining hall, will you?" Beatrix realized, while rifling through a basket of their new purchases.

"No, I'm afraid not. But I only twisted it a little, and should be back on my feet by morning. You two go and enjoy yourselves," Freya insisted.

"Are you certain?" Zephyr hated leaving anyone out. "We don't mind at all to stay with you. We could have luncheon sent up."

"No, please, I want you to go."

After another few minor protests, Beatrix and Zephyr rang for Freya's food to be brought up and then headed down to the dining hall.

It was only a few minutes after they had gone when Freya heard four raps on her door. Assuming one of the girls forgot something or her food had already arrived, she called out for whomever to enter.

"Good afternoon, Lady Freya."

Freya was shocked to see the handsome stranger's face as the door swung open. She attempted to sound calm and collected. "Good afternoon, stranger. I would rise to greet you but it seems I took a little tumble this morning."

"Yes, I'm aware," he responded, moving further into her room. Freya noticed the back of a Blue coat standing guard at her door's entrance.

"Been spying on me, have you?" Freya queried.

"I spy on lots of people. It's part of my charm, as a man of mystery," he boasted, showcasing a grin.

"What you call 'charming', others tend to call 'creepy.'" Freya returned his bright smile, propping her hand beneath her chin. "But when you're handsome and rich, I suppose the rules change. Creepy becomes charming, dull becomes sensible, and weird becomes creative."

"A lesser man would be wounded by such harsh words. Fortunately for you, I choose to focus on the positive, and I do believe you just called me handsome."

Freya couldn't suppress her laughter. "Yes, you're a very handsome, creepy, stalker. Your mother must be so proud," she teased.

"As a matter of fact, she is," he confirmed. "Now, I hate to further my creepy persona, but I really want to invite myself to join you for luncheon. Would you mind?"

Freya knew she should decline his offer, but she couldn't ignore the way he made her heart race. Every second in his presence felt like a gift. And with the life of a fugitive or death in her near future, she chose to savor every moment.

Freya scolded her self-control as she responded, "I suppose you may. Besides, it's not as if I can run away from you." She eyed the deceitful ankle wrap.

"Excellent! Hey, Gulley," he called out, as surprise registered on Freya's face. Gulley was, if fact, the Blue standing guard at her door.

"Hello again, Lady Freya!" Gulley cheerfully greeted, and turned his attention to the nobleman, "What can I do for you Sir?"

"I'll be joining Lady Freya for luncheon."

"Yes, of course." And just like that, Gulley was back out the door. The nobleman sat near Freya at a small round table covered in burgundy and gold linens.

"Don't look so disappointed." He explained, "Gulley was on his way to meet me, when you happened to delay his arrival. Imagine my surprise to hear your name. I'm sorry, if you'd rather me to be a stalker, I could commission some guards to follow your every move."

"No, no, it's quite alright. Besides, you still invited yourself to my luncheon and have yet to give me your name. So, with or without guards following my every move, you're still a creep."

He laughed, sarcastically saying, "You're a real boost to a man's ego, aren't you? So that we are no longer strangers, allow me to introduce myself, I'm..."

"Wait!" Freya called out, which startled him. She didn't want his name. It made it too personal, too real. Too difficult to walk away from. She struggled to explain, "It's...it's just that...I...um...I know it's silly, but I sort of enjoy the mystery."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes, but...um...perhaps I could give you a nickname? Anything is better than no name at all."

"Alright." He looked intrigued. "What sort of nickname did you have in mind? But, I'll let you know, I wholeheartedly approve of Lord Charming or Sir Handsome. Admiral Wealthy seems a bit too pretentious, doesn't it?"

She playfully kicked his shin with her 'good' foot. "Hmmm...Earl of Arrogance?"

They both laughed, as an emotionally charged silence followed. Freya felt physically drawn to him, like an invisible string was pulling her in. She wondered if he felt it too.

"Hmmm..." Freya broke the silence. "I've got it!Perhaps I could call you, Baker. You're lifelong dream is to cook, and baking isn't much different."

"Baker," he leaned back and contemplated the name a moment. "Baker...um yes...I approve. Although, Earl of Arrogance did have a nice sound to it."

"We'll consider that your full title. You are now Baker, the Earl of Arrogance, and it is an absolute pleasure to meet you." Freya held out her hand for him to shake.

"The pleasure is all mine," Baker replied, taking her hand and placing a light kiss atop it.

Gulley entered the room, clearing his throat. "Ahem...Sir, your luncheon is ready."

Several trays of food were brought in. Mylates of pork, stuffed cabbage, and boiled asparagus, to name a few, filled the plates.

"Wow." Freya marveled. "I hope you're hungry."

"I'm always hungry!" he proclaimed.

He stole a bite from her plate. Most would consider it rude, but Freya found that she didn't mind at all.

"So, Baker," she began. "How do you feel about riddles?"

"Love them."

Freya suggested, "Alright, if you can figure out this riddle, I will give you first pick of these four scrumptious looking tarts in front of us."

"I gladly accept your challenge." Baker eyed the sweet-smelling tarts while rubbing his hands together.

Freya leaned in closely, and spoke as if telling a secret. "Give me thy food, and I shall live. Give me drink and thy death will be nigh. Oh who or what am I?"

He repeated her riddle in contemplation, "Give me thy food, and I shall live. Give me drink and thy death will be nigh...hmmm. Is now the time to tell you that I'm rubbish at guessing riddles?"

She smirked, scolding, "You can't give up so easily. You've barely begun thinking about it."

"Did I also mention that my patience is rubbish too?"

"You haven't, but that is helpful to know...so are you truly giving up? Please, just think hard for a moment. I really think you will figure out the answer," Freya prodded.

Again he repeated the riddle, and stroked his chin in deep thought. "Food...live...drink...die...
hmmm...I've got it! I've got it! I'm fire! It's fire isn't it?!" Baker looked immensely proud of himself.

Freya clapped with approval. "See! I knew you could get it. Sometimes all you need is a little patience."

"And the motivation of delicious tarts! I believe this cherry one is all mine," he gloated, roughly grabbing the pastry.

"Oh! That reminds me!" Freya began to get up, but quickly remembered her supposed injury, and immediately sat back down. "I have something for you, wrapped in that cloth over there."

"Who is the creep now?" he teased. "Buying me gifts when you didn't even know my name or if we would meet again."

"I actually bought them for me, but since you are here, and I have a few left, they are now my gift to you," she explained. "The girl I purchased them from said they were the best in all of Cambria. And with your sophisticated taste, I would like your opinion."

Baker retrieved the cloth-wrapped cherries, and proceeded to bite into one. Just as Freya imagined he would, Baker slowly savored each bite, closing his eyes tight while chewing the sweet fruit.

"So?" Freya prompted. "What do you think?"

"I think..." he began. "You must tell me exactly where you purchased these amazing bits of perfection."

They spent the next half-hour laughing, swapping stories of childhood antics. Gulley's voice interrupted the conversation, "Sir, I hate to interrupt, but you will be late if we do not leave soon."

"Yes...of course. I must have lost track of time." Baker addressed Freya, "Forgive me, it seems I must be going...I...um...I am unsure when I will be able to see you again." He looked nervous. "I have a very special friend I want you to meet. He's my advisor of sorts. I won't be able to come myself, but would you mind if I sent him here tomorrow? I really want him to meet you."

Freya looked divided. "Um..."

"Did I mention, he's amazing at riddles?"

His boyish grin made it impossible for Freya to deny him. She was normally a pillar of self-control. Baker was a thief, robbing her of all restraint. "Yes, I would love to meet him."

"Wonderful!" he said, with his charming smile still on full display. "Until, next time Lady Freya, hater of creeps, lover of riddles."

"Until next time, Baker the Earl of Arrogance, master of riddles, and cherry connoisseur."

He winked at her, and swiftly followed Gulley out the door.

Freya felt the loss of him in her bones. It was as if he stole a bit of air from her lungs as he walked out the door. This wasn't good. She needed to stop feeling.

Freya's anger grew with each passing second. If they hadn't taken her brother, she wouldn't have to betray her king. And if she didn't have to betray her king, then Freya would have been deliriously happy to have met Baker. They had stolen her brother's future and now they were stealing hers.

And, to add to her anger and confusion, Baker's status as a noble made him an accomplice to the problem. For a brief moment, she wondered what his reaction would be if she told him her plan. Would he report her? Help her? Freya doubted the latter.

She tried to put Baker out of her mind as best she could. Freya had seen her brother, and knew how to find him! This thought brought with it a host of other questions. Did he recognize my name? Does he even remember me? What if he doesn't want to come with me?

Freya knew she couldn't just march up to him and say 'I'm your long lost sister, now run away with me!'

Freya needed a plan.

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