The Grand Enchanter stepped forward, cocking his head to the side as he gazed at her. Or, she presumed he was looking her way. The king gave an uneasy glance towards the Enchanter.

"And... why is that?" he asked carefully. The Grand Enchanter stood as still as a statue, never turning to look towards King Tristan when he responded.

"Need I remind Your Majesty how many debts and favors the crown has called in over the years?" he asked softly, with the air of a man who knew exactly how much power he held. "It's more than I've ever owed." The crowd would not be able to hear him, but it was audible to Aoife, who stood only paces away.

The King blanched. Aoife's body tensed in anticipation. It would be difficult to deny him a public request, even in the face of someone accused of trespassing and assault. The Captain glared, attempting to argue.

"But this woman—"

"Defended herself from an assault," the Grand Enchanter finished. "I believe that's an admirable quality, wouldn't you say? Would you mind removing your gloves, miss...?" he paused, clearly waiting for her name, but Aoife removed her gloves without speaking. She didn't want to draw any more attention... if that was even possible at this point.

Dark purple bruises marred her wrists where Eric's hands gripped too tightly. The gasps of the crowd clearly meant that these were working in her favor, though she didn't leave the gloves off for long enough for them to stare. The Captain stepped forward once more.

"This woman ran from arrest—"

"Because she was frightened, as I'm sure she is now."

"Assaulted a man—"

"A drunk man who overpowered and hit her," the Enchanter pointed out. "Go on, take a whiff; I can smell the alcohol from here."

That much was certainly true, and no one on stage could deny it. Erik opened his mouth, possibly to insist upon his sobriety, but it was a useless battle. One look from the Enchanter, and he very quietly backed away, eyes fixed on the wooden floor of the stage.

"She's still guilty of trespassing, likely with criminal intent!" the Captain cried. Aoife couldn't blame his desperation. His credibility was on the line, and this was a public commotion.

It seemed he stood no chance against both the prince and the Grand Enchanter, though.

"She's guilty of being lost and tripping into some rose bushes," the Enchanter scoffed. "Hardly a capital offense."

The Grand Enchanter countered every point the Captain attempted to make like an expert swordsman parrying blows. There was electricity in the air between the two figures. The Grand Enchanter was like ice—solid, cool, composed, and unmoving. The Captain's fiery range, barely concealed or controlled, made a stark contrast. The tension was nearly palpable, the crowd leaning in to see what would happen next. However, before an outright verbal sparring match could ensue, the King decided to intervene.

"Take her," the King said with a sigh, waving his hand.

The Captain appeared on the verge of exploding. There was no questioning the decision of the King, though.

"Come with me," the Grand Enchanter said softly, motioning with his staff. Aoife thought it was strange how he didn't seem to try and touch her, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. The King, looking supremely exasperated, nodded for Aoife to follow.

The path the Grand Enchanter went down wound behind the viewing platform, but around the side of the large palace gates. Behind her, she could hear music and chatter slowly starting up again. The festival continued without her, and it was better that way. With luck, the entire disturbance would be mostly forgotten by the end of the day. Cloaked in shadow from the large trees, they walked slowly towards a section of the ironwork that was nearly hidden by green bushes. The thought crossed Aoife's mind that this must be the outskirts of the garden's legendary hedge maze, but she didn't have time to ask before he reached into the bushes. There was a dull clinking sound, and then a section of the ironwork swung open.

A hidden door?

It was a genius place to hide an escape route, really. They were around the side of the castle grounds that faced the woods, away from the Festival grounds.

"I thought it better to bring you in this way to avoid attention, though I suppose..." he trailed off, turning to look back the way they had come. Aoife followed the way he seemed to be looking and noticed a trail of footprints behind them, dead patches of grass in the lush, green lawn.

"I'm sorry," she said, but it felt hollow. Nothing she could say about her powers had weight in her mind any longer. Everything felt empty and dead.

"Come on, in you go," he said, ignoring her words entirely as he motioned for her to enter the gate.

Careful not to touch the greenery, Aoife sidestepped through the gate. In front of her was a tiny stone courtyard with a fountain spouting clear water. Tall hedges grew up on all sides, blocking off all but a single exit from the area, out into what was indeed the legendary castle hedge maze.

"Sit." He gestured to the edge of the fountain. Aoife did, gingerly, still staring at the hedges and wondering what was beyond the opening into the maze. Her mind wandered at a staggeringly quick pace, tracing down all the possible situations she could have gotten herself into.

He could kill me and use me for his experiments, she thought. I heard he does that, though it's probably not true... but it could be. He could want me for a— a mistress? She practically felt herself blanch at that. But to her limited knowledge he had no history of taking mistresses. Maybe he needs a maid? Or a servant? Or, and this was the worst of all, maybe he wants to try and get me to kill things on command for him.

Aoife felt nauseous at the thought.

All this went through her mind in the time it took the Grand Enchanter to lock the gate behind them and circle the fountain once, looking for all the world like a vulture examining his prey. There was no way to tell what might be going through his mind at that moment, but Aoife was fairly certain that it couldn't be anything good.

"I don't know what you're thinking about, but for the sake of all that is good and holy, stop shaking," he said, annoyed. "I'm not going to murder you and drain your blood, I just thought you'd prefer less of a fuss upon entering the castle."

He shook his head and took a few steps closer, his hooded face inches from hers. Could he see through the fabric? How was this of any use? Aoife made a slight noise of surprise, beginning to back away before realizing that she might tumble into the water if she moved too far.

"Come now, I won't hurt you." He clearly expected some kind of reaction, but Aoife didn't move. His shoulders slumped and he backed away. "Oh, for the love of—"

And the Grand Enchanter removed his hood.

"Is this better?" he asked, quite clearly of the opinion that it was not.

His skin was not quite white as the moon, though it was ghastly pale. A tumble of messy while hair fell past his shoulders, disappearing under the cloak, a snowy contrast to the blood-red fabric. The hints of a silvery gray Mark she'd seen before were now clearly visible, stretching over his face and down his neck in a pattern reminiscent of not veins or branches, but lightning, continuing across all his minimally visible skin.

His eyes were as colorless as the rest of him— gray and curious and framed by startlingly white lashes. The thought struck her that he seemed surprisingly regal, like the pictures of the ancient Fae, with a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and long, pointed ears.

Now she understood why he wore the hood.

Aoife's gaze lingered on his ears for perhaps a moment too long before she tore it away, bringing her eyes back down to the ground. He might not think it was better, but anyone with a half-concealed face was significantly scarier than eyes she could see. He reached out for her and she automatically stepped back from the touch before his skin could make contact. Brow furrowed slightly, he lowered his hand, bending down slightly to look her in the eye. She felt almost like a child in front of his towering form.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, tilting his head once more in that birdlike way, gray eyes scanning over her face. She shook her head. It wasn't so much that he wasn't something to be feared, but that she wasn't sure she could feel any more fear today.

"But you're afraid," he said decisively. He reached out again, and she automatically flinched. A knowing look passed over his features, but it was gone in a moment.

"Where do you live?"

"I'm the house healer at the Rimsilla estate," she managed, looking away from him.

"The irony..." he muttered, glancing at her hands and then back up to her face, so quickly she thought she might have imagined it. "How did you get there?"

"I... What do you mean?" she asked, suspicious.

"Your accent. You're not from here," he pointed out. "You've been here long enough to take the edge off, but it hasn't been entirely erased."

"So if you can tell that, then where am I from?" she demanded, hands on her hips. If he wanted to act like he knew everything about her, he could prove it.

"Sarilorn, most likely. Though I'm surprised you've kept the accent so much for someone your age, especially if you've been here for a while."

... A lucky guess.

"Someone my age? How old do you think I am?" Aoife asked, bristling slightly.

"Fifteen? Sixteen?" he guessed, giving a small shrug.

"I am twenty-two," she said with a groan. She knew her face was round and that she was short in stature, but really, how young did people think she looked? Perhaps the Grand Enchanter really was as old as everyone said, and everyone under forty looked sixteen to him. Then again, considering how the guards kept calling her "girl," it was probable that she just still looked like a teenager to them.

"Has it been that long already?" he asked absently. Aoife almost asked what on earth he was talking about, but he didn't seem to be speaking to her anymore. There was a long pause, and suddenly he seemed to remember himself, turning back towards her. "Follow me through the maze. You'll stay in the palace tonight. I came here on horseback, but as much as you've been avoiding touching people I doubt you'd be amenable to riding in a saddle with me, so we will leave tomorrow morning by carriage. We can stop to collect your belongings on the way. Any requests?" He pulled his hood back over his head like a shield, turning towards the opening in the hedges that led to the rest of the maze.

She thought for a moment.

"Tell Lizzie I'm alright. She's the cook at the estate, and she'll be worried sick if I don't show up when they all walk home together."

"That's all?"

"Can I request to be let go and return to the estate?"

"No," he said, almost sadly.

"Can I request I'm no longer Touched?" she asked softly. A soft noise that sounded something like a snort came from under the hood.

"I'm afraid not."

Aoife sighed. "Then that's all."

She followed him silently down the twists and turns of the maze, leaving a trail of dead grass footprints in their wake after the stone ground of the little alcove ended.

"Does that happen often?" he asked suddenly, turning down yet another identical-looking hedge path. Aoife looked behind her, noticing the obvious trail of footsteps she left behind. "The nose bleeding and the grass decaying?"

"Yes. The grass more often than the... other things," she finished hesitantly.

The Grand Enchanter made a soft humming noise, but didn't ask any further questions. He continued walking through the maze in silence, Aoife training behind and wincing every time her steps made an unnatural crunching sound on the fresh spring grass. She held her arms close to her side to avoid brushing against the bushes, wishing that she could just disappear into the ground.

It was too late for that, though. In one fell swoop, the peace that she'd worked so hard to build for the last year was irreparably shattered. After that spectacle in town, it would be nigh on impossible to go back to her life at the estate, and it didn't appear that the Grand Enchanter had any plans to let her go. They were likely keeping her at the palace so that she wouldn't run away— that much wasn't hard to figure out. She still couldn't think of a reason that the her would want her, though.

A slow, sinking cold settled deep into Aoife's bones as she walked, mechanically following after the Grand Enchanter as her thoughts became a muddy fog. There wasn't anything she could do about it now but go along with things. If the worst really happened... but she brushed that thought from her mind before she had time to finish it. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Strange, she thought as she wiped her hand across her eyes, scrubbing the tears away before they fell.

Her life was in ruins because of a few rose bushes.