I haven't updated in a while, so I'm sorry for the wait.

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They all stopped at the door in a uniform group.

Rebecca was the one to knock on the wooden door—but her hand shook even as she did. Claustrophobia wasn't something she felt often, but with five Fae surrounding her, she did. All of this, once again, was crazy. But it had become her life. Like she'd heard before—she'd have to build a bridge and get over it. Accept her fate. Which she'd done. It didn't make this easier to comprehend.

Next to her, the woman continued to cry, whispering words so reverent it had to physically hurt. Who they were aimed at, Rebecca didn't know, but she had a sneaking suspicion it was her. Either that, or she was swearing at the Fae holding her. The latter didn't seem likely at all.

Inside the house, Rebecca could hear a commotion; the sound of scuffling feet and orders being shouted out. But no one was coming to the door.

Shifting nervously, she knocked on the wood again, catching the glimpse of an arm reaching out next to her. Like they thought she was going to topple over any second now. If Rebecca got the choice, it wasn't happening.

More sounds.

Again, no one came to the door.

"Do I knock again or...?" She didn't finish the sentence, unable to form the word. She didn't even know what she was asking. Or why.

She felt them all look at her. Then, one of them barked something in Faelk. The words sounded clipped; an unrefusable offer or more of a threat.

Rebecca only wished she was aware of what was being said—

"He's announcing your presence, Your Grace. If they refuse to open the door now, they'll face the consequences." The words were spoken by the Fae who spoke English fluently.

Rebecca didn't know what consequences meant, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know. "Oh," she said, at a loss.

There was more chaos inside the house.

This was making her nervous, despite the ridiculousness of the reaction. She was surrounded by those who'd jumped to defend her—and already had proven it. She was fine.

Rebecca jumped as the door opened, so suddenly it practically fell off its hinges. In the doorway, a woman stood. Her dark hair was in a tangled mess, her face blotchy as if she'd been crying. She pale so pale Rebecca feared she'd faint any second.

Instinctively, Rebecca stepped forward—

Only for the woman to step back, practically falling over her own feet. She stared at Rebecca with wide eyes, as if she was a ghost.

"Uh, hey..." She broke off, cringing. Slowly, she turned to the elderly woman, visible only if you stood outside where Rebecca was. "Uh..."

"Let me deal with this." The words were a quiet whisper from next to her.

Wordlessly, Rebecca stepped back, letting someone else take the lead of the situation. In the time it had taken for her to stutter like an idiot, it was all dealt with. The elderly woman was placed in the arms of what could only be her daughter. Tears were shed. Words were whispered.

Rebecca felt as if she was intruding on a personal moment. Cautiously, she took a step back, ready to turn. She had places to be, even if being surrounded by others was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I can't ever repay you..."

Slowly, she stopped. Around her, her guards stood straighter, as if they were ready to jump in at any moment. Which they would.

The woman was staring at her, eyes red-rimmed. "I don't know..." Her voice cracked. That said, it still had a mystical lilt to it. "My son... you saved his life... I don't..."

Rebecca knew she should turn around. But her feet wouldn't move.

"Please... eat with us... let me repay you somehow..."

Rebecca was in a stupor, unsure of how to react. The woman sounded so earnest and desperate. "Uh..."

"Please." The word was a broken plea.

Was there protocol she was supposed to follow here? A queen didn't go into strangers houses—it made sense. It was the general rule for everyone.

Rebecca looked around her, hoping they'd offer her help. But they were only looking at her with open curiosity, none of them moving. They were clearly going to follow whatever she did.

"You saved his life..."

Rebecca shut her eyes. Then she sighed.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll come in."

*

Rebecca didn't have any time to look around. Instead, she was ushered straight down a centre corridor and into a wooden kitchen.

Rebecca hovered awkwardly by a dark wooden table, looking around. There was no one in the small space besides both woman who'd led her in—and of course the Fae Rebecca was now currently surrounded by.

"Sit, Regina, please." The barely audible words came from behind her. "Let me serve you."

Rebecca hastily grabbed a seat at the six-seater chair. It scraped along the tiles, so loudly she winced. In the tense silence, all she heard was breathing. No one spoke.

Finally, after the silence seemed to stretch on for hours, she forced herself to speak. "Is he okay?" She was proud of the fact that her voice didn't crack, but it was still weak.

Silence.

Then, it was broken by someone clearing their throat. "Regina, you saved him."

Slowly, Rebecca looked behind her. The elderly woman was standing off to the side, balancing on a walking stick. "So he's okay?"

"Yes."

Somehow, Rebecca knew there was more to the story than a simple yes. But before she could respond, there was suddenly a plate in front of her. On it was an array of food—something akin to an omelette, only dark green and an egg.

"If it's not to your liking, I can get you something else, Regina."

Rebecca shook her head rapidly. "Its fine." Habitually, she grabbed the fork on the table, prodding at the egg. She was too nervous to be truly hungry. "Sit. Someone. Please. You're making me uncomfortable."

No one moved.

Rebecca didn't fill the silence, only moving the food around on the plate.

"It is improper to show that disrespect, Regina." It was the elderly woman who spoke, her voice quiet.

Rebecca could only blink. Apparently sitting in the presence of her—a Queen to them—was taboo. She was clearly eating alone then.

The silence became awkward.

"You're feeding me. The least you can do is sit."

For a suspended second, there was no movement. Then she heard a cane tap along the ground as the elderly woman hobbled closer to her. She moved around to the other side of the table, sitting quickly.

The atmosphere changed from awkward to tense. Rebecca looked behind her. Her guards had moved—now they were standing close to the adjacent wall at attention. And they weren't looking at her; instead scanning around the room like hawks.

She turned away, facing the elderly woman once more. "Thank you for this." It seemed the polite thing to say, even if she wasn't going to eat it. That said, she pushed the food around to mimic that she was going to.

"My grandson is alive because of you, Regina." The words came out as choked and rough.

Then why'd you let him participate in the fight, knowing he could've been hurt? It was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't say it aloud. The ceremony was sacrificial to them. Rebecca found it barbaric to even consider participating in. They saw it as an honour to even be allowed the chancer to fight—in the words of Ferro.

Rebecca shrugged, just staring at the woman—who refused to make direct eye contact. "I just reacted... I don't even know what I did..."

Though no one said it, she knew that none of them believed her. As far as they knew, she'd been Fae her whole life. They didn't know that, until Mikael had come into her life, she'd thought she was human. How long had it been? Six months? More? Less? She didn't know.

"I can never repay you. Any attempt is going to be beneath your stature. I am underserving even be in your presence, Regina."

Beneath your stature. Like everyone else was below her. Though it was technically true now, the idea of it still made Rebecca's skin crawl. "Uh, yeah. But this is already enough."

The woman just shook her head rapidly. "I have coin. It's not much, but it is now yours. My daughter has more. You can take all of it—"

"I'm not taking your money." The words came out harsher than intended, and Rebecca winced when the woman flinched.

"Name your price. Anything you wish for—"

"Stop."

The woman did. But she seemed shaky and terrified.

Rebecca sighed. "I'm serious—you owe me nothing. It was my fault he ended up in danger anyway."

Vehemently, she woman shook her head. As she laid her hands on the table, Rebecca saw they were shaking like the leaves that were blowing outside.

She felt helpless right now. She truly did. "You do not need to fear me."

Abruptly, the elderly woman stood. "I shall bring you other food, Regina. It is clearly not to your liking."

Hurriedly, Rebecca cut some egg and placed it in her mouth. Then she chewed—the movement mechanic. Her stomach recoiled as she swallowed, despite the fact that she tasted nothing. "It's fine. Get some for yourself."

The woman was frozen by the table. It was as if she'd been turned to stone.

Before Rebec could dwell on it, there was a commotion from behind her. She turned, but it didn't give her a clue as to what was going on. All she could see was a white wall, a near-empty bookshelf stacked against it.

But she could hear yelling. Only, unluckily for her, it was in Faelk, so she didn't know what was being said. The argument sounded heated though.

One of the voices was distinctly familiar though.

She'd heard it screaming the day before.

It was the same person she'd watched bleed out—before she'd somehow helped him.

How she knew, she wasn't sure. But she just did.

So, with that in mind, she sprang out of her seat, following the sound of the voices. She followed the hallway, almost blinded by the fact that everything was white. There were a few doors, but only one of them was open—the one at the ended. Rebecca rushed in that direction.

Behind her, she could hear footsteps and panicked whispers. She paid them no attention.

This was bordering on intruding but it was the furthest thing from Rebecca's mind. As she stopped in the doorway, her heart was racing and her palms were clammy. She had to find out if he was okay. Words meant nothing—until she saw it with her own eyes there'd remain niggling doubt in the back of her mind.

At first glance, she couldn't make out much. Only voices carried.

She stepped further into the room. It was clearly a lounge room, though the space was still small. A long sofa bed was positioned in front of the wall. The rest of the room was bare.

Except for the body lying on top of it. The first thing she saw was blond hair. That told her it was who she'd been expecting—hoping for. He was sitting upright, a bandage covering his neck and shoulder. Rebecca couldn't help but stare at his muscled chest, before she forcefully tore her eyes away, hoping she wasn't blushing.

The only thing that kept her from rushing forward was the site of the Fae pacing the room, muttering to herself. It was the other woman—his mother. Between the two of them, the conversation was heated.

Rebecca cleared her throat.

Both of them looked over her. Conversation stopped. A penny dropped would have made no sound in the tense silence.

Then, before Rebecca could speak, the woman dropped to her knees. The boy moved as if to echo the reaction, but Rebecca intervened. His face was bruised, his eyes swollen shut—so he was in no shape to kneel. There was also the fact that it made her uncomfortable.

"Don't," she said, voice stronger than she could've hoped for. "You're hurt." And alive.

He stared at her. Rebecca was momentarily rendered speechless by his eyes—an unhuman shade of purple. "Your Grace," he murmured. Then he went to move again.

"Don't," she repeated, stepping forward. It took her no time to reach where he was sitting, and before she knew what she was doing, her hand was resting on his bare shoulder so he wouldn't move.

His eyes went to where her hand was making contact with bare skin, then back up to her face. He didn't say a word.

For some reason, Rebecca didn't move away. "Don't, uh, kneel," she said. "Not when you're injured."

"Nothing I haven't dealt with before," he muttered.

Rebecca was so shocked that he spoke English—fluently—that she didn't respond.

He seemed to become nervous at the silence. When he spoke, he'd switched back to Faelk. She didn't understand the words, but there was fear in his voice.

Great, she thought. Then she attempted to reconcile the situation. "I don't speak Faelk," she muttered, face aflame.

He stared at her. All he said was, "Your Grace," as if it was a question.

Rebecca became acutely aware of the others in the room. She didn't need look behind her to know her guards had rushed into the room. She didn't pay them any attention. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He looked visibly shocked at the question. "I don't understand, Your Grace."

"You were..." She searched for the most eloquent word, but all she came up with was: "Hurt."

"I was stabbed," he corrected, voice surprisingly even.

Rebecca winced. Because of her, he'd been stabbed. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He frowned. "You're sorry?"

"You were in that situation because of me."

"And you saved my life."

Rebecca stepped back, blushing. How long had she been touching him? Too long. "I, uh... I guess I did."

As he looked at her, Rebecca was able to study him. He looked stronger in person than she'd guessed while watching him fight. But he was badly bruised—his face the worst. On his chest they were apparent to. She didn't want to know what his neck looked life.

Thinking about it made her feel queasy.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again.

He blinked. "You have no reason to be, Your Grace," he said.

Considering the others in the room, it was for her benefit. As they stood awkwardly, she realised she hadn't thought this through. She'd wanted to see if he was okay. She hadn't planned far enough for an actual conversation.

She rubbed her clammy plan on her jeans. "So... what now?"

He seemed surprised she'd even ask the question. Nonetheless, he didn't hesitate to answer. "When I'm able I'll begin training."

"For what?"

"To protect you."

Rebecca shifted from foot-to-foot. She'd been too preoccupied to realise that since the act had been so barbaric, disqualification had come into play. Which meant the Fae in front of her was now sworn to protect her too.

"You shouldn't do that," she said. "You've already been injured because of me." She couldn't take the guilt if the hypothetical happened.

He only stared at her.

Rebecca couldn't look away from his eyes. They were fascinating. Hypnotic. "What's your name?" she finally whispered as silence stretched between them.

"Aleric."

Rebecca wanted to sit next to him, but she knew that would be too uncomfortable. So she stayed standing, despite the fact that her feet were starting to go numb. "Aleric. Everyone has fancy names and I'm just Rebecca," she mumbled under her breath. "How boring."

Apparently, the words weren't as quiet as she'd intended.

"Fancy, Your Grace?"

"Forget you heard that," she said.

While his previous expression had been stoic and grave, he now grinned. "Of course."

She didn't get what was funny, but she tried to smile back nonetheless. "Awesome."

He stared at her. Then his eyes flickered around the room and his grin fell.

Rebecca shifted. "Are you sure you're okay? You're not going to fall when I leave?"

He shook his head. "You will not need to provide such dire help again, Your Grace." The words were spoken like a vow.

She hoped not. "How old are you?" she whispered. He acted as though he was elderly and wise, despite how young he looked.

"Twenty, Your Grace."

She would not have guessed that. "You act much older."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Your Grace."

"It was one."

Rebecca watched as he looked down. She followed his gaze, thankful he was wearing pants. "Thank you," he said, with such severity she couldn't meet his eyes for a bit.

A throat cleared from behind her. Rebecca looked behind her to see her guards getting restless. Clearly they wanted to go.

She sighed, figuring that she'd been here a while. "I need to go," she said. "I guess I'll see you around." He was now one of the Fae that followed her around, so it was a guarantee.

He didn't say a word as she left.