There was a soft knock on the door to the infirmary, where Zia was still lying in her bed, slowly but surely regaining her strength. She had been awake for five hours now, and within that time Link had explained to her about her leg and the risk that it could become unusable. Zia tried not to feel a sense of dread when he talked about it, but it was difficult.

Link's head shot up from a book he was reading at the sound at the door and called in his high voice, "Enter!"

The door swung open and a tall, elegant woman stood in the doorway. Her long brown hair was draped gracefully over one shoulder, and her royal purple gown gave her a look of both beauty and authority.

"Your Highness," Link said, his squeaky voice higher than normal. "What brings you here? Ah, I mean, to what do we owe the pleasure? Of course being in Your Highness's presence is always a great honor, of course, but I can't help wondering-"

"Link," said the Queen. Zia heard the smile in her voice as she continued, "I hope I'm not intruding."

"Intruding?" Link repeated in the same high voice. "Never, Your Excellency. I am wondering, however- that is, when I say 'I' I really meant to say Miss Zia and I, I'm sure- what brings you into this part of the castle? Not that I don't like this part of the castle," he added quickly. "No, I love it here. Beautiful view of the servants whisking about and-"

"Link," Queen Fraya said, her eyes twinkling with laughter. "I was wondering if I could speak with your patient for a moment? That is, if she's feeling up to it." Fraya's eyes wandered the room until they fell upon Zia, and did Zia imagine it, or was there a flash of... something in the Queen's eyes? What was that? Fear? Shock? Surprise? Zia shoved the thought from her mind. Her fever hadn't broken yet. She must be imagining things.

"Of course," Link squeaked. "Of course. Let me pull you up a chair!"

"Actually," she said, not looking at Link, but at Zia, "I was hoping to speak with her in private."

"As you wish, Your Majesty!" Link said. He showed the Queen into the room and told her, "If there are any problems while I am out, please do let me know, Your Grace," as he made his way towards the exit.

"Of course," the Queen said, and Link bowed deeply, his nose nearly touching the floor, as he shut the door.

Zia's throat went dry. The Queen made her way over to Zia's bedside and just gazed at her for a moment. Zia took this as an opportunity to do the same. The Queen had hardly changed since that day long ago when Zia first met her at Daxtor's trial. Her brown hair was streaked with silver and the wrinkles around her eyes were more prominent. But the most unchanged thing about the Lady Fraya was her eyes. They were still the same blue-green color they had been when Zia first saw her.

Zia remembered the feeling of familiarity that she had felt when she first met The Queen, and she felt that same pulling sensation now. She couldn't explain it any more than she could explain why the sky was blue, but it was just as much of a reality.

They sat in silence for a long time before the Queen said quietly, "You look so much like her."

Zia felt confused, but did not speak. She just stared at Fraya, wondering why she was here.

"When I first saw you I thought they were hazel," the Queen continued. "That's why I didn't suspect anything, but now... But now I see that they truly are gold. You do look so much like her. Every bit the beauty that she was. And the last time I saw her..." The Queen's voice faded away and a misty look come over her face, as if she were looking far into the past.

My eyes, Zia realized. Lady Fraya is talking about my eyes. And, apparently, someone I remind her of.

Finally, Zia spoke. "I don't mean to be rude, M'Lady, but what are you talking about?"

The Queen's face cleared of that misty look and her eyes fell. "I suppose that is the great mystery of all this, isn't it?" She tried for a smile but it was short lived. "Well, I guess there's no better way to start than at the beginning."

Zia wanted to ask, "The beginning of what?" but she had a feeling she would find out shortly.

"What do you know of the royal family, Zia?" the Queen asked.

Odd question, Zia thought. But she answered, "I know that they're all descended from the first King of Otar, King Dirk."

The Queen nodded thoughtfully. "That's mostly true. And what do you know of the legend of the Golden-Eyed One?"

"Not much," Zia said honestly. "I only learned of the myth on my journey through the Westfell Pass."

"This does not surprise me. Like all legends, the details are often forgotten or changed according to the pleasure of the storytellers over the course of time. But please, little though it may be, tell me all you know of the tale."

Thinking this was a very odd conversation, Zia said, "I know that the Golden-Eyed One was allegedly a gift from the Silver Dragon to the people of ancient Otar to use as a way to call on him should the kingdom ever face war again."

Fraya nodded thoughtfully. "That's mostly true. Though the Golden-Eyed One was said to have other powers than just calling on the Peace Maker."

"I'm sorry, My Lady," Zia interrupted, getting frustrated with all the mystery, "but does this have a point?"

"Everything has a point, my dear," she said. "Even perfectly round circles are made up of thousands of tiny little points. But, of course, you want answers, not my odd sayings." She gave Zia a small smile. "Back on track, then. Tell me, Zia, do you know what happened to the Golden-Eyed One?"

Zia tried to shrug, but it was hard to do while lying down. "Not really. If I had to guess I'd say she grew up, got married, had a child, and that child carried on the gift that she had."

"That's also true," said the Queen. "But I bet you did not know that King Dirk made her a noblewoman."

Zia shook her head. She remembered what Elaina had told her when she had told Zia that legend of the Golden-Eyed One: My ancestors were determined to steal the child and convince her to call upon the Silver Dragon to give them the victory in a new war. However, Dirk the Delusional got wind of their plans, and sent the baby to live with a poor farmer and his wife. Hard as the early Skilaens searched, they did not find the child. At least, that's what legend says. My father says it would be just like an Otarian to fake something like that. Now that Zia knew who Elaina's father was, she could clearly picture him saying something like that. Zia almost wished Daxtor were here to hear what the Queen was saying. Daxtor had made it clear he thought all Otarians were simple-minded and stupid. How Zia wished she could see the look of rage on his face when he found out that the first Otarian King had not, in fact, hidden the Golden-Eyed One, but had made her nobility!

"Skilaens have done a better job of keeping the story of our kingdom's formation alive through the ages than we Otarians have," the Lady Fray said sadly. "They were furious that the wars that had plagued our land at the time were brought to a sudden halt, and they passed the story on to their children and their children's children and so on, fueling them with an ever-growing hatred toward us. However, one of the few things that they've lost from the story as well is that the original Golden-Eyed One was made nobility.  And, as you said, my dear, she grew up to have a family, and the gift that she had was carried throughout the generations.

"For years the family of the Golden-Eyed One, or the Gylden House, was revered and respected. But soon the tale of the family's origin faded into legend, and the people of Otar began to think nothing of their heritage. But heritage is a great part of us, Zia," the Queen told her sincerely. "It's where we came from, and, sooner than we might think, what we become to future generations."

"This is all very fascinating, Your Highness," Zia said, "but what does this have to do with me?"

"Oh, my dear, don't you see?" the Queen said, an intense look in her eye. "This has everything to do with you, for you truly are the Golden-Eyed One."

"But it's just a story," Zia insisted. "A crazy coincidence. I'll bet any number of people have slightly yellow eyes. You yourself said that you thought my eyes were hazel when we first met. I don't have any gifts or abilities that can summon dragons! The dragons have nearly killed one another to extinction, so who's to say that the Silver Dragon is still alive anyway?"

Lady Fraya shook her head sadly. "It is not a story, Zia. This is your family history- my family history."

Zia stared at the Queen in shock. "Your family history?"

She nodded. "Before I was married to Donathan and became Queen Fraya of Otar, I was Lady Fraya of House Gylden."

Zia felt confused. This was so much information all at once. But she managed to gather her thoughts enough to say, "Then you should be the Golden-Eyed One."

The Queen shook her head. "Not everyone of the Gylden House are born with eyes of gold. The gift passes on to one child and one child only- only one can have the gift. Hence the name 'Golden-Eyed One'."

"But what about the previous Golden-Eyed Ones? They obviously didn't all die as soon as another child with yellow eyes was born," Zia pointed out.

"No, they did not," Fraya agree. "But as the child of the Golden-Eyed One was born, the gold would drain out of the eyes of the yellow-eyed parent, transferring the gift to their child. The same thing happened to my mother when she gave birth to my sister. Each day during her pregnancy the color drained from her eyes. By the time my little sister had finally arrived, my mother's eyes were left gray."

"You weren't born with the gift?" Zia cut in. "But you were older."

"The gift of the Golden-Eyed one does not choose who it goes to by seniority," the Queen said. "My mother was the youngest of six, but she was the one who ended up with the gift. And my grandfather before her was the middle child of three boys."

"So if your sister had the gift, how did I end up with it? If," she added quickly, "all of this is really true- which I'm not saying it is."

The Queen sighed. "Oh, Zia don't you see? Your mother was my sister, the Lady Felicity of Gylden House."

Zia snorted. "Right."

But when the Queen did not smile, Zia's grin disappeared.

Zia felt like she had been slapped in the face and the world had stopped spinning for a moment, then resumed at double its usual pace. Her brain was going hundreds of miles an hour, trying to keep up and decipher everything Lady Fraya was saying. Everything the Queen had said up to this point had sounded crazy and far fetched (though, she had to admit, some of it did make sense), but this took the cake.

"But then that would make you my... my..." She couldn't say it- it just sounded too bizarre.

"Your aunt," she finished. "And you, my niece, Lady Zia of Gylden House."

"Lady...? But I'm not... How... how is that possible?" she said quietly. "Daxtor said he stole me from a young couple in a small village. How could I possibly be... How could I be of a noble family? It doesn't make any sense... And what about my mother and father? What happened to them?"

The Queen's face fell and she looked twelve years older, as if she held the weight of the world on her shoulders. "The Gylden family isn't the only noble one," she said darkly. "Shortly after I had been married to Donathan, Felicity caught the eye of a young lord of the House Mona by the name of Ronon, and he asked for her hand. Felicity refused him."

"Why?" Zia asked.

"She had fallen in love with a stable boy," Fraya said. Her voice wasn't angry or bitter, but sad. Her eyes were misty again, gazing afar off, as though she were seeing a different place in a different time. "He was gentle, kind, and he loved her deeply. He asked her to marry him, and he could hardly get the words out before she accepted. I remember she came to me with such a light in her eyes as I had never seen before. But when my mother found out about Felicity's engagement..." The Queen shuddered. "I had never seen her so..."

"Angry?" Zia guessed.

But, to Zia's surprise, the Queen- her aunt, if all she was hearing was true- shook her head. "She was very understanding, but she seemed... scared. She knew of our heritage, of course- the Gylden family has never truly forgotten-, and she knew that King Dirk had made the original Golden-Eyed One nobility so that he could keep her close and safe. As the new Golden-Eyed One, Felicity was a great asset to the kingdom. Donathan was only Prince at this time, and his father, King Egon, was firm in his belief that the Golden-Eyed One should remain as close to the throne as possible. So our mother insisted that Felicity cancel her marriage to the stable boy and reconsider Lord Ronon's offer."

"So what did she do?" This was the most she had ever heard about her mother- her real mother- and now that Zia had a name and knew where she came from, she wanted to know all about Felicity.

"She was heartbroken, of course, and felt very conflicted, as you can imagine," said Fraya. "She locked herself in her chambers for nearly a week and cried herself to sleep every night."

The Queen paused, as if not sure she should continue. But Zia was desperate for more. She felt as though she were meeting her mother for the first time, making up for eighteen years of lost time. "But...?" she urged Fraya.

Her Majesty sighed. "But I couldn't stand to see my sister suffer so much. So I helped her escape."

Zia's eyes widened, impressed. She thought the Queen was one to not only abide by the rules, but to live and breath them. She never would have thought Fraya would do something so outlandish to the noble circle- a circle that she, Zia, was now part of (speaking of outlandish). She still wasn't sure how she felt about that, but she pushed the feelings aside and gave her full attention to the Queen's story- her leg, aching head, and everything else forgotten.

"I helped my sister- your mother- sneak out of the castle and to the stables, where the stable boy was waiting with a horse, and they rode off into the night."

"You helped her and the stable boy elope?" Zia sounded impressed.

Her aunt nodded. "I met with her in secret a few times after that. I didn't tell anyone where they had gone, not even my mother. She somehow knew I had helped Felicity escape, and she pressed me for answers, but all I told her was that my sister was safe, and that she was happy."

"What did your mother say?" Zia asked, realizing that, if what she was saying was true, Fraya's mother was her, Zia's, grandmother. She had never imaged having a grandmother before.

The Queen smiled slightly. "I remember it so clearly. She smiled slightly and said, 'Good, that's all I've ever wanted for her- that's all I've ever wanted for both of you.' I think she knew Felicity had eloped with her stable boy. Call it a mother's instinct."

"Where did they go when they eloped?" wondered Zia. "Did they go to a village far away in the north where no one would know them or something like that?"

Fraya shook her head. "That's exactly what they would have expected her to do. Instead, they stayed right here in the capital. They lived in the nearest village in a small house by the creek. I visited them there a few times under the cover of darkness. They were happy." The Queen smiled sadly, but then her smile faded. "But their happiness did not last long."

"What do you mean?" Zia asked, feeling a sudden sinking feeling.

"Felicity got sick," she said solemnly. "Very sick. She was so weak she could hardly get out of bed without collapsing, and she was pale as death. Both her husband and I worried she wouldn't make it long enough to..."

"Long enough to what?" Zia pressed.

The Queen gave Zia a meaningful look, and Zia felt something in her blood chill as what Fraya meant dawned on her. "Me," she whispered. "She was expecting me, wasn't she?"

Fraya nodded sadly. "Unfortunately, such complications are not uncommon during pregnancies, but, oh, how we worried about you both. And not only just for your life and that of your mother, but also for the fate of the kingdom."

"What do you mean?"

"If Felicity were to die before she could pass on the gift of the Golden-Eyed One-"

"The gift would die with her," Zia finished.

The Queen nodded gravely. "The last time I saw her she came to visit me in the castle, the stubborn girl! She was supposed to stay in bed, but she said it was urgent that she speak with me. She confided in me about her fear of giving birth, her fear of not being able to provide the needs of a newborn."

"What did you tell her?" Zia asked.

The Queen's face went pale at the memory. It was a long time before she spoke. "What could I tell her?" she whispered at last. "She was so sick I wasn't sure she'd have the strength to deliver her baby. I said to her that her small concerns were not worth risking her life to bring to me. But she was stubborn as a mule, and when I told her, she said to me..." Her Majesty's voice drifted off again.

"What did she say?" Zia asked quietly, not sure if she wanted the answer.

"She said that she had come to me for comfort and advice, and all I gave her was more worry and grief. She said I wasn't worried about the survival of her or her child, but that of the gift that she had been given. Then she stormed out of the castle before I could say another word. That was the last time I saw her. It was shortly before you were born."

"How would you know that?"

"Because," she said simply, "Felicity's eyes where all but drained of the brilliant gold they had once held, replaced by a pale blue.

"Did she die?" Zia couldn't help but ask.

Fraya's eyes were downcast. "I don't know. I never saw her or her husband after that. Obviously, this Daxtor character stole you from your parents after you were born, and you grew up, never knowing your real mother or father."

Zia mulled over her words, trying to find something wrong with the Queen's story, something to prove she wasn't the person Fraya thought she was. Finally she found something.

"But how do you know if I am your sister's child?"

"Well, your eyes, for one thing," she said. "That one's a dead give-away. Your heart and courage for another. Your strength and stubbornness too." Her gaze softened and something that looked like pride filled her eyes. "It was very noble of you to risk your life to come here, Zia. Felicity would be proud of you, just as I am. And I'm sure your father would be too."

"My father," Zia said slowly. She had never actually thought much about her real father. Arch had taken up the role of father in her life. But still, she guessed she couldn't help but wonder from time to time who he really was. "What was he like?"

Fraya smiled at the memory. "He was very kind. He didn't have much, but he would go out of his way to help anyone in need. He would give up his meals to those who needed them more, and he would take on extra work loads so those with aching backs could rest. He gave everything he had to others. And he loved your mother dearly. He was always smiling, but I swear his whole face shone like the noonday sun when he saw her. He would have sacrificed his own life if she asked him to, but she would never ask that of him."

Zia's father sounded amazing- nothing like Daxtor and a little bit like Arch. "What was his name?" she asked.

"William. William Borton."

Zia felt as though the Queen had just slapped her with a live fish. Her head spun (though whether from her headache or the name she wasn't sure) and her stomach dropped to her toes. Her mouth went dry and her voice seemed to shut down for a moment. She thought perhaps she had misheard Fraya, but the name rang and echoed in her ears. William Borton. Her father.

It all made so much sense now. How he knew her name, why he helped Zia and her friends escape, why he recognized her. At first, Zia felt relieved to know that her birth father wasn't a drunk like Daxtor, but then she felt angry. He knew! He knew the whole time she was kept prisoner and he didn't say a word!

"Are you alright?" the Queen asked, a look of concern on her face.

Zia threw her anger to the side of her mind, promising herself she would sort through her feelings later. "Fine. It's just... odd. I've never had so much information about my parents so willingly given to me before."

Fraya gave a halfhearted chuckle. "I suppose it is a bit strange. But, unfortunately, what I've told you thus far is not the strangest thing I have to tell."

Zia's curiosity was piqued. "Then what is?"

The Queen looked down at the ground, avoiding Zia's gaze. Then she cleared her throat daintily before she began. "Well, as you know, Donathan and I are not getting any younger, and I'm afraid that we've never been able to have children of our own..." Fraya's voice began to drift, but she quickly cleared her throat again and said, "The King and I won't stay young forever, and you're the closest family either of us have, so that makes you..."

What the Queen was trying to say poured over Zia like a rushing waterfall, with just as much force and impact. She seemed to forget how to breath, blink, or any of the natural reflexes that should have happened on their own. It was as if her brain had suddenly up and died.

"M-me?" Zia choked out, once she finally regained use of her lungs. Thoughts were rushing through Zia's head faster than a galloping horse, which did nothing to help her headache. "You want me to... to..." She couldn't say it.

"To be our heir, yes," Fraya finished. She looked at Zia, took a deep breath, and took Zia's dry, cracked hand in her soft, smooth ones. "I know it's a lot to ask of someone so young and inexperienced as you, Zia," she said. "But the truth of the matter is, you're the best fit."

"B-b-but what about the other noble families? Surely they have more claim to the throne than I do?" Zia said, looking for any way out of this. Lead a country? How could she lead a country? She didn't know anything about... well, anything! Except for fighting, of course, but if her leg didn't heal properly, she wouldn't even be able to do that.

To her dismay, Fraya shook her head. "All the noble families are very distantly tied to the throne. You have the most valid and powerful claim."

"There must be someone," Zia pleaded. "Someone older and wiser with more experience?"

"Lord Karo and Lady Icca's daughter Cerise is only fifteen," the Queen said. "She has the closest claim, after you... should you choose to accept it."

"What do you mean?"

"You do not have to take the throne, Zia," she said. "You do not have to claim your title as Lady of Gylden House, or as our heir."

A weight seemed to lift off Zia's shoulders. "I don't?"

"Of course not, my dear. But," the Queen said seriously, "I would urge you to consider it."

"Why?"

"Because you understand the people," she said simply. "You've lived among them your entire life. You know what they face and what their troubles are, and the mark of a good leader is knowing what challenges one's people face and how to resolve them. And I believe you can do just that."

"But I don't know anything about running a country!" Zia protested. "Anyone, even the fifteen-year-old, would be better than me."

The Queen surveyed Zia's face for awhile with a kind yet piercing gaze that seemed to seep right into Zia's soul. Finally she said, "You do not have to claim your birthright, Zia. I'll understand if you don't. But please do consider it further before you make your final decision. After all, my husband and I are not on Death's door, and will not be for sometime. But the future- especially in the uncertain time we live in- is, at best, unpredictable. Promise me you'll think about it?"

Zia didn't know what else there was to think about to know that she wasn't right for the throne, but she nodded anyway.

The Queen smiled in satisfaction. Then she rose from her seat and said, "I have disturbed you long enough. I'll leave you to rest." She turned and made her way to the door.

Before Fraya opened the door Zia, still in a daze from the overload of surprises, called, "Your Highness?"

The Queen paused and turned toward her niece. Zia really did look so much like her mother...

"Yes?" Fraya asked, coming out of her thoughts.

"Who all else knows about... well, everything you just told me?"

The Queen smiled gently. "So far, you, myself, my husband, and Arch. Should that list expand is up to you." She gave Zia and meaningful look and left her alone with her swirling thoughts.

An hour later Zia's thoughts were still swimming, but her mind couldn't seem to pick a topic to focus on. Her scattered thoughts jumped from her father to her mother to the Queen and her request that Zia think about what she had said, which wasn't hard considering that shocking conversation kept replaying in her mind over and over and over again.

Zia thought about Borton. Where was he now? Had he been caught for helping Zia and her friends escape? How did he end up in Skilae? How did he end up joining the army? Would he really fight against his own people?

She thought of Felicity. Had she died in childbirth? Or had she died in the fire Daxtor had set when he had kidnapped Zia? Was Borton there when she died? What was she like? Would she proud of Zia? Or would she be ashamed to have birthed such a strong-willed child?

"Are you alright?" Heath asked.

Zia was pulled from her troubling thoughts. She shook her mind clear and turned her attention to Heath, who was looking at her with concern.

"Hmm? What did you say?" she asked.

"I said are you alright?" he repeated.

"I'm fine," she said a little too quickly. "Just... I've got a lot on my mind."

"Would it have something to do with the Queen coming to speak with you?" he asked casually.

Zia did a double-take. "How did you know about that?"

Heath smiled at her reaction. "I saw the Queen coming out of this room."

"I guess that would give it away, huh?" Zia said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

They fell silent and she could sense Heath's questioning gaze prodding her for answers.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" Heath asked finally.

"Talk about what?" Zia said innocently.

"Whatever it is Queen Fraya told you that's got you all riled up," he laughed. Then his smile disappeared and he became serious. "I understand if you're not ready to share, Zia, but I hope you trust me enough to tell me."

"I do trust you," she assured him. "It's just... It was all just so unexpected and befuddling. I'm still trying to work it all out myself."

"Alright," Heath said quietly, and Zia hoped she just imagined the slight undertones of sadness. "But I hope you trust me enough to tell me when you're ready."

Zia nodded, thankful that he understood. Then, looking for a change of subject, she asked, "What's the status on the Skilaen army?"

Taking the bait, Heath told her, "King Donathan sent out scouts to track their progress, and last I heard they were anywhere from a day to a day and a half away."

Zia's heart sank to her stomach. "And how is getting a retaliating force coming along?" She wasn't sure if she wanted the answer or not. It could either be very good or very bad, and last she had heard, things weren't looking too well in the department of gathering a fighting force.

Heath sighed. "Honestly? It doesn't look good. The King's done his best to gather what troops he can, but the attack on the front lines of the war is so fierce that nearly all of the kingdom's forces are engaged there."

"And there's no way to get more men?" Zia asked, looking for a shred of hope.

Heath shook his head. "None that can fight. A few men from those who have been evacuated have volunteered to fight- most of them actually- but it still won't be enough. The King's scrambled together a force of about a hundred trained men, but it won't be able to drive away their numbers of nearly a thousand. And even if the King could get more men, I don't think we have the proper supplies to sustain them all. They've been sending all possible supplies to the forces that are in the main battle."

"We should head them off," Zia decided. "Meet them away from the capital- away from the citadel and the people in it."

"I'd agree with you," Heath said, "but Arch says we should wait until they get here to attack. They'll be tired from their long journey and they'll be lower on food and supplies for their men. It'll make our chances of defeating them much higher."

Zia had to concede that it was a good idea, but she hated the idea of just sitting around, waiting for an enemy to attack.

To distract herself, Zia asked, "And what's the news on the front lines?"

Heath blanched and cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes. "I think that's enough talk of that. I've kept you awake long enough. I think it's time for you to sleep."

"No one asked what you think, Heath," she said coldly. "But what I did ask you was what the situation is on the front lines?"

Heath refused to meet her gaze. "I don't want to worry you," he said quietly.

"Not knowing what's going on worries me," Zia told him softly. She was worried about Daxtor and what his plans might be for his attack on the capital. She was worried that William Borton- her father- had been discovered for helping them escape. She was worried about General Bloking and his men, and his little nephew, Ulric. She was worried that they might not be able to drive back Daxtor's army. She was worried everyone she cared about might not make it through the oncoming battle. She was so worried about so many things she that felt she might be sick.

Heath sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier than it was before. "I know. I know I should tell you- that you want me to, it's just... it doesn't sound good."

"And that's different from anything else you've told me... how?"

He laughed a laugh without humor. "I guess that's true enough. Alright, here it is: General Bloking and his men have held off the Skilaens for as long as they could, but they are forcing him and his men to retreat. The Skilaens are making there way here."

"When will they get here?"

"If Bloking has to call another retreat...," Heath hesitated, but after a stern look from Zia he continued, "in two days."

Zia's heart sank to her toes. "But that's when Daxtor and his army will get here. We'll be crushed between the two armies!"

Heath nodded solemnly. "We're stuck between a rock and a hard place, and it doesn't look like there's a way out."

"So what can we do?" she asked quietly.

Heath sighed and ran his hands through his hair again. "I don't know." Then a strange look came over his face and he said, "You know what? No. I do know what we're going to do."

"What's that?" Zia asked, hoping he had a fiendishly clever plan that could save them from this horrible situation.

"We're going to do what we always do," he said simply, a crazy grin on his face. "We're going to fight, and we're going to fight for all we're worth, down to the last man!"

It sounded very courageous, and would have been a great pep talk, but Zia ruined it by saying, "That's a nice sentiment, Heath, but sentiment won't win a war."

Heath let out a bark of laughter. "Whoa, hold up!" he said dramatically. "Everyone hold everything. Nobody move!"

"What?" Zia asked, confused.

"Where did all this doom and gloom come from? What happened to, 'there's no such thing as hopelessness'?" Heath did a very bad impersonation of Zia's voice, using a high pitched squeal that Zia thought would make more sense coming out of a squirrel or a bunny.

Zia snorted. "I do not sound like that."

"What, you mean like this?" Heath continued in his rodent voice.

She rolled her eyes. "I was wrong, Heath, there is such a thing as hopelessness."

"Really? And what changed your mind?"

"You," she said, hitting his arm gently. "You're completely hopeless!"

Heath chuckled, but then his smile slowly faded, and the person that Zia saw before her was not her cheerful, goofy, life-long friend, but an exhausted, weary young man. His shoulders visually slumped, the crinkles around his eyes that always appeared when he smiled were nowhere to be found, and he seemed to have aged ten years.

"I felt hopeless when you collapsed from your blood poisoning," he said, his voice just barely above a whisper. "I felt angry too."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Heath," Zia said quickly. "I just-"

"I wasn't angry at you," he said. "Well, maybe I was a little, but I understand why you didn't say anything. I was mostly angry at myself for not doing a better job of protecting you."

Usually Zia would say that she didn't need protecting, but when she looked at Heath he looked so fragile, as if he might break at any moment, that she couldn't bring herself to say it. So instead she said, "It wasn't your fault Heath. For all we know, the dart could have been infected when I was shot with it. There's nothing you could have done."

"But that's just it. There was nothing I could do. When I saw you lying there on the ground... You were so pale and hot... I thought you were going to die. I thought we were already too late." His voice started to crack towards the end. The way he looked at her made Zia shiver. His eyes were nearly brimming with tears, and his face was the saddest one she had ever seen. "But then I knew we had to try to get you here, because I knew that if we didn't try, you were already dead." His voice choked again on the word "dead", and he looked as if he tried to swallow a lump in his throat.

Zia reached for Heath's hand and squeezed it so tight she was worried she might cut off the blood flow to his fingers. "I'm right here," she said gently. "And I'm not going anywhere- I promise. I'll be back on my feet- both of them- in no time."

Heath nodded, looking at the ground, but she could see that his mind was still seeing her on her death bed, pale and ghostly.

"Heath." She waited until he looked at her before she continued. She looked at him sternly, and very gently said, "I'm going to be absolutely fine. I promise. Besides, between you and Link I won't be out of bed for a month!"

She poked him on the shoulder until he smiled, and eventually he laughed, a beautiful, clear sound that made Zia's pulse go a bit faster.

Finally, looking tired and worn, Heath stood and said, "It's late. I should let you rest." He blew out the candle that had lighted the room while they talked, engulfing them in darkness. "Good night, Zia."

"Good night, Heath," Zia said, burrowing down in her bed. Her mind couldn't helping thinking of a different night not long ago, yet that felt like ages had passed since then. A night when Heath had said the same words to her right before she felt his kiss on her cheek. Her fingers gently touched the spot where his lips had touched her, and a slow smile came to her own lips. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a restful, dreamless slumber.