"Now for the child." Tamsin bowed her head and watched as the king took the garnet and placed it in the tiny child's limp body. It fit, but it looked foreign.

A cold stone in a place where a warm fleshy organ should dwell. As if on cue, the veins within the babe wrapped themselves tight, securing the stone in place. Joining together until the jewel was beating as a real heart should. Tamsin's magic worked.

"It is done." Tamsin raised her hands; speaking the words that would bring time back, once more, for the two exposed.

"Stop." Panic flooded through the king's face. "You must take this child, and flee." The king grabbed Tamsin's hands and spoke with authority only a young king could muster at a time like this. "Take her anywhere. I won't murder her, but only because I don't want the queen to die. Murdering you, however, is not out of the realm of possibility, if I ever hear word of her breathing in my country. The queen will never know I carved her child's heart, giving her an expiration date before she had a chance to live."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Tamsin stood over the bodies, with exposed hearts, one warm to the touch, the other icy cold. With fear and great trembling, she spoke the words that would seal the fate of this child, the fate of this queen.

"A heart of stone will die alone, this heart of blood will live in love.

Separated at their core, death brought to life to perish no more.

Seal the bodies, seal the fate, where love once joined, now it must break."

A strong gust of wind broke through the window, breaking the eerie silence covering the room as Tamsin and the king watched in wonder. The flesh wove together once more, closing around the heart and stone. Leaving not a trace of a scar of this night upon the exposed chests of mother and child.

"The child cried, breathing in life, but there you lay, lost to me. I looked at the child and I looked at you. And...." Marcus stopped; he put his hands on Cozette's cheeks, stroking the smoothness, looking deep inside her as he confessed this hidden truth.

She didn't pull away, though her body shook as she listened. She couldn't break from him if she wanted to. She needed this story.

"Remember the love we had in those days?" Marcus asked her softly. "Remember our planning for the future? How recklessly hopeful we were? We wanted everything, we craved whole countries and power and it was all in our reach. I was the man I was because of your belief in me. I couldn't lose you.

"So I chose to lose her. Our daughter. The devins-guerisseur had a dark spell, the one thing that would keep you bound to this world. Your heart was broken, and the only way for you to live was for a new heart to be placed in your chest. I traded the child's heart for a stone. Her heart was placed in your body and you both lived."

He stopped speaking and Cozette drew a deep breath, the pain of the past seventeen years apart from her child clearly written across the tablet of her heart. She was broken now, too.

"Why is she not here? You gave a gift to us both, made the choice that was hard, yes, but gave us both life. Where is our daughter?" she begged, desperate tears falling down her cheeks.

Marcus tried to turn away, but Cozette wouldn't let him, not now. He couldn't retreat within himself. She needed him.

"It wasn't a gift. It was magic. The sort of magic that kept you alive was dark, the blackest kind there is."

"What did you do?" Cozette covered her mouth in fear, stepping back as the blood drained from her face. The magic must have been very dark indeed to keep the secret of his child away from her this long.

"Her heart is made of stone, and she cannot love, accept it, or return it. The stone heart will expire on her eighteenth birthday."

She gasped, the shock of her babe alive was too much to absorb. The tears fell as she remembered the weeks, months, and years of crying alone in the child's empty nursery. Her womb longing for the child that was never to be. She hadn't died. Yet.

"You should have let me die! You should have let me die for her! Marcus, she will be buried in a grave, in a few short days! Where is she? I need her to be brought to me. You can't tell me my child lives and then not let me see her face, see her likeness to me, to you."

Cozette's cries were stifled no more, Marcus grabbed her arms and pulled her to himself, trying to comfort in ways he hadn't for so long. She thought of beating against his chest and yelling words of hate, but she couldn't if she wanted to. He told her of a child. Her child. He gave a gift she would not, could not, reject. The words meant everything.

"I never realized with a new heart you wouldn't be the same woman I met and fell in love with, the queen I wed. You changed. The night you gained a new heart, you became a person I no longer recognized. Imagine, each time I looked at you, the guilt I've felt." He held his head in his hands, as though unable to look at his wife.

"Where is she? I must believe there's some new spell, a way to keep her alive. Or give her a new stone before this one expires!" Cozette wasn't interested in Marcus's personal reflections. She cared for one thing, finding her daughter.

"I had sent her away with the sorciere, but I have my men out looking for her now. I will join them today. I just"

"You wanted me to know. So you came to me now for forgiveness. I understand Marcus. You did the right thing; you wanted me to see her before she may die." Cozette wiped her eyes, steadying herself.

"Don't forgive me. Can't you be angry, hateful? Hate me! Scream and claw out my eyes. That is what I deserve, Cozette. Not sympathy. Not understanding!" Marcus yelled, as if wanting the reaction from his wife to match the atrocious crime he committed against her.

She would not give him what he wanted.

Cozette turned away from him, knowing this was the moment that would define her. Remembering the long years alone, she knew what she needed to do. Being alone in grief was not a sorrow she would wish upon anyone. Not even Marcus. She would not make him bear this alone any longer. She would be there for him, forever. Besides, she knew she needed Marcus now, more than ever.

She knelt before her king, at his feet. She pressed her face to the floor, as if praying to the Hedge, a place she didn't believe in.

"Find her, Marcus. Bring her to me," she begged.

"You pitiful woman. You can't muster the strength to despise me. You should loathe me! Maybe this will cause your bleeding heart to turn to stone, like your daughter's--"

He stepped away from her kneeling pose. Cozette's eyes now implored him, desperate to understand whatever he possibly meant. She knew he wanted her to rage against him, he wanted to be punished. To be held accountable for his misdeeds. Cozette shook her head, knowing she couldn't be his penance.

"I am telling you about her now because I need her forged heart. I need her because her chest holds the final stone for the Tresor de L'espoir. I am looking for her now so I can carve out her heart before she dies, and claim what is mine."

His disgust in himself was evident. He snarled his lips and narrowed his icy eyes as if it hurt him to speak these words. Cozette saw this, and cared little for his fierceness, for his ravaged self-loathing. She cared not for the personal atrocities against her, she cared not for the seventeen and eleven twelfths of a year he had lied to her.

She cared not for Marcus's pain.

All this queen cared for was the hope of finding her child.

This queen, at her core, was a mother.

A mother who never met her child.

She would find her.

Henri Village de Provence, Gemmes Henri loved that girl. He always had.

He loved the way she didn't fret like the ridiculous girls at school. He loved the way she always remembered to cuss at inappropriate times. He loved the way she was brave in ways he wasn't.

They became friends when they were young and he couldn't remember a time they weren't together. That is what made her leaving so hard and hurt so bad.

After she left, he found himself walking to her mother's house, standing outside the door longing for her. He thought himself pathetic, but that isn't the right word, really.

He was lost.

Later, when he brought by fresh loaves of bread for Sophie's mother, Francesca smiled gently, reminding him that Sophie would return in time. "Some people need to sow wild oats before they can be firmly planted on solid ground," she had told him.

Henri imagined Sophie rolling her eyes at Francesca's analogy, noticing the correlation to Henri the Baker. The idea of her scowling caused him to smile.

She hadn't left for long. In the grand scheme of the universe that was such a small fraction of time, but that doesn't mean much to a boy whose proposal was rejected, whose heart had been crushed.

A smarter man wouldn't have suggested marriage and children to her. He would have waited for Sophie to make the next move after their first kiss, but she never did. Henri took that as a sign that she, in fact, wanted him to make his own declaration of love.

She hadn't, apparently.

Now with her gone, Henri was bored with what was left of his quiet life. So when the King's Legion rode into town as Henri left the boulangerie for the night, he was curious. With his apron slung over his shoulder, and his cap balanced on his head hiding the hot afternoon sun; he watched. As the men descended in his sleepy town, he moved closer to them.

The cavalry of five horsemen stopped authoritatively. They drew upon the village square, discussing something amongst themselves. Henri was close to them, but not close enough to hear. He walked over, wanting to know what brought them here. A crowd quickly gathered, it wasn't only Henri interested in understanding what brought representatives of the king to their town. It was rare to see anyone from the Palace Royale in their valley.

A man dressed in fine clothes with the crest of Gemmes across his chest, made an announcement to the gathered crowd, loud and clear. A waving flag flew overhead, marking them as the King's Legion. It was no question on whose authority these men had ridden here.

"We are soldiers for the King's Legion, on official business for the Palace Royale." His voice loud and clear, causing everyone to huddle closer together.

Henri watched Francesca walk to the street, standing next to his own mother. Old classmates from school surrounded him; anxious to know what business these men had.

"We are here with one purpose, and one purpose alone. We are here looking for any girl who is seventeen years of age. If you are," the man commanded, "you must present yourself before the village square for an inspection. We're looking for one girl. Anyone who fits the age requirement will be interviewed with their mother." When no one moved a muscle, and stood listening to him in confusion, he answered the silence.

"Immediately!"

The girls standing with Henri were wide-eyed and terrified, mouths agape. A buzz of excitement circulated at once as a dozen girls or so began to separate themselves from the crowd. The young boy next to Henri left to fetch his sister from the field and get the other girls who were working.

Henri's mind raced with one solitary thought.

Sophie.

Henri whipped his head toward Francesca. He knew then that she was thinking the exact same thing. Sophie had gotten herself in trouble. Not here, but somewhere and the king was looking for her.

He ducked, letting his cap cover his eyes, not wanting to be noticed. Noticing him would remind him Sophie was missing. They had always been together. He didn't want anyone going after Sophie if she had done something bad. His heart raced as he imagined the trouble she must have gotten herself in, drawing a search party by the king.

He swam through the crowd, and saw the backs of the two mothers walking away, quickly.

"Francesca," Henri said, breathlessly, catching up. "Do you...?" he began, but he stopped after seeing tears in the woman's eyes.

His mother shook her head at him, urging him to be quiet. He looked at her confused, and kept talking, "Do you think they are looking for Sophie? Should we...?"

"Shush, Henri. Let us go to the house and talk. Not here," his mother whispered.

Henri followed the women as they discreetly walked away from the crowds, back to his home and the tidy kitchen where his mother began a kettle of water. The friendship between these women had begun when Sophie and him crawled on the floor, learned their first words. They had a silent language passed back and forth, across the kitchen. Henri let out a moan, exasperated by the silence.

"Seriously, what is going on? Do you think we should find her? Do you think they are here for her?" Henri bit his nails in worry.

"I think that talking to anyone is out of the question," his mother said, lifting the curtain to see if the Legion was coming near. "It would be asking for trouble. We don't need that. Besides, they could be looking for a girl for any number of reasons." His mother set two mugs of tea on the table. Henri noticed she purposefully didn't include him in the afternoon tea party.

"Of course they're here for her," Henri said, gaining courage. "A seventeen-year-old girl? Wanting to talk to their mother? Something must have happened, maybe she figured out who her real mom is?" Henri said, thinking he might be onto something.

"I am her mother, Henri. I'm here. Sophie isn't my child by birth, but she is my daughter. I do not want to talk to anyone who might question me, or her. You mustn't say anything."

Henri looked at the two women before him. They were widows. They were tired. They were older than their age would suggest. Raising children was no small task. Henri's own father had died in the mines when he was a babe, and his mother never had any other children. Sophie and Henri were alike in all the ways that mattered.

"Francesca's right," his mother added. "If they are looking for Sophie, we don't want to get in the middle of it. She'll be fine. She has enough spitfire for all of us! Best to keep our heads down, and they will be on their way soon enough."

Henri blew out all the air inside of him in one exasperated breath. He looked at the women, bringing the hot tea to their lips, working hard to ignore his annoyance by staring out the window. They were delusional to think the Legion wouldn't hear that Sophie had gone missing.

"Alright then. I'll go and clean myself up from work, and try to stay out of everyone's way." Henri began untying his dusty apron.

The mothers nodded dismissively, back to their silent conversation that he wasn't invited to. It irritated him, knowing he deserved to be a part of the speculation; he was Sophie's nearest friend after all.

Once in his small room, he took but a moment before he made up his mind. Obviously he had to go after her. That he entertained the idea of not was embarrassing enough. He threw his apron to the ground and packed a bag hurriedly. He knew he should have never let her go away in the first place.

Go away without him.

It's not that he didn't want Sophie to have this grand adventure; he just wanted to be a part of it. He chose his regular life over her. That was the mistake.

He would make it right. He would find her and keep her safe if it was the last thing he did.

He unlatched the window and climbed through without saying goodbye.

He headed straight through town, head down, cap pulled low. Unnoticed, he continued through the woods, toward Emel and her camp. He would ask her if she knew where Beznik took Sophie. He would go to that place.

He needed to find her, before they did.

Sophie Middle of Nowhere, Gemmes She kept walking though she was hungry and exhausted. And tired. She kept walking though she wanted to stop. To go back. To retrace her steps. She kept walking when her gut told her this was all wrong.

She kept walking until she was utterly and completely lost. She realized she always had been.

She wanted to find her home, her mother. Her beginning. She wanted to find out who she was, who she wasn't. She realized everything she had thought was wrong and following Tristan was probably another wrong move.

She wanted to know what was right.

She didn't stop walking all night. She kept weaving deeper and deeper into the mountain, following what looked like an abandoned route. She felt kin to this road, abandoned and alone, leading nowhere important.

While she walked through the blackness, she kept thinking back to Miora.

The reading had felt so real, so powerful at the time, but now nothing made sense. None of it seemed to apply. She'd acted foolish, running off because on old woman warned her of an imminent future. She'd given up everything and for what? She was far from home and alone.

Miora's stones spoke of wasted pride and rebirth. Those warnings didn't make sense. Sophie wanted a rebirth, to find her parents and start again, but that wasn't happening here.

A few things did fit Miora's reading. That Sophie would be captive and abandoned made sense at least. Tristan had basically begged her to come with him, and now she was abandoned, all alone, out here. Miora predicted that she would travel. She was doing a fine job of that, Sophie smirked at the thought. With each step she took she grew more clueless of her whereabouts.

Of course there was the nagging forewarning in the back of Sophie's mind. Death.

Miora had said things she didn't want to hear, but Emel warned her that was the way with stone readings. Sophie hadn't a clue of what might comprise a good stone reading. After all she had she wanted a reason to leave. She had wanted that for forever.

She wondered if she had what she wanted why she felt so lost.

When the sun rose and the trees appeared green and dewy before her, Sophie knew beyond all else, she needed a plan. Because she was now beyond exhausted and her stomach didn't so much growl as roar. She would cry if she weren't so damned annoyed with Tristan.

The nerve of him to call her a greedy tresor stealer! It was unfathomable. True, she had stolen her fair share of champagne and bonbons over the years, but another man's tresor? She wasn't sure she had the ability to think up such a plan.

A small creek ran with clear mountain water, and she walked off the road toward it. She splashed the icy water across her face and it woke her a bit at least. She slurped the liquid from the small of her hand. Once her thirst was quenched, she laid on her back in the grassy cove, letting the exhaustion of the night sweep over her, lulling her to sleep.

She woke hours later with a person standing over her. Literally, his legs were spread a part with his feet on either side of her waist, holding her prisoner. Although loosely; she was contained by a pair of legs.

"Sophie, my dear. You wake at last!"