Tamsin nodded, as if it wasn't a question for Remy to stay. Of course he could.

"And we are so close, I need to keep searching. I have two stones left to find. Look, do you want to see the one we found in the South?" Tristan's eyes sparkled, just like his mothers had when she spoke of the adventures her brother Remy had, so far from the world the two women knew. Tristan's mother would be so happy knowing her son had found adventure for himself.

He wanted this tresor so badly. Tamsin hoped once it was found, this boy she loved might find some real purpose in life, something deeper to live for, fight for. Something immaterial. Something real.

Someone to love.

"Show me what you've found," Tamsin said, smiling. She knew he loved this part the most, showing off his perfectly cut gemstones, dug out of the earth with his bare hands.

"It's a good one Tamsin. It is the same color of your eyes," Remy spoke quietly before he took a handkerchief from his breast pocket, coughing loudly in the worn linen.

Tamsin's blushing cheeks were hidden by the fires glow, but the blush was there if you looked close enough. She pushed away thoughts of Remy's once strong, chiseled cheeks and broad shoulders, now over shadowed by a hunch due to the fatigue from the constant hacking of his gem-flecked lungs.

Remy never pursued her, when all those years he could have. She knew he was focused on one thing, and one thing alone. The same thing as Tristan: tresor. The idea that her helping them might bring them together was a dream discarded years ago.

She never deserved love, not after the heinous way she treated love's own beating heart.

"It's a sapphire." Tristan grinned, his tanned face livened by the bright blue stone in his palm. He handed it to her, the one who helped him find it.

"A stone said to bring tranquility in times of great stress and turmoil," Tamsin said knowingly. Her words were hushed and she took the stone from Tristan, gingerly, as if the minerals within the sapphire might relieve some of the pain in her own heart. Goodness knows nothing else ever had the power to relieve her of her past.

"It also means royalty," Tristan said, standing tall, as if relishing in the moment. He looked royal himself. "Which is why Uncle Remy and I have decided to bestow it unto you, for safe keeping. You are the royal queen of this hunt!"

"No, no, no." Tamsin shook her head and pushed the stone to Remy, sitting beside her.

She wanted to help them because she could, not because she wanted something in return. She no longer performed magic for gain. That is why she lived in such a humble home; she wouldn't accept anything in return for her skills. She wanted to feel her penance daily. It was the only way she knew how to make her wrong right.

"I know how you hate payment. So how about this, once all the stones are found, we will request it back. This way, it ensures you will travel with us when we are ready to unlock the tresor. In the meantime you can look at it and remember how close we are!" Tristan's charisma was too charming for Tamsin to ignore.

"Fine, but I'm not keeping it forever, and I don't need to go with you to the mountain." Tamsin had bigger reasons for not wanting to go. She never left her forest dwelling for long. Hidden among the shield of the forest was the one place she felt safe. The Provence de Frontiere was deep in the heart of the woods, far from the Palace Royale. "Knowing you will be there, claiming it, is enough.

"Hardly, Tamsin." Remy spoke so only Tamsin heard. "Hardly."

"The other four stones are in the Auberge in the Northern Montagne, far from the King. Now the fifth stone is with you, deep in the woods," Tristan said with a smile that turned to a yawn. "How about a clue and then we can go to bed? I'm leaving this old man with you when I leave at dawn."

The next morning Tamsin woke from her recurring nightmare, with a cold sweat beading on her forehead, clinging to her own beating heart as she tried to control her breath.

It was if Aimee, her old friend was back in the room, as if the night was happening all over again, "You swear it won't hurt her? The king will take my head if I brought you here to perform magie noire," Aimee asked.

"I had no choice but to come when the king's horseman arrived at my door with drawn swords. I will not forget this betrayal, Aimee." Tamsin shook her head in disgust. Aimee had once been her friend, but no more. They practiced different medicine, and for different customers.

Tamsin had no desire to do the king's bidding. The king was a cruel man, too young for the power he held and she knew he held power over her.

Aimee went to the queen, who had half a dozen attendants at the birth, though the king wasn't in sight. She uncorked the bottle and handed the potion to the queen. Tamsin watched as she swallowed it between contractions. Sweat poured down her ivory skin, a mess of tangled black hair flowed over pillows under the canopied bed. A more regal room Tamsin had never seen.

"Aagghhhhhh," wailed the queen, as she pressed her hands against the bed. Aimee looked terrified, but she managed to guide the emerging child. The queen gave a final push and moan, before collapsing on the mattress.

The heir of Gemmes was in the arms of Aimee.

The king rushed in the room, past Tamsin, who still hovered in the shadows of the door, not wanting to be witnessed arriving at all. She wanted to leave. This was no place for her kind.

"My Cozette!" The king, a young man with long dark hair and taut cheeks, shouted and ran to the bedside where the queen lay. She lay silent and she laid still and Tamsin knew in that moment things would grow much darker this night.

She felt the shift in the air. The open window pushed in a gust of wind, pounding across heavy drapes. Still, the room remained silent.

No cry from the mother and no cry from the babe.

Tamsin blinked fast, knowing her personal penance wasn't enough anymore for what had happened that night. She knew the time was coming that she would need to find the girl herself. Keep her safe by using dark magic she had sworn off. It was the only way she could live with herself. The only way to stave off dreams of the dark haired girl screaming, the piercing sound that haunted her.

She quickly descended the ladder from the loft where she had slept, and crossed the room to the front door. She walked outside and found Tristan tightening the leather straps on his sturdy pack slung over his shoulders. He traveled lightly, a blanket was secured at the top of his bag, and a jug of water swung at his side. A wide brimmed leather hat was on his head, ready to block the afternoon sun.

"You're leaving then?" she asked.

"I should arrive by late afternoon if I hurry. The hardest part of the trip is over with ... getting Remy here. I didn't want to say it in front of him last night Tamsin, but I'm scared he won't hold on for much longer."

"Leave him with me. I've helped heal people all my life. I can help your dear Uncle too." Tamsin hesitated, she had a few more things she wanted to say before he left, but she didn't want to offend him.

In the pause Tristan mistook the silence for a cue to leave. "I'll be off then," he said cheerily.

"Wait. Tristan."

"What is it?"

"I saw the look in your eyes last night, when you spoke of the diamond you are searching for. You seemed ... desperate." She wrapped her cloak tightly, chilly in the crisp morning smelling of dewdrops. "The Tresor de L'espoir is not everything." She wanted him to say the words she didn't think he believed anymore.

It was as if greed gripped him in places she perhaps always knew were there, but she never wanted to acknowledge. She wanted to believe in Tristan's purity, but that look in his eyes last night gave her pause.

"Well, it's an awful lot. It's the power of Gemmes! Now, it's within our grasp, thanks be to you." He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Tamsin recalled the visions from the night before, when she conjured up direction for Tristan's next jewel. She had peered in the powdery dust her hands sprinkled in the air. In the dust she saw the clue Tristan wanted. Head toward the Northern Montagne, deep away from the town, near an old miner's site now abandoned.

She had seen, clearly, an old fire pit and a flame. The future was etched in the dissipating powdery haze. Time stopped for but a moment and Tamsin thought she saw another person beside Tristan near the fire, but then she blinked, and the powdery dust fell from the air, and the vision was gone. She didn't tell him that part last night, thinking the mining site would be direction enough, besides she wasn't sure it was a figure next to him, if it was a good or bad one. She didn't want to worry him unnecessarily, but now she realized it might help to have this clue, and to not go alone in the mountain if there was a person who could cause him danger.

For some inexplicable reason she was able to help this boy and his Uncle ... she was able to see these stones from the Tresor de L'espoir, in a way no one else could. Even if she couldn't understand the reason why, she did know this: she would do anything to help him, she loved him and Remy so.

"Tristan, don't go alone. Remy won't be with you, I know this, but once you get to the North, hire a porter to go with you in the mountains. Do you have money for that?"

"Of course, Tamsin, we do pretty well on the black stone market."

"Alright, then get someone for yourself ... and just ... be careful."

"Stop worrying. You have that old Uncle to care for. Off with you, cook him some eggs or something." Tristan smiled, and waved her off with a flick of his fingers against his leather hat.

She closed the door of her cottage, and the creak stirred Remy who lay on Tamsin's bed. Tamsin had slept in the loft, giving up her usual place for the man she cared for, Tristan had slept on the couch.

"Is he off?" Remy asked.

"He is." Tamsin spoke quietly, not knowing why she felt a pang in her heart, a pang she couldn't put words too.

"He'll get himself in trouble, Tamsin. I just know it."

Remy spoke the words she couldn't. So she nodded her head, stoking the stove before starting the kettle. If she couldn't save Tristan from himself, the least she could do was get Remy well.

She had learned, all these years in reparation, that controlling others isn't always possible but you certainly can control your part.

King Marcus King's Fleet, Sea de Gemmes The briny air stung the king's eyes as he bitterly gripped the edge of the wooden boat. His fleet of twenty ships was mighty, as was his reign, but it all felt desolate in moments like this. A night of drinking with his Head Advisor, Drake, should have lightened his mood but nothing would. They'd gone to meet King Francis, and failed.

Francis's kingdom was to sign a treaty declaring a new trade route. This would mean a victory for Marcus, and he knew it. More stones leaving Gemmes to be sold in more markets meant only good things for his people, for him, but Francis refused. He argued the tariffs Marcus suggested were unreasonably high.

In all honesty, Marcus knew they were. So when he attempted to lower them, to appease Francis, a fight broke out. Francis accused Gemmes of being greedy, not thinking of anyone but themselves. He refused to partner with Marcus, no matter the cost.

It ended in a brawl. The civility of the kings tossed aside when they couldn't reach an agreement. Marcus had a broken nose to prove his ineptitude. He'd known Francis for decades, since they were both young princes, and Francis valued, above all else, integrity. He accused Marcus of only valuing himself.

This morning when he awoke, upon realizing he would be returning to Palace Royale, specifically Cozette, treaty-less, he wanted to go back to his ship's cabin to finish the crate of wine they had stored.

"Your Majesty, breakfast is served in your cabin, if that pleases you," a servant spoke with a bowed head.

"Fine." Marcus crossed the ship and went below the hull, toward his room.

Drake waited for him there, maps laid across the table where breakfast was spread.

"Well, your nose is looking much better this morning, Your Majesty," Drake said as he downed a cup of cafe. The night's drinking seemed to have affected him as well. He rubbed his temples with closed eyes.

"Ridiculous. All of this." Marcus swept his hands across the table at the maps. "News of Francis's lack of cooperation will spread quickly. Everyone will take sides. Pitting them against us, demanding lower tariffs on our stones. I can't let that happen."

"I've thought on that, My King," Drake said, opening his eyes. Drake was a considerable man, in a regal blue ensemble, sapphires across his lapel. He was content with the way life had turned out. His wife Nicolette and Cozette were friends since the early years of their marriages. The two couples, at one time felt like the world was theirs for the taking. They believed they could dip their hands in the sea and find the oyster holding the pearl. Things change.

"What is your suggestion? I'm all ears, Drake. Although, I'm tempted to lead an army of soldiers across the sea and demolish them."

"Steady now. Gemmes has never gone to war. We haven't a legitimate army. We are the richest for a reason. Rising above all that foolishness. We are supreme because our land gives to us generously."

"A lot of good it is doing," Marcus spit. He touched his fingers to his nose, and in doing so he grew all the more angry. "We can refuse all trades. Without our precious gems, the whole world will cower. Then we can do anything we like. Raise tariffs to whatever we desire."

"How diplomatic."

"And the alternative is?"

"I suggest, Your Majesty, a simple invitation, between Queen Cozette and yourself, extended to all the royalty of the countries we wish to remain trading with. Offer a ball. A gala, where Cozette can woo the kings and queens with her gentle nature, and at the same time display the riches that you have that they could have if they agreed to your trading terms."

Marcus listened curiously. Wooing them with his riches was an idea he never considered. The Palace Royale hadn't hosted a ball in nearly twenty years. Cozette refused. Of course she willingly helped the needy children at orphanages and greeted the villagers with open arms, but besides her charity, she kept to herself. Royally.

Marcus hated her for it.

"Cozette will never agree," he said with finality.

"Only because you aren't willing to woo her, as well," Drake countered.

"Cozette is not the kind of woman I am interested in wooing. She's not the woman I married." Marcus clenched his jaw and picked a croissant from a pastry tray. He set it back, on top of a scroll delivered by an informant that was headed, GEM TRACKER, still sealed. Marcus didn't even glance at it. "Not everyone is as fortunate as you, Drake."

Marcus held back the rest of his jealousy. Drake had four handsome boys, two beautiful girls, and a wife who still doted on him. Marcus had none of those things.

He wanted all of them.

"Look," Drake smoothly explained. "You need to return to the good graces of the kings of our bordering countries. As your Head Advisor, I urge you to consider this option. Everyone loves a party. No queen who receives an invitation will let her king refuse. Everyone will be eating out of your diamond-encrusted palm by the night's end. It's all you've ever wanted."

Marcus nodded. He knew it was much of what he wanted. If he couldn't have a queen whom he loved anymore, at least he could remain the richest man alive.

Sophie Valle de Montagne, Gemmes Death. The word hung in the air after Miora spoke it, as though it was a spell cast over the wagon.

"Death, huh?" Sophie spat haughtily, no longer able to contain herself. "This stone reading is some omen, then? We have what, here?" She pointed to the gems laid at the five points before her. "First off I'm an ego-maniac, full of wasted pride. Then something about me being held captive and abandoned, followed by a precious retelling of my birth, which apparently didn't even take place in the valley." She shot Henri daggers with her eyes. "Let's not forget that I want to travel to avoid all of this. And then the arche de triomphe, death. A big giant death."

Sophie slumped in her chair. Her shoulders inched forward, and her hands moved to her face. Anyone who didn't know her might think this was the time she'd keel over and cry, but not Sophie. She was gearing up, ready to fight.

"I want a re-draw." She lifted her head with a fake smile pasted on her face. "Yes. That's it. A re-draw. I want stones that reveal something fanciful. About me at the Palace Royale and eating macaroons with princes and wearing black silk dresses and dancing under the moonlight. That's the sort of reading I looked for on this summer night. Not this!" She pushed the stones away from the diamond silhouette.

Emel gasped, and dove for the stones, as they were nearly shoved off the tabletop. She saved them before they fell.

"Sophie, I told you to respect Miora. Don't shout, or you will need to leave," Emel whispered, but it was clear it took all her self-control to do so.

"Both of you, quiet. Now listen to me, child." Miora leaned over the table and grabbed Sophie's hands in hers. "Readings are rarely what you want, but are always what you need. Hear this. You need to learn about your birth, about your parents, and why it matters." Her words were fierce and forceful.

Sophie couldn't look away from the old woman's crystal clear grey eyes. Looking in them, she saw herself.

"Why don't you tell me? If you know so much, tell me about my birth yourself!" Sophie shouted, pulling her hands away, but Miora wouldn't let her go. Sophie found herself sinking deeper in this stone reader's gaze.

"That is not the way the stones work. They don't tell the whole story. The Death stone doesn't always mean a grave dug in the ground. Sometimes the end is the beginning."

Sophie saw Miora's crystal eyes fill with vibrant colors, as though every precious jewel was carved in the sockets of her face. Sophie gulped in horror.

"Your eyes, what is happening to them?" she screamed, grabbing Henri's arm in fear.

"Jou-Jou, it's okay. You're seeing things. Her eyes are the same as they were when we entered. Clouded over." Henri tried to comfort her friend, but Sophie looked at him like he was crazy.

"Sophie, it's true, Miora is blind, and that is why her eyes are that way." Emel spoke gently, placing her hand on Sophie's shoulder. She tried to steady the wild girl who heard revelations of a life she didn't understand, a life she didn't want.

"You see them, my child. You see my eyes for what they truly are. Crystal balls that tell the future." Miora let go of Sophie's hands at last. She lifted a heavy leather cord from her neck, where a moonstone hung. She pressed the stone in Sophie's hands.

"The stones never lie. Take this, and run."

Sophie stood confused, but clutched the moonstone nevertheless. Turning abruptly, she stumbled out of the wagon, letting the night air rush her lungs. She remembered how to breathe.

Henri and Emel followed, looking at one another nervously as they approached Sophie who stared at them blankly. It was hard to know what to say when someone was told to run away.

"Jou-Jou," Henri started. "It's okay."

Sophie whipped around to her friend, a blaze of fear spread across her chest.