Curiously, she asked nothing of his tears, she dismissed his feelings as quickly as they arrived.

"You know, you might be careful throwing out the term 'Treasure Chest.' Many men do die that way."

"I know. My fath-- a man I once knew met his maker in the same fashion." She took a drink of her cafe, swallowed with disgust, and then added two heaping teaspoons of sugar to her mug.

"Sweet enough, my dear?" Tristan asked, not able to take his eyes off her. Inexplicably she held him in complete suspense. The worst part? She seemed to have no idea this magnetic attraction took place.

"Sweet enough now. I don't know who is brewing this cafe, but I hope it's better tomorrow. Was it any good yesterday?"

"I arrived last night. Haven't had any until now." Tristan held the cup to his lips and took a sip. Delicious. He had no idea why she complained.

"Horrible, right?" she asked.

Tristan wanted to stop discussing hot beverages and begin discussing more important things. Such as whether or not she had a suitor.

Tristan was not new to the world of women. Uncle Remy always spent time with ladies when they arrived in a new place. By the age of thirteen Tristan was already finding ways to kiss girls behind market stalls, and more.

"I've had better I suppose," he said as he set down his cafe cup. He attempted to smile his most charming chin-dimpled grin. "Now tell me, what is your name?"

"Sophie Bijou, if you must know." She didn't ask for his, which perplexed him. Why didn't she care?

"Bijou?" he said smiling. "We have a gem in our midst. Perhaps it is you I am in search of."

"And why is that?" She tilted her head to the side and more tendrils fell from her bun. She didn't seem to notice.

"I'm a Gem Tracker." That line usually caused girls to swoon.

"What is that?" She pursed her perfect lips and shook her head, not understanding.

"Truly?" Where had this girl come from? He took a small volume from his satchel, earmarked and heavily used, and handed it over. She took the rare book, one of the few of its kind, titled, Seigneur des Cavernes gingerly. A simple legend that explained the gems that needed to be found, the path to the mountain once they were all garnered and how to open the mystical cavern.

"Is this like the fabled story books that tell of the Hedge and its magical Riders?" Sophie asked. "I used to read those legends over and over when I was a girl ... dream of being accepted to their realm when I died. It's sinister, though isn't it? The idea of either an invitation to ride with them, or just, be dead. Fini."

Her eyes were bright. The stories of Hedge Rider's always caused reflection, Tristan knew because he felt the same way about those stories from his childhood.

"This is no joke. It's real. Besides, the Hedge could be a real place you know. Maybe when you die, they'll look upon you and ask you to ride with them as a ghost, seeking out those souls worthy of an afterlife. Don't be such a pessimist."

"Sure," she said, rolling her eyes, but then opened the book cautiously, her eyes widening the further down the page she read. Tristan ate the soup as she finished.

"Is this real? You look for buried tresor?" She scoffed.

She'd hurt him. Sure, older women thought him a joke but no young woman ever thought him a clown. They thought him a master. A rebel. A man.

"Not impressed?" He was out of tricks.

"No ... I didn't say that ... I've never ... Well, it is interesting," she said flatly.

"Please, be more dismissive, my dear."

"But isn't it illegal? Taking gems from the king's mountain without giving him claim?"

"Legality is such a bore."

"So you're a thief?" She cocked her head to the side, and smiled. To Tristan's surprise she seemed to like this idea.

"Technically."

"Tristan," she read his name from the inside of the books cover, the tilt of her tongue erotic as the Hedge Riders were fabled to be. "If this is the truth, you must show me your gems. If I can see, then I can believe."

"Ahh, you say my name so ... so...."

"So what, Tristan?" she asked, haughtier this time, making the impossible possible.

"So ... generously."

She turned her head, smiling broadly. If he knew her better he'd know Sophie never offered such praise. As for the rising blush on her cheeks, well, that was plain unheard of.

"My gems are in a secret hiding place, in this town."

"It's rather stupid to be so cavalier. The king has killed for smaller offenses you know."

Disapproval filled her eyes, but Tristan couldn't help himself. He didn't want to do anything that would cause this girl to leave.

"I can trust you," he said, meaning it completely, even if he didn't know why.

"You're a fool, that's what you are," she said, matter-of-factly.

"But I can trust you, can't I? I feel it. Like, I was supposed to find you."

"Track me, you mean?"

Funny too, Tristan realized. She epitomized perfection.

"Let me show you the jewels," he said, with a heartfelt inflection.

"Alright...." Sophie drew the word out slowly, as if she wasn't sure of him. "How do you know I haven't made better plans for my day?"

"Well, do you?" he asked.

"Not particularly."

"So you can come." Tristan suddenly struck with the most brilliant idea. "Say, I need a porter, you know, so I'm not alone in the Montagne. Come with me!"

"Seriously? Me, in the woods, as your porter? I don't think I'm exactly built for the job. The dress, for starters." She laughed at him.

"Okay, so not porter. My companion, that sounds better, right? I'm headed up these mountains to find my sixth gem. You can help, you know, by telling me romantic stories of the trysts you've had, or want to have." He tried to act nonchalant, and winked.

"So you want me to accompany an arrogant Gem Tracker in the wooded mountains, alone no less. May I add this Tracker is a stranger?"

"Well, I'll pay you of course," Tristan countered.

She laughed.

A real, absolute genuine laugh. Not the sort of laugh an intimidated person makes. A laugh that had Tristan at the edge of his seat. He'd do anything to get this creature to make that sound again. Bewitched, entirely and completely, and he wanted more.

"It's not funny, Mon Petit Bijou. I'll take you and show you what is real, what is meant to be found."

"Why do you think I'd entertain such a proposal?" Her voice grew soft, as though she truly wanted to understand why he asked her.

"Because you are a girl far from home. Alone and unafraid and exactly the sort of companion I want. You don't lay all your cards on the table, as I do. Which makes me trust you, although all I know of you is that you have a name, which matches mine. Bijou and the Gem Tracker, undoubtedly worse pairs have been made."

"Well, if were headed to some secret hiding place, I most certainly require a pain au chocolat first."

She stood, and held her hand out for him. He kissed it, not wanting to let go. Somehow he did, as even Gem Trackers have their decency.

This was a dining hall after all. The rest would have to wait for a room with a door that closed.

With a lock and a key.

King Marcus Palace Royale, eclat He sat at his desk, pondering Cozette's willingness to play the part of happy bride. The Royalty that would be coming in a few weeks' time for the ball were not to know that they were putting on a front. He thought she would be displeased by the proposition; her response surprised him to say the least. It shouldn't have, it had been a long time since he understood her. He could pinpoint the exact moment, if he was honest with himself.

Marcus had lost much sleep lamenting the loss of the woman he loved; but he never dared utter the truth of what happened that long ago night. The night he sent his princess away, the night he lost the wife he knew.

When they first met her ruthless vengeance enamored him. She entered his life as an unexpected breath of fresh air in a stale and regimented world. One led by stoic men and docile women. Not Cozette. From the moment they spoke, he knew, they were the same.

The parties that used to be an utter bore, were suddenly intoxicating, as she would twitter cruelties behind the veil of a fan. They would navely plot the ways they would conquer the world. It had all seemed possible. Because they were in it together.

No one liked the match. They thought a queen needed to be meek, and Marcus changed when they were together. He wanted her opinion on everything, he valued her so. She became the shining star in Marcus's world, and he did anything to please her, and they were so young. Foolish and in love, a real tangible love.

They were wed, and a few years later, at the tender age of seventeen, Cozette was with child. She carried in her belly the heir to the throne, and on her shoulders, the increasingly wealthy country of Gemmes. Although the people of Gemmes didn't support them, she came up with strategies to optimize the miner's output. She created a system for accounting every gem in their vault. She helped make Gemmes a country with a name, a legacy, and a fortune.

Marcus watched as the life he envisioned slip away the night Cozette gained the heart of her child. He remembered his cry, that night in her bedchamber; he remembered the devins-guerisseur's callous eyes when he made his choice.

"What is happening? Help her!" he bellowed at Aimee, who held the small, bloodied child in her hands.

"She isn't breathing," Aimee spoke with fear in her voice.

"I know that; help her!" he shouted, pointing to his queen.

"No, my Lord, the babe. She isn't breathing either."

"A girl you say?" The king shook his head betraying his dismay at her words. No boy was borne to carry his name.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Aimee answered, her eyes were full of worry.

The devins-guerisseur's eyes darted between the two listless creatures, beings much like her. Tethered to neither this world nor the next, instead floating in the in-between.

"Help us, Tamsin, I know you can," Aimee pleaded. Aimee's life was on the line if the king's family died on her watch this night.

The king looked at Tamsin, for the first time letting his eyes leave his queen. If she didn't help, all four would die. The babe, the queen, Aimee, and herself. There was no choice.

"All of the attendants, out. You must leave. Leave us to do the magic alone," Tamsin directed.

The attendants moved from the room quickly, but he heard the whispered words as they left, "She looks too young to be a sorciere." Marcus feared the truth in the words, that perhaps she was not capable, but it didn't matter, not in a time like this, when Cozette's life was on the line.

"Can you save her?" the king asked.

"Yes, give the child to me," Tamsin told Aimee with authority.

"Not the child, sorciere. Save my queen." Marcus begged as he dropped to the queen's side, taking her small hands in his, kissing them tenderly. "She is my everything. My life. My true tresor."

"As you wish." Tamsin spit, her clear disgust for his choice rippling out of her. "I must see what I have to work with first, Your Highness."

That night the callous parts of Cozette's interior faded, and she became pure and beloved by all. The hardened parts of her slipped into the night the way the child did. She awoke a different woman. A woman Marcus didn't know. A woman he couldn't understand. The change in her made the choice regrettable on good days, deplorable on the bad.

Marcus grew old alone, and lonely people are rarely happy. Solitude, when forced, is a wild beast. It can make monsters of the gentlest men, and Marcus was never gentle. Now the slivers of camaraderie within him vanished, resigned to rule and conquer the world alone.

Upon hearing his plan of the ball the day before, Cozette had bowed her head and spoke, "I would do anything you ask of me, Your Grace. I promised to do so the day we married."

Even though she had entered the dining hall looking the part of the girl he once knew, she couldn't betray the woman she'd become. She acquiesced immediately.

He took a deep breath, remembering the girl her fell in love with once more. The girl who stood at the altar, letting him slide a ring on her slender finger. The girl who knelt low to the ground, as Marcus's father placed the Royal Crown of Gemmes upon her head. The entire city of eclat came to watch, but he only had eyes for her.

He remembered and it hurt him more than he expected. It hurt to look back at his life with the ability to identify the moment he lost everything he loved. Knowing the reason for the lifetime of regret made the truth inexplicably worse.

Cozette didn't know that. She didn't know the burden he carried. The burden of watching the woman you love transform into a creature that didn't fit in the world built for her. She became too gentle, too kind, and too lovely. As if the hearts that had joined on their wedding day severed and the heart that he had fallen in love with died.

In losing that heart, he lost himself.

Drake walked into Marcus's private study with a scroll in his hand. Dressed in a dark grey suit, the collar lined with glossy, black melanite jewels; he looked the part of the king's most trusted advisor. A tall man with a sharp nose matching the king's.

Drake shook his head and handed the parchment to the king speaking directly to him, "You need to read this. From our informant in the North."

"What is it now? We're already trying to solve the country's trade problems, something more pressing than that?" the king muttered in annoyance, standing next to his oldest friend.

"Yes, but this needs to be dealt with, swiftly." Drake pointed to the message, GEMS TRACKED: URGENT.

Marcus read it quickly, tightening his lips as he did. This informant's note helped nothing.

"Send more men to shut this boy down. I thought we had dealt with rounding up these reckless trackers already? How do their numbers climb? They are thieves! I won't have it!" Marcus shouted as he slammed his fist on the desk, spilling the tea on the table. "Treason! Treason calls for death!"

"But, Your Majesty, if I may add in a simple word here...." Drake paused.

"Most important, I don't want any other country getting word. It would undermine my power." Marcus held up the scroll as he declared his plan of action, and then crumbled it, throwing it across the room.

"Marcus, listen for a moment," Drake pressed. No other man in the kingdom could get away with talking to him like this, but Marcus allowed it. Drake was his most loyal friend.

"Out with it, then," Marcus declared. He was a bitter and angry man, but not a stupid one. Drake was his Head Advisor for a reason.