Step 6a: Don't let yourself be swayed by his good qualities...

It was nothing like the kiss they had shared in the garden.

For one thing, Eirifold didn't immediately spring backward and wipe his lips as though she was carrying some sort of contagious disease.

Instead, he leaned closer.

His hands came to rest on her waist, tugging her toward him. He kissed her with a hunger that surprised her, pushing her backward, pressing her up against the wall of the townhouse.

Shock coursed through her, hot like lightning. She had the sudden, bewildering realization that this was nothing like the kisses she'd had with Lord Saffron, and she was very much out of her depth. It was like thinking you were stepping into a light drizzle, only to realize you were trapped in a maelstrom. Except, instead of water, fire was consuming her, burning her from the inside out.

She should back away, Ivelle knew. Stop this tomfoolery now, before it got out of control, before it consumed them both. Instead, her hands laced through Eirifold's hair, and her lips smiled and parted against his. His fingers traced circles on her skin, lightly, almost reverently, as though afraid at any moment she might vanish into thin air. It was somehow worse than if he had clasped her tightly. She shivered under his touch, knowing she should pull away, but unable to. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body through the thin fabric that separated them.

The watchmen clattered past them – or at least, Ivelle thought they did. They could have waltzed by wearing dog suits for all she would have noticed. Heat pooled in her belly as Eirifold began kissing a trail, first across her chin, then down her neck...

"Ah-HEM," said a nearby voice.

Ivelle flinched and tore herself away.

Her heart sank.

Before them stood Princess Mariel, looking about as unamused as it was possible to be.

"Let me guess." Mariel's fingers skimmed her sword hilt. Her eyes fixed on Eirifold, piercing him with a steely glare. "You thought having your lips glued to the court jester's face would prevent me from recognizing you."

Her eyes shifted disapprovingly to Ivelle, whose insides squirmed with shame. If Lillian found out about her kissing Prince Eirifold–

She was done for.

Eirifold, who looked more in disarray than Ivelle had ever seen him, still managed to flash the princess a disarming, if not slightly irritated, smile. "It was worth a try..."

Mariel bristled. "Do you truly think so little of my intelligence?"

"I happen to think you're very smart." Eirifold's face darkened, his expression bordering on a scowl. "Far too smart, actually. With too many clever machinations for my liking. What brings you to this part of town, in such an un-princesslike disguise, making deals with wood fae? Deals that involve very suspicious and alarmingly potion-shaped packages?"

"That is none of your concern."

"I think it is my concern, when certain parties have been slipping poison into my nasal spray!"

"Always the paranoid prince." Mariel seemed to relax slightly, although Ivelle couldn't help but notice that her stance was still tense, as though braced for battle. She snorted and raised her eyes to the heavens. "Truly, Eirifold, I'm glad to see you've laid off the alcohol and the drugs in advance of your wedding. Though perhaps you should consider abstaining from certain other activities as well." Her eyes raked disapprovingly over Ivelle. "I doubt your future wife would approve."

I am so fucking screwed, Ivelle thought dismally.

"I don't really care what you do in your spare time." Mariel folded her arms. "I do, however, care about my reputation, and my wandering about the city not getting back to Mother or Father. Promise you'll tell no one you saw me. In exchange, I'll pretend I didn't see you. I'll tell no one about your trip to the city, not even your mother. Do we have a deal?"

"What were you doing in that alle–"

"I said, do we have a deal?"

Mariel's hand hovered, once again, over her sword hilt.

"... Fine," Eirifold said at last, with an airy wave of his hand. "I won't tell on you, you won't tell on me, the court jester won't tell on either of us." He paused, then added: "Don't get the court jester in trouble either. I coerced her into coming out with me against her will."

It was a kind gesture, but somehow Ivelle had the feeling he'd just painted an even bigger target on her back. Especially when Mariel turned back to Ivelle, her eyes more narrowed and searching than before.

"Very well," said the princess. "I would love to stay and chat, but I am late to a charity meeting. Carry on with your alleyway debauchery. I'd hate for you to miss out on yet another opportunity to disgrace both your name and the crown."

With a curl of her lip, she stalked away.

"I don't like you either!" Eirifold yelled after her retreating back.

"Unbelievable," he muttered. "I know she hates my guts, but does she have to be so insufferable about it?" He turned to Ivelle. "Are you – that is..."

He broke off, looking suddenly uncertain. The silence stretched between them. It was an awkward silence, the silence of two people who had just impulsively kissed each other in a very public place without considering the consequences.

"We should get a move on," said Ivelle, "I mean... if we want to get to this courtyard of yours before dark."

She fought down a wave of queasiness as they began to walk. This time, it had nothing to do with the tacos they had eaten for dinner. She couldn't believe she had just kissed Eirifold and – even worse – liked it. Lillian was going to marry Eirifold in just under a week. Kissing the prince felt like a terrible betrayal. Sistahs before misters, besties before testes, and all that.

And then there was the fact that Eirifold had no idea who she was. He still thought she was Perry, a court jester with villainous parents and vague kleptomaniac tendencies. He had no idea she'd been hired to find a way to kill him.

"We're here," said Eirifold, interrupting Ivelle from her thoughts.

Ivelle glanced up. A plain house with a tall gate met her eyes. It was not especially fancy, though it was certainly bigger than the more cramped row homes they'd passed earlier. The building looked lovingly cared for, with subtle touches like daubs of fresh paint that suggested some recent repairs.

Eirifold knocked on the door. A few seconds later, the sound of pounding feet met their ears, along with a shout of excitement. The door was thrown open.

Ivelle blinked down at a small boy, no taller than her midriff. He couldn't have been more than six years old. And he looked...

... exactly like a miniature version of Eirifold.

Ivelle blinked.

She glanced back and forth between Eirifold and the boy.

There was no mistaking it.

They were basically clones.

"You came!" said the child. He seemed to be trying very hard to suppress the excitement on his face; his mouth kept trying to twitch up into a smile, and he practically vibrated with enthusiasm. Nonetheless, he straightened up to his full (and not-very-impressive) height, folding his arms across his chest, and lifting his chin. "Did you bring me a present?"

"That depends." Eirifold folded his own arms and shot the little boy a stern look down the bridge of his nose. "Have you been good?"

The boy snorted. "Obviously!"

"Have you upheld the code of honor of your house?"

"I have!"

"Have you been kind to those less fortunate than you, and worked hard to make yourself an upstanding citizen of Estrella?"

"Duh!"

Eirifold tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose if that's really the case..."

"Mama! Tell him it's really the case!"

An olive-skinned woman had just appeared behind the boy. She looked to be in her forties, with brown hair that framed her face in pretty curls. Her face bore a kind smile, and her eyes lit up when she saw the prince. "It's good to see you, Eirifold."

"Tell him!" The boy tugged her shirt.

"Myklas has been mostly good." The mystery woman eyed the boy, whose name was apparently Myklas, in a teasing sort of way. "Although he could do with shirking his schoolwork a bit less."

Eirifold nodded and stroked his chin as he studied Myklas, who continued to squirm with anticipation. "I suppose you have deemed yourself worthy of a present... Only a smallish one, though. You'll get a bigger present when you start paying more attention in lessons."

He dug into one of his pockets and whipped out a small box. Inside it was a toy pinwheel that looked more expensive than any pinwheel Ivelle had seen. Eirifold pressed a button on the pinwheel, and it began to make little whirring noises and levitated off his hand.

Myklas eyed the toy with awe. The mystery woman nudged him. "What do we say?"

"Thank you!"

"Perry, meet Aeris," Eirifold said, as Myklas hurried off up the staircase, no doubt to launch his new toy out a window. "Aeris, this is Perry. She's a personal trainer who lives in the palace. She's been helping to whip me into shape in anticipation of my impending nuptials – in secret, so my dear father doesn't get ideas. You don't mind if we use your backyard for a little while, do you?"

Aeris shot them both a cheery smile. Her eyes lingered approvingly on Ivelle, before coming to land fondly on Eirifold once more. "Go right ahead," she said. "I think I may even have some of my old exercise gear back there. Just be careful of the barbells. Some of them are booby-trapped."

"I didn't take you for a guy who digs older women," Ivelle said to Eirifold in an undertone as they headed towards what Ivelle assumed was the backyard. "Not that I'm judging. My ex-husband was like a million years old and I still married him... although there were definitely some ulterior motives at play..."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"That lady, Aeris. Is she not your clandestine paramour and Myklas your secret son?"

Eirifold started to laugh. He laughed so hard, he almost collapsed against one of the doorways. Tears ran down his cheeks.

"Aeris was my nanny when I was little."

"Oh my God. That makes it even worse. You're banging your former nanny?"

"No! I'm not – I never –" Eirifold's hands swept over his face. "She's just my former nanny. And Myklas is her son."

"He looks just like a miniature version of you."

Eirifold shrugged, his eyes sliding past hers. "Funny how people who come from the same part of the country can end up looking like each other by chance."

Ivelles didn't buy this for a minute. She'd been around Eirifold a lot the last couple nights, and something about the set to his shoulders, the uneasy thinning of his lips, told Ivelle he was hiding something.

"Lemme guess." Ivelle crossed her arms. "You knocked up some poor woman while you were drunk. She didn't want to raise the boy, and you didn't want to take responsibility either, so you pawned that responsibility off on your former nanny."

"What? – I – No –"

"Orrrr... you realized one of your organs is failing prematurely, so you hired a mage to make a miniature version of you, so when Myklas is old enough, you can cut out his liver and use it yourself!"

"What...the actual... what kind of person do you think I am?... Don't answer that," Eirifold sighed, as Ivelle blinked at him innocently. "I don't want to know."

"I think they're perfectly good theories."

"Yes, if you're a total psychopath! Can we just let this go?"

Ivelle's eyes narrowed into a glare. She let the glare sweep down her nose and ricochet off the tip to sail across the narrow distance that separated them.

Her glare said: We are not going to just let it go.

Eirifold looked both ways, then drew her closer. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper.

"Myklas is my brother."

"Your brother?"

"Shhhh!" Eirifold clapped a hand over her mouth and glanced around the deserted backyard as though terrified a neighbor might pop out of a bush at any moment. "You can't go shouting the news! And especially not in the castle. It's a secret."

He lowered his voice and leaned closer, until his mouth was practically touching her ear. "My birth parents were distant relatives of the King. They just so happened to be... incredibly unhinged. Aeris was the only person who ever made an effort to keep me safe. She was a much better influence than my birth mother. When the Queen, who was looking for a child to raise, declared she was taking me in as her own, Aeris thought it would be a great thing for me. She came with me to the palace to raise me.

"But then the king got annoyed by how feeble I was. And my birth parents had another child, a son. Aeris went back home to care for him when he was born, and then I overheard the King and Queen start to talk about bringing him to the palace to be raised. I..." Eirifold hung his head. "Maybe it was selfish of me, denying my brother the chance to be king. But I knew the king was going to try even harder to mold my younger brother in his image. He kept talking about all the things he would do to teach my younger brother to be strong, like taking him to watch people be cut up and tortured. I couldn't bear the thought of my brother being exposed to so much violence when he was just a kid."

"So I sent a secret message to my nanny, along with a lot of money. I told her to get out of there, escape with Myklas, and start life afresh. Originally we talked of her going away to some distant place in the country, but Aeris said that was exactly what everyone would expect. We decided it would be safer to hide in the city, where she could blend in with the crowd. Aeris isn't even her real name, by the way, and Myklas isn't my brother's given name either, but they both took on new identities so they wouldn't be found out."

Ivelle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was a lot to take in. But it was also far more believable than Eirifold secretly being a co-parent with a woman twice his age.

"Does Myklas know the truth?" She studied the pile of barbells beside the back door and hefted the nearest one. It let out an alarming squawking sound, like a chicken being throttled. She set it down hurriedly.

"He knows he's adopted. He thinks I'm just a cool cousin who brings him toys every so often."

"A cool cousin who just happens to have the same name as the prince?" Ivelle cast around the small yard for something they could use as a pull-up bar and settled for a long tree branch that housed a small swing. She tested her weight with the branch, satisfied when it didn't even sag, and jerked her head at the prince. "You're up."

"Eirifold's–huff– not an uncommon name in these parts. I thought about–huff–using an alias around them, but my little brother kept slipping up."

Eirifold dropped to the ground and caught Ivelle by the shoulder, his eyes frightening in their intensity. "I probably don't need to say this, but you can't tell anyone about Myklas. Not a soul, and especially not the king or queen."

"Because I routinely meet with them for tea and crumpets."

His grip on her shoulder tightened. "He's the only male relative left in the royal family who's still young and impressionable. Every other branch of the royal line has died off, probably from being poisoned or from partying too hard. The king and queen are still interested in finding Myklas and using him as a replacement for me. I don't pretend to be a particularly good brother – I'm a terrible role model in fact – but I would prefer if Myklas didn't get forced into living a life where he's miserable."

His face was inches from hers again. Ivelle's breath hitched in her throat. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, feel the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat. His hand had come round to cradle the back of her neck, in a way that made her nerves sizzle with energy.

"I would never do something that would put a child in danger," she said breathlessly. "You have my word."

"Do I?" He leaned even closer – close enough that his warm breath tickled her face. It smelled vaguely of tacos.

"I swear on my life," Ivelle murmured. "And on the life of my crow."

"Did anyone ever tell you"--Eirifold's lips curved in a mischievous smile–"that the best-kept promises are the ones that are sealed with a kiss?"

His lips were inches from hers. Heat pooled in her belly again; it was suddenly hard to breathe. He still had a long way to go in the buffness department, but something about the way he was so protective of his younger brother had made his attractiveness quotient skyrocket. She'd always had a soft spot for men who were good with children.

Her eyes darted down to his lips, so close she could almost taste them. She wanted to taste them again. She wanted to feel the pressure of him against her, to feel the heart beating through the fabric of his shirt –

"EWWW, kissy stuff!"

Ivelle flushed and leaped backward.

Myklas was staring at them, an expression of disgust on his face. He jabbed a finger at her accusingly. "Are you my cousin's girlfriend?"

"N...not exactly."

Ivelle felt another wave of guilt. Lillian. She kept forgetting about Lillian. "Your cousin was just, um, wiping something off my face."

She turned back to Eirifold with a frown. "And now, he's going to do twenty push-ups so he'll be buff and strong for when he marries his real fiance in a week."

"Perry, I–"

"Twenty push-ups. Go!"

~*~

Word count: 29,079