Step 6b: ... and definitely don't fall in love

It was after dark by the time Ivelle and Eirifold made their way back to the palace. Ivelle had put Eirifold through his paces until he was barely able to lift a spoon, much less contemplate kissing her again. Myklas had been a great help. He'd taken up the role of Eirifold's personal drill sergeant with adorable enthusiasm, and when he'd gotten bored of that, he'd taken great pleasure in serving as an extra weight for Eirifold to lift.

Eirifold seemed lost in thought as they retraced their steps into the secret row house, down the dark staircase, and through the winding passageway. Ivelle, distracted by her own thoughts, said little, and it was only when Eirifold stopped walking and began fiddling with his keyring that she realized they must be back inside the palace once more.

"This doorway will take you just behind the statue of King Bozifer, very near to your room." Eirifold frowned -- at least, Ivelle thought he did. It was hard to make out his features through the darkness. "Perry..."

"You don't need to say anything." She sucked in a breath.

"I think I do. I had a really good time today. But I also put you in an uncomfortable position, and I'm sorry." He stared at the ground. "I know at heart I'm... not a good person. I'm selfish, and I've done things in the past that I... anyway, it was wrong of me to be flirting with you like that. As you said, I'm getting married in a week." He hesitated. "I could break off the engagement with Lillian and run away, but I have a feeling my parents would subject her to a worse fate if I did that."

Ivelle wondered what sort of fate he had in mind. Becoming King Gorlin's second wife, perhaps?

She wouldn't put it past the old sleazebag.

"I... realize this might be asking too much, after what happened today." Apprehension colored Eirifold's words. "But I would like to stay friends. These last few weeks... they've been the best weeks since I... well, the best weeks I've had in a long time."

He shot her a tentative smile through the torchlight, and there was a hint of sadness in his eyes that made Ivelle's heart ache. She suddenly saw his life in a different light. Sure, he'd grown up filthy rich, but that wasn't much of a life if you had no friends to share things with.

But she couldn't be his friend – at least, not permanently. Her time in the castle was limited, and once Eirifold and Lillian were happily married, she'd be gone.

It really was better to push him away.

"You should get a pet," she offered, not meeting his eyes. "Adopt a cat or dog. It might help you feel less lonely. ...Or better yet, work on befriending Lillian."

"Perry, I–"

"My name isn't actually Perry. It's Ivelle." She pushed the door open. "I'll see you tomorrow for training."

~*~

Long after Ivelle lay down that night, she found herself unable to sleep. She tossed and turned, her head churning with thoughts.

She wasn't starting to like him.

She wasn't.

And anyway, even if she did like him, it didn't matter.

He was going to marry Lillian in six days.

She had to keep reminding herself about that part. He was already accounted for. Soon his heart would be claimed by someone else. There was no place in his life for her. And even if there had been, once she fulfilled her mission and made Eirifold and Lillian fall in love, she would be gone, like seeds on a breeze, like snow in the springtime, never to be seen again.

She avoided Eirifold the next evening, bribing one of his soldiers to tell him the court jester was ill. The next night, she sent a similar excuse.

She knew avoiding Eirifold was cowardly of her. But how could she trust herself not to kiss him and mess everything up for them both?

It was better to give him some space.

Better to let him forget she existed so he could make room in his heart for his new wife.

~*~

In her dream, Lord Saffron stood before her in the garden of his castle, his gloved hand cupping her cheek. His eyes shone down on her softly, the besotted gaze of a man deep in love.

"My dear," he murmured.

The sunlight faded, and clouds gathered on the horizon. A darkness came over Lord Saffron's expression. Gone was the warmth that had previously suffused his features. His jaw hardened, and his eyes glittered with satisfaction as he smirked at her.

Ivelle stumbled backward and almost tripped over a coffin that had materialized on top of a nearby patch of garden lilies. A steady THUMP, THUMP, THUMP reverberated from inside. As Ivelle knelt beside the casket with shaking hands, the lid burst open, and her mother's corpse stepped out.

"I warned you."

What little of her mother's body that was not rusty with blood was covered in grave soil and maggots. Half her face was rotted away, and Ivelle recoiled as she saw worms crawl free of her decaying flesh.

"You cannot trust a man–" her mother sneered "--and especially not a noble. They will spin you pretty tales, they will say exactly what you want to hear, fill your head with pretty little lies. My older sister learned this the hard way, and I see you've learned it too. If you had listened to me, none of this would have happened. If you had listened to me, I would still be alive."

Ivelle gasped into wakefulness, sliding out of bed with a jolt.

That was when she realized that not everything she'd just experienced had been a dream.

Someone was thumping on her door, the sound almost frantic.

"Ivelle?" said Ash, his voice heavy with sleep. "Whozzat?"

"I don't know."

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she grabbed a shawl off her nightstand and threw it across her nightdress, hoping it would hide her lack of a bra. She tiptoed to the doorway and peered through the peephole.

Eirifold's worried face met her eyes.

He rapped on the door again, this time with even more vigor than before.

"I'm coming! I'm coming! Hold your damn horses!" Ivelle fumbled with the lock and flung the door open, wincing as the torchlight hit her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Furtively, she glanced up and down the hallway, which was thankfully empty. "Do you have any idea what sorts of rumors will spread if you're seen visiting my bedroom at all sorts of hours of the night?"

"I was worried." Eirifold seemed thoroughly unrepentant about any rumors he might or might not be causing by his presence. He waved an airy hand. "You hadn't appeared in days after saying we'd keep on training, and the last thing I heard was that you were sick. I was starting to wonder if you were on your deathbed."

"As you can see, I'm fine." Ivelle glowered at him. "Just peachy, in fact, aside from a bit of a head cold, so why don't you – holy hell!"

"Do you like him?" Beaming, Eirifold followed her line of sight to the small pug crouching next to his ankles. "I took your advice. There were so many dogs roaming the halls, all of them in need of a home. And this one took to me... a little bit more than the others. Allow me to introduce you to the one and only... Furlock Bones!"

Ivelle stared at the dog.

The dog stared back at her.

His dark eyes glinted smugly. As Ivelle watched, one corner of his mouth curled upward into a snarl. The hackles on his back rose, and his body coiled, as if poising to spring.

"Get it?" Eirifold rambled. "I was always a big fan of Sherlock Holmes growing up, and I thought having a smart dog would help me figure out the mystery of what Mariel was up to. I even bought him a tiny detective hat!"

"Please stop talking," said Ivelle. She could feel a headache coming on. "That... ah, that particular dog–"

Before she could finish her sentence, the gray pug coiled itself on his haunches and leapt for her throat.

Unfortunately for the dog, but fortunately for Ivelle, pugs are not the most agile of creatures. Ivelle, who had been anticipating an assault of this nature, had time to duck inside the bedroom before he made contact. A muffled thwack echoed through the room as the pug's squishy body collided with the door, followed by a chastising yell from Eirifold and some frantic scrabbling. When Ivelle opened the door again, Eirifold had the pug securely by the waist, although he seemed to be expending considerable effort to stop the dog's quivering body from launching himself at Ivelle.

"Sorry," Eirifold panted. "He's normally much better behaved. Bad Furlock! Bad!"

Ash, drawn by the commotion, peered over Ivelle's shoulder to hiss at the dog.

"His name isn't actually Furlock," Ivelle mumbled.

"Oh?"

"His name is Lord Saffron. And he miiiight be my ex-husband who I turned into a dog."

~*~

"Let me get this straight," said Eirifold, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You fed this dog a potion..."

"Correction: I fed his human form a potion. That's how he became a dog."

"And then you just... ah... left him to fend for himself?"

"He seems to have done pretty well for himself, seeing as how he found his way to the palace and wormed his way into your good graces. Oh, stop growling!" she snapped at the dog crate a few meters away. "There were plenty of kindhearted people at your old castle. It wasn't like I just chucked you out into the street!"

They had taken the secret passage back to Eirifold's room. Ivelle had thought it might be easiest to contain Lord Saffron there. Ash, who was doing a shockingly good job keeping silent, all things considered, perched on top of Saffron's crate, glaring at him through beady eyes. Furlock, a.k.a. Lord Saffron, crouched at the base of the cage, his lips intermittently curling into a snarl.

Eirifold shot the former nobleman an irritated look, then turned back to Ivelle. "I never thought I'd be hosting a conflict resolution session between a woman and her husband-turned-dog."

"Ex-husband," Ivelle corrected.

"What, may I ask," said Eirifold, "did this dog – er, man – do to get himself... Doggified?" He seemed to be taking the news that his new pet was her ex-husband awfully well, all things considered, although the way he seemed to be weighing each of his words more than usual made Ivelle wonder if he was more affected than he was letting on.

"Let's see," said Ivelle, glancing sourly toward Saffron's prison. "How about tricking me into thinking he still loved me, destroying all my carefully-laid plans, and killing my mother?"

Saffron let out a series of angry-sounding barks.

"I think he wants to say something in his defense."

Ivelle folded her arms. "Too bad neither of us speak dog, so we'll never know."

"No need to be so smug about it. Do you have a potion to change him back?"

At this, an eager whine sounded from the bowels of the doggy crate.

"Excuse me?" Ivelle huffed.

"It just seems kind of harsh to quote a laundry list of misdeeds at him without hearing his side of the story. Also, I'm no expert on the law, but I seem to recall that you're supposed to duke these things out in court with a judge and jury. Turning people into dogs without permission might be a tad bit, ah, illegal."

Ivelle sucked in a breath. Really? He'd had no qualms about her stealing the entire contents of his father's treasury. This was where he chose to draw the line? "I don't have a way to change him back," she said.

The whining in the dog crate intensified.

Ivelle slammed a hand down on the roof of the kennel. "Yeah, well, maybe you should've thought of that before you killed my mum, who was the brains behind most of the magic in our household!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Eirifold. "Seems like this is a charged topic for both of you. Maybe it's time to take a breather? Go out into the garden, take a stroll?"

"I'm going back to bed," Ivelle said. "I shouldn't be here, anyway." And I certainly shouldn't be wandering around someplace as romantic as a castle garden in the middle of the night with you.

She turned to leave the room. Eirifold caught her arm. His touch felt like an electric jolt across her skin. "Leaving so fast?" His lips quirked. "You don't seriously trust me to figure out what to do with your bedogged ex-husband all on my own, do you?"

"You're a strong, independent man." Ivelle didn't meet his eyes. "You'll figure something out."

"While that may be true, it does seem a bit cruel of you to leave me in the lurch, seeing as how I never would've owned a dog in the first place if you hadn't suggested I get more companionship. Plus, I think you owe me the full story behind why you turned your husband into a dog in the first place, not to mention how both he and you ended up at the palace."

Ivelle swallowed down the lump in her throat. She shook her head and tugged her arm from his grasp, trying to ignore the way even a slight brush of his fingers sent her nerves jangling in disconcertingly pleasant ways. "Let's talk about this later, Eirifold. During daylight hours. Right now... I just... I think it's best if I go."

The winning smile faded off Eirifold's face, leaving something almost sorrowful in its place. He sighed. "Your shady evasions leave me no choice. I wanted to get answers the easy way, but you forced my hand. Ivelle Delaville, you are under arrest, at least until you can explain... this!"

With a dramatic flourish, he whisked a piece of paper off his desk and placed it in her lap.

Ivelle's stomach dropped.

It was a flier.

A very familiar, very incriminating flier.

~*~

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