I settled back into my chair after she told me to hush. Normally, that was not something that I would do, but I could tell that Iremos's message had worried her, and I thought that she probably didn't need me bickering with her.

She shifted in her chair and rested her head in her hands, letting out a sigh. For a moment, she looked impossibly tired and worn. She looked almost frail, and I had the brief, irrational thought that if I were to touch her, she would break.

I shook my head to clear it and turned my gaze to the sky. The palace was interesting, I would admit. The Fae apparently did not like to cut down trees, so they instead built the rooms and buildings around them. Many of the rooms were open to the sky, and plants were encouraged to grow everywhere. It was quite a change from the rough wood and stone buildings of Corphone, but it was strangely therapeutic.

I moved in my chair again and, automatically, my eyes were drawn back to Coralinn. For once, I didn't try to stop myself; the exterior I tried to hold onto--cold, implacable--had been shunted aside almost as soon as I had set foot on the palace grounds. I let my gaze travel over her, and I wondered briefly how I had missed that she was a Fae. Her small hands were typical of the race, and her face was slightly more pointed than an average human's. She was pretty in an unobtrusive sort of way--and the Fae were very good at "unobtrusive." She was built for flight--small, light, and slender. Her being Fae explained the little things that she had done that had seemed so unusual in the past, like her always knowing what animals would be inhabiting the forests near us, or her habit of never lying. Granted, some humans never lied, either, but, if what I had heard about the Faeries was true, the Fae thought lying to be a horrible offense, and if one were to lie, the situation was desperate.

She muttered something to herself and broke my reverie. I blinked, surprised that I had let myself drift away on my thoughts like that. That was happening more often recently. I knew why, too, but to admit it. . .I wasn't sure if I could do that to anyone but myself. Even then, I wasn't sure if I could. There were feelings I had that no necromancer should be harboring, let alone a necromancer of the Starlancer line.

I still felt it, though, and it frightened me more than almost anything. I couldn't erase it, and I couldn't control it. It came upon me at the strangest of times. All it would take would be a certain scent or a turn of phrase and everything would come rushing over me again. It couldn't- --wouldn't--be controlled. I had heard stories and occasionally seen how it worked, how it caused people to come back from death for only a moment, simply to say three words to a dear one: "I love you." I had never felt it in such a way for anyone, and in a strange way, I prided myself on that. I was Hondo Praela Starlancer, and I would not love.

That vow, however, was quickly broken. Love came soon after trust and respect for her. I loved her, and I was unbelievably scared. The strange thing was that I was not the most frightened for myself; I was scared of hurting her by loving her. As a Starlancer, I knew that if I had to choose between necromancy and love, I would have to choose necromancy. I was one of the last necromancers left, and I had swore to follow in my father's footsteps by becoming a necromancer like him.

This was why I hoped that she did not reciprocate. This was why I was one of the only people in history ever to hope for unrequited love. If she didn't love me in return, then I wouldn't have to hurt her. I did not want to cause her pain, even if it meant hiding my feelings for all of my life and watching as she gave her heart to someone else.

The silence had grown too protracted and too weighty. "Done thinking yet?" I asked, and my voice was rather loud.

She mumbled at me and massaged her temples. "I haven't even started yet," she answered. "I just can't think, Hondo, I can't think. . ." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right. I'm better." She looked over at me. "You don't have to stay, you know."

"I know," I replied. At that moment, I would not have left for all the money in this world or any other. Her eyes were on me, and though I tried to ignore it, my heart leapt.

She tilted her head to one side. "You're sure you don't want to go?"

Did she want me to leave? "I want to stay, Coralinn."

I can't be sure, but I thought I saw her blush. There was silence again, broken this time by the faerie queen. "Care to take a stroll with me?" she asked.

I stood and pulled out her chair for her. "I would be honored," I replied.

We walked around the council chamber, not speaking. I wanted to say something, but there was no inspiration. What could I have said? "Coralinn, I love you, but I hope very much that you only feel friendship for me." If I had said that, it was likely our friendship would have disintegrated, and I don't know what I would do without her. I trusted her, respected her. I knew that I could depend on her no matter what happened. She had seen me in all of my moods, and she accepted all of my idiosyncrasies. She seemed to understand why I acted the way I did, and she asked nothing more of me than I was willing and able to give.

A slight breeze interrupted my thoughts, and the wind brought with it the rustle of leaves. Coralinn was suddenly no longer at my side. "What is it?" I called after her, following her run at a more sedate pace, but she didn't hear. She was standing in front of a huge oak now, her hands placed on its trunk, her cheek pressed against the bark. As I neared, I heard her murmur, "You thought I'd forgotten about you, didn't you?"

I couldn't help it. My brow was arched and the words out of my mouth before I could think. "You're talking to a tree."

She glanced over her shoulder at me and smiled gently. "How do you know it doesn't talk back?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer."

She turned to face me and leaned against the tree. "Even a queen needs her getaway place. This was mine. My trouble-tree."

I tried not to laugh at the name. My snicker managed to become my clearing my throat. I took a step forward and put a hand on the trunk. "I can't believe you never told me any of this," I said softly, doing my best to ignore the sudden shifting of my mood. It didn't work too well.

"There's a lot of things I've never told you," she said then. Her expression twisted slightly for a moment as if she were scolding herself, but that quick look was replaced with a smile that pushed my fears back to the corner of my mind.

I moved without thinking, placing my other hand on the other side of her and looking her straight in the eye. I did not know what I was trying to do, and I'm not sure that my motives were entirely pure. At that time, I was suddenly tired of holding everything in. Her smile had broken down all the walls I had so carefully put up. It always did. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to hear her tell me she cared for me in return. "I propose a trade of secrets," I told her. "One of mine for one of yours."

She stared at me for a long moment before replying a little hesitantly, "All right."

A wave of nervousness washed over me. I don't know what mad wish had taken over me, to put her in a situation like that. I couldn't tell her, but I couldn't call things off now. She'd demand to know why, and that would just leave me right where I didn't want to be. "I'll go first," I said, trying to remember some childhood memory. Recalling one, I flushed a little and said, "When I was a boy, I used to make-believe that I was a knighted hero of Corphone, and I come in and rescue my mother from evil pirates." The memory brought a chuckle from me. I'd had a decent childhood. My father was never much one for laughing or playing, but my mother endured my periods of stoicism as well as my sudden bursts of emotion. I came back to the present and said gently, "Your turn."

She tried to speak for a few moments, finally managing to say, "I can't breathe."

"Not much of a secret," I teased, but the mirth faded as soon as I say the tears that were starting to well up in her eyes. "Coralinn?"

She choked back a sob. "Hondo--"

I choked back the instinctive urge to hold her, comfort her. "Hush," I murmured. "It's all right." I touched her face gently, and she flinched. "Sorry," I apologized with a brief chuckle. "Necromancer's hands. They're a little rough."

"No, it's not--"

"Hush," I said again, resting my forehead against hers. "Coralinn, it's all right. Just take a deep breath and--"

"I love you."

Those simple words brought such a mix of emotion. Elation and fear and pain all mixed inside of me. I didn't move. Faintly, I was aware of her moving to kiss me, and I stopped her, putting my fingers to her lips. I couldn't let her love me. I couldn't hurt her. "Coralinn," I began, but my voice cracked. "Coralinn, I'm sorry--"

"I don't understand," she said, and I would have done anything to get that look of pain off of her face.

"I am a Starlancer," I tried to explain, my voice rough. "A necromancer, Coralinn. I'm so sorry. . ."

She didn't move, didn't react. I pulled her close, wishing I could explain everything to her. She stood stiffly, but she did not cry.

Someone cleared his throat. "Ah--am I interrupting something?" Iremos asked.

Coralinn pulled away, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes. I made sure my expression gave nothing away.

"I was just, uh, wondering," Iremos went on, "considering the message I took off the dead Kabrim and delivered to you, and the ordeal we all went through concerning the Mobdrans, I deemed it wise to inquire if there was any sort of facility nearby that dealt anything with alcoholic qualities."

"You're saying you need a drink, man, is that it?" I asked him.

"Elf, actually, and yes, that's what I'm saying."

"I think we all need a stiff drink," Coralinn said, her voice steady. A rush of guilt and pain ran through me. "Including me."

Iremos's eyebrows rose. "That's a new one." He addressed me again. "Well, what do you say, mate? Drinks all around?"

I couldn't stay there any longer. I mumbled a yes, bowed in Coralinn's direction, and left as quickly as I could without running. I couldn't stand there and pretend not to be hurting, and I couldn't endure knowing she hurt as much as I. The constant regret for being a necromancer was now threatening to choke me.

I hurried back to the rooms I shared with Jodd and Iremos. Jodd was asleep, as was Ouija, and I knew Iremos would be with Coralinn still. I went into my own room and shut the door, then took out my knives. Their blades glinted in the dim light, and the runes on the metal swam as I cursed them in every language I knew. They were permanent shackles, and I couldn't get rid of them. They had stripped me of emotion, and they had caused me to hurt her.

I ran out of swear words shortly. I was putting them back in their sheathes when Iremos knocked on the door and came in without waiting for a reply. "Care to explain what was going on in there?" he asked.

I was tempted to lie, but I remembered then that he always knew when someone lied to him. He had the annoying habit of seeing directly into truth. "I don't care to explain," I retorted. "I want you to go away."

He didn't leave. "She was hurting. Did you do it?"

Since when was I not a cause of pain? "What do you think?"

His gaze was even. "I think you made a mistake, Hondo, and it's going to cost you."

"I know," I answered. "I know."

He sighed. "Well, it's not really any of my business anyway--"

"When did that stop you?"

He ignored me. "--so I'm off to bed. If you want to swear again, do it quieter. I don't want Ouija picking up things she shouldn't be saying." He inclined his head and left.

I sat down at my desk. I had made a mistake, I knew that.

The question was, would I ever get a chance to fix it?

A/N: Three things first off. Number one: yes, Iremos's foster child is named after a game board. Pronounce it "wee-ja" until we find a better way of spelling it or a different name entirely. Second, in this particular world, necromancers use specially spelled knives to do their work. Hondo received his from his father. (See Ireth Palantir's "My Father's Son" for a better explanation of Master Starlancer.) Number three: Ireth Palantir is responsible for most of the dialogue. I changed a bit of it and I wrote some of it, but the majority of the spoken words are hers.

All right, now for the backstory.

This scenelette is from a story that Ireth Palantir and I are writing. It is not up on FictionPress and probably won't be because a) we're still writing it and b) we're going to get it published. (Do not doubt the girl who holds the Editing Axe O' Doom. Trust me on this one.) The scene was originally written in third person. This came about from me wondering what, exactly, possessed Hondo to pull a stunt like that and what exactly he was thinking at the time.

Iremos is an elf. If you want Ireth's description in ten words or less, read this: "Jack Sparrow + 21 + pointed ears." Fangirlish? Of course, but it's fairly accurate nonetheless.

All right. That's enough of me talking now. One last thing: Here, Ireth. At your urging, I put these up. I changed a bit, but not too much. Now I get to go try and summarize both of them AND get a title. . .