If there is one good thing about this country, Cassandra thought briefly, it is the high mortality rate.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. As many of the other girls began to come down with some ghastly sickness, she began to look quite desirable.

She frowned into the moonlight that gave the pale stone balcony on which they were sitting an odd glow—a glow that seemed to disappear immediately once the walls became the charcoal colored granite of the ballroom. They had once been surrounded by a bright marble, but a woman from the Orient had been brought to decorate the inside of the cold, rotting castle. She had assured the king that the dark walls and thin layer of jade covering the floor was the fashion of the time… and made it much more difficult to see any dirt.

Victoria, Cassandra’s closest (or possibly only) friend, was sitting on the floor, pressed up against the hourglass shaped columns of the railing along the perimeter of the balcony, while Cassandra sat on top of it, dangling her feet recklessly into the empty space below. Victoria’s fingernails dug silently into the ground beside her and her eyes tightened closed at the thought. She suffered from fainting spells, and the sight of the earth dozens of feet below them and the feel of the thin, cold air in her nostrils didn’t do much to aid her condition.

“You should relax and go dance with some handsome duke,” Cassandra suggested, nudging her friend with her palm playfully, teetering on the edge.

“You should learn to stop being so careless,” Victoria countered. “What would your father say if he saw you?”

Cassandra chuckled softly. “He would ask me if I’d seen his pipe, no doubt. You know, this is the second time this week he’s lost it.”

“Well anyway, it’s unladylike,” Victoria shrugged, pulling her shoulders away from the railing. “You’re going to mess up your dress. You should be thankful you don’t have to wear this confounded thing; my shoulders are freezing and I can barely breathe.”

Her father being the eldest and wealthiest of the nobility of the castle, and her mother having an obsession with fashion, Victoria was always wearing something more modern than the other girls. Sometimes this attracted good attention, sometimes bad, all depending on the extent to which her dresses were different. However, it all just added to the slowly and painfully growing notion that pale, sickly Victoria was strange.

Despite herself, Cassandra found comfort in this.

While the others in the castle were compelled to be nice to Victoria for fear of her father silently doing away with them, Cassandra had virtually no power, through herself nor anyone else. Her father was only an advisor to the king—he had been a peasant, but worked his way up through intelligence and charm. It was quite unheard of, and no one really spoke (loudly) of it because if one were to talk about something scandalous, it would be like they had been part of the scandal themselves. That, however, didn’t stop the whispers. That was not the preeminent reason for them. The biggest reason, actually, was none other than Cassandra.

“Why don’t you go out there?” Victoria cocked an eyebrow, tilting her head back to see the look on her friend’s face.

Cassandra strained to keep an arrogant smirk present, but she felt a heaviness in the pit of her stomach. Surely there would be men visiting who would not know her and her reputation (she feared for the day which it would proceed her), and would ask her to dance. Perhaps one of these men, any of them, could be the man for which she’d been looking for so long. But the memory of what had happened at the last ball was all too fresh in her mind.

“Perhaps I will,” Cassandra said lightly, attempting to convince herself it was some sort of challenge.

“This time take things slowly,” Victoria advised. Though she was only a couple of years older than Cassandra, she often acted as a mother. Cassandra couldn’t decide whether this was incredibly irritating, or if she liked it a bit. “Pretend you are as graceful as Princess Adriana, and you will be. You simply need to stop being so excitable over such small things.”

“You know perfectly well that isn’t the problem,” Cassandra muttered, sliding off the railing next to Victoria. The wind had started blowing in occasional light but chilly gusts, she could see the goose bumps trickle along the exposed parts of Victoria’s dress, and she was starting to feel a bit uneasy.

“Oh, Cassandra, not that again,” Victoria sighed, the corner of her pale lips twitching up slightly. Half the time she couldn’t decide whether to be angry with Cassandra or simply afraid for her, so she compensated by pretending the whole thing was some sort of game.

“Look,” Victoria giggled suddenly, pointing discreetly at a man in the ballroom standing by himself. “I do believe that fellow is looking your way.”

Cassandra glanced up, accidentally meeting the man’s eyes. Though they were on opposite ends of the grand place, and not even technically in the same room, it was obvious that he was looking directly at her. To her relief his gaze was not sharp, but rather intrigued, the way it would be had any man been looking at any other girl that evening.

Judging by his odd clothing, he was a foreigner, though he had the dark hair, dark eyes, and slightly tanned skin of the rest of the people in the kingdom. He was young, too—not another disgusting old hairy man whose first wife had died in childbirth long ago. His lips rested naturally into a faint smile, and his eyes were in the shape of crescent moons, which overall had a calming effect on her.

Cassandra nodded to Victoria, helping her up, and they swept into the ballroom giggling, eyes straining slightly in the dim flicker of the candlelight chandeliers. She could feel people’s gazes on her from the corner of their eyes with every move she made, but she could see the man moving towards them out of the corner of her eye and felt a twinge of excitement. She wondered, perhaps, if this could be the man she was looking for.

“Good evening, ladies,” a low rumble spoke pleasantly. “A wonderful night for a ball, is it not?”

“Why yes, it is,” Victoria smiled politely, nudging Cassandra with her elbow. “I must go speak with my father, if you will excuse me.” They bowed courteously before Victoria scuttled off, leaving the two of them alone. Cassandra felt as if the change in scenery had happened rather fast, but she didn’t mind.

“I am Lord Alec,” the man informed her. He had a gruff appearance—his face and hands were scarred in several places, and his clothes very slightly faded, indicating that he had probably come from fairly far away; however, he had a surprisingly gentle, relaxed air about him. “And to whom am I having the pleasure of speaking?”

“My name is Cassandra,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. Even she had formed a vague connotation with her name.

“Ah, Lady Cassandra,” Lord Alec grinned broadly, bowing. She didn’t bother to correct him; she liked the way it sounded with his voice. “Would you care to dance?”

She nodded, deciding that less was more in her case. Whenever something went unfavorably for her, it usually started with her speaking. She held out her hand for him to take, and he led her into the center of the room, placing his other hand gently on her waist. He’s a gentleman, she thought sadly, noticing that he was looking at her face, not the ripples of her dark, green velvet gown.

“Your kingdom is wonderful,” he whispered into her ear, seeming unsure of whether or not he should be speaking in the first place. She felt the hairs on her neck stand upright. Admittedly, this was not a compliment to her. Though the castle was lavish, intricate and renowned across the region for its opulence and comfort, Cassandra had nothing to do with it, and knew that her mere presence there was not assured.

“We are usually very prosperous,” she rattled off the usual trivial small talk she exchanged with every man with whom she danced. “The weather keeps cool, and we don’t get much trouble here because of the mountains.”

“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to cause trouble in a land with such wonderful people,” he grinned at her, causing her to blush darkly. She, indeed, was quite beginning to like Lord Alec. For her that was never good.

As if he could tell she was nervous, he grew silent, merely smiling slightly as they danced. He’s polite, she thought. Wonderfully polite. She couldn’t decide whether this was wonderful or terrible; her heart pounded so loudly she could feel it in her ears, and she felt a bit lightheaded as her blood rushed throughout her body. She looked up slowly, straight into his dark hazel eyes, realizing that his face was much closer than she had guessed.

“You’re a wonderful dancer, Lady Cassandra,” he murmured. She could feel his hot breath on her face and her body tensed up, her feet ceasing to move entirely. She could feel what was going to happen through every inch of her. She could feel the sudden silence followed by the ear piercing chaos. She could feel her decision resting as a heavy stone weight upon her shoulders. She could feel his cold hands.

A loud crack echoed throughout the ballroom accompanied by scattered screams and gasps. Her tenseness suddenly turned to a shaky looseness, thinking briefly that this was not nearly as bad as she had expected. She felt people moving quickly all around her, and then, much to her surprise, felt Lord Alec’s warm, steady hands on her shoulders, supporting her.

She couldn’t understand why he was still alive.

But she finally realized that she hadn’t kissed Lord Alec; something had stopped her. Something always stopped her, though she couldn’t tell if it was from her own willpower or from a greater force. Her body felt weak and shaky from fear that had overpowered her when she’d thought she’d hurt him. Though the misfortunes that followed her seemed to harm no one but herself, she couldn’t help but think the whispers about her had good reason.

Ever since she could remember, her willpower made no difference.

“Come to the side with me where it is safe, my Lady,” Lord Alec said authoratively as he took her hand and led her to the edge of the ballroom where the other women had gathered. They were whispering and staring bug-eyed at the heavy wooden doors of the entrance, which had been flung open though she couldn’t see for what.

She pushed through the small crowd to the front, getting glares from several of the older women. She didn’t have to listen to their whispers to know what they were saying. Cursed, is what trickled from their lips, as always. She was certain that whatever had just happened, each of the women of the kingdom would at some point blame her.

The King and various other men of the court and a few of those visiting were gathered around a man who appeared to have crumpled to the ground, completely soaked in rain. That was probably the strangest part of the entire situation—it barely ever actually rained in the kingdom of Alderbury, despite the nearly constant cloud cover.

“What’s going on?” Cassandra asked into the air to anyone who would listen, but everyone ignored her and stared intently at the commotion, straining to hear despite the hushed voices the men were using. She felt like a little girl at a parade, only she felt not excitement but instead an inevitable fear.

She looked over the men’s faces, each one either tense or angry. The king himself looked exasperated, as if whatever the crumpled man was saying was so ridiculously absurd that it was about to make him laugh.

The room had begun to grow louder as peoples’ whispers turned to chatter to nearly shouting, when another loud crack—Cassandra couldn’t be sure whether it was thunder or the door again or perhaps something even more intimidating—sounded, and a large group of men, soaking wet, entered the room. They were clearly foreigners; each had pale, luminous skin and the color of their hair ranged between them to a great extent. For a moment, the room was completely and utterly silent. If one of the women across the room had dropped an earring she would have heard it echo throughout the entire castle.

The one in front was clearly the leader, though appeared to be younger than many. He was noticeably taller and stood with a much greater confidence than the rest, almost matching the king himself, despite the sallow look of his cheeks and the shadows covering his eyes, which were sunken in from the rest of his sharp features. Despite all attempts to look otherwise, it was obvious that he was ill.

“I wish to speak with your king,” he said loudly. Cassandra couldn’t help but be impressed by his nerve—it seemed that everyone else felt as though they should be whispering.

King Oryan stepped forward carefully, looking as though he was wondering whether to be insulted at the intrusion. By social law, maybe he should have been—but he was much too kindhearted to think to shoot first and ask questions later. “I am he,” he confirmed slowly but surely.

The man stepped closer and then spoke in a much lower voice as he noticed the hungry gazes of the nobles surrounding him. For the briefest instant, the look upon King Oryan’s face was one of utter fear. But the more the man talked, the more he relaxed, nodding, though he was noticeably paler than he’d been previously.

The men began to nod, some glancing briefly around the room. As suddenly as the men had entered, they seemed to be finished. Victoria’s father spoke heartily to the man in the front—as if trying to keep on his good side—as he led them out of the room and into the rest of the castle. The instant they were out of sight, the room erupted into sound and the king walked to his throne to sit down, followed closely by a couple of nobility who were whispering harshly to each other.

Determined to find out what was going on, Cassandra spotted Lord Alec disappearing into the crowd. She ran towards him, appalling several of the Ladies as she passed. He had stopped in a dark corner with a couple of men dressed similarly to him—she assumed they had traveled there together—both of whom didn’t look very happy. She knew that by all social standards she should not approach a man, much less speak to him without first being addressed, but Cassandra had unfortunately inherited an irrevocable ambition and curiosity from her father, and she simply had to know.

She waited patiently until the two men became angry about something Lord Alec had said and stalked off into the mass of the ballroom, leaving him alone in the small, flickering light of the single candle left there.

“Eh, excuse me, Lord Alec—” Cassandra started. “If I may be so bold, I was wondering what that group of men was doing here. I have made the assumption that they are not simply here for a visit. Would you perhaps know the nature of their arrival?”

Lord Alec didn’t seem to know whether to be aghast at her question or to find it admirable. He smiled despite himself; while he wasn’t very experienced with women as he’d spent much of his life travelling, he couldn’t help but find the girl endearing in all of her lack of social graces. “I am afraid your assumption is correct,” he said warmly but in a whisper. “But I am also afraid I do not know much about what is going on. That man requested to speak alone with the king—I only caught glimpses, and I wish not to draw conclusions about things which do not concern me.”

Cassandra frowned slightly. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was almost a disappointment to find that even a gentleman such as Lord Alec would not think a woman capable of understanding things on the same degree as a man. “If I may, I might suggest that being in a kingdom as it is possibly threatened would concern anyone.”

She attempted to keep her face expressionless as she read Lord Alec’s , he was not taken aback. Instead, much to her surprise, he linked his arm through hers and led her on what appeared to be a stroll towards the balcony, speaking once again in her ear. “From what I gathered,” he said, his voice barely audible as he glanced around to make sure no one was looking at them. “That man claims that some sort of, well, it’s silly… but I believe he said a witch doctor of some sort from your kingdom has cursed him.”

For a moment, Cassandra almost came to a dead stop. The hairs stood up on the nape of her neck and her hands, nose and feet were suddenly chilled. She forced her face to look as skeptical as Lord Alec sounded, but it was all for naught. She had that feeling again, suddenly, that there was someone directly behind her, watching her, and no matter where she went or what she did, that she couldn’t stop it.

“A… a witch you say?” her voice caught.

“Oh it’s all rubbish, of course, but I do believe that’s what he said,” Lord Alec shrugged, his rich clothing brushing against Cassandra’s arm and warming her slightly. His skepticism was near comforting to her. “In my opinion, it’s all a big show so he can get whatever he wants without seeming irrational. Although I must say it would seem less irrational to randomly barge in on a harmless kingdom than to claim he’d been cursed and demand a wife as an exchange.”

When he put it like that, of course, Cassandra wondered why she had ever been afraid. But there was a certain validity to the strange man’s story. A certain validity that not Lord Alec nor any other person in the kingdom, except possibly Victoria, could understand. Her kingdom may have been renowned in the region for peace, but there was a very large part much deeper inside of it, both tangibly and not, that even the king himself could not begin to know.

“A wife as an exchange for what?” she laughed incredulously, trying to make sure he believed that she believed it to be every bit as silly as he.

“An exchange,” he said, frowning, his voice suddenly growing dark as he narrowed his eyes in the direction of where King Oryan and the man had been. “To not attack.”

A/N: SALLY...IS...BACK!

Before anyone says anything, Lord Alec is NOT the love interest. I thought I would just clear that up. :)

Anyhoots...my first third person story. And my first story to be in a more serious, darker tone. Or a fairytale. Or anything not set in the present. o.o Comments on how you think I am doing at accomplishing this would be MUCH appreciated. I feel as though I am treading into unfamiliar water here.

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO MY FABULOUS BETA, THE CAT DIED NOBLY, FOR BETA-ING THIS SO WELL. You should all go check out all of her lovely stories right this instant. They are hilarious.

And THANK YOU TO EMILY FOR BEING EMILY. D