Author's note: Hoookay, new story. This one has been cooking for years, but finally is seeing the light of day. I'm also completely revising Saving Nicholas, for those of you who are interested. Also ... I hate FP formatting with a passion.

Chapter 1

“Arin?” Riyan could hear her voice bordering on panic as she skidded into the research-lab. “Arin!”

A head of spiky brown hair bobbed into view from behind a complicated looking forensics set-up, her blue techie scarves fluttering. “What is it Riyan?”

“Where are my notes?”

Arin’s dark eyebrows knit in confusion. “Notes?”

“Notes! The ones I brought back from Shamin! The great piles of bloody notes!” Riyan felt her arms pinwheeling in panic, but it didn't seem to faze Arin, who was barely taller than a child and possessed nearly the same amount of energy.

“Oh, those notes…” Arin grimaced in recollection, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I think Reg told your students to put them in that classroom behind his office downstairs.”

Riyan felt something shift uncomfortably her stomach. “Which of our students?”

“The little ones,” said Arin, seeming not to realize the irony of her statement. “He made the first year class unload the trucks with magic today, instead of doing a lab, to see what their skill levels were. Isn’t that what he does -?”

“Oh Gods….!” Riyan bolted, not waiting for Arin to finish. Visions of her notes, painstakingly copied and organized, being knocked about and accidentally set on fire by eager first years, was enough to make her feel as though she was going to throw up. She ran down the corridor, her skirts and green scarves fluttering. Visions of haphazard stacks and scattered diagrams danced around her mind as she blew down the stairs, scattering students and staff alike. Reaching the ground floor, she sprinted past Reg’s office and rounded the corner. Fumbling for her keys, it took her two tries to get them into the keyhole – finally, there was a reassuring click, and she pushed open the door.

The room was bright, with south facing windows that let the sun in, illuminating all the dust motes in the air. On each of the desks were several precariously stacked bundles of paper. Riyan felt her heart rate settle as she went from pile to pile, checking dates and subjects. By the end of the second row, she was completely calm again. Everything was in order. She’d have to thank Londrigan’s first year practicum students. It had taken her two days to organize and bundle everything for transport from the research station in Shamin and seeing the work not go to waste was an immense relief. Now to do what she came to do.

She found the site diagrams midway down the fourth row and untied the twine and canvas covering the documents. Extracting them from the pile, she thumbed through them, looking for the particular map that Reg Londrigan had wanted for his next lecture. She could remember sketching the map in the pouring rain, and low and be hold; here it was, still crinkly in parts from -

“Hello there,” a deep voice suddenly spoke in her ear. Riyan screeched, jumping back and flailing into a large, solid wall behind her. Papers flying, she felt a familiar hand clap over her mouth and another catch an arm.

“For gods sake Mendel! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” shouted Riyan, but it came out garbled until the last few words when Mendel let his hand drop away from her mouth. Dropping to her knees, she began to frantically gather up the scattered papers. Mendel silently knelt to help her.

“Thank you,” she said tersely as he handed her the papers he had gathered. He met her stern expression with a grin.

“That’s no way to speak to someone as important as me,” he said lightly, his arms reaching out for a hug. Riyan felt her resolve falter and she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him, acutely conscious as always of the rarity of this permission. Being Crown Prince of Langara meant that Mendel had to be acutely conscious of whom he touched and whom he didn’t.

Mendel gave her a quick squeeze and stepped back, letting his hands fall almost casually onto her shoulders. “I’ve missed you, Ri. I was worried those four months in the bush would make you forget my sense of humour.”

“Never, if you call scaring the living daylights out of poor research assistants a sense of humour,” said Riyan, glancing at her shoulders, wondering what he was doing. Mendel sobered and stepped back another step, running a hand through his black hair and letting the other return to his side. “Sorry Ri, I honestly am. I heard you were back from Shamin and beat it out here as soon as I could get a free moment to say hello. Did you find those rock piles?”

“They’re not rock piles -” protested Riyan automatically. Mendel held up a hand to silence her.

“I know I know, I’m just teasing. But the question stands, Ri.”

Riyan smiled. She had been telling Mendel what he had affectionately called her “harebrained theories” ever since their school days. While he failed to take any interest in her pet subject of Shamin’s Gates further than what she told him, he always waited avidly for her updates on them and the other studies of her colleagues. He had once told her that it was soothing to listen to someone talk to him about something that he wasn’t expected to solve or contribute an intelligent insight to.

“Well, we found two more and they have the same energy signatures as the others. What they were used for is still anyone’s guess though. We’re going back up there once the rains let up so I can run more tests.”

“When’s that?” asked Mendel.

“Three months - What is it?” Riyan paused when she saw a strange expression flash across his face. Even after so many years of knowing him, Riyan could never read strictly his face. Conditioned by years of training, Mendel never dropped his mask unless they were with Tuyan and Madeleine or he was certain they were alone. She had thought they were… where was this sudden flicker of emotion coming from? It had been hiding under his amusement.

“What’s wrong?”

Mendel didn’t answer. A pained expression was twisting at his lip. The mask had dropped and the jubilance had drained from his blue eyes, and Riyan felt herself break into a cold sweat – Mendel was never like this – she had seen him troubled, but he normally retreated behind his calm face, his emotions never naked.

“Mendel?” She whispered.

“I’m going to be married,” he blurted. Riyan felt her jaw fall open and she made a great effort to close it.

“Well…. That’s a good thing right?” she managed to croak out. “Congratulations.”

Mendel grimaced. “It’s to Leonora del Curila of Caprionis ”

Riyan matched his expression, surprise quickly remedying itself into sympathetic horror. “Good God, you’re supposed to marry that woman?”

Mendel nodded, relief flitting across his face. “Well, I’m supposed to.”

Riyan looked at him sharply, suddenly realizing there was something he wasn’t telling her. “Supposed to…” she echoed expectantly.

“Well…” he said, shaking his head. “I may have ruined my father’s plans a bit.”

An oddly sinking feeling suddenly took a hold of Riyan’s insides. “Ruined your father’s negotiations, you mean.”

Mendel nodded, his already aristocratic face paling somewhat.

“What did you do?” Riyan accused. “It’s something big, I know it!”

Mendel swallowed uncomfortably, but his eyes never left her face. He was slowly turning pink, but his training would never let him duck his head. “I may have…slipped-it-to-my-father-that-we’re-intimate-and-engaged.”

Riyan stared at him. “What?”

“I … ah … told my father I couldn’t be married, because of a previous engagement,” he said with a cough, his customary diplomatic tone suddenly re-entering his voice. “With the ministers and Lord Del Curilo present.”

“You’re… serious?” said Riyan faintly. Mendel nodded grimly.

“Like… Actually, for real, serious,” repeated Riyan.

“I am.”

“You told everyone we’re engaged.”

“- And sleeping together,” added Mendel, suddenly looking a bit more cheerful.

It was as though all the grey matter in her mind has suddenly ceased to work. Riyan gaped at him, her mouth hanging open. She couldn’t think, couldn’t feel her hands, her toes. Her heart felt sluggish one moment and like a hummingbird the next. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said, noticing the cautious smile on his face.

“Well, I am, now that I know you aren’t going to maim me for this,” he replied, the cautious smile widening into a grin.

SMACK

Riyan’s hand caught the side of his face before she even knew it had moved. Staggering back slightly from surprise, Mendel stared at her, touching his cheek.

“You realize you have just laid a hand on my person in assault,” he said in a low voice, caught midway between formality and hurt.

“What do you think you just did to me, Mendel?” snapped Riyan, feeling her hair crackle with static and her hands grow warm. Mendel glanced down at them and stepped back, bringing up his hands to ward off any attacks on his person, a small defensive shield crackling into place at her next words. “It’s just like you to bloody well write a song and expect me to waltz in tune with it!”

“That’s no way to speak to me,” said Mendel, affronted. “I’ve done you a big favour, in some respects.”

“My father’s going to shoot me!”

“What do you think my father wants to do to me?” said Mendel, throwing up his hands. “I’ve just gone and put a big stick in the middle of his negotiations.”

“But why?” gasped Riyan, feeling like her brain was spinning. “You’re royal, even with a horrible wife, you can still go off with mistresses and whatever. Isn’t duty – however gruesome – supposed to be part of the job description?”

“Duty to my people, duty to my country and duty to my heart – as cliché as the last one sounds, Riyan, there’s no way I can run this place - ” He made an emphatic gesture towards the window. “With someone I don’t trust as co-ruler.”

“Who would say the queen is co-ruler?”

“The new equality laws, Ri – my sister and a large faction are pushing them for them to apply for the monarchy as well. Haven’t you seen the papers?”

“I’ve been in Shamin for four months! How the hell am I supposed to know what the bloody hell Morrigan’s up to?”

“True, but either way, it’s an important development. An anonymous backer – who I’d bet my life was Morrigan - persuaded some representatives to present the bill to counsel. They do the preliminary votes next week.”

“But – Morrigan is older than you,” said Riyan, suddenly understanding.

“Exactly. If the bill goes through, she could petition to re-enter the line of succession. It would also make the woman I marry an equal ruler.”

“But – she’s a Speaker. She couldn’t re-enter it. It’s law as well.”

Mendel grimaced. “Both Father and I tried telling her that. Didn’t seem to faze her in the slightest – and who’s going to speak up against her anyways? If it comes down to it, I’ll have to fight for the crown. And I don’t want some princess slowing me down. You’re a hell of a magician, Riyan, and someone I trust. I’d rather have you than some useless frilly sop as my queen.”

Riyan stared at him, touched by his declaration and also profoundly worried. It was hard to keep a straight face or even to know what to say. Random little thoughts like but what about my thesis? and I’d have to sleep with Mendel? were whirling around in her mind, distracting her from the panic that was setting in. She could feel Mendel’s hands come to rest on her shoulders again as her vision tunnelled, but she managed to keep her knees from buckling under the shock.

“This is insane…” She said quietly.

“I must be pretty insane,” said Mendel with a small smile. “But I think I’m making the right decision.”

Riyan looked up at him. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Since a week after you left,” said Mendel.

“Why haven’t reporters been breaking down my door?” gasped Riyan.

“My father banned them from publishing anything until he could speak to you. That, and from what I’ve been hearing, you’ve been sleeping since you got back.”

Riyan felt herself quail inside. “Speak… to me?” she squeaked.

She had been in King Shemon’s presence once before, when his majesty had made an official visit to their school. Even then, she hadn’t spoken to him directly. He had nodded to them when Mendel had introduced her, Tuyan and Madeleine as his friends before the King and Princess Morrigan were swept off on a tour of the school, led by the headmaster. They had - all too gleefully - followed along behind, ducking behind pillars and listening to Headmaster Yuan, sweating buckets as he explained the history and curriculum of the school to Shemon in his thin, reedy voice.

It was hard to tell whether the memories of Shemon’s booming voice had been exaggerated in comparison to the Headmaster’s faint one, or if she was piecing together his radio broadcasts with the carrying voice of his son. She shivered.

“Do I have to?”

“You know the answer to that,” said Mendel. “You’ve screamed at me. You can deal with my father.”

“But you don’t imprison me for impertinence.”

“Ah – true,” said Mendel. “But I highly doubt he would. He likes you.”

“I – he what?” gasped Riyan. “He doesn’t even know me! I’m a little person at a university studying a subject that half the people here laugh me for. I’m nothing he’d notice.”

“Are you? You’re a magician who isn’t tied to anything political, like the Speakers or the Council, and who is also loyal to me. Why do you think he’s even considering the matter?”

“Because you’re stubborn and used to getting your own way?”

Mendel laughed. “Well, there’s that as well. But no, I explained my case and given that I apparently inherited my good sense from him, he’s willing to listen, even though he probably wants to lock me in a cell for the next five years. Lord Del Curilo is utterly furious with us for backing out on this treaty. ”

“Don’t blame me if this becomes a war.”

“It won’t. Father’s thinking of offering Beryn instead.”

“But he’s only fourteen!”

“Which means he’d have twice as much energy as an old lump like me. Besides, Uncle Ren will be happy the boy is finally getting something important to do.”

“If you call wedding, bedding and impregnating Leonora important,” said Riyan dryly.

Mendel allowed himself a brief shudder. “Gods know, I don’t.”

They suddenly met each other’s eyes, and Riyan could tell that the words “wed, bed and impregnate” had suddenly sunk in for Mendel as well. He was looking at her thoughtfully, which only made her stomach clench up some more. Mendel suddenly put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.”

All right? You’ve got to be kidding me, thought Riyan, grimacing. Mendel’s hand squeezed her shoulder again, and there was a smile tugging at the corner of his broad mouth. He caught sight of his wristwatch and his expression sobered slightly.

“Now, I have to go. Father has an audience with me scheduled for his lunch tomorrow. That’s when you can talk to him. Show up an hour before then, I can tell you what to say.”

“Okay,” said Riyan faintly, nodding. She wasn’t going to be alone then. It made her feel slightly better.

“See you tomorrow at the west gate,” said Mendel. He turned to leave, then something seemed to occur to him. Turning back, he kissed her lightly on the forehead.

“Have to start acting the part, I guess,” he said with a smile, and then strode out of the room.

Riyan stared after him, the tingling sensation of a numbed limb coming back to life flooding her body. Forcing herself to not reach up and touch the spot where he had kissed her, she slowly uprooted herself from the floor. She breathed deeply, then let it come wheezing out. A few more deep breaths, and she was able to lift one foot and put it in front of the other. And then another foot. And another. Her feet carried her out of the classroom and down the hall. She didn’t even hear Reg’s voice, asking her where she was going.

And there you go. :D Please leave a review!