He was so very cold...
That was the first thing he realized as he stumbled out into the cobblestoned streets, clutching a ratty blanket around his shoulders. The second thing was that he had an empty scabbard latched to a well-made leather belt. He had money, then, judging from the jewels encrusted on the scabbard.
But when he looked inside of himself, when he reached for some kind of memory or reason that he should be wandering outside in the dead of night with the thieves and assassins, all he found was a blank. A large hole where memories of childhood and warm fires should have been.
He saw a castle looming ahead; he began to walk quickly, jerking as a shadow passed by, sending chills down his spine. His boots clicked quietly against the stones. It was going to rain...
He pounded on the door for several minutes, but no one answered. He called for guards, but no men in dark uniforms of the palace appeared. Sighing, he turned back towards the city. Maybe he could find an inn, or a kindly weaver to take him in for the night.
It disturbed him to no end that he could not remember who he was. Not even a name, not a single syllable appeared when he concentrated and thought of names. One name did rise up, but it was a girl's name and common in the east Kingdoms of the Sea.
Kingdoms of the Sea?
Was that where he was from, then? One mystery solved; dragons were the guardians of the oceans. Sighing, his hand fell from its hold on the blanket onto the clasp of his shirt, once fine silk, and caressed the imprint of a raging monster. Lord of the sea...
He passed by a tavern; the Dancing Dove. Looking around, he decided that he had nothing to lose by going inside and warming his hands by the fire. He pushed the old wood door open and stepped inside.
And was immediately accosted by an old man with two glittering rubies for eyes. "Hey there, pretty girl," he hissed, his breath laden with the stench of bad mead. His fingers, dirty and gnarled, ran through the silk of his hair. He gave a contented sigh and slid one hand over his buttocks, pinching the flesh there.
He gave a soft noise of surprise and jerked back, his hands again dropping to his side. A warrior; reaching for his sword by instinct. He was pretty sure he didn't mind being a warrior at all.
"Hey, there, leave the pretty girl alone," a voice called out. He turned around, expecting to see another leering old man and instead found a boy not much older than himself, although nearly a foot taller. He had long, platinum blonde hair down to his waist, and slim hips that moved with an awkward grace. "I'm Zechs...that's a 'z', not an 's'." The others chuckled at his joke. "I'm a squire at the palace. In fact, I'm supposed to be there right now. You are...?"
"I'm a boy," he snapped, feeling his face flush as a roar of approval rang throughout the crowded room. He doubted it would be wise to announce to the entire Court of the Rogue that he had lost his memory.
Court of the Rogue?
Where was his mind coming up with this crap?
"May I speak with you outside?" he asked politely. The blonde man nodded and grabbed two mugs of beer.
"Here," he said kindly, handing him the colder one. "You're pretty young to be hanging around these types. And forgive the mistaken gender; we've had a recent history of feminine-looking boys turning out to be girls." An image of violet eyes flashed in his mind, as well as bright red hair...
No matter. He shook his head clear of the cobwebs and tried a smile. The poor sod seemed to melt away in his boots. Definitely fey. "I'm afraid I've lost my memory. I don't know who I am."
There was a long pause of silence, then, "Does the name Chang Meiran mean anything to you?" It brought only a flash of white, then pain in the back of his head. He hadn't realized that he'd cried out until he found strong arms supporting him, looping around his waist.
"No...why? I told you, I'm a boy."
He laughed. "No, you wear a crest on your shirt much like that of a foreign country. Meiran is the Queen there." He shook his head slowly.
"No matter. On the chance that you are a foreign dignitary or the like, I'll bring you to the palace." Zechs smiled again, and he realized just how brilliant a blue his eyes were, glittering in the lamplight of shops as they passed.
They made it to the castle in a little over half an hour, Zechs handing him over to a servant to show him to his room.
And unbeknownst to both the boy and Zechs, someone was watching them with jealous eyes, fists tightening and unclenching as he watched the way the blonde's eyes lingered on the dark-headed boy's body.
If Zechs had looked his fellow squire's room, he would have seen a light burning there, and two feet standing at the door, watching him as he retired for bed. But he didn't, and so he went to sleep feeling confident and pleased with the world in general.
And two sapphire eyes smoldered.
End Chapter Five
Ariana
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On to Chapter Six: The Rose-colored Fingers of Dawn