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Chapter Four: The Royal Ball Preparations

Stefan awoke happily, holding Yasmenne in his arms. She didn't leave, he thought, overjoyed. He was content with just staring at her until he noticed the two scars on her; one ran from her jaw to her chest and the other across her shoulder.

Stefan gently traced them, and Yasmenne stirred in his arms. "It's okay; you can keep doing that," Yasmenne murmured, when he hesitated. "One is from Rafiore Dragic, and the other from an attempt on my life. Yasmenne tried to sit up, but Stefan pulled her back down, causing a playful struggle to ensue, Yasmenne winning. Stefan was right with her, pulling her into a sweet kiss and running both of his hands through her long black hair. Yasmenne threaded a hand through his black hair as well. Her other hand drifted across his damaged back, causing him to arch back and deepen the kiss.

Yasmenne pulled back, just letting Stefan hold her and quietly informed him, "I have to be ready in an hour. We must meet our guests and prepare for the ball." She reluctantly let him go and walked towards the door. Seeing the sad look in his eyes, Yasmenne said, "Don't pout, my love; you'll be able to express your love to me at the ball tonight." Yasmenne shot him a secret smile and went to change. Stefan could only stare as she walked away.

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All four of them met in the relaxing room an hour later, even though they all knew this was not a time for relaxing. Yasmenne displayed a long sleeve shoulder-less purple ball gown with a purple choker, silver sandals, and braided and flowered hair. She was absolutely stunning. Serriel noticed Stefan's mouth was agape, and he teased, "Are you still gawking at my sister? I thought you already understood she was beautiful." Stefan blushed crimson, and Serriel wagged a finger in front of his face and lightly warned, "Don't look at Yasmenne like that when Matre's around." The wild-haired prince himself showed off a beautiful blue trench coat with the same color pants that were tucked into his usual, cowboy-like black beaded boots. Jewelry adorned his neck, wrists, and fingers, and was that a hint of silver on his lips?

Serriel wrapped an arm around Jenica, who was wearing a simple but pretty strapless black ball gown. "Serriel, you probably shouldn't hold Jenica that way in front of Zarafine either," Stefan chuckled. The thought of Zarafine being close to him again gave Serriel a sick feeling, and he leaned against the wall for support. "Sorry," Stefan apologized. He looked down at his black boots, feeling ashamed.

Before Serriel could reply, a trumpet sounded. "Matre and Zarafine are here," Serriel breathed. He whipped around to tell Stefan, "Matre was born with an extraordinary gift. He knows secrets about people that they don't even know or they haven't told anybody. If Matre says something completely insane to you, and he doesn't say, 'just kidding' immediately afterwards, he isn't joking. He's always completely right; that's the scary part."

Stefan contemplated this. "Serriel, what does Matre know about you that makes you so certain of this?" Serriel just turned his back to Stefan. The throne room doors opened, and in walked a man, wearing a long orange coat with a brown shirt and brown pants. Brown dress boots and slick brown hair complemented the rest of his attire nicely.

He strode over to Serriel and Stefan and shook hands with them. "I am Prince Matre Sikeno of Nareth; nice to finally meet you, Natai," Matre introduced himself, an amused look in his gleaming unusual orange eyes.

Stefan was momentarily stunned. "How did you know my name used to be Natai?"

Matre realized he'd faltered. "I just do," he said, smirking at Serriel and covering his mistake up. Serriel cast Stefan a nervous glance and then looked away. Matre bent down and whispered in Stefan's ear, "Would you do me a favor and let me keep Yasmenne until the ball tonight? Then you can have her all to yourself, Stefan."