How could he do that? How could he bloody do that? Just end a person's life, without even consulting them? Make their family and friends think they were gone, steal their whole world out from under them, ruin everything? How could he do that to someone who he'd protected, someone who thought they knew him, someone who trusted him, someone who l—

—was his friend.

Caution had fumed. She had paced. She had fumed while she paced. She'd flopped miserably on her bed, then gotten up, too angry to stay still. She'd tried to think, but found herself far to preoccupied. She'd thought about changing, but she'd known she couldn't handle being around her maids just then, and she was far too anxious to fight her way into one of those dresses alone.

At the end of her inner turmoil, Caution had made up her mind to go and find Andy right away. Never mind the fact that she'd recently been hiding in a tree to avoid him. Never mind that the last time they'd actually spoken she'd run off and left him standing in the dark. Never mind that up until a little while ago, Andy was the last person in the world—this or any other—that Caution wanted to see. Never mind all that. The important thing was that she needed to see him now.

Unfortunately for her, Andy was nowhere to be found, and the only thing Caution seemed to be able to get out of his advisers was a whole bunch of irritating questions about how she was suddenly able to speak M'leoian.

“I'm a fast learner,” she was insisting to one of them. He, like the others, was old, terribly boring and full of self importance. He met Caution's explanation with a raised eyebrow.

“Now I need to see the Prince.” Caution said, cutting off the objection that was forming in the old man's mind. She was too tired to sit through another argument about the impossibility of an outsider mastering M'leoian grammar in any less than ten years. “There's something important I need to talk to him about.”

“Miss—” He stopped, as if he couldn't think of an appropriate title. “Miss,” he finished. “His Highness is a busy man, especially now. He does not have time to listen to your inane prattle, nor answer your silly questions, nor bother with your lack of respect. He is trying to win a war, and after—It might be different if you were someone of import, but as far as I can see, you are nothing but a guest who has long overstayed her welcome.” The adviser looked smug at having dashed all of Caution's hopes and dreams.

“Uh huh,” Caution said after a moment. “Well that's good to know. If you see him, could you tell him I need to talk to him—that is, if he's not too busy to talk to you.”

The adviser looked angry and sputtered for a minute before wandering off. He was the fifth completely useless person Caution had talked to since her row with Creep, and they had all said the same thing: she simply wasn't important enough to warrant an audience with His Highness. She was beginning to get sick of this place.

She eventually decided to head back to her chambers and regroup. She hadn't eaten all day, and she was beginning to feel like she could use a nap—besides which, it had been suggested to her more than once in the past hour or so that wearing a nightdress around the castle didn't exactly garner a lot of respect. When Caution made it back to her rooms, she was greeted by the Stepford twins. She forced a polite smile at them, too tired to deal with the myriad of questions that would arise if they found out she could suddenly understand them. The twins nodded their heads in greeting before going straight through the front rooms to retrieve her water basin.

“Do you suppose Mistress will marry him now that he's dead?” one was saying when they came out of the wash-room.

“Hard to say,” the other answered. “Will if she has half a brain, which she may well not.” The maid smiled warmly at Caution. “Good thing she's pretty,” she laughed.

“But the Prince will keep the staff, now that he's king?” the first maid asked. “You don't think we'll lose our jobs, do you?”

Caution realized that she was staring at her maids around the same time they did. She thought of looking away really fast and pretending like nothing was going on, but there wasn't time for that now. “The King is dead? When did this happen?”

Both maids stared, mouths open.

“I mean, it can't have been that long ago, right?”

One of them stepped slightly forward. “I—Mistress, I—Well—I—”

“Long story,” Caution said flatly. “But, is the King really dead?”

“He is, Mistress,” the other one answered sadly. “He went not three hours ago.”

“So... Andy—The Prince—Antaetharon... he's king?”

“There must be a coronation, Mistress, but that may be going on even as we speak. Normally it would be a grand affair, but with the enemy coming so fast—”

The other maid cut her twin off with a sharp elbow to the side. “Shh,” she whispered harshly.

“In a time of war,” the maid corrected herself, “with the Prince ready to ride into battle, it is best that he be named King first.”

“Oh,” Caution said quietly. “But what about the real king? I mean Kiros. What about his funeral?”

“It will happen, Mistress, shortly, no doubt. It will be held in the big scary room.”

Caution stopped herself from smiling just in time. The necklace, she realized, was not just a translator. It got into your head.

“It will be a very private affair,” the maid was saying. “The country will weep for him when the war is won. In the meanwhile, Mistress, only those in the castle know what has happened, and it must stay that way.” “Oh,” Caution said again. She straightened her features. “I mean, of course. Cross my heart and all that. So, uh, when is the funeral happening?”

“As soon as the prayers have been said,” one maid told her.

“It may be starting now,” the other translated.

“Oh,” Caution said, for what she hoped was the last time. Then she sighed. “Get me dressed; I'm going.”

The next fifteen minutes were a blur. An uncomfortable blur that involved having total strangers stripping Caution down to nothing, scrubbing her with ice-cold water, then forcing her into a contraption which had been invented by the people of M'leo (and some time ago by the people of Earth) for the sole purpose of torturing women—but a blur nonetheless. At the end of it, Caution was ready to go. She knew she was passable, because any outfit that caused this much physical pain had to look good.

She made her way to the big scary room as fast as she could without looking like she was hurrying. There was a guard at the door.

Caution curtsied, and was repaid with a bowed head.

“Um,” she said after a minute. “I need to go in there, please.”

“I'm sorry,” the guard told her. “I was told not to allow you.”

“Oh, Jesus. By who?”

The guard looked extremely bothered. “Several people, actually,” he admitted.

“Including?” Caution didn't wait for an answer. “Did Antaetharon say I couldn't come in?”

“No. His Majesty is quite... unhappy, as you can imagine. It is for his peace of mind that I am to forbid your access.”

“Riiight. Well, here's the thing: I need to get in there. It's really important that I talk to—” Caution could tell by the look on the guard's face that he wasn't moved. “—the King,” she finished. “You know, to say my goodbyes.”

The guard raised an eyebrow.

“I know I didn't know him well, but... where I come from, it is a sign of great disrespect and disloyalty to not visit the dead before the... final rites.”

She managed to cry a single tear at the exact right moment, and was granted access to the funeral.

The funeral—or wake, memorial, or whatever it was—was as quiet and uncomfortable as Caution had expected. Far worse, the King had been brought downstairs and was lying on a table, surrounded by flowers. Just lying there, looking all... dead.

A number of crotchety old men gave Caution angry looks, but, as she'd hoped, they weren't disrespectful enough to cause a scene. She made her way through the crowd toward the body, hoping that she would see Andy before she had to actually approach it. She felt a guilty kind of nausea at the knowledge that she was using a dead man. It was the kind of thing nice girls just didn't do.

Finally, she spotted Andy. He was standing near his father, being consoled by a herd of old men. Caution marched straight toward him, determined to fend off any would-be interceptors with a stern look. She was soon intercepted.

“Caution,” Creep said gently, putting a hand on her arm. “You should not have come.”

She hadn't been expecting him, but it didn't slow her down. “So,” she said as she pushed out of his grasp. “Do you think they had flowers at my funeral?”

The new king was within reach soon after that. Creep hadn't followed. Caution reached out an unsteady hand an touched Andy's shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” she said when he turned around. “I really am.”

“Miss Caution,” Andy said, his eyes brimming with tears. “Really, now is not the time nor the place.”

“I didn't—” Caution choked on the words.

“The sorcerer has already told me of the Chonti village. I have given him my answer. They rejected M'leo and now we must reject them.” Andy sighed a long, sad sigh. “Even after what was said—I never thought you so hard hearted as this.”

“But I wasn't—”

“I have lost my father, Madam! And all I hear is whispers of your urgent business. Even your Chonti devil had the decency to allow me this time to mourn.”

“I'm so sorry,” Caution said, finding her eyes flooding with tears.

“As you should be. Now go, and speak no more to me of traitors and lesser beings.”

“But...” Caution had to do her best not to break into sobs. She knew she had attracted the attention of everyone near by, including Creep. It didn't matter; it was now or never. “I didn't come here for that.”

“You expect me to believe you came to say a prayer for my father?”

“No,” Caution said, sniffing. “I came to—I came because—because I wanted you to know—You are a good man, and I was just being stupid and snobby, and I made a fool of myself because I really do want to marry you. And I'm sorry that I had to say that here. I wish I'd said it when you asked.” She paused to push the tears out of her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I know you don't want me now—I wouldn't want me either—but I just had to tell you. I'm sorry.”

Caution fled that room, and the next. She had made it into the back garden before the emotion got to much, her knees buckled, and she fell on the ground, crying.

The ground, she noticed, was wet. It probably had something to do with the rain. When she could breathe again, Caution picked herself up. Someone was standing behind her.

“Creep, go away,” she said, turning around.

Andy stood there panting and dripping wet.

“Oh.”

“It was brave of you to admit your mistakes like that,” he said. “Many women would not be so bold.”

“It was stupid,” Caution sniffed. “It was inappropriate.”

“It was,” Andy agreed. “... but not entirely unwelcome. Miss Caution, you are a curiosity indeed... and yes, I would be proud to call you my wife.”