A/N: Wow, this is a really long chapter. But then, you guys all deserve it, for waiting so long. I'M SORRY! But, to make up for it, I'm updating every single story this week. (And Then She Met the President's Son was already updated)

Monday — Unsuspecting Lady

Tuesday – Of Humans and Fairies (on my fanfiction account)

Wednesday – Court Spy

Drop a review — oh, a recommendation . . . Read Sunlight and Shadows: Diary of a Princess by Meritaton, which was very good. It's about Tutankhamen's elder sister/cousin, depending on what theory you're using. Enjoy! ^_^

"Um . . . driver?" I said, poking my head closer to the driver's and feeling like an idiot. "Sorry, but do you mind dropping me off here?"

He shrugged, obviously not caring where he left me as long as he received his pay. I waited until the Pharaoh's chariot had left before sprinting the remaining block to Jabari's party. Breathless, I slipped into the main room, which was filled with neighbors, all people I knew. I saw Aziza across the room, and she hurried towards me.

"Nahbia," she called as she reached me. Her eyes widened as she took in my looks, and she gave me a quick hug. "You look beautiful," she told me. "What happened?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I said airily, but spoiled in by smiling. "Guess."

"You're wearing the finest linen money can buy, jewels I KNOW you don't own, and a gorgeous necklace. Tarik wouldn't give it to you unless he was surer of you affection. Your face looks like it was done by one of the queen's own servants - I have no idea where you've been." She laughed. "Will it make Tarik jealous?"

I laughed in return. "Hardly. He'll have no competition from whom I spent today with."

"None?" my best friend said skeptically. "From someone who can afford to give you this?"

"Actually," I said with a perfectly straight face, "It was his wife who gave me this."

Aziza appeared, for the first time in her life, to have nothing to say. "From his wife?" she finally squeaked out. "Osiris, Nahbia, what have you done?"

"Nothing," I said defensively.

"You know I'm dying to know what you're talking about."

"Well," I said, taking her hand and pulling her aside from the other guests, "I met someone today at Papa's temple site."

"The guy with the wife?"

I laughed. "Well yes. I'd met him before, yesterday."

"Is he cute? What's his name? Why didn't you tell me?" Aziza asked in succession as we ducked into Jabari's garden and sat behind the pool.

"Very cute," I told her with a grin. "And I haven't seen you since then, so I haven't had a chance to tell you. So, we talked at the worksite until his advisor -"

"-he has an ADVISOR?"

"-yes - Came to get him. As they left, he called him, "Your Majesty.""

Aziza looked at me, confused.

"It's the Pharaoh, Aziza!" I burst out. "The Pharaoh himself, come to see his temple. And today he was there again!" I told Aziza every minute detail, about the angry Jewish slave and the pharaoh's reaction to the stories I told. I described the halls and paintings of the palace, and told her all about Ankhesenamen.

"Isis, Nahbia," Aziza breathed when I finally finished. "The Pharaoh. You spoke to a god, Nahbia - a living god!" For a minute the two of us sat there, feeling a little overwhelmed with what I had done. For though many people may speak to the pharaoh, it's a much smaller minority that gets invited to lunch with him.

"You know," Aziza mused as we leaned against each other, looking at the small pool, "Queen Ankhesenamen doesn't really count as a wife . . ." She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively.

I laughed and smacked her on the shoulder. "Aziza!" I exclaimed in a mock scolding voice, "how terribly improper. Besides," I added in my regular tone, "if was nothing like that."

"Right . . ." Aziza teased, leaving me with no choice but to smack her again.

Dinner, though not as high quality as the pharaoh's table, was just as enjoyable. After all, there was a marriage to celebrate, and friends and family to laugh with. Jabari's daughter was standing with her husband, her face shining with happiness. Unlike weddings would be in almost all other cultures, ours involved no actual ceremony - the bride moved her things into the husbands house, and they were wed.

The wedding parties, however, were just as joyful. After dinner there was dancing and games. Aziza was caught up in one of the dances with my brother Lateef, who she had adored forever (despite my constant assurances that he was not good enough for her). Anippe stopped by and we exchanged horror stories of our common charges, Zalika in particular. Then Tarik came by for a dance. I smiled slightly uncomfortably as we danced to a very popular lute melody, wondering if I should say anything. then again, what was there to say? I hadn't actually done anything, not really.

Tarik was seventeen, with handsome features and a broad back. He had his head closely shaved and was wearing one of his favorite wigs, the one that was shoulder length with foreign beads woven into it.

"You look beautiful," he told me, nodding confidently as we danced. "Could I interest you in going to the festival in two days?"

The festival was a local one, with a procession through the streets along with many more merchants, along with people coming in from some of the surrounding towns. I loved festivals, and Tarik knew that. Most people who knew me knew that.

"Of course," I said, feeling guilty. You're not cheating on him, I told myself, exasperated that I was feeling uncomfortable. This was ridiculous. I smiled at Tarik, who didn't smile back. That was all right; he rarely smiled. Unlike the pharaoh, who was constantly amused.

Not, I thought very firmly, that I was comparing them.

Tarik and I danced again, talking lightly. Our conversation was interesting, but not engaging. I wondered what I would say if he asked me to marry him. I hadn't thought about it much, but I was of age. I mentally shook my head. Not this year. Maybe not even next, though I'd have to soon after that. And not Tarik, because though I respected him, there wasn't really anything else.

Lateef and Aziza might have something though, I thought in amusement as I watched them from where I stood with my parents. I smiled. Though I told her he wasn't good enough, I couldn't help liking the idea of having her as a sister . . . I giggled to myself, then mock-frowned at her when she caught me watching them. "Well," I whispered in her ear as they danced by me. Grinning widely, I turned and let myself be caught up in another dance.

Yawning, I stumbled towards my bed. I felt a tremble roll through me, as if someone was shaking me very softly, almost like the touch of a ghost. That would be my American mom - by staying up so late here, I had slept extremely late there. No wonder Mom wanted me up, as it was probably closing in one. At least it was a weekend.

I curled up under my blanket, and Hatshepsut deciding my feet was the perfect resting place. I hated trying to force myself to sleep, but I was tired, and after a few deep breaths I drifted off . . .

. . . and opened them to see the sun pouring in. I dressed and went down stairs, grinning sheepishly as I entered the kitchen.

"Look who decided to get up," Mom said. "We're going to see Grammy in forty-five minutes, remember?"

"Oh - yeah," I said. "What's for breakfast?"

"Lunch," she corrected smiling. "And we have some left-over pizza. Oh, Cora called."

"Thanks," I said, and went to call her back.

Four hours later I was sitting at Grandma's house, listening, yet again, to accounts of the absolutely corrupt, miserable, lying and cheating (gasp) Senior Citizen Bridge Club. After a few moments I was able to tune her out and concentrate on the pasta dinner she had made. Grammy was the sweetest person in the world, but I swear it's dangerous to be near her when she starts on her Bridge Club. The way she talks about it, it's worst then the government.

While my grandparents, parents, and my aunt and uncle chattered on about the world at large, my cousins and I drifted off into our own worlds, leaving perfectly interested faces on in case an adult glanced our way. I was thinking back on the conversation Cora, Merial and I had had before I left.

"Do you think she'll ask him out?" she had asked, referring to Merial, whose long-time crush who was moving to California.

"Of course," I said firmly. "It makes perfect sense."

"Stop ignoring me," Merial muttered on her three-way-extension. "I'm not going to ask him out."

"Why not?" Cora said, undoubtedly grinning like the Cheshire cat. If Cora talked long enough, she could convince you to do anything.

"What's the point? We'll never see each other again," Muriel argued.

"Exactly," Cora and I chorused, and then broke into laughter. With an exaggerated sight, Muriel tried to explain her view.

"Look - pretend there's a guy, right, and you really, really like him -" she appealed to me. "Come on Lissa, think about what's-his-name, the guy you met at camp. So you're never, ever going to see him again, but do you really want all he remembers about you to be some horribly embarrassing date you forced him to go on No! You want him to - well - not remember you as some idiot." I smiled to myself. What's his name -aka Guy - had been left with a shy smile and me constantly berating myself later for never asking him out or something. But leaving the most recent crush of mine after doing something embarrassing and knowing I would never see him again . . . A picture of being whisked out after repetitively banging my head on the ground in front of Tutankhamen went through my head and I winced.

"Come on," Merial pleaded. "I don't want him to remember me as some idiot girl."

Neither would I, I thought. Allowed, though, I voiced the opposite. "Go for it, Merial. You have nothing to lose." Note to self; do not follow advice. Asking Pharaoh on date may result in lost head.

My cousins and I sat around the television as the adults stayed at the table after dinner. There were three of them; Brian was sixteen, Joyce was a year younger then me, and Karen was ten.

"Hey, Lissa," Brian said, pulling a notebook out from the stack of homework he was supposed to be doing. "I have to write a paper on a pharaoh for Civ. Wanna help?"

"Of course she doesn't, you idiot," Joyce said, rolling her eyes. "Talk about boring."

"Yeah, but Lissa doesn't think it's boring. Right?" Brian looked to me for support.

I shrugged. "Shh. This is a good part of the movie."

"Come on," he persisted. "I don't have a clue about this. I'm supposed to write a page on how King Tut died, and all I know about him is that his tomb had lots of gold in it."

"If you're writing an essay on it, you probably went over it in class, dummy. Weren't you listening?"

"Joy, it's Civ. I never listen."

Karen giggled. "That's cause Alison's in it."

Joyce rolled her eyes. "Please. I refuse to talk about my brother's romance life when I could be watching Ever After."

This time Brian rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you guys keep watching this. You've seen it, what, fifty times? It's not like it changes."

Joyce and I both sent him death glares.

"How'd he die?" Brian whispered to me after Joyce had returned her attention to the screen.

"No one knows," I muttered, fixing my attention on a crying Drew Barrymore.

"How can I write an essay if no one knows?"

"Think up a theory," I said, really wishing he had asked me for help in some other subject. Of curse, there was no other subject besides History that he would actually need my help in.

"Was he like murdered?"

My throat was uncomfortably dry and tight. "Yeah," I finally said. "He probably was. But no one really knows."

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon when someone entered the house. I ignored it; everyone else was downstairs, and besides, I was busy. I looked into my bronze mirror and pursed my lips. "You look beautiful, darling," I told my reflection with a giggle. I tilted my head, allowing my hair to fall gracefully in a single sheet. I smiled, studying my elaborate and slightly overdone face paint. Aziza had convinced me to come dancing with her tonight. She belonged to a dancing troupe that performed at banquets for the rich and titled, and the leader of her troupe didn't mind me coming along, as long as I knew the dance. Since I had nothing I was doing this afternoon, so I planned to go over now, though she didn't expect me until supper. Aziza and I never minded interupting each other.

"Nahby!" Lateef bellowed, hopping of the stairs. I rolled my eyes at his ridiculous nickname and turned just as he entered the door - without knocking, of course.

"What is it?" I asked, grabbing my bag with my overnight clothes. Lateef stopped in surprise, taking in my short wrap and necklace filled with semi-precious stones. Unlike Aziza, I never had the nerve to wear just a short kilt and jewelry like most of the girls - unfortunate conditioning of the twenty-first century.

"Dancing?" he asked with a smile. "Where? Aziza will be also, won't she?" At my look, he continued. "Honestly, Nahby, tell me just one place where she dances!"

"You are desperate," I informed him.

"Not desperate," he corrected. "Lovesick. Which reminds me . . ." he narrowed his eyes. "There's a guy in the common room - and he's NOT Tarik," he added with a frown. "I have no idea who he is, just said you were "friends." Have I mentioned that I like to know who your - friends - are?"

"Leave me alone," I told my brother in annoyance, as an odd sort of idea began to form. It was impossible . . . wasn't it? How would he even know where I lived . . .? Still, the thought wouldn't go away. "Oh, Isis," I muttered, grabbing a wet cloths and starting to scrub my face of the overdone kohl and paint. "Lateef," I ordered, "go distract him for a minute. Talk about chariot races, or buildings, or . . . something. Tell him I'll be there. Soon. Really soon."

Lateef raised his eyebrows. "Oh . . ." he said in an understanding voice. "Keep him busy while my sister primps, I see -"

"And don't you dare interrogate him like you did to Tarik," said as I scrubbed at my kohl some more. "Go! Move!" Muttering to himself, Lateef did, and I quickly stripped out of my dancing clothes and shoved on a normal kalasiris Hurriedly, I did a minimum amount of paint, going with a green malachite kohl and matching it with a green ribbon around my waste. Still straightening my dress and hair, I rushed downstairs and into the common room. As I had suspected, the Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt was being scrutinized by half of my family. He was looking completely unnerved as Mama, Meskhenet, and my brothers' wives Renenet and Eshe all stared at him, not to mention the number of children playing. For a moment, I profoundly wished that everyone gathered at one of the other woman's houses, rather then Mama's. Lateef was at least not acting too overprotective, lightly speaking of the latest chariot race. Thank Isis, Osiris, and all their children that my other brother's weren't there.

"Hello!" I called, and he looked at me in pure relief.

"Nahbia," Mama said in a tone of reserved amusement. "I don't think you've introduced . . .?"

"Oh," I said, and smiled as I crossed to the bewildered teen's side. "This is Tamen. He's a worker at Papa's site." I rushed through introductions to my family, and then was finally able to escape. As soon as we left the building and had dashed down the street, the two of us stood there, staring at each other amidst the hustle and bustle of Thebes.

He looked like a commoner, with reed sandals and a plain, pleated kilt wrapped around his waist. To my delight, his chest was bare.

"Tamen?" was the first thing he said when we'd recovered our breath from running. He still had that permanently amused tone, and raised his eyebrows. "Why Tamen'?"

I blushed. "Well, it's much less of a mouthful then Tutankhamen," I explained.

He grinned. "Ah. So if going for informal, you go there completely."

I sighed. "Would you rather I'd have introduced you as Tutankhamen? First there would have been astonishment, then laughter, and then my family would recommend a doctor for us."

He considered this. "I don't think I like being a commoner very much," he said as we walked down the streets in no particular direction. "It seems like far to much work to visit someone."

I laughed at him. For a moment we continued walking in awkward silence, before I had the nerve to ask, "Why did you then?"

"There's was nothing better to do," he answered candidly, then looked at me in surprise when I let loose an exasperated laugh. "What?"

"There was nothing better to do?" I repeated. "You know, it's all right to lie if it makes someone feel better. Girls don't usually like to know they're the last things on your agenda."

He shrugged, but I caught a spark of amusement in his eyes before he carefully blanked them. "You weren't. I have a number of other things to do, but I put them off. Seeing you was better."

"Like what?" I said skeptically. "I suppose you had to reorganize your jewels, or comb your wig, right?"

His dark brown eyes were definitely sparkling with amusement when they met mine. "Actually, I was supposed to meet with the ambassador from Assirya, speak with Ay and Horembhab, then attend a banquet thrown by the Head Priest of Amen. However, I thought talking with you would be slightly more interesting."

I gaped at him. "You're lying," I informed him. "Pharaoh's aren't allowed to skip on things like that."

"Of course not," he said blandly. "Which is why I hired one of the young gardeners to pose as me for the day."

"You're lying," I said much more firmly now, but he only shrugged slightly. I narrowed my eyes is suspicion, then gave up. There was just no telling with him.

"So," he said, looking around his city curiously, "what do commoners do all day?"

"We spend every single hour at grueling work so we can turn over all our money so the Pharaoh can live in splendor."

"Now you're lying."

I tried to mimic his uncaring shrug, and failed miserably. Instead I grinned. "Yes. I am. Besides, our lives are boring. What do you do?"

"Hm. I pray -"

"Fascinating. Me too - usually when I'm in trouble."

He arched an eyebrow, then continued. "And I let my advisors talk at me. Then I listen to multitudes of other people talk at me. Then I make a few laws - change a few laws . . . pray . . . Listen to tutors. Go to banquets."

"Sounds exciting."

He glanced around, as if afraid a group of royal guards had followed him - though for all I knew, they had. "Do you know how sick I am of it? Of everyone acting like I'm just a puppet to do whatever they want? And there's a hundred different "they's" each of them wanting me to do their bidding. Declare war of Assirya' . . . Marry that Princess' . . . "Raise taxes - attack Nubia - give us money . . ." And worst, I can't stop doing it. I can't forget about it and let all my advisors and supplements figure it out themselves, because if I do, the country will fall to ruin. If I don't work at all the problems every breathing moment, if I don't come to decisions that don't interfere with other decisions, this dynasty will be over."

I was silent for a moment, thinking about how hard this boy-king worked to Keep his country from going to the wolves; I had no doubt he was right, that if he did let go, while he was alive, Egypt would, considering all the power hungry people, fall. Unfortunately, he probably would be killed all the sooner.

I looked at him, and for a moment, I felt something more profound then anything else when I had thought of his life; though admittedly, I tried not to. For a moment, I felt very old and some great knowledge, like a vast dark pool of knowledge, the surface of which I could barely touch. Something indefinite and infinite, concerning him. And as the feeling swept throw me, I couldn't help thinking about the future. This youth, who was standing in front of me, his dark brown eyes meeting by own, would die in three years. This flesh-and-blood person, entombment of the gods, would no longer exist. Before I graduated high school, he would be cold in his grave, usurped by his old advisor, Ay. And after Ay died, Hormemhab would be pharaoh, and as Tamen had predicted, then his dynasty would end.

The moment past, leaving me feeling bewildered and almost scared. I swung my eyes down to my feet, which were still moving along the city's roads. "You really love Egypt, don't you?" I asked quietly as we walked.

"Love her?" he asked, and ironic note I hadn't heard before creeping into his voice. "I would do anything for Egypt. She is my life - and I am hers. Whether I wish it or not."

This, I though rather idly, though I wasn't feeling idle in the least, would be the point in any well-written novel where he would ask in frustration, "Why am I telling you this?" and both of us would realize that it was because we felt some deep, hidden connection.

He didn't ask, and so I felt obliged to ask him, considering how curious I was if he had an answer. "Why are you telling me this?"

He laughed hollowly. "Because you have no one to tell."

Oh.

At my furrowed brows, he expanded: "If I told anyone else, they would use it to their advantage in the political play."

"Not another commoner," I objected.

"No. . . but another commoner would scrape and bow. And besides," he added wistfully. "I like you. You're different."

And being who he was, I had no idea if he meant that romantically or platonically.

I opened my mouth to make some inane comment before the silence became to heavy, when he swiveled around and stared at something in amazement. "What are they doing?"

I turned around, then nearly laughed out loud as the Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt stared at a troupe of street dancers. "Dancing," I told him, as he watched the girls, undoubtedly practicing a routine for a dinner party or something. They wore only necklaces and jewels swung around their hips. A group of teens had stopped to watch, but I grabbed Tamen's arm and started to pull him onto another street. "Well," I said, half-laughing, "you really do miss a lot of the common amusements, don't you? You must have dancers at the palace."

He grinned down at me. "Do you dance?" he asked with wide-eyed innocence, and I glared at him.

"Tamen!" I scolded, unable to decide whether to laugh or to blush.

He looked at me, half-amused and half-dismayed. "You aren't really going to call me that, are you?" he asked.

"Why not?" I challenged.

His eyes were sparkling. "It's hardly a respectful way to address your god-on-earth. . ."

"It's very respectful," I told him. "Just - differently."

He shook his head slowly, grinning. "I think all my advisors would fall down dead if they heard a girl calling me Tamen."

"Well, I could just call you Tut-y, but somehow I though Tamen would make more sense."

He tilted his head. "Tut-y," he said in consideration. "I think I could have you killed for saying that."

I widened my eyes. "Poor, innocent me?"

"Innocent, my lady? Somehow I doubt that. Now, if you're to call me Tamen, I suppose I need something to call you."

"I'm fine with Nahbia," I said quickly, but he shook his head, eyes dancing in merriment.

"There's not much to do with Nahbia," he mused. "I suppose I could call you Nahby. . ."

I winced as he echoed my brother's unbearable nickname. "Don't you dare." I glared. "Besides, my brother calls me that. It would be stealing."

"You're brother - Lateef? The one I met today who looked at me as if I was suspicious new type of beetle?"

I reddened. "That would be him. He expected you to be someone else."

"Really? Who?" His brows raised. "You don't have a husband, I thought."

I smiled. "There's actually a stage in-between stranger and husband," I teased him.

"Well, I apologize if a boy married at nine doesn't know much about romance," he scoffed, and this time his amusement was tinged with embarrassment. I took pity on him.

"My suitor," I explained. "Tarik. My family was surprised a stranger was visiting me, not him."

"A suitor. Then you're definitely not married?"

I laughed. "So far, I've been able to avoid it. I'm still free."

"Good," he said in tones of such satisfaction that I looked at him in surprise.

"Why?" I asked sarcastically. "Thinking about making me your second wife?"

"I'm considering it," he said calmly.

I looked at him in astonishment, trying to determine if he was serious or not, but when he glanced at me, I could only read plain truth in his eyes, no amusement. "Do you know how strange it is when you just speak your mind like that?" I asked, still trying to get my mind around he idea that the Pharaoh might, possibly, in the unlikeliest situation be considering marrying me.

He shook his head. "Actually, no. It all makes perfect sense to me."

"But the rest of the world can't follow your odd, twisted thought process." I muttered under my breath.

His face lit up with a grin. "No," he said amused. "But that's not my concern. Everyone's expected to keep up with my thoughts, or their dismissed."

"Someday," I grumbled, "I am going to take you somewhere where you have no rank at all, and have to act like a normal person."

He laughed. "I do that for myself. After all, no one around us really knows who I am."

"Have you ever wandered around Thebes before?" he shook his head. "Trust me, if I let you loose on the city, I'm sure you would get into some sort of terrible trouble."

"I take offense at that," Tamen said, raising his brows. At that exact moment, he stumbled into a fruit stand, as I had yesterday. However Tamen had the bad luck to topple the entire thing, with all the food rolling off the table on top of him.

The man who owned it rushed around, and leaning over, he grabbed Tamen by his ears and hoisted him to his feet. "You clumsy idiot!" he raged, causing more then a few spectators to turn and laugh, "Don't you have any eyes? You've spoiled my products!"

Trying to stifle my own laughter, I watched as Tamen drew himself together regally and stepped back, freeing his ears. "Good sir," he said stiffly, "I shall be sure to repay you for your troubles." He nodded to the man, whose ruddy face was turning even redder, and took several steps in my direction. As soon as his back was turned, the merchant grabbed him by the back of his kilt and dragged him back to the overturned fruits.

It was too much. I burst into laughter as a look of absolute affront crossed the boy-king's face. He looked haughtily at the man, but before he could say anything, the seller spoke. "You, boy, will stay here and help me clean all this, and then you'll give me your earnings to repay for this wasted day." He snarled at Tamen, and for the first time I felt a twinge of unease. This man was obviously in a bad mood, and Tamen banging into his stand had only compounded it.

Tamen didn't seem to notice anything. His eyes narrowed, and raising his chin he delivered, "I certainly will not. If you wish to argue, you may file a complaint at my residence."

The man laughed gruffly, but I saw him and the onlookers shifting uncomfortably. Tamen's voice and posture had gotten to them, and most seemed ready to back away and leave him alone. The merchant, however, glared uneasy at Tamen, then pushed him by his shoulder so he stumbled to his knees in the fruit. "You will not, sir high-and-mightiness? And who do you think you are? The pharaoh?" he sneered.

Pharaoh Tutankhamen said nothing, nor did he move an inch. He just knelt in the fruits and looked steadily at the merchant, and his unnerving gaze quieted the few laughs that had sprung at the man's joke. I frowned, then moved forward into the clearing about them. "We'll help you," I said, shooting Tamen a look that made both his eyebrows shoot up. I knelt beside him and began picking up fruit, and after several uncomfortable moments, Tamen did the same. The crowd began to disperse now that it seemed no fight would happen, and the merchant grunted and moved behind the stand, muttering the entire time.

Tamen looked up as he calmly placed a squashed fruit on the stand. I was surprised to see the anger in his eyes. "I refuse to sit here and be humiliated by this - merchant," he got out from between ground teeth. I considered him for a moment, then gave a big, fake sigh.

"Well, I suppose it was too good to be true. After all, why would a - you - want to spend your day like a peasant when you could be - you?" I shook my head in mock disappointment.

He smiled grimly. "I do. I would. You know that." He suddenly flashed me a grin, and I thought of the first time we met, with him dressed as a worker. "Still," he continued, "this is pushing it too far. There is only so far I will go."

Note to self, I thought wryly, do not ever convince Pharaoh to disguise himself as servant or slave, for whatever reason. Constitutes as "going too far."

"Well," I said, lightly, hoping to bring back that amused look in his eyes, no matter how often it annoyed me, "Then don't stand for it." I examined the fruit in my hand then put it in Tamen's. "This one looks fine." Darting a look up at the unobservant merchant, I, slightly daring, reached for Tamen's hand. He gave me a slightly surprised look, then raised one eyebrow. Smiling a little, I whispered, "When I say go, run." With that, I discreetly tipped over the moneybox. With a muffled curse, the merchant leaned over and began to, coin by coin, restore all his profits. "Go!" I whispered, and we shot up, and started to run down the street.

I had expected the call, though Tamen apparently hadn't. His grip tightened for a moment when he heard the first calls of "Thief! Thief!" from behind us.

"This is ridiculous!" he said with a bemused look on his face as we darted through the crowd and down several paths.

"Yes," I gasped as I looked behind and saw several law enforcers chasing after us. "If they catch us, they might recognize you," I said, slightly worried.

"Then they better not catch us," Tamen said, grinning, the wind pushing his hair into disarray as we ran. We reached the center of the city, and collapsed laughing against a building wall.

"I've just run away from my own men," Tamen said to me, the glint of amusement back in his eyes.

"Very successfully too," I reminded him. "Shows how easy it is to be a thief."

He waved the matter off, unconcerned. "Fun, though," he admitted. He raised a brow. "I wouldn't have thought such a loyal, head banging citizen would steal, however."

I blushed. "Not head banging," I muttered, glaring at the superior look he gave me. "I was just being respectful. And I don't steal. Never. But I figured it was all right, considering you were there. After all, you are the -" I broke off, looking around. "Well, you. We couldn't really get in trouble."

"Excuses, excuses," he murmured then uncurled to his feet. "Follow me," he said, striding forward. "I have something to show you." And with that, we headed into the heart of the city.