Clandestine Letters

[Ishtar Palindrake (I)]

My Dearest Prince,

Time moves so slowly here, my days bleed one into the other and I can do nothing to escape. The Bastard watches me like a falcon circling the rabbit, and I squirm under his scrutiny. Lord Michael is kind in his own way, and being his scribe keeps me occupied. Forgive me for not leaving this letter earlier, but I have had no opportunity to leave the townhouse.

My Prince, please do not despair, as I think you are beginning to do right now. The masque is but days away, and I will be in attendance. Civilly great The Bastard and lull him into thinking you are his ally. Claim me for a dance and we can speak privately. I will do my best to find someone to occupy him so we may have some time. I shouldn't be hard to pick out of the crowd of beautiful women. Just look for the one dressed as an Odalisque, wearing the least amount of clothing possible and you will know it is I.

I miss you, as dangerous as the game we play is, I miss you and cannot but wish that things were different. I pray for you and hold you ever in my thoughts. Be well, grieve as you must, and find me at the masque. I should be able to pick up any correspondence you may leave me by tomorrow. Be well my Prince, and dream of me.

Ever your
Ishtar

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

Ishtar,

It's wonderful to hear from you- I'm not much for writing, so I'm afraid I can't state it in any way more poetic than that. When I read what you send me, it's the closest thing I have to you being near and hearing your voice, which means I am both happy and a little angry at the same time. Those things are a constant companion in my life, happiness and anger. For some reason, one does not seem like anything without the other.

I'm glad to hear you will be at the masque, but dismayed that you will be there on HIS arm and by HIS wishes- I do not know him and I hate him already. I will do as you ask, though it may be harder than it seems; I have no native urge to do other than hurt 'The Bastard', but I have been raised in a more courtly way than that. Lies come naturally and I cannot think of a better purpose for them than this.

It seems my letter will be shorter than yours, and for that I am sorry, but as I said before, I am not the best with words. I miss you as well, I hope and pray for your safety, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Your Prince

[Enclosed with the letter is a hand-drawn picture in Christien's style of Ishtar, a classic portrait with her wearing a slightly sweet smile, eyes glowing. It is a pensive but happy picture.]

[Ishtar Palindrake (I)]

My Prince,

Thank you for the gift. I have never before seen my likeness captured on paper and it is... surprising and beautiful. Is this how you see me? For if it is, I am radiant. Thank you, my Prince, for your thoughtfulness and skill. I can almost picture you drawing it, that little crease between your brows, the deft way your hands fly across the paper. What did you think of as you drew it? What memory was invoked? When I see this drawing, I think of that moment in your rooms, seeing little traces of you in the austerity you surround yourself in.

How I wish, at this very moment, I could feel your arms wrapped around me, pillow my head on your breast and just listen to your heart beat. This night has been,hard. I will not elaborate further, as it will only upset you. I am unhurt, so soothe the savagery you hold in your heart toward The Bastard and the situation I am in. Nothing is gained by brooding and tormenting yourself. Just know that every time he touches me, I wish it were you. Even now, clandestinely writing this letter, praying to find some way to deliver it to you in safety, I remember your hands on my skin, the reverence in them. We live in a world that is not fair, else I would be a Princess, or you a simple man so that nothing stood between us but air and fabric. Instead a chasm grows ever larger and I fear you are only a dream.

We are only days from each other, and will see each other soon. I have hope, and it burns brightly. How will I know it is you, my Prince, at the masque? I have no doubt I will recognize you, but to do so would bring doom upon us all. So to protect you, tell me what guise you will wear, so that when my Lord and I happen upon you, I will not betray us with a look of joy upon my features.

Your

Ishtar

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

Ishtar,

You are always that radiant, but that was drawn from a moment in a closet that smelled of lavender, when you trusted me though you had no reason to. That picture is how I see you, but also how you should see yourself- beautiful and wonderful, as lovely as a dream but real and therefore better. I am not a dream either, though I am sorry to be as distant as one.

Gods, I wish I could be there! The rage in my heart is banked, though not put out, and I am filled with sorrow- I hate your being forced to do things such as you are. Even if I have given you something to hold on to, a memory of some softness, I would rather have my own memories of you ripped away if it would free you from such things. I wish I could hold you again, soothe those facts and thoughts away, make a world where such things didn't matter. At night I hold you in my dreams and my heart aches at your name.

As to my costume, it will be easy to see, knowing me as you do. A creature with rage, sharp claws and teeth, an echoing roar and a purr. I do not fear your betrayal of joy, as I doubt The Bastard would even notice, but I understand the need for caution. Keep well for me, don't dwell on that which saddens you,

Christien

[In the lower right-hand corner is a picture of a lion, maned and watchful.]